Some of the greatest sci-fi and fantasy series are the ones that look the cheapest. While impressive for its time, Buffy The Vampire Slayer soared despite charmingly ropey effects; Star Trek changed the game even though its sets were largely cardboard and papier-mâché. They succeeded, and became genre staples, because of the strength of their characters and storytelling. By contemporary standards, Amazon’s adaptation of Brian K. Vaughn and Cliff Chiang’s comic book series, Paper Girls, can look a little cheap (comparisons to Stranger Things are particularly unfortunate given the mega-budget production value of the globe-trotting Season 4). But while Paper Girls’ effects often look un-special, the series is abundantly rich in character development and emotional depth – something no astronomical budget can buy.
Given that it starts as a 1980s kids-on-bikes adventure, the Stranger Things comparisons are understandable (though, notably, the comics arrived before Things debuted). The somewhat jumbled and frantic first episode is spent introducing the central quartet of paper delivery girls, establishing their clashing personalities before pitching them in the middle of a conflict raging between factions of time-travellers. If all the techno-babble and sci-fi frippery is off-putting at first (the nature of the war is initially presented as a mystery, but isn’t a particularly engaging one), it’s worth persevering. From Episode 2 onwards, Paper Girls swerves off on its own path, becoming a different, much better show as its real premise comes to light: when they’re sent forward in time to 2019, the kids are forced to reconcile with each other – and themselves – in beautiful and surprising ways.
Each of the girls is brilliantly defined, through thoughtful and funny writing, and excellent performances across the board. Erin (Riley Lai Nelet) is the way in, as the new paper girl on the block – a Chinese-American kid who feels the responsibility of looking after her first-gen immigrant mum, initially timid before growing into herself as the series progresses. Mac (Sofia Rosinsky) is an immediate standout as the shit-talking, no-shits-given loudmouth of the group, who channels Edward Furlong’s John Connor from Terminator 2 in both look and attitude, her boisterous personality (she’s confrontational, and smokes and swears like a trooper) masking a childhood of neglect. Tiff (Camryn Jones) is the bright spark of the four, a confident Black girl with big dreams for her future, taking charge whenever leadership is required. Rounding them out is KJ (Fina Strazza), a Jewish girl whose upcoming Bat Mitzvah brings fresh waves of anxiety, her seemingly idealistic middle-class lifestyle freighted with expectations from her perfectionist mother.
It’s the characters who’ll stay with you – four real, funny, frustrating, complicated, caring girls who you’ll want the best for.
For much of Paper Girls’ runtime, the time-war remains off to the side – the real focus of the show is peeling back the girls’ layers, their friendships evolving as they attempt to return to ‘88. Even more fascinating is the exploration of where they all end up decades in the future. The show digs particularly deep here, offering up heartwarming and heartwrenching developments, exploring the disparity between childhood dreams and adulthood realities, revelations around identity, and strained emotional bonds. There are no easy answers, the series facing up to death, disappointment, and distressing life events without flinching. For all that its protagonists are pre-teens, this isn’t a kid’s show – like Stand By Me, it’s a mature story about childhood that deals with very real things, sure to have different resonances for younger and older viewers. And there are consequences too – shock moments that most sci-fi stories would quickly undo are, for now, allowed to stick, providing real stakes.
From Mac’s chance at a better life with her brother, to Erin’s early look at a family fallout, to KJ’s altered understanding of her own identity, and Tiff’s inability to live up to her own high standards, each girl gets a weighty and gripping story. Along the way, there are glorious moments – a frank and funny conversation about periods picks up the taboo-busting baton from Turning Red and runs with it, while a viewing of 2001: A Space Odyssey in a cinema becomes a life-enhancing event in more ways that one. Ali Wong is well-cast too in her first major dramatic role, as a 2019 adult who becomes an inadvertent caretaker of the girls and gets embroiled in the unfolding chronological carnage.
For now, the time-war plot remains the least engaging part of the show. It works broadly as a metaphor for intergenerational divisions, but the different factions and the nature of time-travel here feels much more thinly-defined than everything else. Good performances from Adina Porter and Jason Mantzoukas as the villainous (or are they?) Prioress and Grand Father keep things moving – but a greater delineation of the conflict would be a worthwhile endeavour for a second season.
And Paper Girls really does deserve another season – the story of Erin, Mac, KJ and Tiff is far from over, and the potential of where they might go in the future feels bountiful. Amid a deluge of ultra-expensive streaming series, it would be a real shame if this got lost in the shuffle – an all-too-rare, all-girl coming-of-age story with giant robots, time-travel, and dinosaurs. It’s the characters who’ll stay with you though – four real, funny, frustrating, complicated, caring girls who you’ll want the best for. Here’s hoping they return for another round.