Chewing Gum sounds like my kind of comedy. It is a British comedy, has a black woman protagonist who was raised by a fundamentalist Christian immigrant mother and features interracial relationships. I probably put it in my queue in 2017, but once Netflix notified me that it would be pulling the series on April 4, 2020, I moved it up in my queue. A tragic, global pandemic helped clear my schedule so I could easily watch it in less than one day.
It was not exactly what I was expecting. I enjoyed Chewing Gum while clutching my pearls. I expected sexual content because the series premise is that the protagonist, Tracy, is desperately trying to lose her virginity, but it is a raunchy, gross out comedy. There is more than one scene featuring filthy rooms that Tracy gamely tries to get down in, and Michaela Coel, the writer and star of the series, and Robert Lonsdale, who plays her onscreen boyfriend, never hold back on the awkward physical comedy. This series has no breaks, and the entire cast is willing to shamelessly embrace their messiest selves then limbo below that level. The only reason that I did not howl with laughter is because my mouth was already occupied with being open in shock. For example, there are episodes that reference bestiality and incest, topics that are usually not tackled in shows involving virgins. I was not ready.
Chewing Gum only consists of two six-episode seasons with each episode less than twenty-five minutes. I preferred the second season more than the first maybe because I finally got acclimated to the content, but superficially it felt as if the series found a balance between humor and character development. The supporting characters were finally getting independent story lines. For example, the mother, who is a little one note, but still howlingly hilarious, finally gets a little more of a backstory and a tease regarding what she wants for her future. Instead of just being a hammer, she became a little more three dimensional and relatable. The one-off characters were more memorable and left me wanting more. I laughed a little too hard at Ash, the guy with a fetish for….well, I will let you discover that for yourself.
If I had to criticize Chewing Gum, it was the transition from first to second season, which was a deliberate decision regarding how to diversify the structure of the episode. I was briefly confused whether or not I had somehow missed an episode, or if Netflix did not have all the episodes, and I would have to go elsewhere to fill in the blanks. It was a brave choice that ultimately worked, but if there was going to be another season, I would hope that the first episode of the third season would handle the transition between seasons differently yet still be understandable.
Like most British series, Coel leaves viewers wanting more and exits on a high note unlike most American series that wear out their welcome and leave viewers begging for it to end already. She felt as if she had achieved everything that she set out to do, and I can see her point considering how the series ends. There was a danger that Chewing Gum may get tidier and more respectable, but Coel also later tweeted that she may do a third season so we will see what happens. It has been over three years so it seems unlikely, but if tweets come true, I would definitely eagerly return for more.
Chewing Gum appeals to me because Tracy is a bundle of human, loveable contradictions whom you cannot help but root for while constantly being somewhat horrified at her clueless enthusiasm to jump in the deep end of a potentially dangerous pool. The series never loses its levity even though sex can often lead to young women in jeopardy storylines, and Tracy puts herself in a lot of precarious positions that could lead to disease, death or heart break yet she is like a life vest, irrepressibly bobbing back to the surface. Usually only men, not women, get humorous storylines when they seek out sex whereas women’s stories become cautionary tales or dramas, but Coel never loses a laugh. A lot of her immaturity is due to her upbringing, but every character is out of step in some fundamental day that simultaneously leads to second and embarrassment and hijinks.
Chewing Gum is also a testament to the basic underlying heartwarming nature of the series that none of the characters are villains, but human beings filled with foibles who rarely rise above their earthiness and often have to overcome those unexamined flaws to achieve happiness. During encounters with people from higher classes, they stand their ground in our hearts and never seem dingy or suffer by comparison. I do not know how it is possible to not hate characters who cheat or treat their partners horribly, but somehow Cole finds a way to unflinchingly depict the bad behavior without endorsing it and also raise it as a character’s fearless attempt to achieve happiness and unshackle themselves from the weight of what they thought life should look like. Sure the course correction is too dramatic, but it is still sympathetic. I could not help but root for everyone even when it was obviously untenable.
Part of the humor of Chewing Gum was comparing and contrasting how the parents reacted to their adult kids’ sexcapades. It definitely reflected some truths about cultural and racial differences that mainstream media in America has yet to cotton to. Black people and immigrants are hella personally conservative. Even the biracial girl, who lives with her permissive white grandmother, replies when asked about drug use, “No. I’m black.” Some truths know no borders.
If you have a free day and Netflix, check out Chewing Gum if you do not mind bawdy and scatological humor, sexual depictions and profanity. Cole has a Lucille Ball like physicality in her approach to humor, and her fearless performance leads the entire perfect cast to follow suit and go to their furthest corners. They may speak English, but I would recommend that you turn on the subtitles because there is a lot of contemporary vernacular which may not be familiar to you.