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Jun 24, 2022 By Lily Moayeri Photography by York Tillyer Web Exclusive

It’s the ultimate case of using your powers for evil when a woman’s inherent adaptability skills are put toward becoming a con artist. Couple that with the FOMO and envy that social media generates and you have the six-part limited series, Chloe, created, written and directed by Alice Seabright (Sex Education).

Compulsive scrolling is how Chloe begins, and what drives the actions of the main protagonist, Becky, played captivatingly by The Crown’s Erin Doherty. Becky lives with her mother who has early-onset dementia, spends her days at transient temp jobs and her evenings stalk-scrolling the “Instagram” account of her childhood friend, the titular Chloe. While Becky’s life never got off “start,” Chloe is seemingly living a fabulous existence with fun friends, a devoted husband and lots of glamorous activities. Becky clicks from picture-to-picture on Chloe’s profile, from one friend of Chloe’s account to another, and another, and another, deep in a wormhole. Why the obsession is not immediately revealed.

In a final post, Chloe has lyrics from The Smiths’ “There is a Light That Never Goes Out,” and then she’s dead, by suicide, it seems. This is when Becky begins overlapping her life with that of Chloe’s friends, masquerading as Sasha Miles.

“Sasha” is everything Becky wants to be and believes she should be. She shows up at events and yoga classes, slotting herself into each scenario as if she’s always been there. Her effortless lying, swift and slippery, is truly flabbergasting. These perfectly placed and never-ending lies are accompanied by just the right inflections, just-so arranged facial expressions and subtle body language, delivered with razor-sharp finesse by Doherty.

Every one of her minute moves is calculated, and seems even more so when it’s not premeditated but something Sasha has to think up on the spot. She hones in on what she wants to transpire and simply makes it happen. It is manifestation in the extreme and it is irresistible.

As Chloe’s best friend Livia, Pippa Bennett-Warner provides a wonderful counterpart for Doherty. Their dynamic is natural and the trajectory of their friendship believable, albeit based on false premises. Similarly, Billie Howle as Chloe’s widowed husband Elliot has great rhythm with Doherty’s “Sasha,” falling in together in an almost inevitable way. The best chemistry, however, is with Brandon Michael Hall, who plays Josh, a one-night stand of Becky’s.

Another one of the many who are living the life Becky wants, Josh keeps turning up at places she’s manifested herself into, threatening to blow her ruse at any moment. Not that Josh knows who she is or why she’s posing as Sasha, he just knows that she’s faking everything.

What’s fantastic about female imposters is that they don’t actually suffer from imposter syndrome. Quite the opposite, especially with Becky/Sasha. Her personal buy-in of her manufactured self and its accompanying lifestyle is so strong, it’s fascinating to watch. At the same time, in her actual life, being her mother’s caregiver and showing genuine concern for her wellbeing, as well as her generally pathetic existence, which came from a different start than Chloe’s sparks empathy for Becky—despite her deranged actions elsewhere.

With a sharply-written script, nuanced direction, and deft acting, particularly on the part of Doherty, Chloe is a study in modern social dynamics and their psychological impacts as much as it is a ravishing mystery that needs to be seen through to the end. (www.amazon.com/Chloe_Season_1)

Author rating: 8/10