Firefly Lane, Netflix's new soapy drama, aims high and misses – but that won't stop it being a hit
Men, there’s no need to read on. Firefly Lane was not made for you. It is from the Netflix genre of soapy dramas aimed squarely at women. There is a scene involving Spanx, storylines about workplace sexism and getting a job after years as a stay-at-home mum, a handsome hunk who knows how to fix the bathroom sink without getting a man in, Carly Simon and Fleetwood Mac on the soundtrack. If you haven’t got the message by the end, the finale plays out to This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush.
There is a bottomless well of this type of thing on Netflix, and on Channel 5 in the afternoons, and why not? Give me one of these over a blood-soaked crime drama most days of the week. Firefly Lane has some good things going for it: it’s a celebration of lifelong female friendship with its heart in the right place. But it aims higher and misses: not funny enough to make you laugh and not deep enough to make you cry.
The reason Firefly Lane is being marketed as a premium product is the presence of Katherine Heigl, former Hollywood star. She plays Tully, host of an Oprah-style talk show, successful career woman but troubled and single. Kate (Sarah Chalke) is the sensible and under-confident one, tentatively returning to the world of work after marriage and child-rearing.
Heigl (who also executive produced the drama, which is based on a bestseller by Kristin Hannah) is well cast in the role of the go-getting Tully. But the idea that Chalke is a mousy frump is hilarious – she looks great, especially in a scene that requires her to wear stockings and a corset. Her marriage breakdown also fails to ring true, conducted in the most civilised fashion imaginable as her loving husband decides he needs to find himself by going to cover the war in Iraq.
But the biggest problem with Firefly Lane is the shifting timelines, taking us from the girls’ teenage years in the Seventies to the start of their careers in the Eighties and the here-and-now in 2003. We ricochet between the three, and while the early period is well done – date rape and toxic parenting sensitively handled – the Eighties bits are awful.
Remember how they de-aged Robert De Niro and co in The Irishman? Well, they’ve done it here, except on a tiny budget. Imagine a child airbrushing faces using Google’s paint tool, and you’re half-way there. The period detail feels cheaply done too – Farrah Fawcett hair and a Jane Fonda workout is about the extent of their efforts.
It’s likely to be a hit. I ended up mindlessly watching the lot. If you hate unsatisfying endings, though, avoid this at all costs: it ends on a cliffhanger, so certain are the producers that it will be recommissioned for series two.
