Bad Sisters, 2022, Apple TV

I was initially hesitant to start Bad Sisters. On one hand, I really love Sharon Horgan, and a show about sisters conspiring to do dark shit sounds right up my alley. I always wanted sisters; my brothers and I conspired against each other, never together (except once when I convinced them to wake up before dawn on Christmas to sneak into the living room, peak at all the presents, and report back to me; they were noisy and got caught and that was the beginning and end of their careers as my accomplices).  

On the other hand,  I'm more of a wuss about "murder as a plot device" since having kids. Some of the murder mysteries and black comedies I used to love can now feel kinda callous (maybe I just need better meds, or maybe I'm just finally sensitized the way most normal people already were). A body washing up on a beach doesn't just feel grim, anymore--now I'm also thinking about where their mother will be when she gets the call, and how she'll remember the way her baby would fit their head on her shoulder when they were sleepy. It's hard for a show to capture what happens after that call. So I almost skipped this one. But for Horgan--whose Catastophe, her show with Rob Delaney, is the reason I, trying to decide if my child-free plan was one I still wanted to fully commit to or if I was just making a decision out of fear, finally shrugged and said, maybe I can be a parent...maybe even if I haven't slept and am covered in someone's shit, I can still laugh they way they do--I'd give most things a try. I'm glad I did!

Bad Sisters is ultimately kind and cathartic, the way many BBC murder mysteries w/ their small-town manners and quiet pacings can be, for sure...but without sacrificing the gravity of death or the despair. Death is gross and bleak and heavy, and not just because they use realistic makeup on the corpse and have lots of misty, grey moors in the background. The camera lingers after the funeral, the insurance agents show up, the bad guy has a pregnant wife with high blood pressure, the grief sets in in the middle of the night, and the camera lingers after the mothers get the call. None of it never feels kitchsy or twee, even if the premise sounds like some type of Richard Gorey story or Irish drinking song. It also doesn't sacrifice the humor or the joy or the love that can coexist with bleakness and ugliness-- I don't know. I know the Irish have a long tradition of being able to walk that line, but this feels fresh; I'd say why, but that would give too much away. It's good shit. A solid, messy, suprising, gripping little show.