Fleabag Christian Review
If you’ve ever found yourself caught in a spiral of bad choices—repeating mistakes, numbing pain with distractions, and pushing away the very people who try to reach out—then you might recognize a bit of yourself in Fleabag. Not that I’m suggesting you’ve hit rock bottom quite like Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s titular anti-heroine, who’s too messy, too raw, and a little too close for comfort at times. But this show has a way of taking all that chaos and packaging it in such a sharp, darkly humorous narrative that you find yourself drawn in before you even realize what’s happening. One minute, you’re chuckling at a snarky aside, and the next, it’s like someone’s peeled back a layer of your own soul.
So, where does a Christian even begin with a series like Fleabag? It’s not exactly wholesome, not even remotely close. The show is bursting with profanity, sexual content, and a cavalier attitude toward morality. Yet there’s something magnetic about it, something almost sacred in its vulnerability and brutal honesty. Waller-Bridge plays a woman who is both fiercely independent and utterly lost, and that paradox is what makes the series both compelling and unsettling. As she looks straight into the camera, breaking the fourth wall with knowing glances and sly quips, it’s like she’s daring us to look away—to not see the mess she’s made of her life. But then, of course, we can’t. Because it’s all so painfully real.
Fleabag’s Mask of Humor
From the very first episode, it’s clear that humor is Fleabag’s armor, her weapon, and her downfall. She uses it to deflect, to seduce, and to cope. She’s the kind of person who can turn tragedy into a punchline with a flick of her tongue and a wicked grin. And yet, beneath that bravado, there’s a gaping void, a well of grief and shame so deep that it almost drowns out everything else. Her best friend’s death haunts every interaction, every decision she makes, but instead of dealing with it, she buries it under layers of sarcasm and bad behavior. It’s easier to be the screw-up, the joke, than to confront the fact that she’s hurting. She makes you laugh, sure—but it’s the kind of laughter that comes with a wince, like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t, and maybe you’re complicit in her self-destruction just by watching.
It’s not easy to sympathize with Fleabag. She can be mean, selfish, and, at times, downright unlikeable. But there are moments—fleeting, fragile moments—when the mask slips. When the humor falls away and what’s left is just a woman who desperately wants to be loved but doesn’t believe she deserves it. It’s in those moments that you see the brokenness beneath the bravado, the aching loneliness that drives her to hurt others before they can hurt her. And if we’re honest, maybe we’ve all been there, to some degree. Maybe that’s why the show resonates so deeply, despite—or perhaps because of—its darkness.
The Desperation of Fleabag’s Search
What’s fascinating, and deeply tragic, is how Fleabag explores the idea of trying to fill that void. Fleabag is constantly searching for something to ease the ache inside her, whether it’s through meaningless sex, alcohol, or fleeting flirtations. But nothing satisfies. Every time she thinks she’s found a solution, it slips through her fingers, leaving her more hollow than before. There’s a scene in the second season, where she admits, almost tearfully, that she just wants someone to tell her what to do. It’s a plea for direction, for guidance—something solid to hold onto in a life that feels like it’s crumbling around her.
And as a Christian, it’s heartbreaking to watch. Because what she’s searching for isn’t something a person or a thing can provide. It’s not even about finding the right relationship or getting her act together. What Fleabag is really yearning for is grace—grace to forgive herself, grace to believe that she’s worth saving, grace to stop running from her own pain. But she’s too caught up in her own self-destruction to see that. She’s caught in a cycle of sin and shame, and there’s no redemption in sight. The series doesn’t offer her a savior, just more heartache.
A Crisis of Faith
Season two takes this yearning a step further by introducing a Catholic priest—a character who’s as flawed and complicated as Fleabag herself. The “Hot Priest,” as he’s dubbed, represents something entirely new for Fleabag: an authority figure who’s also approachable, a man of faith who struggles with doubt, a potential lover who’s off-limits. Their relationship is electric, charged with both sexual tension and something deeper, something almost spiritual. For Fleabag, who’s never shown any interest in faith before, the priest becomes a symbol of everything she’s been avoiding—commitment, sacrifice, accountability. And yet, he’s not her savior either. He’s too human, too broken in his own way.
Their interactions are fascinating to watch, because they push Fleabag into unfamiliar territory. She’s used to being the one in control, the one who seduces and discards. But with the priest, she’s vulnerable. She wants something from him—something she can’t quite name. Is it love? Acceptance? Absolution? The show never spells it out, which makes their dynamic all the more compelling. What’s clear, though, is that this isn’t just another fling. There’s something sacred in their connection, even as it’s wrapped in layers of temptation and confusion.
The Hollow Pursuit of Redemption
But ultimately, Fleabag’s story is one of unmet expectations. The priest can’t offer her redemption, just as the people around her can’t heal her wounds. She’s searching for something that only God can provide—peace, forgiveness, a sense of worth that’s not tied to her actions or her failures. And because she doesn’t turn to Him, she remains lost, trapped in the same cycle of sin and regret. There’s no grand conversion scene, no moment of clarity where she suddenly sees the light. And maybe that’s the point. Fleabag’s story is unfinished, just as many of our stories are. She’s still searching, still stumbling, still hurting. But there’s a sliver of hope in the final moments of the series—a suggestion that maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to see the cracks in her armor.
A Complicated but Honest Show
So, is Fleabag worth watching? As a Christian, it’s not an easy recommendation. The show’s content is definitely for mature audiences, and its casual approach to sin and brokenness can be difficult to stomach. But there’s also something profoundly human about it, something that resonates on a deep, spiritual level. Fleabag is a messy, honest portrayal of a woman who’s lost and searching, hurting and hiding, laughing and crying all at once. It’s not pretty, but it’s real.
And sometimes, real is what we need. We need stories that show us the mess of life, the pain of brokenness, and the desperate, aching need for grace. Because without that, we can’t appreciate the beauty of redemption when it finally comes. So, for all its flaws, I’d give Fleabag a 7 out of 10. It’s not a Christian story, but it’s a human one—and maybe that’s enough.
