How ‘Derry Girls’ Avoided The Sophomore Slump

Five Catholic school kids attempt to navigate their awkward adolescent years amidst the bloodiest Western Europe conflict of the late 20th Century. The premise for Derry Girls doesn’t sound like obvious comic gold. Yet the response to its pitch-perfect first episode was so overwhelmingly positive that its British home, Channel 4, greenlit another series faster than you can say “Macaulay Culkin isn’t a protestant, ma.”

Thankfully, this leap of faith has well and truly paid off, as far from experiencing a sophomore slump, Lisa McGee’s labor of love is perhaps even more witty, affecting and relatable second time around.

Indeed, its six episodes (all now available to stream on Netflix) may once again journey back to a very specific period in modern history – The Troubles in Northern Ireland during the mid-1990s. But McGee’s semi-autobiographical script is just as concerned with the universal experiences and ordinary minutiae of everyday life as it is bombing threats and armed checkpoints.

In fact, the season’s funniest and most heart-warming episode barely touches upon the quintet’s difficult surroundings at all. Instead, “The Prom” is largely a tale of high school rivalry and petty jealousy in which a mean girl new arrival threatens to disrupt the group’s status quo. It’s only after the gang – along with resident brownnose Jenny – have been covered on stage in tomato juice during an inspired homage to Carrie that news emerges of the IRA’s ceasefire.

It’s moments like this which highlight that life carried on, even in a time of such long-running political turmoil. For the teenagers of Derry, being stood up or finding the ideal outfit was always going to be of far more short-term significance than any development in the peace process.

Even when Erin, Clare and co. are forced to contend with a by-product of The Troubles head on, they simply shrug it off; see “The Concert” where, after sparking a roadside bomb scare with a smuggled suitcase of vodka, they still excitedly continue with their boyband-watching plans.

Of course, there are a handful of episodes where the conflict moves further to the forefront. But even then, McGee skillfully avoids any sledgehammer tactics, mining humor from a situation many others wouldn’t dare tread.

Take the season opener, “Across the Barricade,” for example. Here, the lovable gang attend a peace initiative where a well-meaning priest tries to bridge the divide between Catholics and Protestants using the power of, erm, abseiling. Inevitably, his attempts to find common ground at their induction only result in a chalkboard full of hilarious and stereotypical differences (apparently Protestants don’t like ABBA, all wear gilets and are prone to keeping their toasters in the cupboard).

Then there’s the triumphant closer, “The President,” in which the friends skip school to witness the Clintons’ real-life momentous visit to Derry. And although Chelsea sadly doesn’t respond to Clare’s gloriously innocent offer of a trip to the local pool, Bill’s powerful speech (“I ask you to build on the opportunity you have before you; to believe that the future can be better than the past…”) ensures this season ends on a much more hopeful note compared with the fatal bombing that concluded the first.

As with its predecessor, it’s difficult to single out Derry Girls‘ MVP. Nicola Coughlan, remarkably convincing as a character approximately 15 years her junior, gets the lion’s share of the laughs as the ever-frantic Clare. Saoirse-Monica Jackson delivers a masterclass in facial expressions whenever her group leader Erin takes charge. And Louisa Harland and Jamie-Lee O’Donnell are still capable of stealing the show with a killer, and in the latter case downright filthy, one-liner as the quirky Orla and bad girl Michelle, respectively.

But it’s Dylan Llewellyn as the sweet-natured whipping boy James that gets the most notable character progression. The honorary Derry Girl’s attempts to forge new friendships and rebuild his relationship with his estranged mother are both hapless and heart-breaking; while the moment he ditches his beloved Doctor Who convention to take a ditched Erin to the school dance has already inspired its fair share of fan shipping.

In fact, by the time the “wee English fella” realizes his true place in the world after an unexpectedly touching tête-à-tête with Michelle towards the finale, you may well be shouting “I am a Derry Girl” in unison, too.

Special mentions also have to go to Siobhan McSweeney as the girls’ no-nonsense headmistress Sister Michael, Leah O’Rourke as the amusingly awful Jenny and Tara Lynne O’Neill as Erin’s increasingly exasperated mother Mary. There’s also a certain sense of satisfaction when Tommy Tiernan’s poor scapegoat Gerry finally snaps at his cantankerous father-in-law (Ian McElhinney) following a particularly arduous night-long drive.

McGee readily admits that Derry Girls is very much still about a bunch of “eejits getting in and out of trouble.” But its second season once again shows that it’s possible to balance the mundanity, naivety and near-unshakeable bravado of teenagehood with something more gently profound. As the gang themselves would say – in that wonderfully strong accent which may require subtitles to decipher, of course – it’s a cracker.

Jon O’Brien(@jonobrien81) is a freelance entertainment and sports writer from the North West of England. His work has appeared in the likes of Billboard, Paste, i-D, The Guardian, Vinyl Me Please and Allmusic.

Stream Derry Girls on Netflix