HELENA’S NOTES:

Note1: I don’t know about this show. It starts off all nice and miserable af, ends up with everyone skipping down a cobbled street, whistling a tune from The Sound of Music. I mean. Love happy endings and all that, but the happiness has got to be for real. And also for a good enough reason. Ugh. That little orphan twit Pollyanna has a lot to answer for. 

Note2: Okay, so I thought about this a tiny bit more, and I’ve arrived to a conclusion that, actually, After Life is pretty real. I mean, death is real. And so is the heartbreak. Bitterness, too, especially one that makes bed out of a broken heart. Junkies are real. Whores, too, even if they do stand on the prettiest corner in the world.

Guess what I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to act happy all the time to actually be happy. And that there must be more than one kind of a happy ending. Otherwise I’d be kind of screwed.

OLGA’S NOTES:

Note1: Prior to After Life, the only thing I’ve ever seen Ricky Gervais in was The Night of the Museum: The Secret Tomb. I’ve never cared to watch The Ricky Gervais Show, or The Office, or Extras. I’d like to say that this was nothing personal, but of course it was, in that special kind of way some plebs go about taking a dislike to a certain celebrity, then spend the rest of their lives avoiding the said celebrity at all cost.

Note2: But my best friend, Ms Plouviez, insisted I give After Life a spin, and so duly I did. Almost switched it off the moment Ricky opened his mouth. He sounded exactly as I’ve imagined he would: miserable, whiney, arrogant and rude. Still, I sat straight through the first episode. Then the second. And the third. Ended up watching all six episodes in one go. It was that good. The word’s heartfelt.