Big Mood ★★★★
Stan

It’s time to let Nicola Coughlan have any role she wants. The Irish actor, who was a self-involved teenage riot in the high school comedy Derry Girls and then a delicious mix of the rueful and the romantic in period powerhouse Bridgerton, is all aces in this frank, funny British comedy. As Maggie, a young playwright whose life is determined by her bipolar disorder, Coughlan personifies both manic energy and depressive stasis so thoroughly that you can understand why the fissures in her character’s life are so strangely reassuring.

Big Mood was created by the playwright Camilla Whitehill, and it has a quicksilver sense of humour that feels genuine to the characters, as opposed to smart lines being uttered by an actor. It has a dropped-in-the-deep-end immediacy: barely have we met an unwisely buoyant Maggie and her best friend, struggling bar owner Eddie (Lydia West), than they’re on a day trip to the former’s old school, where Maggie’s plans to flatter her own ego and see the teacher she had a crush on swiftly come unstuck.

The show is plugged into a Millennial mindset – mental health and financial insecurity are prominent – but it doesn’t mine easy generational gags and there’s always a bittersweet acknowledgment that mocking commentary doesn’t make the biggest of differences. Maggie has gone off her medication, a decision that Eddie is trying to support, but once her surprise 30th birthday party becomes a slow-motion car crash it’s difficult to see the way forward.

What could be a silly gambit, such as Maggie citing the Russell Crowe Oscars winner A Beautiful Mind as her self-treatment inspiration, has an idiosyncratic authenticity. “You’re my Jennifer Connelly,” Maggie reassures Eddie. Things don’t get better by the end of each episode; they start to get worse. And as witty as the exchanges are, there’s no easy out for Maggie. When she coyly tries to cite her mental health difficulties as the can’t-miss reason she hasn’t produced a contracted new play, Maggie’s agent calls her out.

There are all kinds of amusing bits converging on the narrative, including the Australian actor Eamon Farren (Twin Peaks: The Return) as an entitled idiot named Klent, who is slumming it as Eddie’s barman. But Big Mood ultimately prevails because the waggish tone, complete with quickfire replies and daft detours, is never simply a panacea. The funnier the moment, the easier it is to see how so much of what Maggie encourages to happen is a distraction. The wisdom here, given terrific momentum by Coughlan, is as vital as the laughs.

Quiet on Set ★★★★
Binge, Friday

To be clear, the star rating for this documentary series about the toxic dynamic, systemic failings, and child sexual abuse that took place behind the cheery facade of American children’s television isn’t about how entertaining it is. Quiet on Set is compelling viewing for what it exposes, with clear and cohesive reporting, and what it tells us – yet again – about how power imbalances in Hollywood lead to horrifying exploitation.