Grease: Rise Of The Pink Ladies review: A blast from the past through a modern lens

The third episode tackles the discrimination within Rydell. It centers on Hazel (Shanel Bailey), a shy Black girl who’s new in town, as well as Jane as she grapples with her identity as a Latina who can pass as white while her mother and sister can’t. The show doesn’t pull its punches in an insidiously catchy soft-shoe number called “In The Club,” in which the rich white founders of the local country club climb out of an oil painting to serenade Jane about white supremacy.

That said, Pink Ladies is uneven when it comes to dealing with the realities of the universe it’s created. The show glosses over how, exactly, the students of color are able to mix so readily with the white kids, or how a gay Black man came to be hired as Rydell High’s drama teacher. The series isn’t quite Bridgerton levels of lazy about its worldbuilding; but if you’re going to make a show whose plot hinges on dismantling the racism, sexism, and homophobia bubbling just beneath the surface of midcentury suburbia, you’ve gotta fully commit.

Speaking of surfaces, Pink Ladies looks and sounds gorgeous, from the bright, detailed costuming to the lovingly kitschy production design. Plus, it pulls off a trick that precious few musical TV series manage: Nearly every number is a bop. After ushering us into the world via a dynamic full-cast performance of Barry Gibb’s iconic title song at the drive-in, the show starts to seed in Tranter’s original compositions—lyrically clever earworms that run the gamut from swoony torch songs and contemporary pop-inflected tracks to ’50s rock jams that nod to the Jim Jacobs and Warren Casey’s work from the original Grease.

And thanks to kinetic choreography from RuPaul’s Drag Race alum Jamal Sims and dynamic camerawork from the series’ directing team, each number feels like a mini music video. Highlights include a “Greased Lightning”-style cut sung by Cynthia (with the T-Birds as her backup dancers); an emotional banger from Jane in the school hallway that looks like a Billie Eilish video; a joyous group number from the Pink Ladies that sees the walls of a teen bedroom float up into the clouds; and a solo from Hazel in which her dance partner is a cluster of stars.

Of course, the most kudos goes to the multitalented cast; the four main players bounce off each other (and their haters) with ease. Davila makes Jane—a protagonist who risks sinking into Mary Sue territory—a full-bodied presence, and she’s unafraid to delve into the thornier aspects of her character. As Nancy, Fukuhara undercuts the sweetness of Pink Ladies with wry, tart humor.

Notartomaso and Williams may be the most impressive, however, considering the series marks both of their screen debuts. Nonbinary actor Notartomaso has the hardest needle to thread as Cynthia, a class clown whose jokes belie a deep insecurity about sexuality and gender—and they make their character’s struggle feel all too real. And then there’s Williams, who seems destined for stardom; her singing and dancing are Broadway-caliber, and she’s got the kind of charisma you can’t teach.

We’d be remiss not to mention the series’ elder stateswoman, character acting legend Jackie Hoffman. She plays the strict but put-upon Assistant Principal McGee, whom the writers afford much more humanity than most fictional vice principals get. Plus, she’s played by Jackie friggin’ Hoffman.

Compared with most of today’s high-school series, the stakes in Pink Ladies are low. But we’ve got more than enough shows about teens dealing with murder, drug addiction, plane crashes, dark magic, werewolves, and/or the Upside Down to go around. And though it’s frustrating that nearly every series these days is based on existing IP, Rise Of The Pink Ladies is proof that it’s possible to dig up a hoary old piece of media and make it do the hand jive.