I’ve just finished watching the final episode featuring Sharpe as the young Japanese character Shun, who comes to live in the bizarre world of the very British and quite mad Flowers family. And I have this distinct feeling that the series was written for me.
I usually get the Amy/Tina wit, but was royally disappointed with this one, actually pissed off that women can portray women as such one dimensional, mean, unattractive nobodies who have nothing to share but a disdain for millennials.
About five years ago, I KonMaried my underwear drawer and now all my knickers now maintain vertical integrity. And yes, I experience joy every time I open my drawer.
GLOW is fabulous entertainment with crisp, witty dialogue and unexpectedly affecting poignant moments, like the emotionally intimate scenes between sleazy director Sam and the protagonist Ruth. Yet GLOW avoids being too earnestly up its own arse by being fun and just downright silly most of the time.
Because all good narratives, no matter how black in theme or tone, are essentially about illuminating the human condition. And the blacker the story, the more it illuminates.
