There's something magic about the British TV season's traditional brevity. Sure, it's tortured some Sherlock fans over the years, and if there were a lost 13th episode of Fawlty Towers somewhere deep in the BBC archives I wouldn't be mad. But I genuinely hope that the UK forever pumps out quirky comedies and wrenching crime dramas at a rate of no more than eight at a time so that we may consume them almost effortlessly, like so many tiny cucumber sandwiches. These shows keep it tight, keep it fun, and like a polite party guest, are out the door well before any welcomes are overstayed.
Of course, the flip side is always that you discover a new show, find the first two episodes delightful and compelling, smash through four more in the space of half a bottle of wine (or, if you will, the same time it would take you to watch an HBO Sunday night flagship premiere). Suddenly you're staring down the barrel of a season — or series — finale. Which is exactly what happened to me with Extraordinary.
Don't let the trite name put you off — it's simply following in the footsteps of its recent ancestors, like Rose Matafeo's winsome Starstruck and cult romcom series Lovesick. (Which, real heads will remember, actually went to air in its first season as Scrotal Recall.) And don't let the premise deter you either, even if you'd rather eat glass than sit through Another Superhero Thing.
Extraordinary is set in a world almost exactly like our own, except that about 10 years ago, everyone started getting superpowers. They usually kick in at the age of 18, and range from the standard — flying, shapeshifting, laser eyes, super strength — to highly idiosyncratic abilities like causing anyone around you to generate a diegetic soundtrack based on their emotional state or having a butthole that's basically an on-demand 3D printer ("as long as it's aerodynamic," its owner adds sternly).
The world has adjusted incredibly well to this strange turn of events; people who can fly even work as what appear to be human Ubers, zipping passengers across London while wearing flightsuits the same turquoise as Deliveroo riders' insulated bags. (Possibly a bleaker comment on how capitalism would commodify superpowers than anything The Boys has ever managed.)
25-year-old Jen (Máiréad Tyers), however, is still waiting for her power to show itself. Her best friend and flatmate Carrie (Sofia Oxenham) can act as a conduit to the dead — when they need cheering up, sometimes she'll channel Hitler just so they can call him names, while her legal job mostly involves sorting out estate disputes as a human oujia board. Carrie's aimless boyfriend Kash (Bilal Hasna) can rewind time by a few minutes at will, and is an aspiring vigilante. At the party supply store where Jen works, her boss is a chain-smoking fiftysomething who looks 11 and never ages (meaning she "can't even buy paracetamols down at Asda"). And Jen's fuckboy fuck buddy literally flies out the window while she's peeing after sex.
All of this sounds like a lot — but it's set up incredibly efficiently in a neat pair of opening scenes, as Jen bombs a job interview with a woman whose "thing" is that people are compelled to babble the absolute truth at her, then sulks out onto a street filled with people levitating their smartphones before their faces or redirecting gutter splashes directly all over her. But the quiet genius of Extraordinary is that it's not actually about the supernatural elements at all.
The powers in this world aren’t a grand metaphor, just another thing people have to deal with now. ("SOME PEOPLE HAVE VISIBLE FARTS — THAT'S JUST LIFE" read educational posters in the background of one scene.) They're a gift for some people, a burden for others, and a complicated cocktail of both for most, in the same way IRL "superpowers" like being incredibly smart or conventionally attractive or super tall can be. And Jen — like Starstruck's Jessie or The Mindy Project's Mindy or even The Other Two's perpetually left-out Cary and Brooke — is a mostly likable, but genuinely flawed and selfish fuckup, moping around waiting for her real life to start and self-sabotaging just to feel something. Tyers sells Jen's confusion, grief, and belligerence while (almost) always making her someone you want to root for.
Extraordinary earns its place among the best of the millennial romcom sitcoms — and stands well above certain other eight-or-so-episode-long shows about people with superpowers on Disney-owned streaming platforms — thanks to its whip-smart writing and lived-in performances. Creator Emma Moran and her writing team regularly find very specific jokes in the rich vein of its fantasy elements. (My biggest laugh of the season was an angelic Pomeranian looking someone dead in the eyes and an existentially exhausted vet having to explain that he can hear it calling them a cuck.) There are neat homages to romcom touchstones ranging from Breakfast At Tiffany's to About Time and Pushing Daisies, and the soundtrack will be catnip to anyone who found out "music supervisor" was a real job around 2006. (There's also a score motif that sounds exactly like the Butthole Surfers' "Pepper".)
But perhaps the biggest gift is Luke Rollason, who rounds out the central foursome. Initially welcomed into Jen, Carrie, and Kash's flat as a stray cat they christen Jizzlord, the sweet kitty turns out to be a hapless shapeshifter who's been "stuck" for so long he has to relearn how to be a person again. Rollason's saucer-sized eyes, gangly frame, and clown training (yes, really(opens in a new tab)) all serve him incredibly well as he emerges from his feline form naked like the world's most awkward Terminator, attempts basic tasks like opening cans, and does deeply unhinged shit while remaining endearing enough to keep around. At one point, as the housemates probe his still-awakening memories to try and discover his pre-cat identity, he's grasping for the word "job" and comes up with "Like, sadness, but… money?" He's both an instantly lovable cinnamon roll, and deliciously offputting at all the right moments.
Extraordinary has already been renewed for a second season(opens in a new tab), so you can sail through its eight short episodes safe in the knowledge that its final — and surprisingly affecting — cliffhanger won't hang there forever. But if you have more willpower than me, try and savour it.
Extraordinary Season 1 is now streaming on Hulu in the U.S.(opens in a new tab), and Disney+ in the UK, Australia, and other territories.(opens in a new tab)
