Trigonometry

Writers Duncan Macmillan and Effie Woods blend all of these pressures together to complexify a story that develops around the need for emotional support and understanding more than the physical urges informing their situation. The actors embody these entanglements with admirable restraint and grace, selling the drama as wholeheartedly as the premise's sensual implications.

It takes all the messiness of affection and heartache and loss and instead of affording it to a central couple dealing with someone on the outside, it treats these three characters as partners each worthy of attention in their own way. Like any good relationship, it’s hard work. But there’s enough communication between characters (and between the storyteller and audience) to build something special.

By the end of the second episode the trio hadn’t even kissed. Instead, we’re given time to get acquainted with the characters. The three leads gave natural performances that at times felt semi-improvised – Labed in particular draws you in – and the chemistry between them crackles. It feels like a show you can slowly fall in love with.