Can You Hear Me?

At first glance, this show's  trio of main characters from the wrong side of the tracks appears to play into "girls behaving badly" tropes, but their stories are worth more than a glance. Fabiola, Ada, and Caro don't look like people on a TV show: their hair is dirty, their clothes are unkempt and ill-fitting, their teeth are crooked. Their neighborhood, with its graffiti, run-down shops, and old mattresses leaning against walls, is just as rough-and-tumble, and our three main characters scratch a living within it. Fabiola is the only one with a job, and she works at a burrito counter. Caro and Ada scrounge to keep them in cigarettes and rental movies, and Ada sometimes exchanges sex for favors and money. At home, each woman has a family that needs care, like Ada's mentally ill burnout mom and Fabi's comatose grandmother, who sits silently in a wheelchair day and night. 

But if this sounds like a great big bummer, it isn't, because Can You Hear Me? finds moments of joy and beauty, just as real people do in their real lives, no matter how downtrodden they look from the outside. Late for her court-ordered anger-management therapy, Ada cadges a ride on a delivery bike; zooming down the street, she flings out her arms and grins, instantly transforming from a sweaty, stressed-out mess to an angelic figurehead. Out of cash, the three friends make enough for an evening by singing at the train station, then they lie in a heap on nearby train tracks, celebrating. Ada and Fabiola fall into what's clearly a well-worn argument about the man Fabi's dating, who, Ada points out, only comes by Fabi's house for quick sex and to steal money. Who should she date? asks Fabi. "A prince. Or the count of Monte Cristo," smiles her friend. It feels true, like the sweet sisterly support and love women count on from their girlfriends. And it makes this particular set of friends feel very lovable indeed.