Bitch Flicks – Page 34

The Honest Sexcapades in ‘You’re The Worst’

Gretchen leaves Jimmy and states, “Well as my grandma used to say, ‘It’s only a walk of shame if you’re capable of feeling shame.’ See you later, thanks for doing all the sex stuff on me.”

This guest post by Giselle Defares appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Sex is one of the strange wonders in our life. Many of us barely flinch when it comes to the sexual intrusiveness in our contemporary media. Oh, how the times have changed. Twenty years ago it would be Roseanne and Dan winking at each other. In recent years the boundaries have slowly been pushed back in our TV-landscape when it comes to the act of swapping bodily fluids– see Californication, True Blood, or The Americans. Sexual freedom is not only shown on cable shows such as HBO or FX, but also on network TV (see Scandal’s “Olitz” scenes on ABC). Everything is shown: same-sex scenes, masturbation, sex scenes from a woman’s perspective, you name it. In our modern society, it can sometimes be hard to navigate the complexity of sex, or get an accurate media portrayal of the gray messiness that sex, love, and relationships entail. Fear not, there’s the dark comedy gem of FX, You’re the Worst, which had its 10-episode debut season in 2014.

The romantic single-cam comedy is created by first-time showrunner Stephen Falk. He started out writing and producing for dark comedies such as Weeds and Orange is the New Black. Falk and his creative team specifically focused on detailed world-building in the show. He chose to divide the post-pilot episodes into three acts , each with their own director. In this way each episode can work individually (within its group) or as one part of the major arc.

It’s a surprising choice for Falk to mold his vision in the form of a modern sitcom – perhaps the redundant comparison comes as a result of the 30-minute format. After all, the format of the American sitcom, well, seems a bit dated, yet somehow it works for the show. The romantic influences in the show vary from the 1950s John Osborne play Look Back in Anger, ultimate rom-com When Harry met Sally, to the sitcom Mad About You. Falk created flawed characters, who in essence are just lovable dickheads. He commented on the beating heart of the show: “No matter how damaged we are, we all are deserving of love.”

You’re the Worst centers around Jimmy Shive- Overly (Chris Geere), a narcissistic, mediocre, English writer living in Los Angeles whose day job consists of insulting anyone he doesn’t think is as smart as him. After going to his ex’s wedding he ends up having a one night stand with the laissez-faire publicist, Gretchen Cutler (Aya Cash). Despite their differences the two decide that they don’t want to stop seeing each other. The supporting cast consists of Gretchen’s best friend Lindsay Jillian (Kether Donohue), whose marriage to nerdy husband Paul is crumbling (Allan McLeod). Jimmy’s roommate Edgar (Desmin Borges), a sweet military veteran who suffers from PTSD and dabbles in selling drugs. Gretchen’s boisterous client, the rapper Sam Dresden (Brandon Mychal Smith) and his faux Tyler The Creator gang that consists of Shitstain (Darrell Britt Gibson) and Honey Nutz (Allen Maldonado).

You’re the Worst’s honest take on modern sexuality starts right in the pilot. During a well-deserved break in their one-night stand, while they munch on pasta, Jimmy quips to Gretchen, “I’m glad that this is a one night thing so we can reveal all this awful shit about ourselves.” They high five and Jimmy drops pasta from his fork on his crotch and Gretchen quickly says, “I’ll get that.” Aha, a woman who’s not afraid to get what she wants. We see various clips in their hilarious graphic sex montage. Gretchen straddles Jimmy whilst she’s chewing gum and she pensively states, “ I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’m not attracted to you.” Jimmy just looks at her and says “ What has that got to do with anything?!”

Yet, the most graphic and funny (sex) scene in the pilot is when Jimmy performs an oral act and spits on Gretchen’s vagina:

Gretchen: “Did you spit on it?!”

Jimmy: “It’s saliva. It’s going to get there anyway.”

Gretchen shrugs.

Well, there’s certainly a nice amount of sexual activity in the show. Girl goes down on boy, boy goes down on girl, even attempts at threesomes. It’s sad that it seems revolutionary that the characters on the show have a healthy relationship and enjoyment with sex.

Jimmy and Gretchen are commitment-phobes who are running away from responsibility in every aspect of their lives. They have absolutely no qualms with physical intimacy but they run when they develop some level of emotional intimacy. They’re self-absorbed, often engage in destructive and self-destructive activities, and struggle with the concept of adulthood and the inevitable romantic relationships that will follow. Their obnoxious behavior can be awful but Falk ensured that the moments aren’t gratuitous.

Gretchen is portrayed as a capable but laid-back publicist. She’s snarky, loud, magnetic, and complex. She’s also selfish, self-aware, and caring. Gretchen is definitely not the bumbling goody two-shoes that’s normally shown in the romantic genre. She hates that she cares about her intimate circle and tries to hide her feelings but can’t. Her quips are what make her endearing – especially her conversations with Sam and his crew. In episode 3, “Keys Open Doors,” Gretchen leaves Jimmy and states, “Well as my grandma used to say, ‘It’s only a walk of shame if you’re capable of feeling shame.’ See you later, thanks for doing all the sex stuff on me.”

Jimmy could have been one of the more one-dimensional characters. He’s sarcastic and almost shows no signs of humanity. It’s slowly revealed in defining moments that he does have feelings or even a soul. One of the top moments is when Falk toyed with one of the more cliché rom-com tropes. In episode 8, “Finish Your Milk,” Jimmy and Gretchen have a big fight when he finds out that she presents a Wasp version of herself to her parents. He tracks her down at their country club lunch (as you do) and delivers a big speech how they don’t know the real version of their daughter. In a nice twist, it turns out that “whiteknighting” isn’t what Gretchen needs and she breaks up with him for it. Well, that’s definitely a feminist silver lining in a romantic situation.

The quips and honesty surrounding sex is what sets the tone for the show. It’s not only seen in the budding relationship between Gretchen and Jimmy but also in Gretchen’s relationship with her bestie Lindsay. Falk took the stock characters from romantic comedies and flipped them upside down. Lindsay is the self-absorbed and annoying best friend. She easily could have been one-note but the writing and the comedy chops of Kether Donohue really make it work. Lindsay has heart, a lot of personality and a high sex drive. In the pilot, Gretchen is picked up after her romp with Jimmy and she spills the beans to a disapproving Lindsay. Gretchen quips, “You’re being shitty and judgmental to me. How many guys did you blow at our five-year reunion?” Ah, who doesn’t love the frankness between two good friends?

Jimmy and Edgar’s relationship isn’t as tight, but whether he knows it or not, Jimmy really needs Edgar. In the first episodes it seems that Edgar is only there to lent an ear to Jimmy and cook him the most fabulous cuisine. Edgar fulfils the role of the kooky roommate but throughout the season we’re shown an heartwarming arc. He’s realistically messed up, struggles with daily social situations and is Jimmy and Gretchen’s number one fan. During the episodes we’ll see that he (well, actually both Edgar and Lindsay) becomes a fully developed character who stands on his own and doesn’t necessarily exist to serve Jimmy and Gretchen’s arc.

Why is the relationship between Jimmy and Gretchen believable? The emphasis lies on two people being present in their relationship whilst they navigate a society that has become less conversational and more self-indulgent. In their own unique way, both Gretchen and Jimmy listen, and see each other for who they really are – they don’t judge and accept the other one’s choices. This is a refreshing take on romantic relationships on TV.

You’re The Worst is a romantic comedy/mirror on our society about romantic dating. Love is exhilarating, hard, and quite often people struggle between loneliness, vulnerability, and the satisfying experience when you meet another person who just gets you. It’s not the representation for millennial dating – since there are so many different points of view when it comes to love and sex- but it certainly comes close for many of us. Jimmy, Gretchen and their squad are all messed up people. They can be snarky, manipulative and mean. You really shouldn’t, yet you care about them, even root for them and want them to do well.

You’re the Worst is an underrated show about romantic dysfunction. It’s one of the better comedy shows on TV right now; quite frankly, if you’re not watching it you’re doing yourself a disservice.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_sxdO7M69Q”]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.

To Boldly Go: ‘Star Trek: The Next Generation’ Explores the Limits of Sexual Attraction in “The Host”

Once Beverly decides that so little of her attraction to Odan was wrapped up in his host body, the floodgates of sex, sexuality, gender, and physical attraction were wide open.

This guest post by Swoozy C appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Last year, after seeing my closest twitter friends relentlessly tweet its praises, I set out to strengthen my nerd cred by finally watching Star Trek: The Next Generation in its entirety. The show is a great watch for a number of reasons, but one of the best is its attempts progressive social messages. Despite Geordi La Forge (played by Lavar Burton minus all of his real life swagger) being an apparent 24th century holdover from the Men’s Rights Advocates, Star Trek was incredibly forward thinking in its open exploration of sexuality.

“The Host” has stuck out as one of my favorite episodes for this. In this episode, Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden), the Enterprise’s chief medical officer, falls in love with a Trill ambassador named Odan (Franc Luz) who is on the ship to mediate a dispute between the inhabitants of two moons. While on his way to a meeting, Odan is fatally injured. Once he returns to the Enterprise, he explains to Beverly that as a Trill, he exists in a symbiotic relationship between a “symbiont” and a host body. In order to survive, Odan must be transplanted into a new host. Because he is necessary for the success of the upcoming mediation, Riker offers to host Odan until the new body arrives, taking on Odan’s personality and all of his memories.

Understandably, Beverly is hesitant to accept the person who looks like Riker, a man she has come to love like a brother, is now Odan. She is angry for what she sees as purposeful omission on his part in not telling her that his body was merely a host and not Odan himself. When Beverly cries that he should have told her what he is, he responds with, “This is what I am,” shining a brief light on what may not have been overtly visible as an allegory for transgenderism and homosexuality in 1991 when the episode first aired. What is overt is the question: when we are romantically or sexually attracted to someone, what is it about that person that we are attracted to? This is the question that Beverly must wrestle with.

Once he is no longer in the body that she recognizes as his (and is in fact in a the body of someone she has had a long standing friendship with), Beverly must confront what it means for her to be in love with and sexually attracted to Odan.

Despite his new body, Odan’s personality, memories, and feelings are the same. He still loves and is attracted to Beverly. Beverly’s struggle is played out in a scene with the ship’s counselor Deanna Troi (Marina Sirtis). “What was it I loved about him?” she asks. “His eyes? His hands? His mouth? They’re gone.” Here is where the episode shines in asking some very provocative questions. How much of our attraction is based on someone’s personality and how much is based on the body they inhabit? How much of the person and our attraction to them is held in who they are physically? Now that Odan is in Riker’s body, can she still be in love with him? Can she still want him sexually?

In her discussion with Deanna, the counselor, who has previously had a romantic relationship with Riker, encourages Beverly to accept her second chance at love. After some soul searching over a cup of lemon tea, she realizes that the body Odan inhabits is not a key factor in why she loves him, accepting the fact that not only can she love him in Riker’s body, but in the new host that is sent for him.

Despite the heteronormativity of a Riker/Beverly relationship, it is not hard to take the leap to ask how much gender is related to both our physical bodies and our sexual attraction. Odan is gendered male throughout the episode, but why? Is the symbiont inherently male? Or is he considered male because of the host bodies we’ve seen him inhabit? How much of Beverly’s attraction is based on his maleness? Once Beverly decides that so little of her attraction to Odan was wrapped up in his host body, the floodgates of sex, sexuality, gender, and physical attraction were wide open. And briefly, it appeared that Star Trek was going to reach into the depths to explore this; when Odan’s new host finally arrives, it is to our and Beverly’s surprise, a female body.

Perhaps the writers of this episode felt their audience was not ready to directly address transgender and homosexual issues, or perhaps they themselves were not ready to tackle it head on. When this episode aired, we were still six years away from Ellen’s coming out moment and “you’re gay” was one of the worst pejoratives you could use toward someone at school. Whatever the case, the writers failed miserably at what could have been one of the most forward thinking, progressive episodes of television at the time. Instead of bringing us into the utopia of the 24th century that Star Trek is set in, the writers rooted us firmly in the homo- and transphobia of our then current era.

When Odan comes to talk to Beverly in her new female body, Beverly is cold and visibly uncomfortable. When Odan tells Beverly that she is still and always will be in love with her, Beverly uses the excuse of being unable and unwilling to keep up with the Trill’s changing body, despite her excitement for the new host body up until she saw that it was female. Beverly had come so far in her own sexual exploration throughout this episode, but almost all of it is undone in these final three minutes. Suddenly, and without any contemplation that the we as the viewer get to see, Odan’s body is much more important to Beverly than it was just two scenes prior.

Of course, anyone who has sexual or romantic preferences can tell you that gender and attraction can be inextricably linked. Where Star Trek fails is in not exploring that link or even overtly admitting that gender is the real issue for Beverly. In refusing to acknowledge this, and instead place blame on a too often change in host bodies, Star Trek not only back tracks on the entire premise of the episode, but does a disservice to Beverly and the audience. Beverly’s disgust at the idea that she and Odan might continue a same- gendered romantic relationship is shortsighted for a show that takes place in the 24th century alongside a more evolved human society. It also morphs Beverly from the thoughtful, empathetic character that she has been throughout the show and this episode into a cold and uncaring one.

While having Beverly love and accept Odan’s gender fluidity would have made for a nearly perfect episode, almost as much could have been gained by simply letting her admit that, while she cared deeply for Odan, she was unable to maintain her romantic and sexual attraction with this new female body. In 1991, allowing a character like Beverly to openly question her sexual orientation, even if only to discover that she could not be in a same-gendered relationship, would have been groundbreaking.

Swoozy C is a registered nurse living that Mudita lifestyle in Los Angeles. She is a featured contributor at Femsplain.com, writing and making videos about sex, sexuality, and gender. https://twitter.com/swoozyc

Slaying Dudes and Stealing Hearts: The Tell-All Sexuality of Mindy Lahiri

Sex positivity, for instance, is frequently presented in an oversimplified, inaccurate package of rampant promiscuity and generally assigned to a side female character, like a free-spirited best friend or sister. Meanwhile, the main character frequently serves as the antithesis to said behavior who is later rewarded with “true love.”

This guest post by Shannon Miller appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

If there was ever a word that could best encompass the essence of the central character of The Mindy Project, it would be “unapologetic.” Mindy Lahiri (Mindy Kaling) is unapologetically confident in her abilities as a doctor. Her fashion is an unapologetic cacophony of bold colors and daring patterns that always inexplicably work. She makes no apologies for subscribing to her version of femininity, which includes a sizable obsession with romantic comedies, flawless selfies, and overpriced blowouts from trendy hair salons. She’s more than occasionally rude, prejudiced, and self-absorbed and probably should apologize for a great many of those instances, but rarely does. She refuses to be the underdog in medicine and in love, and would be the first to tell you that she has earned the right to a cinematic romance and all of the enviable, announcement-worthy sex that comes with it. To summarize: Mindy Lahiri is determined to have it all and to those who feel like that quest is a selfish or unrealistic one, well…sorry, not sorry.

The romantic comedy genre is often the target of harsh criticism bordering on blatant disrespect – as are many things that are considered inherently feminine – but there are certain critiques of mainstream efforts that I do feel are worth examining, like the recycling of/lazy approach to certain tropes. Sex positivity, for instance, is frequently presented in an oversimplified, inaccurate package of rampant promiscuity and generally assigned to a side female character, like a free-spirited best friend or sister. Meanwhile, the main character frequently serves as the antithesis to said behavior who is later rewarded with “true love.” There is a cluster of issues with this model, like the implication that the choice to entertain multiple partners is always a negative one. The most troubling concern for me, however, is the notion that an active sexual appetite and the desire or ability to be in a romantic, loving relationship are somehow mutually exclusive. While there are plenty of aspects of the genre that I adore, it is always disappointing to see sex positivity treated as a cautionary tale, or something within the protagonist that must be cured.

And you might assume that a woman who would potentially give her right arm to be Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally would adopt this particular school of thought. Nevertheless; Mindy’s dream of finding the perfect husband and father to her nine future daughters is only rivaled by her desire to have her world categorically rocked by a man with the penis of Michael Fassbender. Her pleasure doesn’t take a backseat to her relationship goals, nor are they necessarily treated as separate entities. In fact, Mindy folds her sensuality into her overall ideals of dating and monogamy.

Additionally, open sexual expression in professional women is not something that we get to see reflected in our network programing too regularly and when it is, it’s treated with ranging levels of discretion. We know that the decision to keep one’s sex life private or public is a personal choice and a right, but it can get problematic when our expression becomes shrouded in societal expectations until it’s presented as an absolute (i.e. “a lady must keep her sex life private” or “real women should openly discuss their sexuality”). Our brightly-hued protagonist , however, isn’t terribly caught up in anyone’s expectations of her in this regard; she’s far too busy informing her entire staff when then-boyfriend Cliff (guest star Glenn Howerton) is routinely “getting up in them guts” (“Danny Castellano is My Personal Trainor”) or proudly lauding the oral skillset of current boyfriend and fellow OB-GYN Danny Castellano (Chris Messina). Yes, there’s definitely a lack of consideration for the privacy of her sexual partners within this compulsive need to share. Still, what makes her frank ownership of her sexuality so engaging isn’t that it’s some theoretical example of how women “should” express themselves, but a refreshing exercise in actual agency. Sure, she doesn’t have to broadcast her satisfaction with her and Danny’s sex life, but she’s going to and whether or not you decide to pull up a chair in the breakroom and listen (or tune in to her podcast dedicated to it, which she briefly hints to in the third season) is entirely up to you.

Her marque of sexuality also combats a lot of preconceived notions about sex positive women, in general. For instance, there exists an idea that sex positivity equates to absolute self confidence in all areas, which can include body image. While she is certainly accepting of her body to an extent, Mindy still holds onto some insecurity. In the season two episode “Danny Castellano is My Personal Trainor,” she divulges a few tricks to her coworkers that have kept her naked form a mystery to her partners over the years. This ultimately leads to her requesting the personal training services of Danny in an effort to get fit and gain enough confidence to allow Cliff to see her bare body. Her occasional reservations about her image don’t negate her desires, but they do shine a light on a certain vulnerability that isn’t always associated with sex positivity. Another popular assumption is that “sex positive” is synonymous with “adventurous,” or that those who identify as such are open to anything. It’s a misconception that can lead to events similar to those of season three’s polarizing episode “I Slipped,” which sparked a vital discussion about consent and in-relationship boundaries after Danny mistakenly assumes that Mindy is far more amenable to anal sex than she realistically is. She resists the false equivalencies that tend to strip much of the nuance and humanity from the sex positive movement, keeping an otherwise radical character somewhat relatable.

Though I champion Mindy as an audaciously sexual being, it’s important to recognize that there is a certain amount of privilege at work here (economic status, age, and ability, just to name a few) that makes her brand of sex positivity so largely celebrated. The fact that she is a young, wealthy, able bodied doctor not only impacts how she encounters inequality, but also the way her liberal sexual expression is positively received by others, whether it is intentional or not. It’s negligent to examine Mindy’s sexual identity and ignore the circumstances that afford her the benign label of “sex positive,” because that fortune simply isn’t awarded to all women, fictional or real.

That could be why The Mindy Project doesn’t protect its star from the sexist judgments of just about every one of her male counterparts, like her ex-boyfriend Cliff or previous fling and midwife/nemesis Brendan Deslaurier (Mark Duplass), both whom have taken foul jabs at the number of partners under Mindy’s belt (pun not entirely intended). This judgment is rife with hypocrisy – as slut-shaming typically is – when you consider how much Brendan prides himself on his open-minded approach to his own life, including casual sex, or how the men on the show experience virtually no judgment for their many previous conquests. This gross sexism is absolutely frustrating to witness, but it also grounds her experience in something that is accessible to many women. I may never personally relate to the glamorous life of a successful surgeon in Manhattan, but the indignation she feels when some guy tries to disgrace her for daring to enjoy sex, especially when he has no qualms about flaunting his own desirability, feels very damn familiar. How dare you, indeed.

We’re beginning to witness something really cool in sitcom television: genuine, recognizable complexity in women. Seeing a woman play both the helpless romantic and the unabashed sex enthusiast isn’t a revolutionary concept, nor is Mindy Lahiri the first to do it. I am, however, thrilled to consume quality programming that shows us thriving in our intricacies. My hope is that the future of TV includes more characters like Mindy: intelligent women armed with crass jokes, lavish fantasies of love, and a killer wardrobe.

Shannon Miller’s passions include bossy women, social justice, and her two-year-old daughter’s version of “Let It Go”. Her hatred of raisins is non-negotiable. You can read her thoughts regarding representation in media on her blog Televised Lady Bits or follow her on Twitter @Phunky_Brewster.

Virtue, Vulgarity, and the Vulva

The equality of men and women on the basis of healthy and consensual sex is sex positivity according to the Women and Gender Advocacy Center. Thus, to desire sex positivity is to be inherently feminist.

This guest post by Erin Relford appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

If TV shows were lovers, I’d argue women haven’t had great sex since Sex and the City. Much like your first time and the strategically latent mile markers you’ve placed on partners since then, you know good sex when you encounter it. From a woman’s point of view, good sex is control without judgment, a convergence of discovery, submission beyond fear, and a jungle gym full of toys where choice puts you in the driver’s seat (debauchery being an optional passenger of course).

Considering Sex and the City TV’s certifiable rubber stamp of good female sex, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda echoed the tales of countless women, giving ode to the free missives of womanhood and female prowess. The lessons in relationships, the selfish romps of good delight, all were reasons to shout “yes, yes, yes” by virtue of sex positivity.

So why then has good female sex gone missing from television? Arguably, cable and broadcast networks have shared in their ill-fated attempts at sexploitation, mostly at the expense of women. The proof is in the pudding or pootnanny in this case. Showtime’s Californication led seven seasons of “accidental cunnilingus” and sapless sucking, while Ray Donovan’s no frills 1-2-3 pump action has left Showtime’s female audience high and dry. HBO’s Ballers is a good time in the sack, if you’re a woman willing to suffice with balls of dry humping and no “Mr. Big” (par for the course Dwayne Johnson).

Lest one forget HBO’s seduction of rape and torture porn, Game of Thrones’ female characters experience it all in guile of good TV. These depictions aren’t to suggest the storytelling behind such shows are short of genius, but remiss of variety. The female sex narrative has been relegated to an industry turned tits for trade commonwealth, a vulva and violence republic.

Sex is an inalienable right, sacred and undeniable, an equal opportunity employer that does not discriminate in its pursuance of life, liberty, and rapture. The privilege is everyone’s to be expressed as a declaration of independence and therefore should be engaged from the perspectives of both men and women. On the contrary, the Declaration of Independence was written “that all men are created equal,” yet our stories involving sex are still being viewed from the perspectives of men.

However, let’s not be haste and expel the idea sex positivity has gone hiding into the forests of Westeros. Evidence exists that sex positivity is flourishing in light of TV’s new golden era and new wave of feminism. It’s come in the embodiment of female sex appeal, the brand of woman that is fabulously fierce, yet deliciously palpable. The fire of Daenerys Targaryen, the tenacity of Brienne of Tarth, or the inexplicable “Stark” of Arya and Sansa are all due a conceded applause thanks to Game of Thrones portrayal of strong, bountiful female characters. Scandal’s Olivia Pope earns top brass for her bastion of prose and breastwork, delivering willful rhubarbs to Washington’s elite though judged often and tenaciously for her challenge to disbelief that women can command power and pleasure in it from the highest tent pole in the land.

Alicia Florrick’s beau Will Gardner may be gone, but her sense of smart and sexy is almost too naughty for CBS’ The Good Wife.

And dare not forget the women of USA Network’s Suits, led by the strut, poise, and pivot of the inimitable Jessica Pearson.

Suffice to say there are many Masters of Sex on television, but does women’s exploration of sex on television have to be justified in pioneering scientists? Can the enjoyment of love and lust be equal parts man, equal parts woman? Not so, according to the 2015 Writers Guild of America TV staffing brief, where women remain underrepresented among staff writers by nearly two to one.

All things being equal, one could satiate in the fact women being 50.8 percent of the US population, would also mean a majority of female driven TV programming, written by women. But the reality is, most female characters are written by men. Some exceptionally well, as in FX’s You’re The Worst where creator Stephen Falk gives equal Judas Priest to the sexes or Darren Star’s Sex and the City. But there are more than 31 flavors to cherry popping ecstasy as proven early on by Ilene Chaiken’s The L Word. Perhaps one of the more prevailing scapes into female intimacy and feminism, The L Word managed to be intriguing and vanguard, paving the way for shows like Orange is the New Black where women could be domineering and emphatic, let alone in control of their very naturism as on Girls.

In an age of digital storytelling, where men still dominate culture and the writer’s room, we can continue to look forward to Pussy Galores.

Meanwhile, feminists and female viewers alike will revel in the Lisbeth Salanders, Olivia Popes, and Mary Janes, persevering far and wide in search of the next big “O,” that is open, outstanding, and out of the ordinary television that engages women from the female point of view. Will there ever be great sex on TV for women?

The answer may befall in there’s simply more to come…

Erin Relford is an author and screenwriter currently working in Los Angeles. Her writings involve female empowerment and engaging girls in science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM). You can follow her on Twitter @AdrienneFord or her website pinkyandkinky.com

The Audacity of Sex and the Black Women Who Have It

‘Being Mary Jane’ provides the dialogue and the safety net in saying out loud ,”I see you, I’ve been there too and you are not alone.” The embracing of positive sexuality of Black women on television is not progressive feminism. It is the hope that future depictions of such will not be labeled progressive, but just as common as the stereotypes that have lingered for too long.

This guest post by Reginée Ceaser appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

When I was not quite a teenager, I watched Spike Lee’s movie entitled She’s Gotta Have It. I watched and enjoyed the characters’ monologues and the way Spike Lee’s character, Mars, repeated questions during conversation. I knew it was about a young woman who had three boyfriends but did not understand much else, let alone its importance in the framing of the sexuality of Black women. Released in 1986, She’s Gotta Have It chronicled Nola Darling balancing a relationship with three different men at the same. The three men know about each other and constantly vie for Nola’s attention and affections in hopes of being the one she chooses to have a monogamous relationship with.

An issue brought up in the film between the men is maybe Nola is being a “freak” because she’s lacking something emotionally (like daddy issues). The remedy to attempt this “freak” behavior is make Nola go to therapy to work out her issues. Her therapist, a Black woman, feels that Nola does not have the deep emotional issues originally perceived, and is enjoying her healthy sex drive. Satisfied that she’s had enough therapy, Nola continues her relationships with her with suitors. Looking back on the film today, I appreciate that this film now because it centers on a Black woman who unabashedly is exploring and thoroughly enjoying her sexuality. By doing this, Spike Lee took long held beliefs and perceptions of Black women and pushing back on the constrictions and perceptions of society. Films like She’s Gotta Have It come out few and far between due to of the “sensitive” context.

Preconceived notions of Black women in society have permeated into the fabrics of the stories of Black women in film and television creating flat, one-dimensional characters that are forced to speak the humanity and womanhood of all Black women. Black women characters have been defined for decades by barely developed characters to serve their “larger than life” trope. For instance there is the angry Black woman, the sassy Black woman, the fat and sassy Black woman, as well as the fat Black woman with low self-esteem, and the fat Black woman that desperately wants the love of a man but in the end is humiliated by him. There is also the frigid Black woman or the hypersexual Black woman. Lastly, and an all-time favorite, the Black woman that must choose having a career or having a man (read: a dependable, steady sex life) to be fulfilled.

Many stories regarding Black womanhood are deeply rooted in sex and the respectability of sexual behavior projected upon them. Black women are often forced to live in a very tiny box with huge expectations of them and anything less than is being a renegade and a menace to society. We are supposed to be high achievers, while wearing our skirts to our ankles and necklines to our chins. Sex before marriage is frowned upon, having sex outside of a serious relationship can garner side-eyes and distance from friends, and having the audacity to freely explore sexuality outside of the norms of committed relationships and marriage is a disownable offense. There is no gray area allowed, no progression of full womanhood to be pursued and any open, honest conversation about sex and sexuality of Black women is relegated to girls’ night with friends.

Fast forward to 2013, and Mara Brock Akil debuts a new scripted drama, Being Mary Jane, centering on a Black journalist named Mary Jane, portrayed by Gabrielle Union. I fell in love with Being Mary Jane when Mary Jane sat her in office and masturbatedwith the help of a mini vibrator before going on a date. Another aspect that I loved about the scene is that Mary Jane didn’t immediately turn to porn to aid in her arousal. She had a computer and a smartphone and yet depended on herself and the vibrator. It is a choice that audaciously and efficiently wrestled down and shattered the myth that only way Black women achieve sexual pleasure is through men. It was gratifying to watch a long-held belief of Black women being scared, frigid and afraid to touch themselves and love themselves sexually evaporate on primetime television.

Mara also crafted a nuanced woman that balanced a progressing career, taking care of family, evaluating and redefining friendships and of course, navigating an intricate and messy personal life. With Mary Jane’s intricate and messy personal life, Mara takes another bold opportunity to rebuff sexual respectability and cement agency and consent by introducing Mary Jane’s friend with benefits.

Friends with benefits is a subject that is frequently discussed but is tap danced around to avoid being labeled as promiscuous and “loose.” Also hinging on that fear is the thought of losing control of the ability to just have sex with no other emotional attachment. Mary Jane’s friend with benefits, or Cutty Buddy as he is affectionately known by fans, is paramount because he represents more than just surface level sex. He’s beautiful, muscular, handsome man with a voice that sounds like hot butter on a fresh oven biscuit. He respects her and even cares for her but is fully aware of their agreement, makes no illusions about it, and is committed to upholding it. There is a mutual understanding and reciprocation of attraction that is delightful to see play out. That reciprocation is delighting to see, because too often we see or read about men who have casual sex or play the role of friend with benefits and then immediately degrade and shun them for engaging in sex outside of societal norms of a relationship. For example, Nola Darling did choose a man to have a monogamous relationship with and he in turn verbally attacks her and sexually assaults her for making him feel used. It is the ultimate act of “punishment” that is unfortunately used when sex isn’t played by the rules.

Navigating womanhood is not a straight shot; it’s not perfect but the chance to develop and nurture it on one’s own terms is a perfect realization in the feminist school of thought. Being Mary Jane provides the dialogue and the safety net in saying out loud ,”I see you, I’ve been there too and you are not alone.” The embracing of positive sexuality of Black women on television is not progressive feminism. It is the hope that future depictions of such will not be labeled progressive, but just as common as the stereotypes that have lingered for too long.

Reginée Ceaser is a New Orleans native who is a rockstar in her daydreams, retired daytime soap opera viewer, and proud television binger. Reginée can also be found giving dazzling commentary on Twitter @Skiperella and on her blog, Skiperella.com

Yas Queen!: In Praise of Female Friendship and Sex Positivity on ‘Broad City’

As emerging adults, Abbi and Ilana are free to explore their sexuality as they choose. Choosing to be sexually active means the women have the possibilities of exploring love and sex, casual or within a relationship, in a way that best serves them as 20-something single women. Although Abbi and Ilana each explore their sexuality differently, the women share a common mentality- that they will embrace the many sexual adventures they embark on and support and empower each other every step of the way.

This guest post by Alexandra Shinert appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

In the pilot of Comedy Central’s hit show Broad City, we meet Abbi Abrams (Abbi Jacobson) and Ilana Wexler (Ilana Glazer), two women whose idea of friendship has no bounds. Throughout the series, which is executively produced by Amy Poehler, Abbi and Ilana’s friendship not only takes precedent in their lives but it is also at the core of the show, intentionally placed at the center by the female comedy creators, Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer. As a show that focuses on the lives of two 20-something (mostly) heterosexual, single best friends who are navigating life in New York City, it’s their friendship that shines brightest and makes a significant impact on the landscape when it comes to female-centric media.

At the Paley Center for Media’s New York Comedy Festival panel featuring Broad City, Glazer spoke about the central focus of the show saying, “It’s just a romance between two friends…platonic, for now.” Acknowledging the romance between the two women, Poehler also emphasized that the relationship viewers should care most about is Abbi and Ilana’s as the show is really “a love story” between these two friends. We get the sense that the women truly care for each other and this love can be best expressed in their own words in a scene from the pilot episode (“What a Wonderful World”).

Ilana tells Abbi, “Dude, I would follow you into hell, brother!” A sentiment Abbi would replicate without hesitation by telling her friend, “I would take you on my shoulders, like I’d strap you up and I’d be like, ‘let’s go through hell.’” This declaration that illustrates the women’s true devotion for each other is also extremely visible throughout every episode of the series’ two seasons. Whether Abbi is saving Ilana’s life after a serious allergic reaction to shellfish or the women make time to catch up with each other in the middle of sex via FaceTime, at the core of Broad City’s slap-stick comedy are two women who would do anything for each another.

Central to the nature of friendship, and a key characteristic of female friendship is the role of conversation. For female friends to engage in activities that allow them to talk, open up, and discuss every aspect of their lives, women not only bond but in the process create closeness through self-disclosing of personal information. In the case of Abbi and Ilana, the women comfortably discuss any and all topics (from pooping to pegging); due to this level of self-disclosure, they’ve created a bond that is incredibly close. Abbi, in particular, vocalizes the kind of self-disclosure and closeness they’ve established by emphasizing to Ilana in the season one finale, “You text me every time you take a dump, I know about the pimple on your nipple, and I’m, like, the holder of your social security card.” This dialogue reinforces the important role each of the women play in each other’s lives and further establishes the kind of friendship Broad City portrays. It is within Abbi and Ilana’s friendship that sex positivity truly exists, and due to the nature of closeness between the women and the levels of self-disclosure they’ve established, discussing sex happens most visibly through positivity and empowerment on Broad City.

As 20-something women who are both comfortably content with this particular moment in their lives, the women have no sense of urgency when it comes to finding a partner to marry or deciding when or if they want to have children. These cultural attitudes not only connect to larger generational traits of Millennials but are also characteristic to the stage of their lives the women are experiencing: Emerging Adulthood. As emerging adults, Abbi and Ilana are free to explore their sexuality as they choose. Choosing to be sexually active means the women have the possibilities of exploring love and sex, casual or within a relationship, in a way that best serves them as 20-something single women. Although Abbi and Ilana each explore their sexuality differently, the women share a common mentality- that they will embrace the many sexual adventures they embark on and support and empower each other every step of the way.

In the season 1 finale (“The Last Supper”), the women celebrate Abbi’s 26^th birthday by going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. While dining, the women discuss the sexual adventures Abbi has been enjoying as a way to celebrate her birthday. Ilana is truly overjoyed to learn that Abbi had “slightly above average sex” “twice in one week.” However, after Abbi pees out a condom, she shares a realization with her best friend that she likely had unprotected sex with one of her partners. Ilana’s reaction to Abbi’s dilemma illustrates both the kind of friendship the women share and the importance of having safe sex. “Not only are we talking STDs here, I can’t even imagine how many dudes would love to lock you down with an unexpected pregnancy! I mean, your body is a temple. You’ve got to respect it.” To respect one’s body means taking on the responsibilities that come with the act and to practice safe sex extends into a larger dialogue about sex positivity on Broad City. Abbi and Ilana will continue to celebrate and praise any and all sexual experiences the women enjoy, but this scene clearly emphasizes the importance of being safe above all. Moreover, Ilana’s honesty and openness to tell Abbi how she really feels continues to normalize the kind of friendship the women share and the significant role conversation places within their relationship.

From a simple conversation about sex to experiencing the act and pausing to seek out a friend for advice, Broad City’s depiction of sex positivity exists comfortably within Abbi and Ilana’s friendship. It is extremely present within “Knockoffs” (season 2, episode 4), an episode where Abbi finally gets to date her long-time crush and next-door neighbor, Jeremy (Stephen Schneider). Despite experiencing sex with Jeremy, Abbi is thrown for a loop when he asks her to penetrate him with a strap-on in an act of pegging. Confused by this suggestion, she excuses herself into the bathroom to call Ilana. Abbi seeks out Ilana’s advice, by explaining her situation to her friend: “So we were doing it and I was like ‘we should switch positions,’ and then he throws me a strap-on.” It is Ilana’s guidance and support in this moment of confusion that helps Abbi regroup and eventually partake in this sexual act. The way the women discuss sex and talk through Abbi’s dilemma continues to further establish how sex positivity exists on Broad City within the women’s friendship.

When Ilana gets the call from Abbi, she is overjoyed for her friend, calling the situation “a dream come true” and a “once in a lifetime” experience. She even pauses the conversation to twerk against a wall to express her enthusiasm. Abbi’s lack of confidence as she deals with how to execute the act is fully supported by a knowledgeable Ilana, whose reassurance is exactly what she needs. The women’s conversation continues to demonstrate the strength of their friendship, which connects to the depiction of sex positivity displayed within this scene.

This kind of celebratory praise of sex positivity can be extended to the conversation the women have post-pegging while attending Ilana’s grandmother’s shiva. When Abbi admits to pegging Jeremy, Ilana exclaims, “This is the happiest day of my life,” causing a scene at the somewhat somber event. Ilana praises Abbi for choosing to peg by calling her “a pegga” and “peggasus,” beyond thrilled that she would get to experience that sexual act. Ilana’s reaction is both humorous and extremely heartfelt, as she’s genuinely thrilled for her best friend. What is most significant about this scene is the way Abbi is praised for choosing to have sex, as Ilana never shames her or makes her feel weird about her decision to peg Jeremy. This further exemplifies the portrayal of sex positivity on Broad City that, I’d argue, can also be extended into a larger narrative about the way Abbi and Ilana celebrate each other in every aspect of their lives.

Broad City’s portrayal of sex positivity connects to constructs of sexuality and identity that must also be considered to truly understand the impact of these depictions. For instance, the pegging scene in “Knockoffs” illustrates that Abbi is open to the idea of engaging in an act that challenges heteronormative constructs/roles. In doing so, Broad City exemplifies the fluidity of sexuality. This is also visible through the depiction of Ilana, someone uninterested in labels or monogamy, comfortably content with having a stable “sex friend,” Lincoln (Hannibal Buress) and interested in sex for the sake of her own pleasure. This portrait of sexual fluidity and sex positivity on Broad City is emphasized best and most notably in the episode “Coat Check” (season 2, episode 9), where Ilana engages in sex with a woman, Adele (Alia Shawkat). Adele, who bares a striking resemblance to Ilana, helps her realize her sexual preferences and orientation.

In the middle of her same-sex encounter with Adele, Ilana stops her after realizing she may be too similar to her in appearance (not because she’s a woman, but instead because they’re nearly identical) for this relationship to continue. This instead results in a declaration of Ilana making sense of her own sexuality, as she openly tells Adele, “I have sex with people different from me, you know? Different colors, different shapes, different sizes. People who are hotter, uglier. More smart, not more smart. Innies, outies. I don’t know, a Catholic person.”

For Ilana, someone so eager to discuss and explore her sexuality, this scene emphasizes liberation. She feels comfortable with her choices and owns them, giving us a glimpse of sex positivity rooted in knowledge. Jenny Kutner discussed this scene as she saw the significance of Ilana’s declaration with respect to labels. She wrote, “Ilana’s same-sex encounter gives us the closest thing to a ‘definition’ for the character’s purposely ambiguous sexuality we’re likely ever to get, and it’s still not entirely clear.” By highlighting the significance of this scene she argues, “Broad City’s giving us what is real, and what we often experience as real people who exist in the world.” Furthermore, Ilana is someone who is liberated by this identity and is proud to experience her sexuality in any way she chooses, further demonstrating Broad City’s take on sex positivity.

Ilana comfortably discusses with Abbi the prospects of having a relationship with Adele, even if she considers it “mostly sexual.” Ilana feels the need to reassure Abbi that their friendship will continue to take precedent, by telling her “she [Adele]’s not replacing you.” There is never any worry for the women on Broad City that a relationship, a job, or a responsibility will come between the friends and the bond they share. As Abbi learns about Adele, we see someone who just wants to support her best friend in any way she can. This means being able to support Ilana the way she supports her.

As illustrated, sex positivity on Broad City directly connects to the friendship Abbi and Ilana share. Regardless of the kind of situation the women find themselves in, they would truly do anything for each other. Above all, Jacobson and Glazer’s series is about celebrating women, specifically 20-somethings as they experience this moment in their lives. This celebratory praise of women begins with Abbi and Ilana’s friendship, where two women’s love and support for each other extends into every aspect of their lives. If Broad City is a love story between Abbi and Ilana, it is one that is adding an incredibly powerful portrayal and narrative about women to the landscape. For women to be supporting women and empowering one another above all, Broad City gives us not only an amazing depiction of sex positivity but one of the greatest portraits of female empowerment that is beyond worthy of praise.

References

Fehr (1996). Friendship Processes. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications Inc.

Johnson (1996). “Friendships Among Women, Closeness in Dialogue.” In J. T. Wood, Gendered Relationships (pp. 79-94). Mountain View, CA: Mayfield.

Alexandra Shinert holds her M.A. in Media, Culture and Communication from NYU. She has spent time studying media portrayals and narratives, most notably on Girls and Broad City. She is genuinely interested in understanding 20-somethings and Millennials and appreciates a great TV reaction gif. You can connect with her on Twitter @AShinert

‘Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries’: Killing the Stigma of Sex

Besides occasional sex jokes, ‘Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries’ features episodes about vibrators, abortion, and women’s rights. It also highlights a wealth of one-night stands, and while the men are attractive, the camera glances over the bodies of Miss Fisher’s lovers as lovingly as it does her gorgeous outfits. It is, in an odd way, the perfect combination of the male and female gaze.

This guest post by Emma Thomas appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

“My sin’s are too many and varied to repent. And frankly, I intend to continue sinning.” – Miss Phryne Fisher

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries has been a popular show in Australia for years, and is based on a long-lasting series of books by Australian author Kerry Greenwood.

But, what did it take for American viewers to tune in? Why, slut-shaming, of course!

In a bizarre, but typically American, twist of fate, Netflix reviewers who bashed Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries by calling the lead character a “tramp,” a “tart,” and a “s!ut” (Netflix censors that one), made the show seem a hell of a lot more interesting. Jezebel writer Rebecca Rose and her readers definitely agreed.

A lady detective who loves sex? Yes, please.

From its very first episode, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries is alive with sex positivity.

Indeed, the show’s treatment of sex is both blatant and tongue-in-cheek.

One needs only look at the main character’s name – Miss Phryne Fisher.

The original Phryne was a famous hetaera of Ancient Greece. She was, in other words, a high-class prostitute. And though her birth name was Mnesarete, which means to commensurate virtue, she was nicknamed “Phryne.” Which means toad.

The original Phryne was charged with impiety, and some say that when she was taken before the court she disrobed, baring her breasts to highlight her womanhood and arouse compassion. She was acquitted.

Still, the trial made Phyrne famous, and in ancient Greece, “Phryne” quickly caught on as a nickname for prostitutes and courtesans.

Thus, Miss Fisher bears the first name Phryne, and that alone serves as a hint of what is to come.

She is certainly not one to commensurate virtue.

However, despite what those Netflix reviewers believe, her name is also ironic – Miss Fisher is not a slut, or a tramp, or a tart.

Miss Phryne Fisher (Essie Davis) is a lady detective, who also happens to be sharp as a whip, with a shiny gold gun and a magnificent wardrobe to boot.

And, though it is 1920s Australia, she drives a car, flies planes, wears trousers, and sleeps with whomever strikes her fancy.

Her best friend, Dr. Mac, also happens to be a lesbian. Dr. Mac has plenty of (behind-the-scenes) sex of her own, and rarely has a problem finding a lover in the roaring ’20s.

It makes sense that Dr. Mac is such good friends with Phryne Fisher. As a character Phryne is many things, and one of those things is a woman who happens to love good sex–a woman who does not seek to hide her true self.

In a refreshing turn, the show doesn’t seek to hide this either, nor does it give excuses for it.

Take, for example, this exchange with Dr. Mac:

Dr. Mac: Looks like a nerve powder. Usually prescribed for women, of course, the hysterical sex, for nervous exhaustion, emotional collapse, wandering wombs…that sort of thing.

Miss Fisher: Why on earth would a womb wander?

Dr. Mac: Unnatural behavior will do it, according to Hypocrites. Like celibacy.

Miss Fisher: Oh good. Mine’s not going anywhere.

It’s a joke about sex but, television writers of America, it’s not in poor taste! And, once it’s said, the show simply moves on.

Besides occasional sex jokes, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries features episodes about vibrators, abortion, and women’s rights. It also highlights a wealth of one-night stands, and while the men are attractive, the camera glances over the bodies of Miss Fisher’s lovers as lovingly as it does her gorgeous outfits. It is, in an odd way, the perfect combination of the male and female gaze.

While the show does feature Miss Fisher having a great deal of sex that, alone, does not make it sex positive. Sex positivity is not about having a lot of sex but instead focuses on removing the stigma and shame from sexual choices.

Miss Fisher just happens to want to have sex: that is her sexual choice.

In the very first episode, Phyrne has a sexual relationship with a dancer, Sasha de Lisse, and she later jokes that it was helpful for the investigation:

Miss Fisher: She pointed the finger at Sasha de Lisse, and I was forced to discount him with my own thorough investigation.

However, it’s clear to the viewer that is not the reality of the situation – Phryne had sex with Sasha because she wanted to.

You may wonder…if Miss Fisher has casual sexual relationships, how do the writers show the depth of her character? So often in American television, we rely on our lead actress’ relationship with a man, or potential relationship with a man, as a central plot device. This is particularly common in crime procedurals. Case in point: Castle, Bones, and Scandal.

In an interesting twist, there is a leading man in Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries: Detective Inspector Jack Robinson (Nathan Page). Yet, unlike Castle and Bones and a plethora of other shows, this time the male lead, Jack, is the emotionally reserved one. And, in many ways, Miss Fisher is key to his character’s development.

Without giving too much away, as the series progresses Miss Fisher’s love of life and, dare I say it, sex, leads Jack to ponder new possibilities.

In one instance Phryne, like her namesake, bares her breasts (season 2, episode 1) while performing an undercover fan dance (of course).

Yet, even in this instance her behavior is not frowned upon. Maybe her Catholic maid should be scandalized, but instead she simply sighs, while Jack – now accustomed to Phryne’s personality – smirks. Perhaps the closest one gets in 1920s Australia to rolling one’s eyes.

There is a will-they-won’t-they in Phryne and Jack’s friendship that is evident from the very beginning of the series.

But Miss Fisher never pines. It is clear that she loves sex for sex, and while a relationship with Jack may be somewhere on the horizon, well, she’s not going to be celibate in the meantime.

Some viewers cannot believe that Phryne could flirt with Jack, and truly be interested in him, yet continue to sleep with other men. Certainly, this is not an idea that is commonly shown on television.

But if sex positivity is the idea of informed consent and agency within one’s own sexuality, Phyrne’s relationship with Jack is a prime example of it.

Phyrne is making her own decisions about her own body, and only she can judge what is right for her.

In fact, there is one particular scene from the second season that proves a perfect thesis. Jack and Phryne sit down at a piano, and sing the classic Cole Porter song, “Let’s Misbehave.”

They both know they’re going against societal norms, but neither seems terribly concerned about it.

Jack knows that Phryne sleeps with other men, and she never tries to hide that from him. And while he may not be thrilled, he doesn’t try to stop her. He’s not ready for a relationship with her, so what right does he have to stop her from doing what she pleases?

Through the first three seasons, Phryne sleeps with numerous men. Her sexual conquests, and I’m using that term because I am quite sure that’s how Miss Fisher herself would see them, circumvent race and age.

In Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries sex can be serious, and have consequences (and sometimes lead to murder), but it is also often humorous. In one such scene, Phryne attempts to have sex with a boxer – who’s overly focused on proving how strong he is via push-ups (season 2, episode 4). Miss Fisher’s quite disappointed he won’t just come to bed already.

Miss Fisher: Why don’t you show me here? On the bed?

One of Miss Fisher’s most fleshed out sexual relationships occurs with a Chinese-Australian man, Lin Chung.

While they also socialize, eating meals together and walking through the streets of Melbourne, the purpose of their meetings is clearly sexual in nature.

When Phryne learns that Chung will be entering into an arranged marriage, she continues to sleep with him, but she also stresses that once he has met his bride their sexual relationship will end.

Yes, Phryne has a healthy sex drive and morals – an unusual combination in television.

In an interesting twist, Phryne ultimately helps facilitate the arranged marriage.

And, despite what American television writers may have conditioned us to expect, Phryne does not become a petty, jealous woman. She does not seek to destroy Chung’s relationship and win him back, nor does she feel disrespected.

Miss Fisher is a woman who knows what she wants – who made an educated choice.

Plus, there are other fish in the sea – the boxer, the old friend, the circus performer – after a while the murders do get a tad…outrageous. But the sex stays good.

Emma Thomas is a freelance writer, media development associate, and independent producer. Her musings can be found on Twitter (@EmmaGThomas) and her blog, while her newest film projects can be found at Two Minnow Films.

Let’s Talk About Sex (Positivity for Women) in Animated Comedies

However, there are animated shows that do present female sex positivity and appear to subvert the current patriarchal control of female sexuality in media. ‘Archer’ and ‘Bob’s Burgers’ are both refreshing examples of portrayals of positive female sexuality.

This guest post by Belle Artiquez appears as part of our theme week on Sex Positivity.

Satirical cartoons have been on the rise for about a decade now with a growing, dedicated fan base and I’m not surprised–anything can happen in animated worlds, the bonds between reality, plausibility and total fiction are non-existent. We’ve all seen it as children watching cartoons like Mickey Mouse or Tom and Jerry; these characters can be hit by a literal ton of bricks over the head and still survive without a scratch (maybe a bump though). Anything goes in the animated world. What we know and what we are willing to believe are things that simply don’t matter in these worlds.

Although animated satire and comedy live outside these rules of logic, they are still somehow typically governed by the laws of patriarchal sexuality (see: Family Guy). In essence, anything can happen, unless it’s connected to female sexuality, then and only then will the animation be controlled by what we actually already know and deal with in reality, which is that female sexuality is not accepted in the same regard as male sexuality.

However, there are animated shows that do present female sex positivity and appear to subvert the current patriarchal control of female sexuality in media. Archer and Bob’s Burgers are both refreshing examples of portrayals of positive female sexuality.

Archer may seem equally (if not more) as aggressively offensive as a show like Family Guy; every character has his/her flaws and disgraceful behaviour, but Archer doesn’t have the same approach or effect at all. Sterling Archer, the main protagonist and suave but cheesy 007 archetypal agent, is exactly what we expect of a spy with buckets of money and a handsome face; he treats everybody like crap and goes through women like he would bourbon–swiftly and with very little thought to his actions. He doesn’t respect women, but at the same time he doesn’t really respect anybody because he assumes he’s better than everyone around him. So while this one character portrays a kind of sex negativity when it comes to women (and men), he’s presented as a total jack-ass, so what he does and how he treats people is meant to enhance that. He also had an extremely oppressive and traumatizing upbringing, due to the fact that Malory was a spy herself and left him with Woodhouse, a butler, for the majority of his childhood before shipping him off to private school and forgetting to pick him up on Christmas (Eve!). So Malory fits the Bad Mother archetype too–we see that on numerous occasions–but this is not in any way connected to her sexual behaviour.

Basically just another Monday afternoon in the Archer residence; he rarely doesn’t have women on his mind

Malory Archer, the controlling, alcoholic and completely insincere boss, cares very little about anything other than money has had many flings with men in separate spy agencies and even has a long standing sexual relationship with the leader of the KGB; however, none of this she considers anybodies’ business but her own, and what a good message to send. She sees no problem with any of her relationships because they are personal, and her sexuality is displayed in a way that it is natural; she may a mother and a grandmother, but why should that stop her from enjoying a sex life the same as everyone else? Her body is seen in a positive light. Even with her wrinkles, she is accepted.

Malory’s still got it, and the show is confident in its portrayal of an older woman’s sexuality

Then we have Pam Poovey, an overweight but confident, bisexual, and often outrageous woman. She says “sploosh” whenever anybody says anything slightly sexual, and is never afraid to ask for what she wants, she is open to anything and although she is overweight, this is never portrayed as a negative quality. Her naked body can be seen in many episodes, and both she and the creators are unafraid to show this in a way that is not done for pure laughs. She is accepting of her body and so are her lovers. If anything, people seem to have more of a problem with her vulgarity than her weight, as she is extremely sexually assertive and pretty outrageous.

Carol or Cheryl, depending on whose company she is in, is equally as assertive but certainly has the most outlandish sexual fantasies. She has a thing for strangulation, and loves rough sex, but again while her coworkers are horrified by her words (as would anybody upon hearing a sexual fantasy that involves a fireman choking you to death and drooling on your popped out eyeball!), they do not shame her for these fantasies; they do not make fun of her, or tell her she’s a disgusting human being for being the way she is, they accept it. Shaming the women simply does not happen. Nobody tells them to get some self-respect; instead, all of their sexual activity is presented as normal, even though each and every character has flaws and is in her own way quite selfish. The female characters are all very sexually expressive and different in their sexuality, fantasies, and preferences. Female sexuality is thus presented in numerous positive ways throughout the show.

Pam is never embarrassed by her body, and neither are her lovers

Another show that is equally as progressive is Bob’s Burgers. Similar to Archer, it does not shame, and it respects its characters for their flaws and weirdness. Set around a family struggling to live off a burger restaurant that isn’t doing so well, each and every one of them has their own bizarreness to them, but are equally loveable at the same time. Bob is the patriarch who will do anything for his family, is the typical Dad funny and is constantly feuding with the neighbouring restaurant. Linda, the matriarch, is obsessed with musicals (possibly missing her calling in life) and will occasionally (who are we kidding, it happens all the time) burst into song. Then we have the kids; Gene, who loves his fart music and appears to have gotten this passion from his mother; Louise, who always dominates her older siblings with cunning plans and devious behaviour; and Tina, who is the voice of reason but, let’s be honest, simply loves butts. Each character has his or her own quirks personalities without being a joke.They are loved by each other which adds to the acceptance of their choices. Tina and Linda both display female sex positive vibes, but the show is overall accepting of its characters sexuality, be it straight, gay, pan, or whatever they present, which is pretty damn cool.

Linda loves her daughter’s quirks

Back to female sexuality though: Linda is a fantastic mother, one who wants her children to feel loved, to love their bodies, and to be honest about who they are. We see her have mother daughter bonding time where they simulate birth using Vagasacks, and she never shies away from questions like, “Where do babies come from?” opting for the acutely honest “From my vagina.” She also wholly respects Tina’s erotic friend fiction, and encourages her to be honest and unashamed about it. Linda is possibly the best TV mother ever.

Then there is Tina herself. Whether people find her attractive or not is insignificant, as she is only a young girl, and although she is plagued by puberty-driven sexual fantasies, she is never sexualized in any way. Tina is simultaneously uncertain of herself, becoming nervous and groaning when addressed by anybody, and confident, proud of her sexuality and femininity and unafraid to vocalise it to her family: “I’m no hero, I put my bra on one boob at a time like everyone else.” She is the hero of the show, let’s just admit that now. While most media will portray female adolescence as wholly centred around damsel in distress situations, or dreaming of wedding days and the like, Tina’s fantasies are anything but. She dreams of zombie boyfriends, not just one or two, but an entire team of them, where she gets them to touch each others butts and make out. And this zombie fetish is not a throwaway joke; it’s not a one-off that’s soon forgotten about, it’s a recurring theme. She fantasizes about being in The Walking Dead and seducing the zombies with her feminine charm and hair flick. She knows what she wants, and she is always in charge; she’s never the damsel (“I’m sick of acting like a dumb helpless girl just so a hot boy who dances his feelings will notice me”), never the frail girl, she’s the proud confident (sensual) woman. These fantasies appear to give her confidence in reality even if she’s awkward at it; she openly likes/dreams/thinks of boys’ butts which subverts gender expectations; she flirts with boys, mostly Jimmy Jr., who she is very, very interested in. She is becoming a woman in control of her own sexuality as she aptly tells Bob, “If you believe you’re beautiful, you will be. I did.” I adore this line. Tina Belcher does not wait for a boy to tell her she’s beautiful because she does not need that validation. She knows she’s beautiful and that’s all that matters.

Tina’s a girl who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to say it

I could go on and on about how Tina not only subverts typical representations of adolescent female desires, but also how she owns it, and how her family support her in every way, but truth is, I want you to watch it for yourself, because it’s glorious, it’s passionate, and most of all, it’s damn funny. Tina Belcher is without a doubt the feminist hero of animated comedies directed toward adult audiences.

While there are pretty horrific representations of female sexuality in animated comedies, there are also really progressive, pro-female ones too. Sex positivity for women is pretty hard to find in most film and TV, but when I do find it, it makes me really happy. Like, can’t control the giant smile on my face happy, because we are all too aware of male sex positivity, but female positivity in general is either shrouded in public displays of misogyny (in an acknowledging it but laughing at it too kind of way), made out to be a joke, or quite simply non-existent. Both Archer and Bob’s Burgers refuse to adhere to these norms, and portray actual female sex positivity in dozens of ways. It’s really refreshing–like getting a nice cold glass of homemade lemonade on a hot summer’s day when you were expecting a cheap coffee kind of refreshing.

These progressive sex positive shows really are charming the pants off us…pun not intended–just a happy coincidence

Belle Artiquez graduated from film and Literature studies in Dublin and since has continued her analysis and critique of film, TV, and literature (mainly in the area of gender politics and representations) as well as cultural and societal critiques on such blog spots as Hubpages and WordPress.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week – and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

10-Year Study Reveals Women in Key Roles Make Up Less Than a Quarter of Emmy Nominees by Inkoo Kang at Women and Hollywood

Emmy awards face the future as television becomes more diverse by Brian Moylan at The Guardian

The ‘Golden Age for Women in TV’ Is Actually a Rerun by Nell Scovell at The New York Times

Aiming to diversify storytelling, Ava DuVernay expands scope of film distribution collective by Glenn Whipp at Los Angeles Times

The Bechdel Bill is Working to Put the Bechdel Test Into Action by Emily Gagne at The Mary Sue

Denzel Washington Is Bringing August Wilson’s Entire American Century Cycle Plays to the Screen Via HBO by Tambay A. Obenson at Shadow and Act

What “The Golden Girls” Taught Me About Bioethics by Elizabeth Yuko at Bitch Media

Enough With the Queer and Trans Films That Are Actually About Straight People by Kyle Buchanan at Vulture

5 Ways The Movie Industry Still Fails Women by Sarah Aoun at BuzzFeed

We Heart: East Los High‘s Representation of Genderqueer Youth by Anita Little at Ms. blog

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

‘Lady Detective’: ‘Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries’ Explores Feminism in the 1920s

Phryne acts just as independent and liberated outside of the bedroom. She knows how to fly a plane, she delights in driving her own car, a Hispano-Suiza, and totes around a golden revolver with a pearl-encrusted handle. Oh, she also has impeccable taste in clothes.

This is a guest post by Lauren Byrd.

The Australian TV show, Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (the first two seasons are available on Netflix), is set in the roaring 20s, famous for its jazz, gin, shorter hemlines, bobbed hair, and Art Deco design. The protagonist, Phryne Fisher (pronounced Fry-nee), is an heiress to a small fortune, but she also possesses a sense of adventure and a knack for solving crimes, often outshining her male counterparts at the Melbourne Police Department. Sound like just another Miss Marple or Sherlock Holmes? Think again. Phryne is also a feminist.

Based on the series of novels by Kerry Greenwood, Phryne is an independent woman. Having inherited a small family fortune during World War I, Phryne doesn’t have to work. She could have her pick of a husband and spend the rest of her days reading, knitting, or traveling. Instead, she decides to start solving crimes to earn money. She builds her business from the ground up like any modern day entrepreneur.

However, the television series has made one significant change. In the books, Phryne is 28, which according to Downton Abbey, is past marriageable age. This seems modern enough (and probably quite scandalous for the time), but in casting Essie Davis–who is in her 40s–as Phryne, the series has created one of the few “older,” independent, sexually liberated female characters in television history. Davis herself cited Samantha Jones in Sex and the City as the only other television counterpart to Phryne.

So let’s talk about sex. Phryne has a string of lovers, both in the show and the book series. However, she perhaps possesses a unique set of feelings for her emotionally reserved male counterpart on the Melbourne police force, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson (Nathan Page). The show plays off their chemistry by trotting out the somewhat tired will-they-won’t-they dance, yet these two still make it a compelling tango to watch unfold. Their relationship is an example that speaks even further to Phryne’s independence. Like some female characters might, she doesn’t sit around and wait for Jack to figure things out. She continues to be herself, which means falling into bed with next man she takes a fancy to.

But it is precisely for her sexual liberation that Phryne has been criticized by American viewers. In 2013, the first season became available on Netflix. Shortly afterward, some viewers left comments saying the show would be more enjoyable if Phryne wasn’t such a “tramp” and “obnoxious airhead.”

Jezebel wrote a piece about the comments. Miss Fisher author Greenwood said she had been expecting outrage over her liberated, independent heroine for ages. But she didn’t receive a single complaint when the show aired on Australian television. “Not once. Not even from old ladies. Not even from nuns,” Greenwood said in an interview with The Sydney Morning Herald.

In fact, Greenwood finds Miss Fisher no different than similar male characters who solve crimes for a living. James Bond woos and beds a different woman in every film and is a hero to men and boys. “No one thinks their multiple lovers are indications of slutishness,” Greenwood pointed out.

Davis said in an interview with NPR that she was sent the Jezebel link and thought the reactions to it were fantastic. “The reactions towards the outrage were so powerful and outspoken. And that so many people who, on the Jezebel site, were like, ‘Right, well, if that’s what everyone’s saying about it, I’m watching it.’”

The series, when it comes to sex and violence, is actually quite tame. Even though the show features a different murder every week, the killings and violence are downplayed, and the sexual liberation of Phryne receives the same treatment. There’s the flirting, the first embrace, but then the show cuts to the next scene, leaving everything after implied. Or at the most, the pre-coital scene cuts to the post-coital, a pair of lovers ensconced in bed.

Her backstory, which comes out in bits and pieces in the series, is just as fascinating. She grew up poor in Melbourne and only after her English cousins died during World War I did her father inherit their peerage line, making him a count and her the Honorable Miss Fisher. During the Great War, Phryne ran off to France where she joined a French woman’s ambulance unit, where she received an award for bravery. After the war, she worked as an artist’s model in Montparnasse for a few years, before continuing to hop around Europe. In the book series, she’s returned from England back to her roots in Melbourne.

Phryne has an amazing cadre of characters she’s befriended and employed. Despite her statement that she’s “never understood the appeal of parenthood,” she’s certainly not selfish and takes in a young girl, Jane, as her ward in the second episode. Her relationship with her new maid/assistant, Dorothy “Dot” Williams, blossoms into a true friendship throughout the course of the series. At first, Dot is quite reserved, sheltered, and very Catholic, but under Miss Fisher’s influence and tutelage, she becomes much more than confident in herself and turns into a true asset to Phryne’s business.

Phryne met her best friend Mac while she was serving on the French ambulance unit. Mac is a physician and dresses androgynously, but her sexuality is never a point of contention or question in her friendship with Phryne. To round out her household, Phryne employs—funnily enough–a man named Mr. Butler as her butler and Bert and Cec, former dock workers, who drive a taxi and conduct odd jobs for Miss Fisher, both around the house and as part of her investigations. In the books, Bert and Cec are also “red raggers,” a term from that era for socialists.

The show is a delightful romp through the decadence of the late 1920s and while hemlines are higher, Phryne still butts heads with menfolk about her line of work. Frequently referred to as a “lady detective,” Phryne seems to have taken this sexist term and turned it into a calling card for herself, but she still gets talked down to by plenty of men. In fact, her relationship with Detective Inspector Jack Robinson is at first antagonistic. He wants her to butt out of his investigations and mind her own business, he threatens to arrest her for breaking and entering, and only allows her to stay in the room during an autopsy if she won’t say a word. Over time, however, they become partners. He wants her opinions on his investigations, and she wants him there for a second line of defense and in order to use his official title to secure records and information she otherwise wouldn’t be able to obtain.

Australia was one of the first countries that gave women the right to vote, passing the law in 1902. Once soldiers left for the war in Europe, women emerged from the home to fill the jobs left empty by men, which included factory and domestic work, nursing, teaching, and clerical and secretarial positions. Of course, women were paid less than men so even once men returned from the war, many employers wanted to keep women on the payroll because they cost less. Australian politician M. Preston Stanley openly confronted male arrogance and encouraged women toward independence. In 1921, Edith Cowan was the first woman to be elected to the Australian parliament. And of course, the 1920s were the age of the flappers, women who believed in social equity, rather than political. Social equity for the flappers meant women were allowed to drink in bars like men and enjoy all the recreational activities that men did. Not all women embraced this new movement, however. Some women of an older generation, called “wowsers,” objected to these new-fangled practices. (See Phryne’s Aunt Prudence.)

If you have a penchant for 1920s fashions, love detective shows, or just enjoy watching a sassy woman kick some ass, then Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries is a shiny gem of a show in a sea of superhero movies, True Detectives, and Game of Thrones.

Lauren Byrd has worked in the entertainment industry in Los Angeles and New York. She currently writes a weekly series on her blog, 52 Weeks of Directors, focusing on a female filmmaker each week.

The Angry Young Man in Horror

These films work to varying degrees, and the circumstances are diverse, but the core of each story is the same – one violent little boy. In a society where privileged young men (i.e. heterosexual, white, young adult males) are committing heinous crimes like date rape and mass shootings on an alarmingly regular basis, a fear of angry young men seems valid, and reason enough for a trend in horror.

This guest post by Claire Holland previously appeared at Razor Apple and is cross-posted with permission.

Be warned: This post is full of spoilers for Goodnight Mommy, Cub, and The Boy.

More often than not, horror movies reveal the fears of our time. In Axelle Carolyn’s excellent book, It Lives Again! Horror Movies in the New Millennium, the author illustrates how our collective fears end up reflected in different ways on screen. Carolyn makes the argument (and backs it up) that the popularity of every big horror trend originated somewhere in our collective consciousness, connecting trends to a country’s political climate, terrorist attacks, and other big events that resonant deeply throughout cultures.

As the late and great Wes Craven said, “Horror films don’t create fear. They release it.”

Carolyn’s book came to mind recently as I watched a crop of new films, each about the potential for violence in young boys: Goodnight Mommy, Cub, and The Boy. These films work to varying degrees, and the circumstances are diverse, but the core of each story is the same – one violent little boy. In a society where privileged young men (i.e. heterosexual, white, young adult males) are committing heinous crimes like date rape and mass shootings on an alarmingly regular basis, a fear of angry young men seems valid, and reason enough for a trend in horror.

Of course, these are horror movies, not case studies. As much as horror reflects society’s fears, it distorts them, making them ever more monstrous. In Goodnight Mommy, a young boy, Elias, suffers from a break with reality, imagining his dead twin brother is still alive and the woman living in his house is merely masquerading as his mother. In Cub, Boy Scout Sam stumbles onto the lair of Kai, a feral child living, and killing, out in the woods. The Boy takes the most realistic tack by far, examining the lonely childhood of a budding murderer, Ted, growing up in the middle of nowhere. These are the origin stories of the Angry Young Man, told through the lens of the horror genre.

There are numerous parallels between the three boys, who all engage in gradually escalating forms of violence: they kick chickens, kill dogs, and eventually wind up super gluing their mothers’ lips together or setting buildings full of people aflame. They’re all isolated: Elias’s brother and father are dead, his mother distant; Sam is a foster child without friends, a kid whom even the Boy Scout troop leader disdains; and Ted lives in a desolate motel with only his alcoholic father and a few passing guests for company. Most importantly, though, their attempts at connecting with others are constantly thwarted, or even actively discouraged.

When Elias, out of grief and guilt, insists that his mother speak to Lukas or make him breakfast, his mother reacts furiously, verbally and physically berating Elias. She slaps him and makes him to repeat aloud, “I will not speak to Lukas,” over and over again, when what Elias clearly needs is his mother’s love and understanding – and therapy. Bafflingly, Elias and his mother live in a lavish house that seems completely sequestered from the rest of the world, making the boy’s isolation all the more palpable. Given no one to talk to or work through his feelings with, Elias lashes out at the only person he can, creating an elaborate fantasy wherein his mother is an evil imposter who must be tortured until she can bring back his real mother and, presumably, the rest of his family.

In The Boy, Ted seems like a fairly normal kid, albeit one who is very comfortable with death. His father pays him pennies for picking up road kill, a pastime that eventually morphs into Ted luring animals onto the road. This is troubling, but the sort of behavior that might be curbed by an involved parent (preferably one who doesn’t demand road kill in exchange for attention). Under the nonexistent supervision of his father, however, Ted’s interest in death blooms, as does his inferiority complex – a dangerous combination. As with Elias, when Ted reaches out for companionship and acceptance – first to his father, and then to a kind but troubled drifter – he is beaten down, emotionally and physically. His pain and anger eventually culminate in murderous arson. This doesn’t seem like the story of a cold, calculating sociopath, no matter how much the filmmaker bills it that way. Ted is full of feelings, but because those feelings are never validated, he can only find destructive ways to express them.

Cub carries out this same model, but to cartoonish heights. Sam is the odd kid out in his Boy Scout troop, so when he encounters feral Kai on a camping trip in the woods, he feels an immediate kinship with the outcast and the two form a cautious rapport. At one point, the troop leader sics his dog on Sam as a mean joke, so Kai kidnaps the dog and hangs it from a tree so that Sam can kill it. Kai, a boy who has been used and abused by those bigger and stronger than him, considers this a gift. Sam is initially shocked and repulsed, but when he tries to help the dog and is bitten for his trouble, he retaliates, sick of being hurt by those he reaches out to again and again. Unable to truly forge a bond with anyone, Sam finally kills Kai so that he can take over the feral boy’s malevolent, vengeful persona.

The shared element in these three stories of angry young men is an unwillingness of the guardians and role models to nurture, or even condone, sensitivity in these boys. They constantly demand that the boys be tougher, thicker-skinned, less vulnerable, regardless of their actual feelings or needs. When Ted’s father allows a prom afterparty to take place at the motel, sans parents, he tells Ted, “The boys’ll be boys and the girls’ll be girls; good, harmless fun. You get what I’m sayin’?” One can easily imagine the kind of behavior Ted’s father is allowing, and tacitly condoning. “Boys will be boys” encompasses all manner of sins. When those same boys hurt Ted and his father blames him, Ted sees no other option than to become a stronger (read: hyper-masculine) version of those cruel boys in order to survive.

We can’t excuse violent criminals for their actions just because they may have had bad childhoods, but our society’s emphasis on the masculine above everything else is a real problem. Forcing young boys to “toughen up” before they’re ready only forces them to give up their empathy, and that benefits no one. These three stories are horrific, but they are, after all, just stories. Unfortunately, the real crimes committed by angry young men – Sandy Hook, Steubenville, Aurora – are as gruesome as fiction.

Claire Holland is a freelance writer and author of Razor Apple, a blog devoted to horror movies and horror culture with a feminist bent. Claire has a BA in English and creative writing, but she insists on writing about “trashy” genre movies nonetheless. You can follow her on twitter @ClaireCWrites.

The Hacker in the Rye (and the Gender Politics in ‘Mr. Robot’)

All the women in the show are fairly fleshed out characters who are allowed to be angry, manipulating, sweet, caring, and experience all the emotions that lie in between. So, basically they’re regular human beings.

This is a guest post by Giselle Defares.

Hollywood remains fascinated by the concept of ones and zeros. The idea that technology will take over our hegemony in the world is anchored in our pop culture. The bastion of the tech world is clouded with toxic masculinity, yet there are still women who’ve managed to crack these walls. This even translated into film, see wide-eyed Sandra Bullock in The Net, hipster Angelina Jolie in Hackers, and of course Noomi Rapace in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It’s been reported by the U.S. Department of Commerce that men dominate the hacker subculture, yet 28.5 percent of all computer programmers are women. Mr. Robot has been widely praised for its accurate portrayal of technology and the tech industry, but how do the female characters fair in the show?

Sam Esmail is the brain behind the show. In 2014, Esmail wrote and made his directorial debut with the film Comet, so Mr. Robot will be (for the time being) his pièce de résistance. The show was initially created as a feature film, but Esmail changed his mind and turned the screenplay into a TV pilot. He shopped the play around and ended up with the USA Network. This seems like a surprising choice since the USA Network has a reputation for their – let’s be honest here –mediocre programming. In recent years the network has tried to turn their image around and churned out several gems such as Psych, White Collar (well, at least the first two seasons), and Suits. Still, the obvious choice for the hacker, vigilante saga would be HBO, FX, OR FXX. However, USA Network gave Esmail total control of all aspects of the show. The show is produced by Universal Cable Productions and Anonymous Content. Esmail hired Niels Arden Oplev, who was behind the Swedish version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, to direct the pilot. The pilot won the Audience Award after the screening at SXSW, and was named an official selection of the 2015 Tribeca Film Festival. Mr. Robot was renewed by the network, for a second season of at least 10 episodes, before the official series premier. Esmail has mapped out five seasons of the show.

The fascination with hacker groups is nothing new. In our information society, it seems even more prominent seeing how digitally networked our society is, how much we rely on social media and automatic systems, which highlights the vulnerability of our privacy. Inspiration behind the show can easily be traced back to old hacker groups such as Cult of the Dead Cow and Cyberpunk (which inspired Wikileaks founder Julian Assange), and more recently hacker groups such as Anonymous or the Lulzsec group who placed attacks on high profile sites such as Sony Pictures Entertainment and the CIA. Let’s not forgot about the Guardians of Peace, who were behind the Sony leak and (for a short amount of time) shook up Hollywood. For some, the recent wave of hacker groups have launched a new form of organized crime.

Hacker groups are often marginalized in the media and portrayed as the equivalent of terrorist groups. It seems that most hacker groups toy with the political and economic complexity of their ideology. What also comes into play is their struggle between power and anger. The groups are angry at the status quo and want to see change – especially with the large conglomerates who are deemed abusive. Yet, they enjoy the power that their actions bring. They often perform morally questionable actions – which are sometimes necessary – in order to bring about justice.

The instant success of Mr. Robot comes as no surprise. The show is confident in which direction its headed and how the story will evolve. Mr. Robot is a breath of fresh air in our current TV-landscape since it doesn’t hide behind fictional names, brands or political situations and completely embraces its dogmatic world. The show even takes jabs against our consumer society and the goal of “living a normal life.” The season finale was postponed for a week since the episode contained a scene where a character sustained a fatal gunshot wound during a TV interview, which had an uncanny resemblance to the way that WDBJ journalists were killed on live TV in Roanoke, Virginia. In the season finale there was also a quick reference to the recent Ashley Madison hack.

The premise of Mr. Robot is fairly simple. The show centers around Elliot Alderson (Rami Malek), a 28-year-old programmer who during the day works as a cyber security engineer at Allsafe and in his free time is a vigilante hacker. Elliot ends up in a tough situation when the leader of the underground hacker group FSociety, Mr. Robot (Christian Slater), eggs him on to destroy Evil Corp, the firm he’s paid to protect. Spurred by his personal beliefs, Elliot struggles to resist the opportunity to take down the multinational CEOs he believes are running/ruining the world. Elliot functions as the eyes and ears of the audience – and provides the voice-over narration. Quite frankly he’s one of the most unreliable narrators seen on TV in recent years. He’s struggling with clinical depression and has social anxiety disorder. Elliot deals with his own paranoia and hallucinations and is most of the time high or going through withdrawal.

Most TV critics rave about Esmail’s attention to detail. Well, it has to be said, Esmail works with surgical precision. When you see code on a computer screen, you better believe that it’s real. Esmail hired a cyber-security engineer to provide the data that appears on computer screens during various hacking scenes. He also put attention to the social engineering aspect of hacking since hackers have to figure out human behavior patterns in order to find the weak spot in the system. Well, that certainly brings the drama to the show.

The cinematography of the show is stunning. This is the work of veteran DOP Todd Campbell (Friday Night Lights, Boyhood). Esmail and Campbell picked out various framing and height techniques. From the use of shortsighting (especially during Elliot’s internal dialogues) and the “leading room” technique, these are the elements that give the show such an unique look. “Leading room” means that there’s a lot of room between the characters faces and the physical space that they occupy. Characters are often seen on the sides of a larger frame. This makes you feel that you’re in the shot with the characters. Esmail chose to incorporate several 70s and 90s influences in the show. This can be seen from the beautiful title screens, to the references to Christian Slater’s earlier work and films such as American Psycho and Taxi Driver, to the perfect soundtrack. One of the more remarkable moments in the show surrounds Tyrell Wellick during a particular angsty rooftop scene, which was highlighted by the use of the FKA twigs song “Two Weeks.”

The show’s clear trajectory has led to frequent comparisons with Fight Club, Dexter, and Breaking Bad. Similar to Walter White, we follow Elliot on his descent into amorality. The show highlights the idea of power and raises the question if Elliot undertakes action for the right reasons. While Elliot has good intentions, he certainly enjoys hacking everyone left, right, and center, which momentarily makes him feel powerful. Elliot can be seen as one of the more “morally grey” antiheroes on TV (though some would argue that Elliot’s journey is a typical hero vigilante origin story). The interesting part is that the viewer can see that Elliot is a mess from the start. His struggles with depression and anxiety aren’t glossed over, he’s very unstable, and he doesn’t play the role of the charming yet genius misfit.

The female characters in Mr. Robot consist of Elliot’s co-worker and childhood friend Angela (Portia Doubleday) – who could be Amanda Seyfried’s twin. Elliot regularly visits his psychiatrist Krista Gorden (Gloria Reuben). In order to suppress his emotions, he uses morphine which he gets from his neighbor and occasional fuckbuddy (later girlfriend) Shayla (Frankie Shaw). He works at FSociety with the stubborn Darlene (Carly Chaikin) – who’s unrecognizable from her role as Dalia in Suburgatory. Also at FSociety works the subdued Iranian hacker Trenton (Sunita Mani), who doesn’t want to follow in her parents’ footsteps while chasing the unattainable American Dream. There’s also Joanna Wellick (Stephanie Corneliussen), the Lady Macbeth wife of the antagonist of the show, the Swedish Patrick Bateman Tyrell Wellick (Martin Wallström) who’s the Senior Vice President of Technology at Evil Corp and has an insatiable hunger for power.

Lenika Cruz of The Atlantic states that the show’s “treatment of its female characters feels like an extension of its broader portrayal of those typically marginalized on TV.” That’s a valid point. All the women in the show are fairly fleshed out characters who are allowed to be angry, manipulating, sweet, caring, and experience all the emotions that lie in between. So, basically they’re regular human beings.

At first sight, it seems that Elliot’s relationship with Angela has a White Knight undertone. In the first episodes Elliot reacts, overprotecting and constantly tries to stand up for Angela (see the meeting with Evil Corp sexist CTO, to which Angela states: “Even if I’m losing, let me lose, OK?”). Angela comes across as a cookie cutter character but she has an interesting arc. She’s the epitome of our current generation of young professionals who are forced, as a result of the current state of the job market, to be sucked in by the empty promises of corporations because of debts and lack of job mobility. Plus she can’t lean on her dad who is financially struggling. Her strength can be seen in several moments throughout the show: when she finally stands up for herself against her insufferable, cheating boyfriend, and in the season finale when she powers through after horrible events at her job – let’s hope that her new Prada shoes remain squeaky clean.

Darlene is introduced as the girl who’s one of the guys. She’s loudmouthed, smart, but we find out that she has a softer side. Presumably she became this tough because she’s always been the only one – or one of a few women – within the male hacker society. Season one was mostly Elliot’s story and slowly the plot unraveled and we got glimpses of the other characters. It took several episodes before her character was fleshed out. Darlene really came into her own in the last three episodes. The show had an interesting twist at the end, where it flipped the relationship between Elliot and Darlene upside down, and their interactions got a whole other meaning.

One of the smaller plotlines contained Elliot’s girlfriend Shayla. Shayla was under a lot of pressure by her violent drug supplier. The relationship between the two seemed pure because Shayla was aware of Elliot’s drug habits and his neurotic behavior, while he hid most of it from his childhood friend Angela. One of the more hilarious scenes is in episode 3, “d3bug.mkv,” when Elliot asks Shayla to be his girlfriend and she joins him for a dinner at his boss Gideon’s house and lots of awkward small talk ensues. It all goes down after that for Shayla and it can be said that she was thrown under the bus for Elliot’s man pain.

Gloria Reuben is excellent in her role as Elliot’s psychiatrist – Malek and Reuben have electric chemistry in their scenes. She tries her hardest to get him to open up. Elliot in his turn only sees a connection with her since they’re both lonely and he confesses his hacking tendencies at the end of their therapy stint. In episode 7, “v1ew-s0urce,” he totally comes clean and says, “ I don’t just hack you. I hack everyone. But I’ve helped a lot of people. I want a way out of loneliness, just like you.” Her expression during his confession is marvelous. In the season finale we find out that she hasn’t given up on Elliot yet.

While FSociety plays an important role in Elliot’s life, most of the characters remain in the background. It’s still a diverse group especially with the Muslim hacker Trenton and the African American Romero. We see Trenton performing her prayers at one point. One of the only other tidbits we get to see of her is in episode 7 “v1ew-s0urce,” when she has a conversation with Darlene why she joined FSociety. Trenton then says, “My parents were born in Iran. And came here like everybody else. For the freedom. But my dad works 60-hour weeks to determine tax loopholes for a millionaire art dealer. My mom, she ran up loans in the five digits to get an online degree. They won’t shut up about how great America is. But they are going to die in debt. Doing things they didn’t want to do.”

Esmail made an interesting choice when he picked B.D. Wong for the role of Whiterose who is a transgender woman; arguably he could have chosen a transgender actor but all along he had B.D. Wong in mind. Whiterose is the head of the dangerous Chinese hackers group The Dark Army. Wong plays a small part in the show but has a short, tense scene with Elliot. Whiterose is the complete opposite of the unstable Elliot: she is competent, intimidating, and focused.

Joanna remains the most mysterious character. She fully supports her husband Tyrell in all his endeavors. She even knows that he will use sexual favors – with men and women – to get where he thinks he needs to be. She plays Tyrell like a fiddle. One of their most amazing scenes is in episode 6, “br4ve-trave1er,” when Tyrell is upset and destroys their kitchen and she calmly keeps munching on her food.

Mr. Robot is one of the best new shows that has come out in recent years. The immaculate attention to details, cinematography, pop culture references, and critique on our digital society are delicious. The show is not without its faults since there are some questionable lines of dialogue, (i.e. Elliot says of Trenton: “She may look innocent, but I’d be careful, she has some Allah Akbar in her”). Furthermore, it’s quite unbelievable that Angela and her boyfriend (who also works at Allsafe) play unknown media on their computer without checking it out first. The episodes can drag at certain points with all the critique on the large evil corporations, manipulation of the public and greed of the top dogs.

We get it.

What’s up for season 2? There are so many unanswered questions. Who was knocking on Elliot’s door? Where’s Tyrell? Will Joanna and Darlene have a bigger roles in the second season?. We’ll have to wait and see. Everything constantly changes in the world of Mr. Robot. Nothing is set in ones and zeros.

[youtube_sc url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ug4fRXGyIak “]

Giselle Defares comments on film, fashion (law) and American pop culture. See her blog here.