WTFOCK Season 7 Review: Tender, Messy, and Utterly Worth It
WTFOCK Season 7 gets a well-earned 4.5 out of 5 stars. It’s not just good TV, it’s the kind that sits with you, quietly rearranging your insides while you whisper “oh my god” into your oat milk latte.
This time, it’s Anaïs’ story. And it’s not just a coming-of-age arc, it’s a full-on emotional excavation. Think Fleabag meets Skins, but with Flemish subtitles and a lot more crying in bathrooms. Anaïs Davis, played with aching vulnerability by Laura Bekaert, doesn’t just grow, she blooms. Thorns and all. Watching her go from shrinking herself to unapologetically taking up space feels like watching someone you love finally realise they deserve more.
Then there’s Bobbie. Nell Cattrysse delivers a performance that’s raw, jagged, and heartbreakingly real. Bobbie’s trauma responses, her recklessness, her emotional withdrawal aren’t romanticised or punished. They’re just… there. And that’s what makes her relationship with Anaïs so compelling. It’s messy, tender, queer, and refreshingly trope-free. Their chemistry? Off the charts. Like, “pause the episode and breathe” levels of intense.
The writing leans into discomfort. It explores grief, substance abuse, and the ripple effects of divorce without wallowing. There’s always movement, even in the quietest scenes. And the real-time format of those short clips dropped throughout the week makes everything feel immediate. You’re not just watching Anaïs and Bobbie fall in love. You’re living it with them, one WhatsApp message and awkward party encounter at a time.
That said, it’s not perfect. The middle episodes drag a bit, and some side characters (Otis, Mila) get more screen time than the plot really needs. Episode six teeters on the edge of melodrama with emotional intensity tipping into overload. But even when it stumbles, the show never loses sight of its heart.
What makes Season 7 special is its refusal to wrap things up neatly. Anaïs doesn’t get a tidy resolution. Bobbie doesn’t magically heal. Their relationship is a work-in-progress, and the show honours that. It’s a love story, yes, but it’s also about choosing love. Choosing to show up, even when it’s hard. Even when you’re scared. And that’s more powerful than any fairytale ending.
So yeah, 4.5 stars. Because this isn’t just good telly, it’s important telly. It’s queer, regional, emotionally literate, and exactly the kind of storytelling we need more of. It’s like someone took your teenage diary, added better lighting, and made it art.
