NORMAL PEOPLE

"You are a good person, and I say that as someone who really knows you. Just because people treat you badly at times and I include myself in that, by the way, it doesn't mean you deserve to be treated badly. A lot of people love you and care about you. I hope you know that." - Connell Waldron

LOVE

[lev] noun

a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person

Loneliness is insidiously crippling. We spend our days as humans begging–screaming–for human connection and the need to be understood. Trying on different versions of ourselves, we long for the moment we can stop pretending; for someone to penetrate the walls we’ve built. All these years we’ve spent hiding, convincing ourselves of our unworthiness and suppressing any hope that one day we might be free – free to be vulnerable, free to be our true self, free to be loved. Based on her novel by the same name, Sally Rooney’s ‘Normal People’ taps into the visceral reality of two people who live in a vicious cycle of anguish and love. Painfully accurate and deeply personal, Rooney’s twelve part adapted mini series will leave a hole in your heart and give you hope for the future synchronously.

Centered in County Sligo off of Ireland’s Atlantic coast, ‘Normal People’ follows Marianne Sheridan and Connell Waldron’s tumultuous relationship through years at secondary school and university at Trinity College. Marianne, an introverted, subversive outcast gets bullied and ostracized while Connell’s strapping good looks and achievements in academics and sports hold him in high social standings. As years go by, we follow their feelings toward each other as their interconnected lives weave together and stray apart through their own individual character development. A devastating ode to every person who ever thought they weren’t good enough, ‘Normal People’ delicately tells the humanistic story of two wounded people who love each other at the wrong place and the wrong time.

What makes this series so gut-wrenching is how successful it is at portraying a dark side of life. There are no glamorizing and heavy edits throughout the series– just naturally occurring moments of failure, existentialism, and sorrow. Rooney doesn’t shy away from anything, bravely displaying every graphic moment and holding every contorted face in rage and agony long enough to allow the audience to digest each emotion. Every character represents a different type of sadness with completely different trauma, and even though they process and conduct themselves differently, they all have an incorrigibly relatable nature. A mother who abandons her daughter, a son who feels misunderstood by the world, a brother whose rage slowly destroys him– these tormented characters may be fictional, but their struggles are ubiquitously real.

Doubled impeccably with the constant foray of emotions is Marianne and Connell’s turbulent relationship. What starts off as a simple and secretive high school romance trope turns into a life-altering human connection. Regardless of their status quo defying sexual chemistry, their most frustrating downfall is their lack of communication. They push each other away in times of need because of their inability to properly voice how they feel, to ask the other for help, or to convey how the other’s decisions hurt them. Aggravatingly enough, this actually enhances the realistic nature of two people who have stifling trauma responses.

Connell molds himself into someone he’s not for ‘happiness,’ a huge indication he plays the popular jock who suppresses his interest in a more vulnerable hobby (writing), which in turn inhibits him to step out of his shell to connect with students outside of his circle. Marianne compartmentalizes the abandonment she feels from her father, minimizing the loveless relationship she has with her mother and brother. Because of these upbringings, Marianne and Connell mainly communicate nonverbally for the first half of the series; a mutual understanding to exist silently without superfluous conversation as well as heavy physical touch. As time goes on, their love for each other and their yearning to finally be authentic overrules. Connell learns to be affectionate in public and properly articulate his emotions. Marianne learns to open up about her childhood suffering and the trauma she carries regarding her family abandoning her. ‘Normal People’ perfectly depicts two damaged souls who climb out of depression’s abyss because someone else loved them enough to catch them when they slipped.

As a series about mental health, depression, and self worth, one scene encompasses each theme altogether. On an exchange year in Sweden, Marianne starts dating Lukas, an extremely possessive photographer who partakes in BDSM. One day Lukas is taking photos of Marianne in his studio. Clothed at first, he demands Marianne to start taking her clothes off as he ties her up, taking pictures throughout the whole process. Pain, sadness, and emptiness is painted all over her face: how stripped she feels from herself, how trapped she’s felt her whole life, convincing herself this was always how it was going to be– always what she deserved. And as tears well in her eyes, as her hollowness and agony consumes her, Connell’s voice is heard reading the last email he sent to her.

For the first time in her life, Marianne hears from someone that loves her that none of this is her fault, that she is a good person, and that even though people treat her badly, it doesn't mean she deserves it. This physical representation of depression– being bound to her demons and accepting her place as an object devoid of love–is gut-wrenchingly powerful. Marianne represents anyone who has ever been a prisoner in their own mind; a lonely masochist who never thought they were valuable enough to be loved. And even though Connell has his own challenges, he saves her as much as she saves him. After all this time, miscommunication, and doubt, Marianne finds the strength to say “no.” In this visually symbolic culmination of bondage, misery, and torment, Connell’s words finally give her the strength to be free–not for him–but for herself.

Paralyzing. Life-changing. All-consuming. ‘Normal People’ gently describes the accurately ugly side of mental health. This emotionally jarring love story creates a safe space for the audience to have irrevocable support while processing the characters and possibly their own trauma. Love doesn’t fix you; it doesn’t take away the years of pain and emotional damage you repressed during your youth. But sometimes, all it takes is someone to tell you “you are worthy of love” for you to start healing, start forgiving, and start feeling happy. Love isn’t the answer, it’s the beginning.