It took less than half an episode for me to get over the unconscious poshness of Fleabag (nothing suggests plucky public schoolgirl like the absence of a real given name). The BBC Three show, written by and starring Phoebe Waller-Bridge, reaches those of us from even the most plebeian backgrounds with its meditation on the human condition. The show’s grasp of the realistic woman allows it to navigate complex themes of grief and alienation (not to mention ill-advised haircuts) with an admirable light touch. Few actors pull off Waller-Bridge’s devastating raised eyebrow or mouth-twitch.
Fleabag’s second series concluded on Monday, a triumph of razor-sharp single-life commentary. Handling the link between promiscuity and self-destruction without judgement, it also shows how sex can serve as a life-affirming prescription for sorrow. Fleabag’s volatile brother-in-law (played by Brett Gelman) and her tediously masculine lawyer (Ray Fearon) allow the show to explore gender power play from the female gaze, while Olivia Coleman’s overbearing ‘godmother-stepmother’ figure reminds the audience that patriarchal thinking is not limited to men. Fleabag shows that synthetic politeness can feel as abrasive as an outright insult, but also that a well-timed ‘fuck you’ to a bully can reinforce female connection. Fleabag’s genius move is interrupting the code of breaking the fourth wall as, loaded with spiritual overtones, the priest calls out the protagonist’s characteristic asides. Waller-Bridge interrogates her audience’s suspension of disbelief with understated skill; in one scene she clambers up a ladder, holding her dress tight to her legs to avoid potential up-skirting of the camera – an act of nonchalant metafiction.
Waller-Bridge’s writing is a celebration of sexual freedom, yet she stages persuasive scenarios in which kneeling before a man is empowering. Two of the most provocative moments from the series see Claire dropping to her knees in ironic rebellion against her husband, and the priest’s undeniably kinky instruction to ‘kneel’ in the confessional (anyone fancy Andrew Scott before Fleabag?). Though she is ultimately rejected in favour of god, Fleabag’s heartbreak is determinedly unsentimental. The show never veers towards melancholy for more than a few beats; its exquisitely-paced balance of humour and pain concludes with the fox’s appearance at the bus stop. No wonder Sian Clifford, who plays Claire, suggests the finale is ‘closer to poetry’. The most romantic relationship to blossom throughout the series is between the two sisters, brought tenderly to light in Claire’s begrudging confession: ‘The only person I’d run through an airport for is you’.