I loved this series. I loved it so much I watched it twice in a row so I could catch the little things I missed the first time around. Is it "arty"? Probably. Is it ready for large-scale, commercial consumption? Probably not, but oh, if it could just reach Gen-Xers, they would find it to be a fantastic, unflinching look through a female gaze in a way that matches an aesthetic they will recognize (and appreciate).
Great art allows participants to experience emotion within the (safe) confines of its boundaries. Sometimes narratives evoke emotion through exaggeration, and when we see unfamiliar perspectives this way, we sometimes find them uncanny, grotesque, or awkward because they are so new. I suspect this is why the "best" reviews for this series on IMDb are a series of "one" star tirades. I get it. Female desire is rarely given this kind of freedom to be explored. Films are directed by, what, 92% men in Hollywood? I'm not saying that men don't know or portray narratives about women authentically, but 8% is just not a big enough sampling to speculate about the spectrum of perspectives that might be missed. Luckily, Jill Soloway doesn't miss.
I have to admit that recommending this series is slightly hard to do linguistically. The announcement of the title is difficult to get out without a chuckle or an immediate explanation about how it is not pornography or a parody featuring lascivious babes who are trained to please voyeurs. The title tests us! We only accept female desire one way in pop culture. But I digress. I love Kathryn Hahn in this. She is hilarious and awkward and authentic. I love Griffin Dunne as Sylvere, and empathize with his horrors--adore him for his character's willingness to reevaluate what it means to *be* a muse. I loved Roberta Colindrez so much-- another artistic representation that truly broke free from its box. And Kevin Bacon is so wonderful--masculine and vulnerable and cruel and desirable.
The end is what makes this series so incredible. I know it will make a certain part of the population squirm, but I think mothers--the ones who work with the abject material of motherhood--will revel in Dick's conclusion. Gorgeous. A satisfying adventure to behold.
Great art allows participants to experience emotion within the (safe) confines of its boundaries. Sometimes narratives evoke emotion through exaggeration, and when we see unfamiliar perspectives this way, we sometimes find them uncanny, grotesque, or awkward because they are so new. I suspect this is why the "best" reviews for this series on IMDb are a series of "one" star tirades. I get it. Female desire is rarely given this kind of freedom to be explored. Films are directed by, what, 92% men in Hollywood? I'm not saying that men don't know or portray narratives about women authentically, but 8% is just not a big enough sampling to speculate about the spectrum of perspectives that might be missed. Luckily, Jill Soloway doesn't miss.
I have to admit that recommending this series is slightly hard to do linguistically. The announcement of the title is difficult to get out without a chuckle or an immediate explanation about how it is not pornography or a parody featuring lascivious babes who are trained to please voyeurs. The title tests us! We only accept female desire one way in pop culture. But I digress. I love Kathryn Hahn in this. She is hilarious and awkward and authentic. I love Griffin Dunne as Sylvere, and empathize with his horrors--adore him for his character's willingness to reevaluate what it means to *be* a muse. I loved Roberta Colindrez so much-- another artistic representation that truly broke free from its box. And Kevin Bacon is so wonderful--masculine and vulnerable and cruel and desirable.
The end is what makes this series so incredible. I know it will make a certain part of the population squirm, but I think mothers--the ones who work with the abject material of motherhood--will revel in Dick's conclusion. Gorgeous. A satisfying adventure to behold.