REVIEW: Totally Completely Fine – Season One [2023]

Rating: TV-MA | Episodes: 12 | Runtime: 60 minutes
Release Date: April 20th, 2023 (USA)
Studio: Stan / Sundance Now
Creator(s): Gretel Vella

What makes you think I’m scared?

Don’t go into Gretel Vella’s “Totally Completely Fine” thinking it’s simply going to deliver a maturation arc for its main character Vivian Cunningham (Thomasin McKenzie). She and her writers’ room know human nature isn’t so easily swayed. This is a young woman haunted by visions of her parents’ death, after all. Being the only child in the car at the time, Viv’s the only one who knows for certain what happened.

Unfortunately, being so young back then means her grief and guilt have constantly been manipulating that truth. Her mind hides details when it suits its self-loathing. It triggers emotions when her older brothers’ (Rowan Witt’s John and Brandon McClelland’s Hendrix) eyes and voices force her to believe it was all her fault. No one should therefore be surprised she once attempted suicide. Or that we meet her about to try again. Life just isn’t quite done with her yet.

Whether that means the phone call telling her of her grandfather’s death was fated to prevent the hair dryer from falling into the tub is up to you. Just like Amy Matthews (Contessa Treffone) thinking a brolga walking around the day of her wedding has Viv’s grandfather’s soul inside it is up to her. Truth or plausibility (or even sanity) don’t matter.

The thought kept Amy going when all seemed lost. And maybe it can keep Viv going too if she’s willing to let herself get out of her own way. Because she’s the roadblock to her own happiness. It’s not John always being angry with her or Hendrix smothering her with positivity. She merely processes those things through a filter of blame and worthlessness. Vivian hears a compliment and assumes it’s patronizing. She hears an insult and spirals down into the self-destructive abyss she calls home.

Except now there might be a path back to even-footing—the likes of which she’s never known since before the crash. It comes via bequeathment as her grandfather decides to split his assets three-ways (through his lawyer Wilkinson, the always entertaining John Noble). Hendrix gets the golf clubs. John gets the massage chair. Vivian gets the waterfront property.

So, monetary “fairness” isn’t quite being met and John has reason to be frustrated since his food truck was recently burnt to a crisp by Viv. He therefore wants her to sell and pay him. She wants to bask in the rent-free lifestyle drug/sex addicts like her aspire to attain. Grandpa had another thought, though. Because what no one in the family knew about this house was that the cliff behind it was the most popular suicide venue in all of Australia. Neighbors say he saved over 200 lives. And on her first night there, Vivian unwittingly saves Amy.

The rest of the series could have comfortably settled into a “suicide of the week” template afterwards. If this show was made ten years ago, it probably would have done exactly that. But that’s not the point. A suicidal person doesn’t just miraculously heal upon deciding not to jump. And Vivian doesn’t just stop hating herself because she saves a few people.

We’re dealing with years of pent-up feelings from everyone on-screen. Good deeds and transformative desires will not combat a direct hit of the opposite and the justifiable narcissism that results will not allow any of these broken people to truly be able to help another when their first thought is to defensively remind the group that they have it worse. It’s why Amy is such a crucial piece to the whole and why being such renders her journey through domestic abuse (James Sweeny’s always-smiling George) and the fear of losing herself so devastating.

Add Hendrix’s martial struggles since fatherhood and his wife Laura’s (Mia Morrissey) inability to cope. Add John’s cold, clinical view as the elder statesman whose martyr complex won’t allow him to show feelings about to risk ruining his romance with Alejandro (Édgar Vittorino). Then there’s the neighbors too. Dane (Devon Terrell) the control freak psychologist. Louis (Max Crean) the 50s-cosplaying paperboy. Beatrice (Deborah Kennedy) the pot-smoking former friend of grandpa.

They all look like a laundry list of caricatures thrown together for comedic hijinks and yet each holds a darkness that Vivian’s whirlwind of swear words and truth bombs has the unique power of bringing out. None of them is a passenger either. Each is critically important to the other’s ups and downs. Salvation and damnation.

And that’s where Vella’s work shines. There’s a reason every episode begins with suicide prevention verbiage and phone numbers. Because no matter how funny or perhaps silly things get, she pulls zero punches insofar as the mental hardships and psychological roller coasters these characters must endure. Just when things start looking good, something happens to pull everything back even deeper into the dark than before.

Those who finally escape their monsters stumble right back into their arms. The voices that tell them all they aren’t worthy of happiness slide right back into being heard when tragedy inevitably strikes again. McKenzie carries the biggest load as lead, but everyone is battling something that possesses the strength to burn their worlds to the ground. Like Amy says about Vivian, though, it’s never without hope. Just don’t forget the tissues.