Too Much review: the rom com that forgot to be funny or romantic

Too Much starts, but it doesn’t really start. The pilot drags like an emotional traffic jam no one asked to get stuck in. Though the pilot is over 30 minutes, it somehow feels like it takes three hours. We’re thrown into the “fresh start” of a protagonist moving from New York to London after being replaced by an influencer. But what we get is a flat narrative, with no chemistry, no humor, and none of the charm that we crave in a rom-com.

Instead of laughing or feeling butterflies, you watch a series of awkward, disconnected moments, a main character throwing herself into empty encounters, a dog with its tongue permanently out acting as a tired visual gag, and a tone that can’t decide if it wants to be indie-cool or just plain cringe.

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The scene with the singer/love interest at her apartment captures it perfectly. He ends up accompanying her home because it’s her first day in London, she’s alone, and she can’t even manage to call an Uber to the right place. Once there, she starts kissing him, hooks her leg around him, while he sits far away on the sofa, giving no sign that he’s interested at all. It feels more invasive than romantic, more awkward than funny.

If the first episode is meant to tell us what the show wants to be, Too Much only manages to say “I don’t know,” in a slow, stumbling voice that makes you want to quit before you even finish your first drink.

Characters and chemistry (or the lack thereof)

Jessica is supposed to be charming, chaotic, and endearingly lost. Instead, she feels like a collection of Twitter drafts performed in human form. Every interaction feels forced, every line sounds like it was written to be read on stage at an open mic rather than spoken to another human.

Felix, the love interest, who is a singer, has zero chemistry with her. Their scenes together feel less like a spark and more like two people stuck waiting for a bus at 2 a.m. The apartment scene seals it. He sits far away, visibly uninterested, while she forcefully creates an intimacy that simply doesn’t exist.

The supporting characters orbit around her without impact, each one another piece of noise rather than story.

Too Much... Humor without humor

Too Much desperately wants to be funny in that awkward, vulnerable, cringe-but-cute way. But it never lands. Instead of wit, we get clumsy lines and exhausting awkwardness. Instead of moments that make you giggle out of relatability, we get secondhand embarrassment so strong it almost feels like a horror show.

It’s not that it fails to be hilarious. It doesn’t even register as mildly amusing. It wants to be Lena Dunham’s brand of messy self-awareness, but forgets to bring warmth or any actual jokes along.

Narrative direction: nowhere to go

Jessica’s journey from New York to London could have been a messy, healing rebirth. Instead, it feels like a set of random diary pages taped together without emotional glue. There’s no momentum, no emotional stakes, no clear thread pulling us forward.

Moments that should build tension or growth get lost in aesthetic choices, and empty monologues. Gimmicks like the dog’s tongue always sticking out feel more like a meme prop than an emotional anchor.

Tone and emotional impact

I tried hard, but I couldn’t empathize, laugh, or even cry. At its peak, Too Much is not funny. At its lows, it’s not even melodramatic enough to move me. It falters, stumbles, and never connects.

“Disappointing mess” would be a compliment. This is beyond that. Too Much is painful to watch. It’s a carefully crafted void that tries too hard to be quirky, vulnerable, and heartfelt, but forgets to have a heartbeat. It tries too hard. It’s “too much.”

I’m part of the crowd that says skip it instead of stream it. Some call Too Much polarizing; I just call it bad.

Rating with a touch of flair: 1 out of 5 ticks in the checkboxes of "trying to be cool."

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