Based off the book of the same name by Michelle Frances, The story centers around Laura (Robin Wright), a mum whose maternal Spidey-sense goes haywire the moment she meets Cherry (Olivia Cooke), the new girlfriend of her son Daniel (Laurie Davidson). Laura thinks something’s off. Honestly, same — Cherry moves a little too shifty for my liking. But to be fair… everyone in this show is moving shifty. What follows is a tug-of-war between overprotection, paranoia, class differences, and some serious family skeletons rattling away in the closet.
Robin Wright is brilliant as Laura — protective, suspicious, and frankly, the kind of mum who’d Google your blood type after meeting you once. Her ability to toe the line between maternal instinct and full-blown paranoia keeps you guessing if she’s right or just spiraling.
Laurie Davidson plays Daniel with a kind of spoiled-but-innocent energy. He’s cushioned by privilege but seems completely oblivious to the chaos circling around him. He’s like the golden retriever caught in a horror movie — loveable, but absolutely clueless. 
And Olivia Cooke? A powerhouse as Cherry. She’s bold, hardworking, and sharp-tongued, but carries this constant chip on her shoulder. She feels overlooked, cheated, dismissed, and you can see the vindictive streak simmering underneath. Cooke makes Cherry both magnetic and maddening.
The structure is one of the show’s cleverest tools. 6 episodes in total. Each episode begins with a character’s name slapped boldly across the screen before we slip into their perspective. The time jumps and shifting viewpoints are brilliantly executed. One scene seen through Laura’s eyes paints her as the perfect host; replay it through Cherry’s perspective and suddenly Laura’s cold, dismissive, and borderline rude. The editing forces us to question: who’s telling the truth? Or is everyone just lying through their designer teeth?
Visually, it’s polished — with a suspiciously heavy amount of Apple product placement. iPhones, MacBooks, AirPods… honestly, I was waiting for Siri to weigh in on who the real villain was. The score quietly builds tension without being overbearing, while the cinematography plays with shadows and framing to keep paranoia lingering in every shot.
At its heart, The Girlfriend is a psychological duel between mum and girlfriend — two women circling each other in a chess match of manipulation, secrets, and subtle warfare. Sometimes, they’re bonding and even cute together. Other times, the claws are out, and it’s ugly.
Cherry lies. A lot. About her job, her clothes, her background. Laura, on the other hand, lies too — and sometimes goes so far that you’re forced to ask who’s worse. The class divide between Daniel and Cherry fuels much of the friction: she’s working-class, he’s posh, and they both bend truths to impress one another.
There are subplots — Laura’s open marriage with Howard adds intrigue, though it’s frustratingly underexplored. Cherry’s relationship with her mum offers more heartfelt, grounding moments. And as the drama escalates, the lies get darker, dirtier, and harder to keep track of. By the time we reach the finale, the show does a neat full circle: answers are revealed, threads are tied up, but a little cliffhanger is left dangling. Enough to tease, but not enough to demand another season. Honestly? I loved the show and I think it’s best left as is. Unless they decide to give us The Boyfriend. Then, I’m in.
The Girlfriend thrives on tension and manipulation, pulling viewers into its game of “pick a side.” Are you Team Laura? Team Cherry? Or, like me, Team “They’re both evil, bun up both of them”? It’s sharp, stylish, and darkly addictive. But just like meeting the in-laws — once is probably enough.
