Prickly protagonists are a dime a dozen on TV these days, continuing long after the reign of antiheroes like Tony Soprano, Don Draper, and Walter White ended. On Apple TV+’s dark comedy, “Physical,” Rose Byrne’s excellent performance as housewife-turned-aerobics maven Sheila Rubin runs the gauntlet of the ‘difficult woman’ archetype. In the second season, Sheila continues to be at war with herself and everyone who threatens her future exercise empire. As she edges closer to this dream, Sheila must overcome new and old obstacles that line the path to lifestyle guru success.
Events are still a few years away from the flash-forward that opened the pilot episode, which depicted Sheila at the top of her aerobics game in 1986. Instead, we rejoin the Rubins at a crossroads with Danny (Rory Scovel) licking his local election loss wounds and attempting to be a supportive husband to Sheila’s new endeavor — with some caveats. The contract she signed with family business Stahl/Grunner isn’t the glamorous step to success she hoped for, and charismatic competitors such as the infections Vinnie Green (Murray Bartlett) are doing it bigger and better.
Even though the audience is privy to Sheila’s thoughts via the voiceover device, she isn’t an open book. A combination of self-loathing and a tendency to repress previous events has meant Sheila’s mask is often firmly in place. She starts to shed some of these barriers in her safe bathroom space, but this character does not want to expose herself to anyone — not even herself. Negative comments aimed at herself and everyone around her can be tough to hear while offering insight into Sheila’s often bewildering, impulsive choices. Thankfully, it isn’t a simple case of repeating material from the first season, and even the negative self-talk takes a different tactic.
The first episode, “Don’t You Want Me,” opens with a supportive voiceover encouraging Sheila to keep her “eyes on the prize.” The tone is softer and reminds her to calm down when confronted with sleazy men and her husband’s constant need to center himself. Season 2 digs deeper into how this inner voice is both a cudgel and a crutch, which adds to its effectiveness in showing a woman at war with her disordered thinking. It is not a simple case of replacing one pattern with another, and there is no quick fix — even if Sheila believes aerobics is the key.
Creator Annie Weisman (“Almost Family” and “The Path”) has discussed how engaging with her history of an eating disorder via the character of Sheila Rubin is unconventional. (“It’s a Thinking Disorder,” Weisman wrote in “Vanity Fair” when describing her experience). Part of why “Physical” is so hard to watch at times is because of this visceral and authentic point-of-view. It is also why it is impossible to look away. Control is such a dominant factor, and Sheila swings between feeling unmoored and clutching at the patterns to temper the chaos swirling around her.
Sheila blew up several parts of her life at the end of Season 1, and the ripples are dishing out new challenges. She ditched her aerobics partner Bunny (Della Saba) to go it alone with “Body by Sheila” and stepped over the line toward an affair with real estate mogul John Breem (Paul Sparks). The latter reached its boiling point when Sheila spotted the uptight developer running laps in the deserted mall. Instead of consummating this shared fascination (and repulsion), the pair engage in public mutual masturbation.
Doing this in a building that represents American consumerism is purposeful. John’s conservative and capitalist beliefs (and his stanch Mormon faith) are everything Sheila’s husband is not. Again, this is part of the appeal, and Sheila is not the only character to feel a heavy dose of self-loathing coupled with deep-rooted daddy issues. The Sheila and John twisted flirtation was a flawed storyline last year, and there are some improvements with this dynamic in the new episodes. Still, John is a tough character to sympathize with — Sparks is very good at playing the tension that percolates beneath his shark-like exterior — even if his backstory sheds some light on his behavior.
Sheila’s estranged relationship with her parents is revisited early on, and Danny manages to be equally supportive and blissfully ignorant. Scovel deftly walks the loser-husband line, and rather than a cardboard cutout of a self-obsessed man who longs for political acclaim (which he still does), Danny is more nuanced than that. Two decades of marriage is not easy to toss away, and the depiction of a partnership that still has its highs alongside its many lows reflects a complex dynamic that is not always explored.
Best friend Greta (Dierdre Friel) is decidedly anti-Danny, and her request for “no more secrets” is a tricky prospect as Sheila has always kept certain parts of her life separate. Meaningful close female friendships are something Sheila has lacked, and her waspy upbringing informs her competitive and passive-aggressive jabs at the women in her life. Slowly, this begins to change and chips away at Sheila’s defensive behavior.
Hot off his brilliant performance on “White Lotus,” the addition of Murray Bartlett as aerobics stallion Vinnie Green adds another competitive ingredient. Vinnie has everything Sheila wants: infomercials, merch, and followers. Meanwhile, Sheila is stuck selling copies of her VHS in supermarkets, department stores, and state fairs. Yes, she has a life-size cardboard cutout of her spandex-clad body and smiling face, but this is nothing compared to what Vinnie has achieved. Bartlett’s instant rapport with Byrne only makes me wish they shared more screen time, and the eighth episode is a season-high.
Elsewhere, Bunny and Tyler (Lou Taylor Pucci) struggle with what comes next and flitter in and out of various plots. Bunny is a force, and yet the series doesn’t seem to know what to do with her beyond the simmering rage she feels toward Sheila. The “bad vibes” she cannot shake are understandable, but it is not enough for them to do this season.
In part, the back half of the season is stronger because the story moves forward in several compelling ways that I shan’t spoil. One slight niggle later on, however, convinced me I had somehow pressed play on the wrong episode because of one story shift and I had to double-check I hadn’t skipped an episode (I hadn’t). That aside, the Sheila arc successfully captures her struggles to exhibit self-compassion as the self-talk does stray into an overtly critical and shaming voice once more. Byrne is brilliant at portraying this battle while juggling the expectations of those around her and the dream she wants to make a reality. Her destructive patterns repeat, and she has found a different fixation, but this is not to say food is not still on her mind — and therefore, viewers should be mindful when watching.
Excess via glossy spandex, consumerism, and fads targeting the desire to become better versions of ourselves offer a link from the past to the present. Everything from the costumes designed by Ernesto Martinez and the revolving soundtrack of ‘80s anthems adds to the beguiling nature and the lifestyle brand promises that continue in earnest. It is easy to picture Sheila using TikTok and Instagram, trying to rule the wellness trend as she battles her fiercest critic, herself. “Physical”’s ambitious exploration of monetized empowerment doesn’t always hit the mark, but the powerhouse performances at its core have found their rhythm. [B]