“How to Die Alone” was conceptualized long before JD Vance began his public critique of childless women, but its debut, arriving in the middle of what some call the “cat lady era,” feels perfectly timed.
The title encapsulates what misogynistic men often assume to be the greatest fear of single women, though, in reality, it’s a universal fear for many.
As the show begins, Natasha Rothwell’s character, Melissa, embodies some of these assumptions.
While she doesn’t own a pet at this stage, she also doesn’t have much else going on besides her job at JFK Airport, where she enthusiastically transports travelers between gates while rattling off facts about their destinations.
The irony, and tragedy, lies in the fact that she has a genuine fear of flying, which serves both as a literal phobia and a metaphor for her stagnating life.
Mel finds herself stuck in a rut, unable to trust intimate relationships, feeling isolated despite having friends at work who genuinely care about her.
Her 35th birthday marks a double blow: she receives an invitation to her ex-boyfriend Alex’s destination wedding and has a near-death experience when a shelving unit she assembled on her own collapses on her.
After briefly crossing into the afterlife, she wakes up in a hospital, only to be told she was clinically dead for three minutes—a sobering revelation that jump-starts her desire to live more fully.
Rothwell, who created, stars in, and serves as an executive producer for the show, has crafted a series that follows the familiar structure of many uplifting, comfort-viewing shows.
These attributes, far from being criticisms, are seen as strengths. A comparable example is “Survival of the Thickest,” a series that occupies a similar emotional space for viewers.
Like “Survival,” “How to Die Alone” is an easy, joyful watch, perfect for binge-watching and repeated viewings, especially during cozy times of the year.
However, to avoid any misunderstanding, it’s important to note the similarities between the two shows while highlighting their differences.
Both are centered on plus-size women living in New York—Rothwell’s Mel is single, while in “Survival,” Michelle Buteau’s character, Mavis Beaumont, is unexpectedly unpartnered.
Throughout its eight episodes, Rothwell’s show intentionally takes a light-hearted approach, blending whimsical dream sequences with the everyday struggles of being a broke woman in a big city.
Some sequences transcend fantasy. After Mel’s hospital stay, a series of scenes creatively portray the effects of prescription painkillers, where characters engage in synchronized, jerky movements during normal conversations.
This imaginative depiction captures the surreal sensation of being present yet mentally distant, striving to appear fine despite the circumstances.
These inventive production elements showcase the synergy between Rothwell’s acting chops and her vivid imagination.
Many first noticed her talent as the blunt and hilarious Kelli in Insecure, with some recognizing her from a popular GIF in which Kelli knowingly declares, “You know what that is?” before demonstrating personal “Growth” with a blossoming hand gesture.
While Rothwell’s comedic timing shines in Insecure, her performance as Belinda, the long-suffering masseuse in the first season of White Lotus, stands out as one of her most acclaimed roles.
Mike White’s decision to bring Rothwell back for the third season of the anthology series is a testament to her impact.
In “How to Die Alone,” Rothwell showcases her full range as she navigates Mel’s emotional journey—awkwardly stumbling from one risky decision to the next.
Growth, as Mel learns, involves setbacks and unexpected turns, but her brush with death pushes her to take bold steps.
A fellow patient in her hospital room offers life-changing advice: “Start doing something that scares you.” This motivates Mel to make small, brave choices, some of which are questionable, but all of which move her forward.
Rothwell’s portrayal of Mel is both deeply personal and widely relatable. The character embodies the feeling of hiding behind a façade of playing it safe, a choice many can identify with.
What could easily become a lonely story is instead bolstered by Mel’s interactions with a collaborative cast and interviews with everyday people offering candid insights into life and love.
Conrad Ricamora, who plays Rory, a close friend to Mel, shares great chemistry with Rothwell. Rory is the type of best friend who, for someone with low self-esteem like Mel, can be both a source of comfort and a potential trap.
Yet there’s no malice in Rory, nor is there any in Mel’s ex-boyfriend Alex, played by Jocko Sims. The writers wisely make Mel the central mess of the story, allowing for a mix of humor and empathy for those caught up in her life’s challenges.
Mel’s brother Brian, played by South Side star Bashir Salahuddin, also plays a key role. His martyr complex leads him to cast Mel as the family’s screw-up, while her co-worker Patti, played by Michelle McLeod, is a joy to watch as a character whose bitterness toward her colleagues is impossible to conceal.
However, if there’s a breakout character, it’s Terrance, played by KeiLyn Durrel Jones, a sweet baggage handler who is Mel’s biggest supporter and finds himself firmly planted in the friend zone.
The platonic friendship between Mel and Terrance is a rare gem in television, particularly when it comes to strong, well-written male-female relationships.
Rothwell’s writing ensures their bond has room for growth in future seasons, with the season finale leaving viewers with a question mark that, while understandable, slightly undercuts the energy leading up to it.
Despite the familiar cliffhanger ending, a hallmark of many streaming series, the prevailing sentiment of “How to Die Alone” is one of wanting more.
Rothwell’s performance, whether as a co-star or lead, continues to impress. With Mel’s potential to grow and evolve, Rothwell leaves the door open for future developments, and viewers are eager to see where the journey goes.
The first four episodes of How to Die Alone premiere Friday, Sept. 13 on Hulu.
