An Ode to ‘Derry Girls’: A Hilarious Show About Teenage Life in Times of Strife

'Derry Girls' created by Lisa McGee is set in Northern Ireland.

Juxtaposing stories of adolescence with the backdrop of war (in this case ‘the Troubles’) isn’t an easy feat and might, to some, even seem like a shot in the dark. But Lisa McGee succeeds brilliantly with Derry Girls, which came to an end with its third season (season 3 released on Netflix in India on 7 October). 

Derry Girls tells the story of Erin (Saoirse-Monica Jackson), Orla (Louisa Harland), Claire (Nicola Coughlan), Michelle (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), and the wee English fella James (Dylan Llewellyn), set during the Troubles, an almost three-decade long nationalist and political time of strife in Northern Ireland. 

They’re accompanied by a hilarious cast who play their parents and family, and also their sardonic headmistress Sister Michael (Siobhán McSweeney) and the ever-agitated shop owner Dennis (Paul Mallon).

Case in point, when a bomb threat leads to a bridge being closed off, Erin’s mother Mary remarks, “Does this mean they can't get to school? I've had a whole summer of it, Gerry, she's melting my head.”

Every episode starts and (often) ends with a sitcom-esque arc — like the time the gang is trying to go to Paris but discover they don’t have a ‘trust fund’ or the running gag that everyone will hate James because he’s English. Their adventures in adolescence take front seat even as the Troubles trickle through their days, in the way soldiers enter a school bus or the frequent road closures for bomb threats. 

Even in such circumstances, the show retains its sharp wit and humour which makes the moments of sensitivity or outright grief even more powerful. Season 3 deals more directly with the fallout of the conflict - the teens discuss the Good Friday Agreement (which is commonly believed to have brought an end to the conflict) and a particular member of the gang has increasingly personal stakes. 

Derry Girls also deserves due credit for portraying real Irish people instead of just using (borderline offensive) broad cultural signifiers. The authenticity perhaps is a result of McGee borrowing from her own life, experiences, and family as well.

This same realism then lends itself to the ease with which a viewer can subscribe to the story being told. It’s also refreshing to see Irish women get their worth in a story that centers them without relying on stereotypes (Hollywood doesn’t have a great track record with this). 

As our (trying to be famous) five navigate their school life and their families, they’re also tackling issues surrounding sex, sexuality, friendship, and camaraderie, to name a few.

Michelle’s carefree and rather (delightfully) insistent expression of sexuality is not only refreshing in the show’s setting but just in general, for cinema.

Claire’s coming out journey and the road to acceptance is quintessentially teenage - but the show is set at a time when same sex marriage wasn’t legalised in Ireland (and it wouldn’t be till 2015). But McGee’s decision to keep that terrifying reality packaged within Claire’s reluctance to come out to the people around her works for the show. 

Within this, McGee also touches upon the sectarian conflict between the Catholics and Protestants through the eyes of teenagers. 

In season 3, both our main gang and the country of Ireland are standing on the precipice of change - the show really ran a risk of becoming bigger than its birches but every season is a riot, becoming funnier than the last. This has been an ode to Derry Girls, a show so delightfully hilarious for its attempt at showing us real life, in the face of crisis.