My Brilliant Friend: Season 1-3: Review. By Christopher Patterson.
Taking a Look Back at a Marvelous Adaptation Before It Cements Itself in History
I finally rewatched, after quite some time, the My Brilliant Friend series. And took another dive into the books with the tenth anniversary of the final book underway. And… I was missing out. To be blunt: what a great series. From the top to the bottom, it is just brilliant. A reflection of the human experience through an empowering story of girlhood and womanhood based in an oppressive society that illustrates usually how each character was almost molded into their roles, even our leads, by the oh so vast world around them that can be as beautiful as cruel and sometimes be so vast it could be better for some to simply sit and just imagine.
My Brilliant Friend, at its simplest, is about a life. Elena’s. But while the book is more cut and clean about it, the series is more ever-ranging. Thanks to it being television, it takes the tale one step further. Making each person live the story in a way.
The sauce of My Brilliant Friend is the mechanics of it. Sure, for instance, the books prose are dull and stinted and overly arranged in their affect to gather anything but recap value, even if really good recap value, and sure, sometimes the series can miss out on key discussion and simplify things from, almost understandably, the books narrator, but in the show this feels less personal and more wide thanks to the writing. Simply, this show doesn’t miss. When they’re are depressing moments, it doesn’t just show it but rather makes you feel it to a point that can make you stop and just take in what you just saw you can’t unsee. It’s something your not sure how you feel about. You won’t be the same. But that’s stimulating art.
For all its highs, Elena and Lila’s life has its lows. And lows they are. One thing My Brilliant Friend makes clear is that this is not a fairy tale. The world of My Brilliant Friend has this realism that strikes no balance. Italy is never really framed in a positive light, if ever, and mainly it’s corruption and horror that World War II brought afterwards are shown barley near always. Even the joyous moments in the series we barley get are still aware of all it took to get here. That can’t and won’t be forgotten.
One of my favorite elements of this series is exploring the complexities of how people live their lives. Their flaws. Despite her efforts to the contrary, Elena did have help to get her where she did: the teacher who believed in her. Though, what if someone didn’t have that step up, rather a push back? Then we have Lila. Aside from this simple demonstration, our leads have a real relationship, meaning a complex one: jealousy, cruelty, empowering yet possessive are just a few words to describe the indescribable since it feels like a real relationship. This kind of writing helps do something, perspective, but also challenges its audience to revisit their own life and get a better perspective of others better than possibly any show I’ve seen before.
Some could describe My Brilliant Friend as a coming-of-age tale; some would call it one of those all-life stories like Marcel Proust that examines life itself, not what coming-of-age is identified with, teenage to adulthood. To my perception, I see it as an understanding of the world narrative. What I mean by that is the stages. In your youth, you are naive and open-minded; innocence runs freely. In teen life, you are spent in the trials of being one with society and fitting in, and all the tribulations and impossibilities that you uncover seem forgetful when you see the glory of fitting in. In adulthood, you are free to do whatever it seems. Consequences really be damned. You are not in the teenage wasteland no matter, rather, just, quite morbidly, the life expectancy one. You start by uncovering triumphs and love and unburdening the curtain, and soon you realize life itself has a lot more in store for you that is all up to you. Later, you accept your role as a parent, possibly, and are burned and not so with the fear of now being not just expected but seemingly forced to confirm to life despite the mere joke of that truth society forces upon you. Later, and much later, death becomes more literal and it all becomes retrospective. While the book feels contained by the death becoming more literal and never really able to capture the rawness of growing up, the series is able to envision a world through an outside lens almost and saves the biggest problem with the book. Too much perspective and too little poignant examinations.
Now, to describe the novel: Shakespearean, yes in its many almost fated conclusions to our characters (most of which will become clear in The Story of the Lost Child (though the first half is quite a slob to get through, it’s worth it), Trevoran (William Trevor, btw), yes for the almost overly simplistic prose style and almost, kind of a bit unlike Trevor, summarizing nature of events, and just a bit of Proustian elegance in weaving the compelling lives of those we follow as time catches them. And here, we arrive kind of at Ferrante. For all her passionate passages and ever-shifting narration by Elena, one thing that became clear to me was personality, lack of regrets, and a memory-like structure. Elena tells her tale in the form of a novel and in a more conversational-like way, as if talking to a friend at night. In turn, thanks to the books being five hundred or so pages, that leaves for a lot of story. And a bit less graceful prose in respect for more nail-biting tea Ferrante probably knows we all want to see.
One of my favorite ways this ambitious series adapted this novel, which can feel like a recap more than a novel despite my love for it, is by taking bits and making them deeper reflection than the novels were capable of. Simply, it feels like they read the books (pretty much a long summary which is how the novels read sometimes) and thought, What if we made this an entire episode rather than a long recap?
I want to go into the themes and parts of My Brilliant Friend, as that is kind of the bread and butter of what makes the show not just so, so good, but so, and I do mean, so literary addicting:
Feminism and female friendship, in my eyes, are what leads these novels down the many paths they take. And quite powerfully. The world of My Brilliant Friend is a world where women are the second priority and are more of objects or toys for the male leads to play with. A sad truth of the time, which is demonstrated so precisely and focused, it’s kind of literary insane the patience Ferrante has. In book one or the first season, Lila and Elena are seen more as toys for the older male and female characters to toy with. If they’re bad, like a toy, they are damaged and put back where the older characters think they belong. If they are good, they are given a toy and told to hurry up. The world, especially in season one, is morbid but filled with innocence by our leads that, despite all the horrors, never loses its light. Season two, however, is where the teenage angst comes in. Cheating on your evil husband to get with your friend’s crush and possible boyfriend are only a small fraction of the giant fails and wins for our leads here. It is truly a teenage wasteland that is not just represented by our leads but by how the world shapes around them from their point of view. Truly, a coming into focus point. What will you do with your life or choose to lead it or, rather, just do whatever you want since it doesn’t matter? This is the question or kind of vibe season two presses into our leads heads until it reaches an answer—an almost morbid in some ways answer based on the moment and how life will follow.
Season three, by comparison to previous seasons, feels more like a breather and a tugging on the past. Compared to other seasons that felt defined as in the moment, season three feels in a place where our leads are more reflective. For instance, Nino is more of a character now for Elena to use as grabbing onto the past she always wanted or always suspected she wanted. Whereas seasons one and two felt as though they managed both the mental and physical conflicts, season three feels directed largely at the mental conflicts: falling in love, raising children, and accepting your life. The one kind of major pushback is that it’s hard to believe our leads are actually as old as it seems. To be honest, Lila and Elena should’ve been recast this season to really demonstrate the age thing occurring, but aside from that, this season is probably the best yet. It has, compared to other seasons, stronger writing, with Ferrante really honing in on our leads flaws and acceptance of themselves. They are not kids anymore, they’re raising kids, and, in turn, there is this nature to society to accept your age, accept your place, and live in it forever and never change, never grow again. Change, in society’s eyes we see here, is a matter of becoming someone and staying that way. Rather than seeing people, it’s as if society sees them again as toys, like they were seen as children all over again, but this time they are adults. And this time, feeling forced into a place they can’t change from. We see Elena rebel from this partly by getting with Nino seemingly for this reason and possibly out of spite to Lila and possibly out of just desire.
At its worst, My Brilliant Friend feels, sadly, like literary fiction shock value. Nothing in between. When we get big moments, the show usually quite effectively examines the world around them that has gotten them here while also managing to offer a poignant examination of society’s cruelty and genuinely speak to something. At its worst, though, it feels like the show, is basing itself a bit too hard on the first-person narrative of the novel, can feel one-dimensional, and rather than showing a complex world and how people are morphed by it, it just shows careless writing choices that feel more whatever to get to the big moments.
At its best, though, My Brilliant Friend demonstrates the life of someone in a mixture of narrative storytelling, beautiful writing that comes off low key before becoming Shakespearen and epic, and poignant meandering that comes together so nicely it feels only by fate.
Perceptiveness is probably what the series does best that the books never really do, or as well. Thanks to the book’s first-person perspective, we are stuck in the mind of a narrator, regardless of what is said and sometimes unsaid, but in My Brilliant Friend (the series), the world never really feels contained to Elena’s imagination, but rather full of different perspectives being tossed in at every single moment and leaving our constant and varying interpretations of every single thing to leave its way. That non-stop rush of views, hearts, and lives rather than being contained is shown for what it is. A world full of different people just trying to get by, just like Elena. Whereas the book, despite a strong love for it, can feel like that strong perceptiveness, like what happens as we age, gets lost in memory.
VERDICT
My Brilliant Friend is a masterpiece since it feeds into so many areas of the human psyche, followed by enough drama to keep you hooked. It really is a different ballpark compared to possibly any other television show. It is able to reflect the human experience in all sectors, followed with near-excellent performances at every turn. If there ever was a low point, it would be that there is so much more that could be expanded on, but sometimes, like the books, it never really is. Aside from that, My Brilliant Friend is not just a must-watch show, but a modern classic in the making.
4.5/5
