I love cringe TV and I’m not afraid to say it. It gives you an adrenaline rush like a rollercoaster: the feeling of your stomach dropping with the simultaneous inability to look away. Usually, when I crave this sensation, I turn on an old episode of Glee (2009 – 2015), but lately, a new show has been dominating my laptop screen: The Summer I Turned Pretty (TSITP; 2022-2025). I have been fed with screenings (thanks Trinity TV), video essays and TikTok memes galore as the show recently capped off its third and final season with a resoundingly solid 7.56/10 on IMDB. Despite its cringe-factor, I do believe this rating is deserved, if for nothing else, the show’s representation of grief.
TSITP revolves around Isabel “Belly” Conklin (Lola Tung) and the messy love triangle she finds herself in between her childhood friends, the Fisher brothers. Belly struggles to choose between Conrad (Chris Briney), a decades-long crush, and Jeremiah (Gavin Casalegno), a newly-developing one. Based on this description, many, as I did, began watching the show expecting the typical drama of a love-triangle rom-com, but there is so much more to it than that. At the end of Season 1, Susannah Fisher (Rachel Blanchard), Conrad and Jeremiah’s mother, passes away from breast cancer. This abrupt death shocks both the characters and the audience, as Susannah had been keeping her illness a secret, wanting her last summer to be as perfect as all the previous ones.
The rest of the show, while it primarily centres on romance, holds on surprisingly tight to Susannah, with characters continually expressing their grief all the way up to the final episode of the final season. The entire show becomes a sort of eulogy to her, showing just how loved Susannah was by those around her, and how much she is missed. It is very rare to find nuanced portrayals of grief in popular media; grief is either exemplified as a linear process that impacts everyone the same or is ridiculously exaggerated for drama. In TSITP, every character mourns Susannah differently. Even when they are “OK” again, she is still always floating in the back of their minds. Much like real people, these characters grieve however they feel is right, and for however long they need to.
Belly’s grief, to me, is the most complex. I loved the show’s decision to take a closer look at her personal journey through loss in Season 3. She and Susannah were not related, which caused many to discount Belly’s emotions surrounding her death, but Susannah was as good as a second mother to her. Belly struggles with an inability to move forward, often wishing things could go back to the way they were in the summers before Susannah died. This desire to return to the past only heightens her entanglement with Conrad and Jeremiah, as she clings to them in an attempt to hold on to Susannah and the times she was happiest. However, the end of Season 3 sees a new Belly, as she distances herself from the boys and sets out to go to Paris on her own. The audience sees Belly in a new, happier light. She sheds her old character and personality – one defined by her relationship with the Fishers – and rediscovers who she truly is. Lola Tung portrays this shift beautifully, as over the course of merely two episodes, Belly gains the confidence and boldness she was lacking. There is a lot to appreciate in Belly’s journey of self-discovery, but what is especially well done is the fact that while distance from the Fishers is helpful for her, it is not written in to simplistically erase or dilute her grief. As thoughts of Susannah occupy her mind even years later, Belly shows that grief can, and often does, last a lifetime.
TSITP is not a show for everyone. The writing is often stilted and seeped in cliché, and the (many) cringe moments are undeniably difficult to get through. I started it expecting a brainless, silly binge, but left with a deeper understanding of how to write complex experiences of grief. Despite its flaws, I found myself enjoying the show, sometimes for how ridiculous it was, and other times, for how represented I felt in my own grief.
