As far as bingeable YA dramas go, *Crew Girl* is probably good enough. The series follows elite teenage rower Teagan (Miku Martineau), who joins a boys’ varsity crew team at a new school. Creators Vivian Lin and Morwyn Brebner deliver the usual fare—wealthy antagonists, family feuds, a love triangle, and plenty of picturesque lake scenes—in a breezy package that’s perfect for a weekend marathon for fans of the genre.
Still, “good enough” isn’t the same as “elite.” While the show occasionally captures the passion for rowing and its affection for the sport is evident—even inspiring daydreams about taking up an oar—under‑developed characters and a thinly explored world keep it from feeling truly transporting.
Unlike many sports series, *Crew Girl* places rowing at the center of its universe. The premiere reveals that the recently co‑ed Easton Prep lacks a girls’ rowing program, so Teagan must become the team’s coxswain to pursue her dream of a Stanford scholarship as a solo female rower. This setup leads to stunning drone shots of serene lakes and action‑packed scenes of athletes moving in unison, while surrounding Teagan are eight handsome, shirtless rowers who must heed her leadership. The primary love triangle involves Josh (Sam Braun), a wealthy heir whose family dominates the school’s boathouse, and Cam (Kyle Clark), a working‑class outsider painfully aware of his outsider status.
The romance feels formulaic; the scripts struggle to explain genuine attraction beyond teen‑drama conventions. Martineau’s sultry portrayal of Teagan’s yearning for both suitors sometimes clashes with the character’s slower emotional progression. The series does, however, emphasize the sport’s centrality, setting it apart from other YA entries through its focus on team dynamics and competition.
There are endearing moments, such as when Baloo (Jude Wilson) shyly asks his teammates for help picking out a photo for an online crush, and Noah (Riley Davis) tries to get the jock crowd to play along with a mis‑guided Roaring ’20s murder‑mystery after‑party. Yet nearly every plot element ultimately circles back to rowing, leaving little room for subplots like Teagan’s mother Ella (Jessica Paré), whose arc as a single working mom is broad and under‑nuanced, or her friend Juliet (Olga Petsa), who appears sporadically despite being billed as a best friend.
The “cool girl” versus “girly girl” dichotomy is a tired cliché, with Teagan positioned as the stoic, athletic heroine in contrast to Britney (Sage Linder), who is painted as jealous and one‑dimensional. The series rarely digs deeper than familiar tropes, and even Teagan’s romantic choices seem filtered through athletic performance rather than genuine connection.
In the end, *Crew Girl* glides across the water with visual polish but leaves few lasting ripples. It’s a clean‑looking, genre‑faithful entry that satisfies the binge‑watch habit but fails to leave a memorable impression beyond its athletic surface.
