The main force for this is Devi, who recoils at the stereotypically strict immigrant parenting of her mother (an excellent Poorna Jagannathan), dismisses Indian culture and dreams of running away. But for most other than Devi, this goes unmentioned the philosophy for the characters and, it appears, the show, is to attain the long-sought ideal of being “just a normal teenager” and expanding who gets to claim such a distinction. The show, which shares an aesthetic (and glittery, Spotify-ready pop soundtrack) with Netflix’s teen staple To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, takes a swift and mostly tacit approach to diversity in its young cast classmates have designated the trio of Devi, south-east Asian Eleanor and Afro-Latina Fabiola as “the UN”, and the makeup of Sherman Oaks High is refreshingly and conspicuously not just white, cis, able-bodied. Checklist in hand, she directs her two best friends, Eleanor (Ramona Young) and Fabiola (Lee Rodriguez), into cool-adjacent boyfriends and a 10-step popularity plan. The first few episodes are clunky, as Devi, in denial-steeled striver mode, directs or antagonizes characters seemingly identified by one joke: her cousin Kamala (Richa Moorjani), the beautiful “good Indian” doctorate student at CalTech, wide-eyed with America and preparing for arranged marriage insult-throwing academic rival and rich kid Ben (Jaren Lewison). Only the sight of her crush, swim-team boy and said stone-cold hottie Paxton Hall-Yoshida (Darren Barnet) – a layered mystery or stock jock character, depending on the scene – and the promise of a “rebrand” in sophomore year, zaps Devi back on her feet. The shock paralyzed her for three months (teenagers: not forgiving of the concept “psychosomatic”), forcing her to use a wheelchair.
(McEnroe, for no reason seemingly beyond the fact they could get him, narrates the series.) “As you know,” she half-prays, “last year sucked for a number of reasons.” As abruptly revealed in what seems like a first-episode bit but is not, her beloved father – a sunny, unbridled presence in sepia flashbacks and dream sequences, and Devi’s only true best friend – died of a heart attack at her orchestra concert the year prior. She’s also a master deflector, reeling, with a John McEnroe-style short fuse, from a massive loss. You’ll be like Zayn and Gigi,” she tells her friend as a boyfriend sales pitch). Devi is, needless to say, a virgin, and also an intelligent firebrand with a seemingly effortless command of power-points, witty barbs and topical-enough pop culture references (“Yeah, but he has a hot face.
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