Mood

Mood doesn’t tie it all up with a neat bow, and is quite bleak overall, but it’s nevertheless a resonant and hopeful story about finding your power. As a bonus, Lecky makes the journey euphonic for us, too.

Mood is one of those shows that takes you on a ride with its main character. It’s a ride we think is worth taking, but it all depends on how much you relate with Sasha and the decisions she’s making for herself.

Though it’s easy to guess at Lecky’s influences, her natural, nuanced performance and Sasha’s depth of character ensure that Mood never comes across as derivative. ... If the show isn’t quite the same tour de force as Coel’s and Waller-Bridge’s debuts, blame the pacing. Mood moves slowly in its first half, then rushes a resolution in the finale that hews a bit too closely to the prototypical tropes of the trauma plot.

There’s a compelling authenticity to Lecky’s world which draws you in. This is exactly the kind of fresh voice that BBC Three should be championing.

Under the pop gloss, it packed a devastating emotional punch.

As intriguing as this concept was in I May Destroy You, it doesn’t quite work quite as well in Mood, with its much flimsier storytelling. ... Still, Lecky’s dedication to portraying Sasha’s emotional crisis never wavers. She pulls off a masterful performance full of small actions—clicking through a phone screen full of sent messages but never received, drowning herself in unfulfilling work—but the backstory bogs her character down.

Because the show’s plot is one of escalating degradation, it’s simultaneously haunting, draining and predictable, though I give Lecky credit for avoiding both one-sided judgment — sex work in and of itself isn’t the problem, but specific contexts and circumstances surely are — and the most absolute pits of despair. ... It’s a good series with a sad, but not too sad, glimpse at 21st-century living, and it has me eagerly anticipating whatever comes next for Lecky.