After six years, two television series, several theatrical revivals and a shot-for-shot French remake, Fleabag is back in theatres for one final run: just Phoebe Waller-Bridge, alone on a spotlit stool, performing the one-woman show that made her the toast of Hollywood. Since it’s been widely perceived as a tract on millennial womanhood, we assembled three millennial critics for a discussion on the play’s relevance, cult status and sexual politics.
Response thread to this Guardian piece is quite gob-smacking. Apparently, harbouring reservations about Fleabag is no longer permissible. You MUST love Fleabag and Phoebe Stamford Bridge unreservedly or risk opprobium. Who granted her immunity from criticism please?
Could these people be anymore odious? Is Fleabag Fleabag enough?
Who are these people?
Synopsis: Sometimes it’s just too Fleabag, but only when it’s not Fleabag enough and some people came because PWB is famous and then they laughed at the jokes, and, ooh, it’s a bit cruel, but then not Fleabag enough. Twats.
‘The laughs were disproportionate to how funny the jokes actually were.’ The absolute epitome of a Left Wing audience watching a comic who is not white or a male. So brave!!
Your obsession with this is second only to get when you used to bang on about Girls. It’s almost like you have an agenda.
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