How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is somehow too much and not enough

It's hard work following up a seminal series like Derry Girls, and while many may try to draw comparisons between the Channel 4 comedy and Lisa McGee's glossy new series, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast, there are minimal parallels to be drawn. That's because, rightfully so, this new show is a completely different beast.

Not that it was ever in any doubt, but McGee crafts an entirely encompassing and vibrant world in her new series – it's just that it's quite befuddling and really rather stressful.

The series doesn't fit neatly into any category box and while How to Get to Heaven from Belfast has been seen to be a comedy, it has elements of a thriller, a mystery drama and also, more surprisingly, a ghost story. It deals in the surreal, while also being grounded in the joyous mundanity of friendship groups and their shifting dynamics as we age. It gives us messy women, complicated lives and avoidant personalities – all things which I do think TV is crying out for more depictions of.

So, it's a real shame that How to Get to Heaven from Belfast just hasn't struck any sort of chord with me.

The show revolves around a central mystery that is thrown up when a group of childhood friends – Saoirse (Roísín Gallagher), Robyn (Sinéad Keenan) and Dara (Caoilfhionn Dunne) – reunite for their friend Greta's (Natasha O’Keeffe) wake. They're informed of Greta's death via email (how brutal) but when they attend the wake in question, nothing can quite foreshadow the weird series of events that starts unfolding.

It leads the trio across Ireland in pursuit of the truth and really, it all sounds like quite a straightforward premise.

The appeal of How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is, however, that it's entirely far from straightforward – and while it has all the makings of bringing in brilliant thematic red herrings, its lack of consistency and direction at times is to its own detriment.

The series certainly taps into the growing list of stress-inducing TV we're seeing more of on our screens right now. Programmes like The Bear illicit mentions of wanting to take a breather after watching each episode, with the likes of Succession, Industry and Blue Lights being just a few that follow suit in the same dramatic vein. It's why more people are turning to comfort watches and spinning the block with old telly favourites in a bid to soothe our souls – we're all too stressed out from work, life and now, even the TV we consume.

And let's get one thing straight: I am a fan of a well done stressful watch. The more chaos, the better – because there are times where I love nothing more than to feel my heart beat out of my chest watching a provocative, well thought out series.

How to Get to Heaven from Belfast definitely taps into that consuming feeling, with the chaos felt from the very first episode as we see Robyn bashing her head so hard against her steering wheel that she turns around to her needy children bleeding. But it's actually just her imagination! There's an uneasiness to everything as we start to piece these characters together, getting a feel for their own lives before they intersect for this overarching adventure.

But sadly, this series veers on the side of feeling stressful for stressful sake. Not only is the premise crammed full of twists and random turns that almost warrant whipping out a notebook to keep track, but stylistically, this is a series that is trying its hardest to be big, bright and bold. It definitely feels that way and visually, is a feast for the senses. You can tell the Netflix budget has gone far here – but is the pay-off worth it? I would, unfortunately, argue that it's style over substance, with the glaringly obvious being that the laughs within the series are somewhat few and far between.

Laughing out loud isn't necessarily the marker of every good comedy but to be honest, it should be. We're in a time when shows use multi-hyphenate descriptions, I think, in order to cover their bases in case one of the genres feels less explored. I should note that it's an issue to take up with the streamers and broadcasters, but in an age when everything seems to be a comedy-drama rather than straight comedy or drama, the lack of laughter in How to Get to Heaven from Belfast could be argued to be because it's trying to do too much at once.

I'm not opposed to genre expansion, by any means. But are we labelling things as comedy-dramas in order to cover our bases if the laughter isn't easily flowing? In my opinion, comedy is at its best when it does tap into the dramatic and darker elements of life, something that McGee knows all too well, as Derry Girls was later seen to be a social commentary of its own.

We already know the comedic chops we're working with regarding McGee and her stellar cast, so it really is a crying shame that I wasn't left cackling at all of the Northern Irish craic clearly on display in How to Get to Heaven from Belfast.

Perhaps it's because everything in this series moves at 100 miles per hour that we miss some of the comedic timing, or maybe it's simply because there's just so much going on that it often feels like you're driving through a sandstorm in a convertible, being attacked and overstimulated from all angles.

At its core, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is a mystery thriller that is trying to be fresh and edgy, but does its best work when it's grounded in the more simpler and relatable aspects of female friendship. The dynamic between Roisin, Robyn and Dara is a sheer joy to watch and that's where the comedy is. It's expected after all, as we already know that McGee can write group friendship dynamics incredibly well and with great humour.

As the later episodes unfold, there are wider themes and characters that are totally left-field that viewers won't see coming, but that just don't seem all that well explored either. Saoirse-Monica Jackson appears as an enigmatic, psychopath figure later down the line but her characterisation almost feels to preposterous to really feel that invested in her storyline.

In a world where 'second screen' culture is creepily winding its way into our viewing habits, it's almost admirable that How to Get to Heaven from Belfast does unashamedly warrant so much of your attention with its eight one-hour episodes. If you look away for just a moment, you may miss a vital piece of information or flashback that'll inform its perplexing ending.

For me, it reaches a point where the overstimulation turns to just being switched off by it all and there's only so many rounds of Girls Aloud's Sound of the Underground that gets me pumped up and wanting to watch more (something I didn't think I'd ever say). This is a Marmite kind of TV show and while I'm sad that it just didn't leave me cackling and pining for more, I'm sure there may be some out there that will enjoy How to Get to Heaven from Belfast for the unconventional, sensory overload that it is.

How to Get to Heaven from Belfast arrives on Netflix on Thursday 12 February.

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