Dear Life review: Ballarat dramedy goes all-out on the dark side

For those who consume streaming programming the way it’s meant to be watched – half-heartedly while doing something else entirely – just a heads up: for the greater part of the first episode of Dear Life there are three separate storylines taking place across three separate time periods.

Which is mildly (and intentionally) disorientating if you’re paying full attention and completely bewildering if you’re not.

The first involves Lillian Vandenberg (Brooke Satchwell), who we met at a free-spirited karaoke party that ends with her boyfriend Ash (Khisraw Jones-Shukoor) proposing to her. Next thing, she’s waking up – by herself – taking a bunch of pills, kicking an empty wine bottle out of the way, and staggering off to a job at Ballarat’s Sovereign Hill, where she promptly throws up in front of a bunch of school kids.

Turns out this isn’t the first time she’s showed up to work hungover, but it’s definitely going to be the last. Desperate to keep her job, she races to the local hospital to hit up Mary (Eleanor Matsuura) – who we saw earlier at the party – for something to straighten herself out.

Security seems a little tight, but it seems there’s a reason: a few months back a doctor was killed in the ER, and now we know what happened to Ash.

Watch the Dear Life trailer.

Meanwhile, a middle-aged couple are having a night out in Melbourne. Andrew (Ben Lawson) is a bit of a killjoy; dinner was fine, but he’s had enough of roaming the streets of Chinatown. His wife Kelly (Annie Maynard) wants to keep the party going, dragging him along to queue up for what is supposedly the hottest supper venue in town.

Andrew isn’t impressed, and things get even worse when a food delivery bike crashes into him and crushes his chest.

Dear Life: make it darker

This is the kind of dramedy that isn’t afraid to go all-out when it comes to the dark side of things. Lillian’s initial flailing about is in no way played for laughs, and Satchwell plays her as someone falling apart in front of our eyes. Likewise, Kelly desperately begging the ambulance crews to tell her that her husband will be okay while they refuse to reply is tough to watch; a light-hearted look at loss this is not.

What Dear Life is, as the third storyline gradually makes clear, is a series about organ donation. In between those two narratives we’re shown scenes where people are taking small eskies across the country, and eventually it becomes clear those eskies contain Ash’s organs, off to help save a number of lives.

Including Andrew’s: that particular storyline is taking place months before Lillian’s breakdown, which becomes clear in the back half of the episode after an anonymous thank you letter inspires her to track down the recipients of Ash’s organs as a way to keep from falling apart. As this is not a light and fluffy feel-good story, things don’t go as she expected, but there’s enough hope there to keep her trying.

Dear Life: Gristmill team

Created, written and directed by the Gristmill team of Wayne Hope and Robyn Butler (The Librarians, Upper Middle Bogan, Little Lunch), this does have a lighter side – including actual jokes, but you’ll have to be paying attention to pick up on them.

Everyone here is going through a lot, and their use of humour as a coping mechanism is (like just about everything else here) very real. Which means the pain is out and loud while the jokes are often muttered under someone’s breath.

While the main thrust of the series is Lillian’s quest to connect with those saved by Ash’s legacy, there are a number of subplots weaving in and out. Mothers are pretty much all bad news here; Ash’s mother (Linda Cropper) dumps a huge financial debt on Lillian (in part out of anger over the whole organ donation thing), while Lillian’s mother (Kerry Armstrong) is controlling, to say the least.

At the same time, Ash’s killer Jordan (Like J Morgan) is looking to change his plea, putting further pressure on everyone. Mary, who was working with Ash the night he died, isn’t coping with things either. And as Lillian continues to track down organ recipients, her quest pretty rapidly crosses the line into stalking, if not outright criminal behaviour.

Dear Life: no easy answers

This isn’t a series that goes for easy answers. Its relatively unflinching look at the aftermath of trauma and the struggle to take even the smallest steps towards healing make it refreshingly authentic. As are the performances, which are excellent all around.

This kind of story often skews effortlessly optimistic. Gristmill’s commitment to showing that the road out of loss is a long and not always straight one is what makes this worth viewing.

It’s occasionally a bit of a tough watch, but when it comes to television challenging viewing is always subjective; it’s not like they’re asking you for a kidney or anything.

All six episodes of Dear Life are streaming on Stan from New Year’s Day.

Discover more screen, games & arts news and reviews on ScreenHub and ArtsHub. Sign up for our free ArtsHub and ScreenHub newsletters.