Too Much

A testament to Dunham’s strength as a creative and someone who understands the tropes she’s engaging in and, to some extent, challenging. That the series manages to be as funny as it is while also reveling in sincerity and folly is what makes it so engaging.

Audiences should enjoy Dunham's worthy and hard-won return to the small screen.

It’s hard not to say that Netflix has another Nobody Wants This, albeit a quirkier and more unconventional one, on their hands. Thanks to Stalter and Dunham, Too Much is a winning comedy that will remind you to adjust your expectations for finding a match, but keep your heart open.

Yes, it threatens to go overboard, and sometimes does, but keeping it afloat are its two terrific leads. They anchor this warts-and-all romance.

Stalter and Sharpe are an on-screen match made in heaven, and the delicate nature of their characters’ relationship couldn’t be safer in anyone else’s hands. Alongside them is an ensemble of actors who consistently steal the show every time they appear on screen.

Funnier and more of a rom-com, “Too Much” largely isn’t too much in the way “Girls” was, thanks to Dunham leaning into a lighter tone and the likability of star Megan Stalter. ... Stalter is a riveting performer.

“Too Much” doesn’t entirely abandon Dunham’s impulse to make her lead character an extension of herself, and if you’re not a fan of hers, this may be a barrier to entry. In this case, it should not be, and I say this as someone who doesn’t particularly like Lena Dunham for a variety of reasons. .... Dunham’s smartest move was choosing Stalter to be this comedy’s voice.

When Jess and Felix spend all night watching movies and talking about themselves, it gives Dunham a chance to do some of her finest writing: funny, natural, a touch too honest and deceptively intimate. And there’s real heat here thanks to Stalter and Sharpe’s chemistry.

It occasionally lives up to its name, but overall, Too Much is a funny, sexy, moving love story – and Girls fans will get a kick out of seeing Lena Dunham’s slightly softer side.

The emotional core of Too Much, two people trying to connect in their 30s with the weight of past hurt heavy on their shoulders, is moving and messy and compelling. And it’s done well enough that, by the end, I had almost forgiven the fact that the Brits-vs.-Americans shtick was, for me, too much. Too Much works best when it’s not emulating the fish-out-of-water approach of Emily in Paris. Let it just be, and we may just have our long-awaited successor to Girls.

She excels at short-form storytelling. The smaller the unit, the sparklier her writing gets. Her episodes are plays. Taken scene by scene, her writing is even better: rangy and unexpected, and filled with the surprise pleasures her creative anarchy — the more detached it is from the pressures of plot — makes possible. That remains true here, even when her longer arcs deliver more predictable (or conventional, or simply less satisfying) fare.

This charming, idiosyncratic show preserves Dunham’s gift for effortlessly distinct, joke-laden dialogue while evolving the “Girls” ethos for a new phase of life.

It’s a rom-com with bite, noir and pin-sharp observations that show that Dunham’s writing still sparkles. Yes, ten episodes might be two too many and the final episode does become a bit “Four Weddings/Love Actually”. But it is never in a cloying, saccharine way.

Too Much strives to wring a realistic adult romance from a genre full of its most magnificent and flimsiest portrayals, and while it’s a cut above most, it still winds up leaving somethign to be desired.

Playful and endearing, the series is a strong return for Dunham. Anchored by a terrific romance, an off-kilter yet charismatic performance from Sharpe, and Stalter’s comedic timing, the series does rom-coms right.

The series is very funny and sweet, but also at times distinctly melancholy, and it navigates its different moods gracefully.

The pacing isn’t always smooth, and a few character arcs lose their tether to the Earth, but Dunham delivers enough salient insights about self-acceptance and sharp jokes about, well, everything to elevate her third TV series above many of the medium’s typical love stories.

The more I’ve come back to the show, the more its slack, unromantic approach to love looks intentional. Jess and Felix couple up not because they’re giddy with feeling, drunk on proximity and intimacy and connection, but because each offers something specific that the other person needs. .... In the place where the show’s heart should be is instead pure pragmatism: This is love for a cold climate.

Too Much feel[s] rife with potential, even though it has yet to cohere into a great sitcom in line with the heights that these individual talents have already achieved elsewhere.

I reckon the messier elements of “Too Much” will feel familiar to many. There is plenty of chaos in this comedy, but its best moments come in passages of relative calm.

Lena Dunham’s Netflix rom-com Too Much has a certain charm and a great lead performance, but its central romance is too shaky to sustain it.

Stalter's fun — no surprise there — but we've seen this show before (a few times).

Whether with Felix or on her own, Jessica is a bit all over the map, with her behavior frequently feeling like it’s meant to meet the needs of a particular scene or joke rather than as a consistent throughline for the season. Maybe this is on Dunham as writer-director, or on Stalter, or a bit of both, but that inconsistency leaves Too Much feeling like less than the sum of its impressive parts.

“Too Much” is often just the right amount of a compelling romance, but with too much of a sense of loyalty to the conventions of the genre.

Too Much certainly offers some chuckles and heartwarming moments, but getting the most out of it will require a genuine affinity with Dunham's voice and a considerable tolerance for utter nonsense.

Gets off to a rocky start and never fully settles on a tone that might complement its sillier and more serious instincts.

At its best, Too Much offers a candid portrait of modern dating and the challenges of coming to terms with trauma. At its worst, the series loses its charm when it deviates from the main pair to focus on side characters and celebrity cameo appearances that detract rather than add to the story.

Too Much is nothing if not candid, analyzing its leads’ red flags with the clear-eyed empathy of a seasoned therapist. But it struggles to lose itself in its emotions, yielding a romance that’s sweet enough to like but too cool to fall head over heels for.

The truth is the show might have benefited from more mess. This is not to say that Too Much is unenjoyable, just that it feels more like Starstruck than Hacks. A galaxy of stars and a panoply of references will keep people entertained.

As you might expect if you know Dunham’s work, it is sharp, knowing and often funny. But it’s also a self-consciously hip romcom with the whiniest leading man. By the end, I didn’t care if they lived happily ever after or not, as long as they weren’t doing it in my earshot.

The whipped-cream portions of Too Much are never as compelling as the glass-shard self-laceration at which Dunham excels. When that mode does make scattershot appearances in the series, it overwhelms it.

“Too Much” is nowhere near as thorough or tricky [as "Girls"], and it seems happiest in its most pat moments. It’s as diaphanous as one of Jessica’s nightgowns, weirdly long but barely there. Though Felix and Jessica’s relationship moves at warp speed, the show itself does not. Its 10 episodes, which range in length from 31-56 minutes, meander and repeat themselves until the season re-accelerates at the very end.

The show drags in the latter half of its 10 episodes, as Dunham piles on the upper-crust naughtiness while giving short shrift to some characters’ trauma. Perhaps the U.K. approach of four or five episodes would better suit this material.

“Girls” had elements of surprise, transgression, shock and awe. (It first aired in 2012.) “Too Much” is lighter, and thus far more tedious.