Normal People – The Power of the Unsaid

Normal People is a BBC miniseries which is an adaptation of Sally Rooney’s novel of the same name. The plot is incredibly simple and, in that, lies one of the story’s strengths.

The series starts following two characters in high school – Marianne Sheridan (played by Daisy Edgar-Jones) and Connell Waldron (played by Paul Mescal). Marianne is shy and awkward when it comes to meeting people but is also incredibly passionate and fiery; talking back to teachers and other students when she grows inpatient at their responses to her behaviour. Connell, however, has plenty of friends, an active social life and is even on the school’s Gaelic football team.

At first glance, they seem to be complete opposites. But, within the first episode, as the show peels back their layers, it suggests they have an understanding with each other that they seem to not have with anyone else.

First and foremost, I’d like to make this abundantly clear from the get-go: I absolutely love this show. It’s beautifully acted, very well paced and is very clear and concise in what it’s trying to say and how it goes about it. We’ve spoken before about how opposites can work on television, using One Day as an example of this. However, it’s the subtle storytelling of Normal People that really sets it apart.

You see, there are many themes that flow through Normal People, but there is one that pervades through it again and again, which is the power of the unsaid, the unspoken. Normal People follows Marianne and Connell’s on-and-off friendship throughout a series of years and, in doing so, you see them both mature and grow. It’s partly a story about them trying to find out who they are amidst the chaos and confusion of everyday life.

Marianne and Connell, at various points, seem to want to be together before an event occurs that seems destined to blow them apart once again. In many cases, this is due to miscommunication – someone not knowing how to communicate their feelings or being unable to find the right words in the right moment.

A perfect example of this happens in Episodes 6 and 7. In Episode 6, it transpires that Connell is going to lose his job meaning that he will be unable to pay rent and, therefore, be unable to stay in Dublin over summer. Bearing in mind they both go to Trinity College and are currently dating one another; Connell’s friend makes a valid point – why don’t you simply ask Marianne if you can move in with her?

However, Connell seems unable to ask her, scared it would put too much pressure on the relationship. He overthinks it, resulting in him leaving Dublin to go back to Sligo. Their relationship ends not with a scream but with a whimper. In Episode 7, time has clearly passed since their break-up – the better part of a year. However, Connell contacts Marianne again after getting mugged whilst drunk.

It is only in this state that he’s able to apologise to Marianne for leaving Dublin the previous year and effectively ending their relationship. In a terrible moment of realisation for Connell, Marianne states that she would’ve, without question, let him stay at her house over the summer, confirming what we, the audience, already know – that Connell screwed up the relationship for no tangible reason due to his own doubts and insecurities.

This theme of miscommunication, of struggling to say what you really mean, is seen throughout the show. Marianne feels like she is worthless partly because of how Connell treated her early in the story. Due to this, she begins dating men who, at least sexually, dominate her, telling her exactly what to do because it mirrors her own feelings of worthlessness. She actively encourages this behaviour because she feels like she isn’t worthy of love. It takes a long time for her to admit to herself (and, by proxy, the men she dates) that she is worth more than this – that she no longer wants to be treated as an object of desire.   

Normal People is a beautiful show. Through deft acting, it navigates two characters who struggle to cope in everyday life but does it in a way that feels incredibly poignant and relatable. Much of this needs to be attributed to both Edgar-Jones’s and Mescal’s acting. They both beautifully navigate scenes with little or no dialogue with vulnerability that depicts to the audience through silence what they’re actually thinking.

It isn’t a show that’s afraid to let the audience interpret why a particular character performed a certain action. It’s bravely written; not looking away at incredibly honest, heart-breaking moments so you can fully absorb yourself in their journey.

It’s also a perfect example of how less is more. Runtimes for a lot of the episodes come to less than half an hour and there is no fat on the episodes at all – its razor-focused on these two characters and, whilst there are other important characters on the show, the story is ultimately about the two of them and their relationship. Luckily, the writing isn’t afraid of that focus, needlessly creating convoluted storylines to pad out or “add” to the narrative.

Instead, it tells a very relatable story about two people trying to connect in the world. It’s in its simplicity that Normal People has its ace up its sleeve – showing that you don’t need a vast array of characters or a complex plot to make something entertaining, honest and heart-breaking. There needs to be more stories like this – ones that aren’t afraid to show deep, compelling complexity through a simple, focused premise.

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