STRAIGHT from The Duchess of Sussex’s very own playbook, Netflix has attempted to ‘take something ordinary and elevate it.’
But if I may use a soufflé analogy for this schmaltzy serving of supposedly original television, then it arrived in our living rooms full of fluffy promise before swiftly collapsing in a gloopy heap of I told you so as all it’s hot air slowly seeped through the sides.
Netflix has attempted to ‘take something ordinary and elevate it’ with Meghan’s eight-part series, says Jane Moore[/caption]
Our writer says Meghan just doesn’t have the crucial component you need when selling an idea to the viewing public… authenticity[/caption]
The content of ‘With Love, Meghan’ was too predictable and not entertaining enough, says Jane[/caption]
A Martha Stewart for the modern age was perhaps the aim of this eight-part series called ‘With Love, Meghan’ but the content was as predictable as Sir Rod Stewart donning a kilt to sing Auld Lang Syne and far less entertaining.
For despite her acting history, royal connections and obvious beauty, Meghan Markle just doesn’t have the crucial component you need when selling an idea to the viewing public… authenticity.
“I feel this is all fake,” says her ‘bestie’ and make-up artist Daniel Martin in the first episode.
Ok, so he’s referring to the stunning mountain backdrop as they enjoy afternoon tea in the back garden of the rented house Meghan films in, but I feel he inadvertently speaks for anyone who manages to endure the full 37 minutes.
Thankfully, I watched it as soon as it dropped at 8am.
Had it been 8pm, I’d have nodded off at the first sign of Meghan making home-made bath salts for Daniel’s sleepover.
Much is made of their closeness, yet curiously she doesn’t know that he’s left-handed, asks if he likes tomatoes, and feels the need to label the peanut butter pretzel snack she’s putting on his guest bedroom tray because ‘you always want to be conscious if someone has a nut allergy.’
But it rapidly becomes clear that Daniel is there to be a useful idiot who coos and wows every time Meghan does something as basic as making a ‘par-sta’ as she calls it.
She cuts up raw vegetables for him and arranges them so they are “colourful and joyful,” whatever that means, and he obliges with a reaction that suggests he’s viewing the Cistine chapel for the very first time.
When she serves up the spaghetti, he acts like an alien who has just landed on planet earth after a lifetime of eating Smash. “Ooh this looks soooo good!”
And don’t get me started on the cake. I swear to God I made something similar for my CSE cookery exam in 1980 and got a C.
But Daniel acts like Meghan has invented the wheel when she slices off the top to level it out for icing.
“Can you eat that?” he asks. Of course you can, duh. It’s cake.
Daniel’s breathless incredulity coupled with cream linen-swathed Meghan’s sing song tone and faux humility at her marvelousness makes this performative piffle grate long before the lemon zester comes out.
It’s beautifully lit and the expert camerawork makes everything look like an M&S food ad on steroids, but never has the phrase ‘style over substance’ been so apt.
There’s nothing here that we haven’t seen a million times before… and done better by true experts
For quite frankly, there’s nothing here that we haven’t seen a million times before… and done better by true experts.
Sure, Meghan once had a lifestyle blog called The Tig which lasted just under three years before she closed it with a statement that suggested it’s demise was up there with Jeff Bezos pulling the plug on Amazon.
But I could chuck a Cath Kidston tablecloth down Notting Hill High street and capture at least a dozen influencers who do this kind of thing for a living, so why haven’t they been rewarded with a highly lucrative Netflix deal?
Because they’re not married to a British prince, stoopid. Even one as devalued as Harry.
And to be honest, even if her home tips were fresh, original and revelatory, the mere suggestion that people have the time or money to harvest their own honey or make bath salts is pretty jarring when many are struggling to put food on the table.
Dear reader, I only managed one episode in its entirety, such was my copy deadline. But I skimmed through the others to check that they were all similar in style and tone, and it seems they are.
From actress Mindy Kaling plumbing the depths of her thespian talents to exclaim, “you’re kidding me” when Meghan says she’s made her a frittata to, later on, other assembled friends responding to her every utterance as though Billy Connolly himself was in their midst, it’s clear that every invited guest is there to pay homage to the Duchess of Sussex’s, er, extraordinary talents.
Altar of Meghan
It’s all reminiscent of the Emperor’s New Clothes when his subjects know that he’s walking naked down the street but go along with the pretence because they don’t want to appear stupid and it takes a child to blurt out the truth.
“Even when I get take-out, I will try to plate it beautifully,” she purrs. Truly, we’re not worthy.
We learn that Harry and Archie are keen on fried eggs (hold the front page) and that she ‘loves making breakfast for my family.’
“When I’m cooking bacon, my kitchen very immediately becomes full of my husband and three dogs… My bacon brings all my boys to the yard.” How very trad wife.
She tells us that she listens to a lot of ‘70s soft rock, a lot of ‘yacht rock’ (nope, me neither) and ‘French dinner music’ (sorry, lost me again) and dons a full beekeeper suit to watch a professional harvest honey from the apiary in the garden. As you do.
And what about the food? Fresh fruit laid out like a rainbow (seen a zillion times on TikTok etc), salt-baked branzino (sea bass to you and me) Korean fried chicken, homemade coffee creamer and ‘sun tea.’ Well, it was never going to be PG, was it?
Feeding people, she tells us, is her ‘love language.’ I’m sure I read that on a bumper sticker once.
And just in case it all seems a little out of our league, she shows us how to make grocery-store flowers look “stunning and high end” and that hand-writing our menus “adds a personal touch.”
Next she’ll be telling us that onions make your eyes water.
The mere suggestion that people have the time or money to harvest their own honey or make bath salts is pretty jarring
“When you’ve had kids, you’re used to balancing things on your hip,” she tells us, and “We have a lot of arnica in my house. Toddler life! Lots of bumps and bruises.”
All of which is standard fare that could be overheard at any mother and baby group the world over, so when it’s served up via a multi million dollar TV deal, it feels insulting to viewer intelligence.
And then of course there’s the elephant in the rented room.
He makes a brief appearance in the final episode[/caption]
Is Meghan a deeply private individual who just wants to be left alone?
Or is she a public figure who gives tantalising morsels of her family life to lure us in to buying the latest version of herself that she’s selling us?
Her husband Harry makes a brief appearance in the final episode, as part of a gathering of friends praying at the altar of Meghan’s hospitality.
As someone more accustomed to seeing the finished product arrive upstairs from ‘downstairs’ after being prepared by a team of chefs, he perhaps finds Meghan’s fondness for home cooking as something revelatory.
Whether the rest of the world shares that view remains to be seen in the all-important ratings that will determine whether there’s a second series of this oleaginous offering.
Is Meghan a deeply private individual who just wants to be left alone?[/caption]
