Sally Wainwright’s drama about middle-aged women forming a punk band is funny, angry and worth the noise. Joanna Scanlan and Rosalie Craig make it matter, even when the writing insists on explaining what their performances already tell us.
Sally Wainwright’s Riot Women gives five middle-aged women a punk band and plenty to be angry about. We recommend it for the performances and the humour, with a warning that the writing occasionally turns a conversation into a lecture. Menopause, caring for other people and the experience of being overlooked are allowed to occupy a drama rather than supply a passing joke. The band brings those frustrations together and gives the women something to do for themselves.
Joanna Scanlan’s Beth and Rosalie Craig’s Kitty give the series its strongest reason to keep watching. Scanlan makes the pressures of midlife feel substantial, while Craig gives Kitty’s disorderly energy enough warmth to keep her from becoming merely exhausting. We believe in their anger because neither performance settles for demonstrating that the character has a right to it. There is room for awkwardness and humour, which does more for the women than another speech about how badly they have been treated.
Tamsin Greig, Lorraine Ashbourne and Amelia Bullmore play Holly, Jess and Yvonne, and the ensemble matters as much as the two most conspicuous performances. The pleasure comes from allowing different women to be angry together without making them equally tidy or equally likeable. We were moved by them making music together. After all the pressure to cope, the sight of these women giving time to something they want feels like a release, and the band earns its place in the drama.
Wainwright writes about menopause as a daily concern, alongside the demands of caring for other people. The comedy allows irritation to be funny without making the women ridiculous, an important distinction when we are spending so much time with people who have had enough. Anger would become tiring if it were their only available response, and the humour keeps them interesting. The jokes also make the darker material easier to stay with; the programme can be upsetting without becoming an evening of punishment.
Wainwright and Amanda Brotchie direct, and the series has the energy to carry its busy mixture of personal troubles and music. The changes between humour and distress generally feel right for characters whose problems will not politely wait until they have finished enjoying themselves. There is a risk of giving them more trouble than the drama can properly consider. At its strongest, though, the programme gives the performers enough room to make each difficulty feel personal, rather than simply adding another issue to be discussed.
The difficulty comes when Wainwright seems unwilling to let a point stand without explaining it again. Dialogue about women being overlooked can become sermon-like, and the male characters are too often thinly drawn to make the exchanges interesting. More particular men would give those arguments a chance to surprise us, instead of merely confirming what the writing has already made clear. When the dialogue spells out who is right so insistently, even these actors have to work to make a confrontation believable.
As a band drama, Riot Women makes the company as appealing as the prospect of playing music. The women’s other responsibilities give the familiar story of starting again some worthwhile complications. We would have preferred fewer explanations and more confidence in a cast who need little help making the material count. Make time for it if funny, difficult company appeals, and allow for the occasional speech that could have ended sooner.
