We’ve entered Hollywood’s end-of-summer doldrums, a good time to check out indie fare (don’t miss this weekend’s Middlebury New Filmmakers Festival) and catch up on TV. For me, that meant watching three recent female-created comedy series about women who are, for lack of a better term, “messy.” Not only are the heroines of these shows always seemingly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but they also embrace the chaos of their lives in outrageous, unapologetic ways.
In the first episode of “Too Much” (10 episodes, 2025; Netflix), the new miniseries from Lena Dunham (“Girls”), a very drunk thirtysomething named Jessica (Megan Stalter) breaks into the apartment of her ex (Michael Zegen) to confront him about his recent engagement. Whether she’s being charming, whimsical or a little scary, Jessica is invariably “too much.”
Hoping to heal from her failed 10-year relationship, Jessica requests a job transfer to London. When England fails to live up to her Jane Austen fantasies, she throws herself headlong into a fling with an unemployed musician (Will Sharpe), who’s laid-back enough to take her erratic behavior in stride. He doesn’t know that Jessica still regularly records video rants addressed to her ex’s fiancée (Emily Ratajkowski), a knitting influencer.
“Too Much” is a messy show, too, meandering and stuffed with cameos from the likes of Jessica Alba, Andrew Scott, Jennifer Saunders and Rita Ora. A slew of talented actors sink their teeth into playing Saltburn types, eccentric as only old money can be. Meanwhile, Jessica’s tempestuous romance with Felix lurches this way and that until it dissolves into a puddle of wish fulfillment.
The show has some witty dialogue and sharp insights into relationships, and the scenes of Jessica and Felix just hanging out and exploring their deepening infatuation feel fresh and real. But I couldn’t help thinking both of these talented actors deserved a more focused, less self-indulgent project.
One of the themes of “Too Much” — a jilted woman’s obsession with her replacement — reaches a hilarious apotheosis in “Such Brave Girls” (two seasons, 2023-2025; Disney+, Hulu), a BAFTA-winning absurdist sitcom that takes place in a drab corner of England Jessica never imagined.
Creator Kat Sadler and her real-life sister, Lizzie Davidson, play twentysomething sisters Josie and Billie, respectively, who work crappy jobs and share a Council house with their mom (Louise Brealey). After Dad abandoned the family, each reacted in her own dysfunctional way: Mom with a frantic struggle to secure a rich replacement, Josie with a retreat into depression, Billie with an unhinged search for love.
When Billie discovers she has a romantic rival (Carla Woodcock) who’s basically her prettier clone, the two women fight, then bond over their mistreatment, then fall into bed together. They soon fall out again, though, because the women of “Such Brave Girls” never feel as if they’re enough, even though the available male partners range from amiably neglectful to cruel to annoying. It’s a cartoonish downer of a show, perhaps best described as “‘Absolutely Fabulous’ without the fabulous.” But if you can get into its misanthropic groove, it’s also very funny and oddly cathartic.
Female friendship is a stronger force in “Dying for Sex” (eight episodes, 2025; Disney+, Hulu), an Emmy-nominated miniseries created by Elizabeth Meriwether and Kim Rosenstock and based on the podcast of the same name. New Yorker Molly (Michelle Williams) is at couples therapy, complaining that her husband (Jay Duplass) hasn’t wanted to sleep with her since her recovery from cancer, when her doctor calls. The cancer has returned, and now it’s terminal.
The first time around, Molly was a model patient. Now, staring down mortality, she realizes she doesn’t want to die without having explored her sexuality or even orgasmed with a partner. So she dumps her husband, jumps on the hookup apps and enlists her wild child best friend, Nikki (Jenny Slate), as her new caretaker/enabler.
This may sound like a parable Samantha would tell on “Sex and the City,” and “Dying for Sex” does share some of that show’s bada-bing humor. There are zany bits involving disciplining a human pet and attending a “kink-forward play-party potluck.” Molly even has her own Mr. Big, an unnamed hot neighbor (Rob Delaney) who likes her to boss him around.
But “Dying for Sex” is a lot deeper and more touching than its one-liners and cute raunchiness might suggest. Memories of childhood abuse complicate Molly’s mission of sexual fulfillment as well as her relationship with her mom (Sissy Spacek). Her initial sense of liberation fades as she realizes how deep her inhibitions go. At least she has the help of a sympathetic palliative care specialist (a wonderful Esco Jouley) who knows something about kink.
Williams anchors the series with a puckishly volatile performance: Molly’s delight in receiving dick pics from strangers is so sweet and pure that it’s infectious, yet we also feel her raw pain. Gravel-voiced Slate makes an excellent partner in crime, even as we see the toll that playing that role takes on Nikki.
“Dying for Sex” puts the chaos in a meaningful context: Molly is “messy” because she’s lost any incentive to tidy up her emotions, and she doesn’t want to die without knowing who she really is. The final episode is a sob fest, as you’d expect. Yet it also features Paula Pell’s bracingly funny — and enlightening — turn as a hospice worker who reminds the audience of core truths. What could be inherently messier than dying — or living?
This article appears in Aug 20-26, 2025.
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