Based on novelist Cecilia Ahern's allegorical anthology of the same name, Apple TV+'s Roar takes a feminist lens to The Twilight Zone's nonlinear, fable-based storytelling. With eight distinctly different entries (all written and directed by women), Roar bounces from drama to murder mystery to surrealist comedy without ever having to explain itself.
Tackling topics like erasure, identity, and gender roles, the series sharply communicates the everyday realities of womanhood. Unwavering in its artistic vision, Roar holds salience on both the visual and verbal planes. Following in Ahern's authoritative footsteps, the series' dialogue is as eye-opening as it is quotable.
Marital Decay
"Nothing I Did Ever Seemed To Be Good Enough For You. So, I Stopped Trying."
Funny, sad, and surreal, "The Woman Who Returned Her Husband" takes on the emotional/existential drift that develops through years of marriage and uses it as a manufacturer's warranty.
After returning her husband of 37 years to a local department store, Anu (Meera Syal, The Wheel Of Time) traverses a journey of self-discovery that starts with a hunky new lease on love and prunes its way to the realization that the man she (and SEARS) devalued wasn't the shackle she painted him to be. Anu's husband Vickers' (Bernard White, Paulie Go!) eye-opening ission succinctly emboldens the importance of communication and understanding in love and longevity.
Religious Obligations
"I Thought You Were Married To Jesus."
Umma) and preacher's daughter Millie (Kara Hayward, The Shadow Diaries) as they gallop towards recompense. Having only known each other as children, the journey Jane and Millie share is more than just on horseback.
As the preacher's daughter, Jane faces restrictions and expectations atop helping raise her seven siblings and looking for a husband. She's also a teenager. The absurdity of an existence set solely on being a god-fearing housewife to a man she hasn't met yet isn't lost on Jane, who's more than happy to let her know.
Alone In A Crowd
"There's Too Many White People In Here. Maybe That's Why He Doesn't Want To Come Out."
"The Woman Who Found Bite Marks On Her Skin" opens to an akimbo Ambia (Cynthia Erivo's, Fraggle Rock) mid-birth. Stressed with her doctors' ivity over her increasingly burdensome delivery, Ambia unleashes one of the show's best one-liners at her husband/doctors' expense.
The theme of isolation-based stress is an inescapable aspect of Ambia's life. Married to a white man and one of only three partner-level women at her job, she finds herself without a peer to consult or confide in. Keeping her fears and stressors inside, they begin to eat away at her, but not before she provides a quip that's not really a joke at all.
Wake Up Mr. West
"It's Like I Had A Stroke And Woke Up With Kanye Money."
The Issa Rae centered "The Woman Who Disappeared" is a punchy parable on erasure. Novelist Wanda Shepard (Rae, Insecure) is flown out to Los Angeles under the guise of a production studio wanting to buy the rights to her story and turn it into a movie. What happens in (virtual) reality is much more exploitative.
Before the story takes a turn towards The Twilight Zone, Rae's comedic presence is on full display. From timidity to twirling around a $15 million mansion as Marvin Gaye's "Got To Give It Up" plays in the background, Rae's Shepard is quick to quip about the absurdity of excess, but like Mr. West, she lets loose when no one is looking.
Pretty Like Porcelain
"Once Upon A Time, There Was A Little Girl. When She Was Young, Her Mother Would Always Say, 'If I Had To Choose Between You Being Smart And You Being Beautiful, I'd Choose Beautiful Every Time.'"
"The Woman Who Was Kept On A Shelf" is a literal take on women being viewed/devalued as objects. Giving up her life for the man of her dreams, Betty Gilpin's (Gaslit) Amelia moves into his mansion and onto her shelf to exist as the object of his affection.
While obviously alluding to the trophy wife trope, Amelia's tale tackles more than just the masculine gaze. Using the unrelenting/unrealistic beauty standards mothers place on their daughters as they force them into pageantry, So Yong Kim's (Dr. Death) story highlights how many women never get a chance to understand who they are beyond a forced aesthetic.
Picture Perfect
"Who Gets A Blowout and Contours Their Face Before A Trip To The DMV?"
Stepping out of the brambles and into the realization that she was no longer alive, Alison Brie's (Spin Me Round) Rebecca Moss is both starring in her own murder mystery and looking for the closure life didn't give her.
Dissecting everything from police bravado to messageboard misogynism, "The Woman Who Solved Her Own Murder" approaches extremely dark content from an ethereal lens and uses Brie's humor for much-needed levity. Alluding to her driver's license, the quip pokes fun at the photographic permanence of an ID and Moss' dedication to burying her issues under her makeup.
Happily Ever After?
"What Is Marriage If Not An Agreement For Two People To Be Trapped Together?"
Also from "The Woman Who Returned Her Husband," this line's impact is immediate. Seated at a table of friends and dismissive wives, Anu is asked the question that's haunted her since her proposal. What other option did she have other than to honor her commitment and be miserable?
Marriage isn't meant to be imprisonment and her friend's sarcastic question sets her mind free. Though her romantic misfirings lead to a loneliness worse than the one plaguing her marriage, she uses them to mend her own shortcomings and revitalize the only relationship that's ever really made her feel complete.
The Mallard Of My Dreams
"You're A Feminist Duck?!"
"The Woman Who Was Fed By A Duck" is polarizing, sweet, and more than a little bit weird. Zoning out on a park bench while studying for the MCAT, cynically single Elisa (Merritt Wever, Run) is seduced by the duck of her dreams. Bashing the patriarchy and "socially sanctioned narcissism" of motherhood, Larry the duck is just the mallard she's been waiting for.
The fever dream that follows highlights the unfair expectations society/families place on women from an aging and reproductive standpoint, and the similarly unrealistic expectations people put on themselves in finding a partner. With the only unbiased ear for Elisa coming in the form of a waterfowl, she projects him as the feminist partner of her dreams, and even in that he lets her down.
Too Close To Home
"It Wasn't Even Personal. Who Teaches A 16-Year-Old Boy To Hate Women Like That? And Who Teaches Him That Kind Of Casual Violence? You Should Investigate That."
The murder in "The Woman That Solved Her Own Murder" serves as a magnifying glass to the festering, internalized hatred bleeding into message boards and incel servers. As Rebecca realizes her murder was the act of a radicalized teen with no real attachment to her, her horror radiates with the knowledge that the internet is a safe space for no woman.
The sad reality is that this episode could have come out yesterday, last week, or two weeks ago and had a different murder to parallel. Radicalized hate is ripping the country apart and continues to go unmonitored. Moss' final question lands with a heaviness that remains unanswered.
The Weight of Finality
"I Don't Really Like Talking To Her. I Don't Really Like Spending Time With Her. And I Love Her. I Don't Want To Lose Her."
"The Woman Who Ate Photographs" follows Robin (Nicole Kidman, The Northman) on a road trip to pick up her mother and move her in with her family. With her mother fully in the throes of dementia, Robin's fear of finality manifests itself in a most peculiar way.
Feeding off her memories, Robin attempts to dilute the impact of her mother's mortality by literally eating the photographic evidence of her youth. After a brief high, what she learns is that the heartbreak of watching a loved one slip away can't be quelled by burying (or eating) the happiness that predicated the end.