This Way Up

Bea and Horgan’s chemistry is as glorious as ever. They overlap and underlap perfectly, giving expansive but controlled performances that never take from each other. It is wonderful – indeed it feels almost a privilege – to watch.

“This Way Up” still finds enough of life’s tiny absurdities to make for the perfect tether. Aine may not always have the right words for every occasion, but somehow “This Way Up” always does.

It’s the sibling relationship at the heart of the series that really makes it sing, and Bea and Horgan’s free-flowing chatter, rapid tonal switches and moments of unflinching honesty – “Sometimes you talk like you’re the only one who’s ever sad. It’s annoying” – provide the stand-out moments in a show that captures the precarious balance of life’s light and shade.

As a portrait of a person trying to slap a convincing smile on depression it is nuanced, rich, touching and occasionally funny. Not all the time, for that is not the way with the modern "sad-com"; a couple of times it was really quite bleak and flat. ... Bea, who two years ago wrote a beautiful article about her father's suicide when she was three years old, is a talent. To star alongside Horgan, who tends to steal most scenes in comedy, and shine isn't a mean feat.

This is a comedy about mental health that deftly preys on your fears and pricks your sympathies. At the same time there was a gratifyingly high gag rate.

The show really is at its best when it's focused on the interactions and relationships between the characters. That means that the first couple episodes stumble around a little introducing us to people and then the second half of the season is really locked in.

While the show balances its many themes and characters well, in the end, it feels a bit rushed. The number of plotlines left hanging after the final episode are ultimately unsatisfying.