4stars xxxxx

Riot Women — BBC’s Surprising Triumph of Grit, Wit and Pure Heart
There are times when you arrive home after a long day, craving nothing more profound than a cosy half-hour of television fluff — something light, comforting, and easy to disappear into. On the surface, Riot Women looks like exactly that: a vibrant title card, bold artwork, and a show pitched squarely at those who love a dash of spectacle. It would be very easy to hit play expecting a breezy, perhaps even camp, comedy-drama and settle back with a cup of tea.
But Riot Women is not that show. Not remotely.
If you only watch the first ten minutes, you could be forgiven for thinking you’ve been misled. The opening is stark, intense, and packed with enough emotional punch to make even the most resilient viewer mutter, “Oh no… this is going to be depressing,” and reach for the remote.
Yet turning it off would be a terrible mistake.
Because Riot Women quickly reveals itself to be television gold — unexpected, daring, and absolutely bursting with life.
At the centre of this explosive drama-comedy hybrid are the phenomenal Rosalie Craig and Joanna Scanlan, leading an ensemble cast that delivers performances of a calibre you rarely find in mainstream television. Between them, they light up the screen with such power and honesty you can’t look away. Rosalie Craig, especially, is a revelation. Known for her formidable stage presence in musical theatre, she brings the full breadth of her talent to this role: vocally electrifying and dramatically fearless, she swings from raw vulnerability to razor-sharp humour with impossible ease. It’s the kind of performance awards are invented for — at the very least, she deserves a BAFTA nomination.
Joanna Scanlan matches her beat for beat, offering a portrayal that is quietly astonishing — subtle, grounded, and capable of landing an entire emotional narrative with one look. Together, they create a dynamic that makes the story feel not just relevant but necessary.
Of course, no great television series exists without a masterful hand guiding it from the page. Here, that hand belongs to Sally Wainwright, one of Britain’s most exceptional screenwriters. Her voice is unmistakable: sharp, deeply empathetic, and rooted in the lived truths of women who refuse to be sidelined. Wainwright balances humour and heartbreak like a tightrope walker, proving again — as she did with Happy Valley and Last Tango in Halifax — that she knows exactly how to capture complicated, flawed, brilliant female characters. And then there’s Tamsin Greig, whose incomparable screen presence adds yet another layer of brilliance. Whether she’s delivering a deadpan line or revealing quiet vulnerability beneath stoic armour, Greig commands attention every moment she’s on screen. She becomes one of the show’s beating hearts — a character you’re compelled to follow, even in her silences.
What truly distinguishes Riot Women is its emotional honesty. The series dives into the frustrations, absurdities, and injustices faced by women whose lives haven’t gone according to plan — yet it refuses to let despair take the lead. Just when the narrative feels like it’s sinking into darkness, the humour kicks in. And not just comic relief for the sake of it — we’re talking whip-smart, laugh-out-loud writing delivered with perfect timing.
The absurdity is part of the point. Life can be relentless — but it can also be ridiculous.
The tone may zigzag, but that unpredictability is what makes the experience so exhilarating. One moment you’re laughing; the next you’re wiping away tears; then suddenly you’re cheering these women on as they find their voices and reclaim their stories. It’s a celebration of community, resilience, and rebellion — the quiet kind and the loud kind.
Yes, it can be camp — gloriously so — but never cheaply. The humour always comes from a place of truth. And through the satire, the show provides a sharp commentary on how society treats women who dare to age, to feel, to be imperfect, or to speak up.
The writing is confident and bold, unafraid of pushing boundaries. Each episode leaves you with a question — and a burning curiosity for what comes next. It is a story about what happens when ordinary women decide they’re done being polite and invisible. When they realise they have power. When they riot — not violently, but vocally, musically, and emotionally.
To call Riot Women a gem feels too small. It’s a series that arrives disguised as a guilty pleasure but reveals itself to be a gutsy, heartfelt, and beautifully crafted piece of British drama. It’s television that matters — without losing its sense of fun.
So if you begin watching and feel the instinct to switch over: don’t. Give it time. Let it breathe. Stick with the journey.
Because what you find is something rare: a show that reminds you we are all allowed to feel broken — and also allowed to dance, shout, laugh, and reclaim joy, whatever age we are.
Riot Women is bold. It’s brilliant. And it’s absolutely worth your time.






















































