Will Sharpe’s family comedy-drama is funny and worth the discomfort, with Olivia Colman and Julian Barratt making the awkward exchanges count. Its surreal flourishes can grow tiresome, and his performance as Shun risks a stereotype.
Flowers is worth the discomfort, provided a family comedy does not have to offer much reassurance. Creator, writer and director Will Sharpe brings mental distress close to the jokes, and usually judges that closeness well. The programme can be funny without making its characters’ difficulties seem negligible, a harder task than simply alternating laughter with solemnity. Its chief weakness is an occasional insistence on being strange when the actors have already given us enough to watch.
Olivia Colman, as Deborah Flowers, and Julian Barratt, as Maurice Flowers, give the series its most persuasive moments. Their shared scenes have precise comic timing, but neither performer makes the discomfort feel safely finished when the joke arrives. We laughed, then felt uneasy about laughing, because the hurt in their exchanges remained audible. Colman in particular makes us stay interested in the person speaking, even when the writing seems keen to direct our attention towards its own oddness.
Jamie Cairney’s cinematography gives the gloom an emphatic presence, while Luana Hanson’s production design supports the series’ surreal manner. That concentration of effort helps make the programme feel distinctive, but can also become oppressive. We sometimes wanted less encouragement to notice how peculiar everything was. The performances are strong enough to hold our attention without so much insistence around them, and the quieter exchanges benefit from having less to compete with.
Selina Macarthur’s editing is most effective when it gives the performers room to establish an awkward rhythm. The more indulgent stretches make the pauses and changes of tone feel laboured instead. Arthur Sharpe’s music contributes to that heightened atmosphere; it suits the programme, though the cumulative emphasis can grow tiring. With episodes running for 25 minutes, even a short stretch can feel crowded by all these competing demands.
Will Sharpe’s portrayal of Shun is a more troubling reservation. The broadness risks stereotype, and the performance can ask for a laugh before the character has persuaded us. That matters in a series whose writing elsewhere takes such care over distress. His willingness to be conspicuously odd is often productive as a director, but here we wanted him to be more exacting with himself as a performer.
Against the reassuring habits of family comedy, the programme’s willingness to stay uncomfortable is welcome. Its mental-health concerns do not feel like a worthy subject added to excuse the jokes; they affect how the humour works. The writing is especially good at letting amusement persist in bleak material without requiring a cheerful explanation afterwards. It falters when the surreal flourishes seem to be there chiefly because another ordinary exchange would apparently not do.
We recommend Flowers to viewers who can tolerate some overstatement in a comedy that takes unhappiness seriously. Colman and Barratt make that bargain worthwhile. There is warmth here, although its creator does not always make it easy to reach. If tonight calls for television that will settle everyone’s nerves, choose something else.