With My Brilliant Career, Netflix does what Netflix generally does best: it Netflixizes a beloved novel. The source material, written by Stella Maria Sarah Miles Franklin (or simply Miles Franklin), is a coming-of-age tale with strong elements of social satire and humor. It was published when Stella was only 21, bringing her considerable attention. The novel also became a landmark of Australian literature, though in 1910 it was withdrawn from publication by the author herself because of the unwanted attention it brought to her personal life. Many readers treated it as an autobiography, and people in Stella's local community reportedly recognized themselves in the characters.
The Netflix adaptation of My Brilliant Career literalizes the autobiographical aspect—an unnecessary undertaking since what is depicted is already evident or can be subtly inferred while watching the show or even reading the novel. The creative choice only reveals the show's creative plans—or lack thereof, to be honest. If the book was a landmark of Australian literature, then you will find that hard to believe if you watch this adaptation. I have no problem with tweaking the source material and making alterations as required. But those tweaks and modifications should also be worthy of real praise. This My Brilliant Career, developed by Liz Doran, alas, resembles many of the recent YA/teen romances, like Sterling Point. The central conflict in these stories, apparently made for women by women, turns out to be remarkably simple: a young protagonist is torn between two good-looking lads. Is this the creators' and writers' (all women) way of depicting female liberation? To sideline professional ambitions in favor of amorous pining and sexual encounters?
Sybylla (Philippa Northeast), at first, is presented as a headstrong, aspiring writer who asserts that she won't marry or get involved with any boy because she has literary ambitions. She pees outside, unbuttons her top to let in the air, runs around her grandmother's luxurious house (for her, it's a gilded cage), dances wildly, and plays in the water. Sybylla, in other words, is the perfect target for a society that loves suppressing women, that prefers binding their bodies with tight corsets. Sybylla's grandmother (Anna Chancellor) is one of the representatives of that society, and she wants Sybylla to settle down. The other women, too, like Augusta (Kate Mulvany) and Helen (Genevieve O'Reilly), are conditioned by the same mindset. However, it's also worth noting that these women, too, desire freedom. They are undoubtedly a little envious of the way Sybylla fearlessly expresses herself.
What about Sybylla, though? For someone who loves writing, there is zero insight into what made her take up this pursuit. What books inspired her? Which authors, with their elegant prose, invaded her head? What is it about writing that appeals to Sybylla? Are there any female authors she looks up to as inspirations? Sybylla swears to Gertie (Ella Oliphant) that she won't ever fall in love with a boy. Upon reaching her grandmother's estate, however, she finds herself torn between Harry (Christopher Chung) and Frank (Jake Dunn). There is no problem with sex and attraction. Sybylla is young, and it would be unfair to say that she should stick to her words about abstaining from romance. These hormonal encounters even add to her experience of becoming a better writer. What's problematic, though, is My Brilliant Career's decision to suppress or neglect her writerly dreams in favor of converting her into a typical teen-romance protagonist who becomes psychologically bonded to a boy—whose happiness is reduced to looking forward to a letter from that boy.
After her Robin Hood-like story is rejected by The Bulletin on the grounds that women cannot have so many talents, Sybylla vows that she will rise above the rejection. She won't let a few men undermine her own worth and abilities. But My Brilliant Career merely presents a heartbroken Sybylla who gets more and more enmeshed in a love triangle. The primary issue with using the theme of female emancipation as a front to mostly build a foundation of YA romance is that the theme itself comes across as undeveloped, compromised, and feeble. The show is so invested in the Sybylla-Harry-Frank angle that whenever Sybylla prioritizes her career over men, it feels as if the writers (Doran, Sarinah Masukor, Rachael Turk) are simply paying lip service to progressive ideas—or reminding themselves and the viewers that the series is about a progressive lass. What's more, the glimpses we get of Sybylla's work resemble a respectable version of cheap erotica or second-rate gibberish desperately reaching for poetic grandeur. This My Brilliant Career is exactly the kind of story that appears to have been written by non-writers—writers who have a rose-tinted view of what it means to be a writer.
It's also revealing that the characters who seem to be doing more justice to the story's themes than Sybylla are relegated to supporting roles. There is a far greater balance of romance and career ambitions in the storyline dealing with Nell (Sherry-Lee Watson), while the minor scenes in which Helen's plight of living a withered existence (she has not even visited the nearby barn in a long time) comes to the surface convey a stronger suggestion of what it means to live in a patriarchal world than almost anything you see in Sybylla's thread. Perhaps this issue could have been resolved if My Brilliant Career had fruitfully utilized the generous length of a series to dive into its storylines with clarity and depth rather than speedwalking through most of them to create a candy-colored, easily digestible sugar fluff. The latter episodes, especially, move swiftly through a lot of territory, as if in a hurry to just get the job done.
By far, the best idea that the series contains deals with Sybylla being burdened with her parents' debts. Why should your sons and daughters suffer for your mistakes? It's a timely, powerful predicament that afflicts many families even today. Yet, like everything else, its impact is diluted by the oppressive conventions of young-love fiction. This adaptation is basically tailor-made for audiences who enjoy undemanding, shallow binge-watches that both pass the time and validate their notions through superficial gestures. It's bland; it's forgettable. Unfortunately, there is nothing brilliant about My Brilliant Career.
Final Score - [4/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times