“Queenie,” premiering Friday on Hulu, is a beautiful comedy-drama based on Candice Carty-Williams’ 2019 novel of the same name. Reviews of the London-set book described it as a “noir ‘Bridget Jones’,” but belongs to a long line of evolving stories of young or fairly young women probing the meaning of life and love and resolving bad old deals so that potentially good new deals can be considered. It's a fertile genre that onscreen encompasses “Mary Tyler Moore,” “The Mindy Project,” “New Girl,” “Felicity,” “Fleabag” and “Insecure,” with which “Queenie” shares racial specificity. On the page it goes back to Jane Austen and forwards to countless beach reads.
The series, with Carty-Williams as showrunner, makes an immediate good impression, thanks to the realism of its staging and, above all, a phenomenal Dionne Brown, in her first important role. As Queenie, a 25-year-old second-generation British Jamaican, Brown, who appears in almost every non-flashback scene and narrates throughout, makes a well-rounded person out of a variety of attitudes: hopeful, desperate, with hungover, exuberant, restless, pensive. She is a subtle performance of a great character; You can read a whole book in her face.
“Queenie” begins with a gynecological exam, which brings with it surprising, withheld bad news and a frustrating day at work. Newspaper editor Gina's social media assistant (Sally Phillips, from the “Bridget Jones” films, possibly no more of a coincidence than the Playboy Bunny outfit Queenie wears to a costume party), aspires to become reporter But her throws don't land. We don't really see her working but rather failing at work, as she is failing in other ways.
As Queenie, a 25-year-old second-generation British Jamaican, Dionne Brown makes a well-rounded person from a variety of attitudes.
(Latoya Okuneye/Lionsgate)
All of this puts her on a collision course with Tom (Jon Pointing), her white boyfriend of three years. After an outburst at her mother's birthday dinner, where, thanks to Tom's grandmother, the phrase “mixed race” appears in reference to possible children, they separate from her. Queenie will spend a lot of time obsessing over him, until she overcorrects him with a series of one-night stands and “situations” with unsatisfactory men who tend to end up married. (Unlike most TV shows, “Queenie” is kind of an anti-casual sex short, though it's pretty full of that, too.)
“My friends are great, my family is my family,” Queenie tells God, having met her family at a church, “but I feel so alone all the time, to the point that I keep having sex… with guys I love.” I don't know.” I don't really care about just feeling… something. Is it really me, Lord? Do I push everyone away?
However, as much as she may be contributing to the chaos in her life, men as a class do not fare well here, the significant exceptions being her grandfather, Fred (Joseph Marcell), and cousin Frank (Samuel Adewunmi). from her friend Bellah (Kyazike Mayagenda). It gives nothing away that we recognize Frank as a better guy the first time we see him, even if Queenie can't. (She doesn't date black men, she says, because she doesn't want to end up like her mother, an idea that opens the door to future revelations of repressed trauma.) For all the dark places she goes, “Queenie” also plays by the rules of the romantic comedy.
Queenie's grandparents, played by Joseph Marcell, left, and Llewella Gideon, are an integral part of the character's life.
(Latoya Okuneye/Lionsgate)
If Brown is the center of the action and attention, he is excellently supported by a cast whose work never ceases to be authentic, no matter how much their characters exist to fill a dramatic niche. A circle of friends, whom she calls Corgis (the book was written during the reign of Queen Elizabeth II), includes her co-worker Darcy (Tilly Keeper), the cheerful Bellah, and the elegant Cassandra (Elisha Applebaum), whose Lives seem to be comparatively in order, at least for the moment. Over a series of parties and random encounters, conversations and mishaps, Queenie will fight and join them.
Most charmingly, there is her steadfast family, each as big as Queenie in their own way: grandparents Fred and Veronica (Llewella Gideon), with whom she will live for a while; the elegant Aunt Maggie (Michelle Greenidge), who is full of advice; and the young and vivacious cousin Diana (Cristale De'Abreu). But she doesn't talk to her mother, Sylvie (Ayesha Antoine), for reasons that will be revealed.
While many shows about twenty-somethings tend to be sensational and glossy, with glamorous and idealized characters, the strong point of “Queenie” is its very vulgarity. That's not to say these people lack glamour: the series is full of color. (Worth mentioning costume designer Cobbie Yates and hair and makeup designer Dumebi Anozie, who have sensitively combined look with spirit.) But it's a glamor that seems to emerge from the characters rather than being imposed on them or decided at the casting stage. . They are people who look like… people.
Queenie's journey from self-sabotage to self-esteem will change her relationship with those around her, but the series doesn't exactly have a driving plot. This actually works well for television; “Queenie” reads more like an episodic comedy than a series, and as with episodic comedy, it's a place to settle. Things change, but life goes on, as the arc of the comedy slowly tips toward happiness.
