The first time we meet Julia (Anna Maxwell Martin), she’s simultaneously brushing her hair, calling in late to work, and shouting at her children – all while driving them to school. The world’s most annoying toy – a Bop-It – yells tinny instructions from the back seat. Suddenly, a temporary traffic light appears in the road ahead, with seemingly no intention of every turning green. Is it any wonder that before we’re even two minutes into the excruciating BBC parenting comedy Motherland, she’s letting out a long scream of pure frustration?
Being a mum is hard, especially if you’re trying to juggle as much as Julia, who struggles to stay on top of her kids, her career, PTA politics, the cleaner, and any remaining semblance of a social life. The stress of it all paints a pretty unflattering picture. Harassed, frazzled, agitated, frantic: these are all words that apply to Julia in Motherland, as we watch her screaming in disgust at plasters curling over her feet at the local swimming pool, shouting at her chronically absent husband over the phone, and begging school staff not to mark her children down as late again. None of those are attributes you’d pick as desirable qualities in a friend, or partner. From the off, Motherland gives you a window into the lives of women at their most strained, so they were never going to be likeable. But we’ve all been there, right? We understand, and we sympathise. Don’t we?
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