The biggest disappointment about Dinosaur (2024-) is that I’ve run out of episodes to watch. Do you think if I just keep furiously refreshing the page it will make a second season appear? I’m going to try. Meanwhile, allow me to regale you with my thoughts on this show, which squeezes more comedy, poignancy, delightful and awkward romance, autism representation, great characters, mentions of Made of Honor (2008), and references to fossilized shark poo into 180 minutes than I knew were possible (or, in the case of that shark poo, than I knew I wanted). Intrigued where all this is going? Me too.
But! Before we get into the story I do want to say that, after watching the series, I did re-watch Made of Honor (2008). For research purposes, obviously. I’m just that dedicated. And, while you don’t need to have it fresh in your head before- or after-hand, being able to see all the overlaps and plotline references (which are plentiful) and how this is, in many ways, an homage to that movie, is very fun. You should know that a lot of aspects of the movie did not age well, but the Genetically Blessed Faces hold up juuuuust fine. Now, back to the actual task at hand.
Nina’s (Ashley Storrie) boss Shaun (Ben Rufus Green) awkwardly perches on the edge of her desk to give her a “gentle reminder” that when she insists “‘a T-rex could crunch granny’s spine like a mid-morning cracker,’ it fits with this totally wrong narrative of [paleontologists] as anti-social, rigid, and a bit,” and here he pauses to whisper the last word, “autistic.” Nina listens with a patiently exasperated expression on her face before responding, “But I am.” At first Shaun doesn’t follow, but when she gives him a knowing look, eyebrows raised, he finally stammers, “You’re autistic.” To which Nina nods contentedly and, before Shaun scurries off, she shares a knowing look with her (probably also autistic) co-worker Declan (Jim Kitson), pops back on her headphones, and returns to her work. As you may have surmised, Nina lives pretty loudly and proudly as all three of those things: autistic, anti-social, and entrenched in her routine. (In a lovely story of fiction-influencing-fact, Ashley Storrie, who also co-created the series, has said that playing Nina helped her unmask, to live as more outwardly autistic, in her own life.) She’s also always extremely honest and expects the same from other people.
So, when Nina’s sister/soulmate/roommate Evie (Kat Ronney) returns to Glasgow from a weekend in London and excitedly announces that she’s getting married, Nina is first, mystified, then thrown, and then more than a little disgusted. “To who?!” she asks. But even after Evie explains that it’s to her boyfriend Ranesh, Nina still looks like she can’t quite place him. And then, as enlightenment dawns, she asks, “The TikTok advertising man with the concave ass?” Adding that no one in the family has met him and Evie’s only been seeing him for six weeks. “You’ve had thrush that’s lasted longer than [that]!” She says loudly enough that the words echo and turn heads. (I am going to make a concerted effort to not quote the entirety of the show to you during this review, but please understand that it’s very difficult because there are just that many excellent lines.)
Much to Nina’s chagrin, their parents (Sally Howitt and Greg Hemphill) are thrilled to hear about the engagement. Not just thrilled, but they say that their family “finally has got something to celebrate,” which Nina rightfully finds offensive since she has three degrees and holds one of only seven positions for Paleontologists in all of Scotland. (Crap. I failed already. And that wasn’t even that special a line.) Their brother Bo (David Carlyle) is more invested in the drama it seems to be causing between his sisters, and he’s also distracted by his own on-again off-again relationship with his girlfriend. But he is there to point out to Nina that she’s incredibly risk-averse, while Evie is absolutely partial to leaping before she looks.
Much to her surprise, delight, and eventual panic, Nina does find a sounding board, ally, and confidante in Lee (Lorn Macdonald), the guy at the coffee van outside the museum. In fact, it’s Lee who suggests that perhaps she give Ranesh a chance before deciding that she absolutely hates him. And it’s Lee who takes it in stride when she’s upset when it goes poorly, which is putting it mildly. And it’s Lee, of course, who makes Nina maybe reconsider her very strict rule about not “doing relationships.” But that’s getting ahead of myself.
Back to Nina’s first meeting with Ranesh, who gets off on the even wronger foot with her when he disrespects Evie and Nina’s long-time “Takeaway Tuesday” tradition by making them homemade pasta for dinner instead. And then, he tells Nina that her having autism is Super Cool and a Superpower, which are lines that he delivers in such a perfectly earnest and unselfaware way that I both snorted and wanted the floor to swallow him whole. The man plays overeager and trying too hard so beautifully it really raises it to an art form unto itself.
One of the things that I love about this series is how it doesn’t overly explain neurodiversity, but instead lets small moments speak for themselves. Like in this instance, when Ranesh tells her that autism is Super Cool and we get a shot of Nina’s face, eyes momentarily closed as she says “don’t say it” moments before he tells her that it’s a Superpower. Later as he’s talking, the camera focuses on her eyes and then his fork scraping against the spoon and the pasta squelching as he twirls it. And yes, this is absolute torture if you have misophonia or sensory processing issues, but it does get the point across.
One scene that really stuck with me was when Nina is getting overwhelmed in a public situation and Evie presses her to stay, to stick it out a bit longer. Finally, Nina leans close to Evie and explains that she “doesn’t want to do this here in front of these people,” and Evie finally lets her leave. It’s a touching moment that shows exactly how well Nina knows herself and how well her sister knows her as well. Quite frankly, I don’t think self-awareness is something most people associate with neurodiverse people, so I think it’s especially important to see it portrayed so well and so clearly in Nina’s character. She is well-aware of her own emotions and needs, she’s and not at all afraid to speak up for them. She’s also ridiculously funny, which is something that there’s a growing tide of for neurodiverse characters but who are still very bogged down by stories of hardship and isolation. Not that those stories don’t have a time and place, but it’s also important for everyone to have their time to bask in joy and humor.
Just as Nina thinks she has a handle on the engagement and has conquered branching out into Team Building Bowling Night at work, she gets the rug pulled out from under her when Evie asks her to be her Maid of Honor. It’s one thing to go along with ideas she thinks are bad and watch her sister pretend not to like things in order to impress Ranesh, but it’s another thing entirely to have to be wholly involved in that process. And, the other bridesmaid is Evie’s friend Amber (Sabrina Sandhu), who gets a smidge obsessed with people and is a tad jealous that Nina is MOH (as she says) instead of her. Amber also lets her weird hang all the way out, which is delightful. First up on the agenda will be convincing Ranesh’s dad, of whom he is absolutely terrified, that Evie and her entire family are good enough for Ranesh to marry. To do so, Evie asks Nina to put her “refreshing, freewheeling honesty” on hold, which she agrees to do, but in the end it’s Nina who will save the day by being herself, and making me laugh until I snorted.
The general outlines of the plot won’t feel like a surprising jolt but will be more comfortingly familiar, which is really what we should all expect of this genre. You expect Nina and Lee to gently fumble toward each other over the course of the season. You expect Nina to deride the union between Evie and Ranesh until a pivotal moment breaks one of the relationships apart. You expect Bo and Amber to offer timely comic relief. You expect Declan, who is decades older than Nina, to come in with the kind of sage advice that one gleans from life experience. You expect Nina’s parents to be a slightly out-of-touch-but-ultimately-well-meaning pair who often say the wrong thing at the wrong time. What is absolutely refreshing about this series are the rich details. When Nina and Lee go on their first date, she ends up covered in beer and toilet water, and she is late to a dress fitting, for example, and it is incredibly funny and tender. What’s also refreshing is how they manage to jam so many perfectly quirky and emphatically and openly weird characters into one series, and how these characters bump against each other and sometimes clash, but it’s always clear that they are all filled with a deep and abiding respect. But more than that, while it may not at all be clear to Nina, it’s obvious when watching that she is the glue that holds everyone together. While they are all still striving to impress other people and the world, she is there to remind them, with the beauty of humor, snark, and sarcasm, that just saying what you think will likely do just fine.
Overall Rating on the Chronically Streaming Pain Scale:
Chronically Streaming 