(Credit: Netflix)

Grief isn’t exactly the kind of thing you would expect or want to binge on Netflix if you are planning to have a light weekend. Most shows about loss lean heavily on the melodramatic music and dramatic monologues, which is not the watch you want to have after an already hectic week.

However, there is one show on Netflix that tones down the grief part and makes it more of a comedy. If you have guessed After Life, then we have nothing more to say.

This show, although based on a man’s grief, shows none of that. Ricky Gervais looked at grief and thought, “What if it was brutally funny, painfully honest, and just a little bit petty?” The result is one of Netflix’s most unexpected cult classics.

On the surface, the show is simple. Tony (played by Gervais) is a small-town journalist whose wife has just died. Like any other decent man who loved his wife, Tony becomes miserable and angry at the world. So much so that he is dangerously close to not caring if he even makes it through another day.

But instead of spiralling into melodrama, Tony starts using his grief as a weapon. He begins saying whatever he wants, doing whatever he wants, and cutting through small talk like it’s tissue paper. It’s savage and snarky, and it’s weirdly refreshing.

That’s the magic of After Life. It is not some polished therapy session dressed up as TV. It’s rude with a capital R. Some might say that the show made them uncomfortable, just like real grief, but that’s the whole point. One minute, Tony is being the world’s worst co-worker. Next, you know, he breaks down in private because a video message from his late wife completely wrecked him. It’s that mix of dark humour and emotion that made the show more than just another Ricky Gervais comedy.

And the thing is, people connected with it. Hard. The show became a cult favourite because it gave permission to laugh through tears and be a little mean while hurting. Everyone who’s ever gone through loss saw a bit of themselves in Tony. After Life didn’t try to be inspirational; it was just honest. Which, ironically, made it inspiring in a way all the self-help monologues never could.

So yes, it is “the grief show”, but it refuses to wear the label. It is not packaged as a lesson or some neatly tied-up arc about “moving on”. It’s raw, awkward, and cathartic. And that is why it still stands as one of the best things Netflix has ever put out.