TV Review: Three Families – the heartbreaking reality for Northern Ireland’s women
Some television dramas can be paired with aimless scrolling on your phone or a quick dash to the kettle, in lieu of ad breaks. Gwyneth Hughes’ Three Families is not one of those dramas. With your eyes glued to screens from start to finish, hot drinks – and tissues – must be sourced in advance.
UK law states that abortion is legal up to 24 weeks, but in Northern Ireland doctors and lawmakers have long skirted around this. Three Families is the story of the campaign to change this, following legal efforts from 2013 to 2019. As the name suggests, the programme follows three families affected by aboriton, or rather the lack of, as they each discover their limited options if they wish to terminate a pregnancy.
Each storyline is based on the experience of a real woman in Northern Ireland, though the names have been changed. Fifteen-year-old Orla (Lola Petticrew) falls pregnant from her abusive boyfriend and her Catholic mother Theresa (Sinéad Keenan) orders some pills from the internet, which leads to a legal case being brought against her. Eager young mother-to-be Hannah (Amy James-Kelly) is heartbroken after learning her child will be stillborn, but that she is not permitted to terminate. Hannah’s experience is mirrored in the story of 40-year-old Rosie (Genevieve O’Reilly); battling mental health issues and severe migraines, she is told her baby has a limited chance of survival. In each woman’s story, Hughes presents a masterclass in honest storytelling.
The programme’s rawness has the ability to catch you off guard. In one scene, Rosie’s husband half-cradles and half-carries her to the taxi outside their home in Belfast to get a flight to England to have an abortion, on the driveway Rosie is sick from an excruciating migraine and she stifles back sobs. My heart broke. It broke again when we learned the outcome of the legal case lodged against Theresa in a phone call from her lawyer.
The women are not the only characters and Hughes strikes a good balance in sharing their stories and interweaving a male perspective. Orla’s step father, who is at first kept out of the loop, joins her in a meeting with Theresa’s lawyer where Orla candidly repeats threats her abusive boyfriend made against her. After listening to Orla, he touchingly expresses his pride in her strength, calling the two women “his girls”. Hannah’s husband, a character you fall in love with in the first three minutes, is also given the chance to express his grief. A keen runner, he is seen running off down the seaside street they live on numerous times. As the series progresses, these become quiet moments for him to shed a tear away from Hannah, so as not to distress her.
Eager to show the two sides to every story, Hughes also includes characters like Louise, a friend of Theresa’s ignorant to Orla’s situation. Louise makes numerous remarks about her objections to abortion while they work together in a salon. Appalled at first, viewers slowly understand her beliefs as they spend more time watching the absolutist neighbourhood she grew up in.
Hughes’ series ends in 2019. However, text appears on screen before the closing credits making it clear the story is far from over. “All women in Northern Ireland can have a termination up to 12 weeks,” it reads. As this fades two more words appear in isolation: “in theory”. The new law still faces significant opposition and many women have no choice but to travel to England for an abortion. At the end, you feel conflicted as a watcher, Hughes’ mastery leaves you wanting more but further episodes mean a continued struggle for the women of Northern Ireland. Hughes brings a taboo topic out of the shadows and onto primetime television with remarkable style and sensitivity.