How to Get to Heaven From Belfast

The mystery itself can wind down so many weird roads you may feel a bit lost, especially when McGree keeps adding to the frenzied story with bits of relevant Irish history, meaningful character drama, and even a touch of romance. But throughout it all, there are laughs. Quality jokes. Solid physical comedy. Pitch-perfect performances from the rich ensemble.

Though “How to Get to Heaven from Belfast” is ostensibly a murder mystery, it often feels more like a buddy comedy. I enjoyed the twists of Greta’s story—especially the deadpan ferociousness of Bronagh Gallagher, who plays a mysterious and violent woman inexplicably tailing the group—but I could have done without some of the more bizarre turns in the later episodes. I kept coming back to the show instead for its bleakly funny portrait of middle-aged friendship.

How To Get To Heaven From Belfast is a sharply funny examination of how friendships change over time as well as a pretty darn good mystery.

Some of the richness in How to Get to Heaven from Belfast can get lost in the intentional chaos and misdirection, while some of its tantalizing specificity may be generally lost on American viewers simply looking for a wild whodunit. But when the cast is this exceptional and the dialogue has this much manic crackle, whatever you take from the series ought to be enough.

Adding dual timelines, deadly intrigue and a doubled runtime to the “Derry Girls” blueprint, “Belfast” sometimes strains under the weight of all these extra elements, yet never loses the infectious appeal of the platonic chemistry at its core.

It takes in much, at a frenetic pace, and the energy never flags. So much so that you might just occasionally wish it would pause for a moment to allow everyone to catch their breath and give moments time to land. But overall the experience is a switchbacking rush of joy.

Bonkers but brilliant. It’s a real treat to see a writer having this much fun.

This is a show that rewards your patience in bucketloads. Twist after twist unfolds effortlessly, building into a proper odyssey that spans Belfast, Donegal, Dublin, Derry and even Portugal.

Consider this road trip the next best thing to an Irish vacation, an amusing send-up of too-many-things-Irish to count, from weather to wardrobe to “joined the IRA” jokes that never go out of style.

From Derry Girls creator Lisa McGee comes an Irish tale powered by women and full of mirth and menace. It’s the kind of Netflix surprise we all need right now.

How To Get To Heaven From Belfast remains immensely watchable because of McGee’s clear grasp on the long-lasting impact of tight-knit female friendships, particularly those formed during adolescence.

The plot gets a bit woolly towards the end, the mix of tones doesn’t always work, and I sometimes wished I could watch its central girlfriends do anything besides play amateur detective. Still, even if you’re over whodunits, McGee’s cleverly meta spin on an overdone genre and her genius for comedy, dialogue, and character development make for an altogether good craic.