Lizzy Caplan – Bitch Flicks

How Is The Sex, Masters and Johnson?

The biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it; however, I desperately hope that ‘Masters’ doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that ‘Masters of Sex’ is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).

Written by Rachel Redfern as part of our theme week on Representations of Female Sexual Desire.

: Provocative, even now

Although Masters of Sex had its season finale in December, now is the perfect time to do a series re-watch to prepare for the season 2 premiere on July 13. Beyond that, the Showtime star powerfully, and singularly, discusses the topic of female desire and female sexuality, without becoming pornography.

While the show was not perfect in its first season, understandable since it was still trying to find its stride, by the season finale it had fulfilled a lot of hopeful expectations. Its main star, Lizzie Caplan (Virginia Johnson), chooses provocative projects and usually plays fascinating, complex characters: a sociopathic hippie in True Blood, a relationship-squeamish woman in Save The Date, and an emotionally damaged party girl in Bachelorette. The show makes a big deal about Johnson being a unique, sexy, fascinating woman and showing her interest in being a scientist, but I’m still curious as to what’s driving her. Hopefully in season 2 her character’s development will begin to grow and we’ll get more of a peek into what’s helped her become such a confident woman, as well as fostering her fascination with scientific studies.

But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it; however, I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).

: Don’t lie, you would have looked too.

One thing I’m loving though, it’s two women picking all the material, which is fantastic for a show that is portraying the way that society’s view on sexuality, especially female sexuality, is changing. And I think that a lot of people were curious, and maybe a bit worried, wondering how Masters of Sex was going to be dealing with sex, women, and stereotypes. There are still so many myths and legends, images and dichotomies, and pop psychology and moral sermonizing that happens anytime women and sex are placed anywhere near each other, that it was very possible for Masters to become another fluffy, giggle-fest of boob shots and phallic jokes.

Masters of Sex showrunner, Michelle Ashford, discussed the staff’s perspectives on the show’s sex scenes, and how much they’ve chosen to include; turns out, they’ve been selective and thoughtful—sifting through hours of scenes, trying to ensure that they’re engaging and fulfilling the narrative, instead of just becoming pornographic. In fact, Ashford admitted that she finds many sex scenes boring without any real relevance to the story; in the case of Masters, they’ve tried to take a different approach: “We knew we had to figure out a new way to do sex so that there was always story pulling through it. And there had to be a point of view to the sex, so it’s either tragic or it’s funny or it’s confusing … but it could never be showing sex just to be sexy.”

: Intimacy tells their story

Are they successful in telling the story of sex in their scenes? I would argue that yes, they are: Masters and his wife, Libby (Caitlin Fitzgerald), have terse, dutiful sex, while Virginia is direct and free-spirited, and the young Dr. Haas (Nicholas D’Agosto) is controlling, searching, experimenting. Each character’s experiences (not necessarily their proclivities) reflect their relationships with each other and themselves. Perhaps, at this point, the sex scenes are where the story is, and it’s where we learn the most about each character.

So what do you think? How is the show evolving? Are the sex scenes merely exhibitionism? Is the show helping the way we think about sex? How do you think it’s portraying sex?

See also at Bitch Flicks: “Why You Should Be Watching Masters of Sex,” by Erin Tatum

How Is The Sex, Masters and Johnson?

But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it, however I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).

Written by Rachel Redfern

tumblr_mubxz18hbQ1rfpmn4o1_1280 — Provocative, even now

Masters of Sex is Showtime’s newest protégé, a mid-century period piece steeped in desire–a desire for what though? Considering that Masters of Sex is only on the sixth episode, the show is still finding its stride, with its characters and dialogue still evolving.

However, I have high hopes for the show. Lizzie Caplan (Virginia Johnson), chooses provocative projects and usually plays fascinating, complex characters: a sociopathic hippie in True Blood, a relationship-squeamish woman in Save The Date, and an emotionally damaged party girl in Bachelorette. Unfortunately, while we’ve learned a bit about the motivations and back-story for Mr. Masters (Michael Sheen), Johnson remains still undeveloped. The show makes a big deal about Johnson being a unique, sexy, fascinating woman and showing her interest in being a scientist, but I’m still curious as to what’s driving her. But, the show is only beginning, and hopefully her character’s development will begin to grow and we’ll get more of a peek into what’s helped her become such a confident woman, as well as fostering her fascination with scientific studies.

But, the biggest question for the show will obviously be, um, what about the sex? Sex is in the title: the opening sequence bathes in it, and every episode features it. As a big proponent of women’s sexuality I’m pretty much all for it, however I desperately hope that Masters doesn’t just become cheap exhibitionism driving up late night ratings; I want to know that Masters of Sex is trying to tell us something in all of the orgasmic moaning (fake or real).

Episode 101 — Don’t lie, you would have looked too.

masters-of-sex-standard-deviation-michael-sheen — Intimacy tells their story

So what do you think? How is the show evolving? Are the sex scenes merely exhibitionism? Is the show helping the way we think about sex? How do you think it’s portraying sex?

Why You Should Be Watching ‘Masters of Sex’

Masters of Sex is the most compelling period drama I’ve seen in quite some time, and trust me, I watch a lot of period pieces. I will admit that sometimes the stiffness of the dialogue and the character interaction can get a bit dry – the audience understands that social conventions were different in the past, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone was robotic round-the-clock. I feel the writers have a tendency to use era authenticity as a cop-out for lack of emotional depth or creativity. Though it’s only been four episodes, Masters of Sex boldly rips the buttons off of the post-World War II stereotype of prudishness and conservatism. Below are just a few of the reasons why you should give the show a try, if you haven’t already.

Masters of Sex logo.

Written by Erin Tatum.

Masters of Sex is the most compelling period drama I’ve seen in quite some time, and trust me, I watch a lot of period pieces. I will admit that sometimes the stiffness of the dialogue and the character interaction can get a bit dry – the audience understands that social conventions were different in the past, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone was robotic round-the-clock. I feel the writers have a tendency to use era authenticity as a cop-out for lack of emotional depth or creativity. Though it’s only been four episodes, Masters of Sex boldly rips the buttons off of the post-World War II stereotype of prudishness and conservatism. Below are just a few of the reasons why you should give the show a try, if you haven’t already.

1. The show is based on real people.

Bill Masters and Virginia Johnson: fiction vs. reality.

William Masters and Virginia Johnson were a gynecologist and sexologist respectively who pioneered the first study of human sexual response. Their collaboration and the controversy of their subject matter is the basis of the show, which is in turn an adaptation of Master’s biography. Masters and Johnson were later married for 20 years and then divorced. This may or may not be a spoiler for their TV counterparts (played by Michael Sheen and Lizzy Caplan), judging by the rising belligerent sexual tension established between them. Not to mention they are responsible for much of our common sexual knowledge today.

2. Female sexuality literally takes center stage.

The women are a bit skeptical of Bill's contraption. — The women are a bit skeptical of Bill’s contraption.

Masters initially becomes curious about women in his study because he cannot fathom how or why a woman would fake an orgasm. He enlists the help of Betty (Annaleigh Ashford), a prostitute, who convinces the other women in her brothel to take part in the research. His primary goal is to delineate the stages of an orgasm, so he and Johnson spend a lot of time watching women masturbate. Admittedly, you should probably watch this show alone because to the unaware observer, it looks a hell of a lot like softcore porn. Also, there is some kind of giant glass dildo that’s similar to a space probe with a camera to observe physiological changes. Talk about invasive.

Joking aside, there are deeper dynamics at play here. Their time spent at the brothel gives the relatively affluent Masters and Johnson a gritty glimpse at working-class life in the struggle for survival. The myth of the ideal 1950s woman as an innocent, almost Victorian vessel of purity also starts to unravel as more and more women of all backgrounds begin to join the study and seem to know exactly what to do when prompted, albeit not without a little embarrassment.

It’s true that Masters solicits women partially because he thinks that no men would be interested in going solo for the study. However, the women turn out to be a gold mine of scientific revelations and sexual understanding.

3. Queer characters are humanized and perceived as equals worthy of respect.

Betty doesn't have time for your nonsense. — Betty doesn’t have time for your nonsense.

Really, if one more period piece hides behind the excuse of the era and cultural context to get away with another tired “masochistic gay, cue violins” plot I’m going to scream. Luckily for me, the instances of queerness that we do see are pretty bad ass, confident people. Betty happens to be a lesbian, a frank, self-admitted detail that Bill finds perplexing when she asks for the run-of-the-mill Playboy magazines to masturbate to. (Johnson quickly put an end to his grumbling by countering, “Isn’t an orgasm an orgasm?”) Betty even has a lover, although we never see her on screen. She develops a friendship with Johnson and particularly Masters, who both go out of their way to express concern that she isn’t being true to herself or her lover when she starts to contemplate marrying a man for financial stability.

Masters reacts with predictable uneasiness when Betty recruits gay male prostitutes to participate in his study without his knowledge. To his credit, he still doesn’t outright refuse when two of the men offer to “put on a show” for him. He throws a hissy fit about only having data from deviants after his study is repeatedly denied funding, but ultimately rallies to the defense of the everyday men who visit the hustlers, proving that male homosexuality isn’t as deranged as 1950s masculinity would like to believe.

4. The characters are realistically flawed without creating a black-and-white morality.

Bill Masters’ Achilles’ heel is that he’s married to his job and his job is all about sex, which naturally deflates his domestic life and his passion for his wife, Libby (Caitlin FitzGerald). Libby has the air of a fresh-faced Betty Draper before the bitterness and alcoholism took its toll. The main source of strain on their marriage is their struggle with infertility. They genuinely try to make the other happy, although Libby is definitely the stereotypical flower of a trophy wife withering under her husband’s lack of communication and emotional availability. She may appear to be a bauble of a woman, but she’s sensitive and perceptive. You aren’t exactly rooting for Bill to stray from her.

Johnson is a single mother of two who holds her head high despite being twice divorced. She doesn’t shy away from casual sex and she has no tolerance for that whiny friendzoned bullshit. She contemplates Masters’ preposition that they should sleep together “for the study.” On one hand, you want them to sleep together to act on their chemistry, but on the other, you hope Virginia is levelheaded and ethical enough to value her budding friendship with Libby over an exploratory one night stand that would lead to the most cliché collapse of bonds between women.

The narrative consistently confuses you since you find yourself supporting potentially bad decisions on the characters’ behalf because you understand their perspective. Sympathy and empathy with flaws in mind – the cornerstone of strong characterization!

5. Masters of Sex isn’t Mad Men…and that’s a good thing.

Due to the similarity of the time period, some have drawn comparisons between Masters of Sex and Mad Men. Yes, the style is drool-worthy and good ol’ boys club mentality is in full effect, but the comparisons should end there. There are a few formulaic echoes: the hard working introvert stuck in a dead end marriage partners up with the secretary to discover some deeper philosophy about the human experience via their collaboration. However, Masters of Sex isn’t afraid to display the chaos bubbling beneath the surface of the prim and proper pressures that society presents. Instead of having to hyper analyze every single glance or deadpan line of dialogue for hidden meaning, the characters wear their intentions on their sleeves. They’re lost and determined and uncertain and arrogant all at the same time. It’s glorious.

Masters of Sex is a breath of fresh air for the genre. Each episode is a relished, slow drag on a cigarette.

Wedding Week: Another Indie Wedding…And Breakup in ‘Save the Date’

Written by Rachel Redfern

Lizzy Caplan and cat in Save the Date

Wanted: Emotionally unavailable girl struggling to realize her romantic potential.

If that is what you’re looking for then Save the Date is here to realize such a fantasy. This is Michael Mohan’s sophomore film (One Too Many Mornings being the first), and it’s a solid second movie with great actors and a timely story.

Lizzy (Lizzy Caplan) just moved in with her boyfriend Kevin (Geoffrey Arend) of two years. One week later, he proposes; she freaks, then moves out, and it’s from there that the evolution of her relationships begin. During this time period, her sister Beth (Alison Brie) and her fiancé and band mate to Kevin, Andrew (Martin Starr), also travel the tricky waters that run to the great waterfall of marriage.

Thematically, the film focuses on the two men in Lizzy’s life, her ex Kevin, and her new boyfriend Jonathon (Mark Webber), and her obvious patterns of relationships; Save the Date is essentially a character study of one woman and her neuroses and the constant mistakes, fears, and decisions that she does manage to get right. She’s not always a completely sympathetic character, but she is still the one we’re rooting for at the end of the day.

This is the second time I’ve seen Lizzy Caplan in her easy portrayal of the emotionally damaged wild child, the first being in Bachelorette where similarly, the wedding brings up all of her feelings about past relationships and a surprise pregnancy. It’s a character I like, one that while not original, is also not the most common of characters (similar to Natalie Portman in Friends With Benefits, Charlize Theron in Sweet November). But I like the character; it’s one where, rather than neurotic, and desperately searching for love and marriage, she’s the opposite–skittish and non-committal, frustrating and sexy.

Caplan is obviously comfortable with the role and slips into emotionally distant behavior with an alacrity that is almost cringe-worthy. However, I think it’s valuable to see women and men in some role reversal; in Save the Date, Kevin is over-eager and anxious to please, while Lizzy barrels around, being incredibly sadly charming and then pulling away from relationships.

Allison Brie and Martin Starr in Save the Date

Allison Brie is also lovely in her role as the more traditional, over-bearing sister. She’s impatient and snappy and obviously stressed about her wedding plans but also deeply invested in her sister. In fact, Save the Date removes many of the external friends for the two women and instead has the focus on the balance of their sibling relationship

It’s also productive that the film doesn’t attempt to explain away why Lizzy is so scared of relationships and why her sister is so excited to take hers to the next level. Rather, the two women are presented as flawed characters who just are who they are. Granted, the ending of the film seemed more focused on fixing Lizzy rather than on her own personal growth, but that’s perhaps a plot flaw more than anything.

And on that note, the plot is incredibly simple and slow. The conflict and resolution was easily anticipated and lacked any originality, even the present felt familiar. The film is very much in the ridiculously popular indie style, a style that I have to confess is starting to get a little old with its careful mullets, obscure acoustic tracks, and an ironic attempt to not take themselves too seriously but usually failing.

Lizzy Caplan and Allison Brie in Save the Date

However, go to this film (or rent it at this point since it’s out on DVD) for the very familiar situations you’ll see, especially of note, Arend’s portryal of Kevin and his struggles with losing Lizzy. Often, romance films pit a “good guy” against a “complete and total lying, cheating bastard,” role that rarely allows for nuance and the complexities and context that accompany our mistakes. Instead, Kevin, Andrew and Jonathon are all different, but likable and sincere. They act like the adults I know, occasionally silly and naive when it comes to love but genuine in their attempts to do the right thing.

Lizzy and Beth as sisters get along perhaps a little too well for a normal sister relationship, but they’re also self-aware of their flaws and apologetic when they cross the line. Sometimes romantic comedies have a tendency to be over-the-top in their caricature of love, so much so that character interactions become excessively unrealistic. Save the Date re-captures some of its lost points for the slow plot with its commitment to showing more realistic interactions between couples and family.

But seriously, no more mullets in indie films.

Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection; however, she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

‘Bachelorette’ Proves Bad People Can Make Great Characters

Kirsten Dunst, Isla Fisher, and Lizzy Caplan in Bachelorette

Written by Robin Hitchcock.

[Warning: spoilers ahead!]

When I saw The Hangover, around the time its sequel came out, I was disappointed they didn’t make the sequel the story of “meanwhile, the bride and her girlfriends had an even MORE wild adventure.” Some of us hoped we’d get something along those lines with Bridesmaids, which certainly was an enjoyable movie and huge step forward for female-focused comedies in mainstream Hollywood, but sometimes felt forced when it veered into the “shocking” territory of ladies pooping.

So three cheers for Bachelorette, which certainly stands on the shoulders of Bridesmaids, but makes it look tame in comparison. Bachelorette doesn’t just have its female characters do shocking things, it has the shocking characterizations. For once, we have a movie full of female characters allowed to be the horrifically selfish jerks that routinely populate dude comedies like The Hangover. It’s delightfully bracing.

For some, the ladies of Bachelorette will be too bitchy, or too similar to sexist stereotypes, to bear. Maid of Honor Regan (Kirsten Dunst) is a Type-A ice queen, joined by bridesmaids Gena (Lizzy Caplan), a self-centered fuck-up, and airhead Katie (Isla Fisher). All three enjoy drugs and casual sex, and all three can be jaw-droppingly mean. All are horrified that the bride Becky (Rebel Wilson) is getting married first among them, because, well, she’s fatter than they are. They still use the cruel nickname (“Pig Face”) they gave her in high school, and spend the first act showing shocking disregard for the her well-being and the success of her wedding. [Fortunately for the bride, there are other women in her bridal party lurking on the sidelines of the story, theoretically taking care of most of the wedding business while these three cause trouble].

Rebel Wilson is unfortunately not given much to do as Becky, but I really enjoyed how the movie didn’t just victimize her as the “fat friend”, subverting that dynamic by making it clear that Becky’s size is much more of an issue for her skinnier friends than it is for Becky herself. Although Gena awkwardly jokes in her rehearsal dinner speech about meeting Becky when she was making herself vomit in the high school bathroom, it’s later revealed that Regan is actually the one with a history of bulimia. It’s made clear that Becky doesn’t tolerate strangers being cruel to her: she puts a stop to her bachelorette festivities the moment the male stripper Katie brought in calls her “Pig Face.” Becky retains her dignity, while Gena, Katie, and Regan pathetically retreat to have their own private coke-fueled hotel room bender without the bride or the other members of the bridal party.

Rebel Wilson as the bride, a well-adjusted foil for the main characters

During this party, the girls cruelly mock the size of Becky’s wedding gown, and Regan and Katie both try to climb into it. But Becky is only twice their size in their demented imaginations, so the gown rips. The rest of the plot follows their misadventures as they attempt to fix the gown before the next morning.

Gena, Katie, and Regan never stop being selfish bitches in their quest to undo this huge wrong. A potential solution is reached when they are able to get into a bridal shop after hours and there’s another dress available in nearly Becky’s size, but it’s rejected because that dress is Regan’s favorite, and she can’t let her friend wear it instead of her. They’re also all distracted by their own romantic subplots, particularly Gena (who is paired against her former Party Down co-star Adam Scott, to the same irresistibly watchable effect).

But through all of this shocking meanness, there’s a true-to-life thread of the genuine friendship between these women. It may be hard to imagine how these characters became friends in the first place, but who didn’t build some unlikely friendships through the happenstance of high school classroom seating charts and locker assignments? And despite all their nasty behavior, it’s not hard to understand why they are still friends after all these years: Bachelorette masterfully illustrates the bond we feel with the people we’ve known the longest, even if they aren’t the closest people in our present lives. Becky and Regan will always have a bond because Becky covered up for her high school bulimia; Regan and Gena will always have a bond because Regan took Gena to get an abortion when her high school boyfriend (Scott) chickened out. In the final scenes, Regan bounces between finally putting her bitchiness to good use by chewing out Becky’s floundering florist, and saving Katie’s life after she overdoses on Xanax. Gena assures Katie’s bewildered suitor that even though he’s right that Regan is a “head case” it’s also true that “she’s a good friend.” It rings true. Regan is the kind of friend you’d never want, but you would nevertheless be grateful for if you did have her in your life.

Bachelorette has a happy ending without absolving the characters

Still, Regan, Gena, and Katie sit out Becky’s wedding ceremony, beat-down and vomit-covered on a bench, unneeded by Becky the beaming Bride. The film ends with a wedding reception coda that’s appropriately joyful, but there’s no clear-cut redemption for our troubled trio. Bachelorette strikes a delicate balance, getting us to like and root for these flawed characters without denying their shortcomings (as The Hangover and its ilk are wont to do). It’s a rare feat for any film, and almost unheard of with a female-centric comedy.

Why I’ve Fallen in Love with ‘New Girl’

The main cast of New Girl

I’m not sure what’s happened, but I have fallen head over heels in love with FOX’s New Girl. I devoured the first season within a week and immediately caught up on the first few episodes of season two.

New Girl wasn’t a show I ever planned on watching. I actually like Zooey Deschanel, but I didn’t feel like I needed to see half an hour of her “adorkable” antics every week. The initial ads also made me believe that this show was going to be about a weird woman-child who moved in with three men who would eventually either a) pull a My Fair Lady on her and craft her into a more normal human being, or b) come to appreciate the quirky elf magic of this manic pixie dream girl and learn how to live their lives, or c) both of the above. Then one of them would fall in love with her, and they’d have a “She saved him back” moment from Pretty Woman, and they’d live manically and pixie-like forever after.

Well, this goes to show how marketing can be misleading, because New Girl is not that show at all.

Jess (Zooey Deschanel), Nick (Jake Johnson), Schmidt (Max Greenfield), and Winston (Lamorne Morris)

Yes, the first few episodes were largely about Zooey’s character Jess moving in and the male friends adjusting to her personality, but soon, the audience was introduced to the weirder sides of Nick, Winston, and Schmidt, and we quickly saw that this was a group of people who are all freaky oddballs. Sure, Jess makes up her own theme songs and speaks in silly accents, but Nick believes that an old man who speaks to him at the bar is himself from the future, Winston gets overly competitive about a middle school bells group, and Schmidt…is Schmidt.

Sometimes Jess is the voice of reason among the weird people, sometimes she’s the odd one that one of the guys has to rein in, and sometimes, in the very best episodes, the whole gang is completely off the wall. More importantly, Jess never has to be the mommy to a group of manchildren, and the guys never have to be the condescending Three Men and a Little Lady daddies to a girl-woman. I was afraid of both of those tropes before I started watching of the show, but neither has been the case.

On top of that, New Girl also showcases a female friendship that I find delightful to watch. Jess’s childhood best friend Cece, a confident, gorgeous model, is another main character on the show, and they complement each other perfectly. They’re highly supportive of each other, they share tough love when they need to, and their heartfelt moments are always genuine. When they fight, they fight like real women fight, not like a male fantasy of catty, bitchy women.

One of my favorite episodes of New Girl is “Secrets,” when Schmidt and Cece’s secret relationship becomes known to everyone else in the apartment. Jess is horrified to learn this information, but she’s also hurt that she was the last person to find out, thinking that Cece doesn’t trust her anymore. Cece, meanwhile, was afraid of Jess’s judgment, but was more afraid of admitting that she cared about Schmidt as something more than a hookup. The fight was over by the end of the episode, and there was a refreshing lack of catfight jokes.

Jess makes up with Cece (Hannah Simone)

There was another episode that featured an argument between two women – Jess and Nick’s girlfriend Julia – that was a great commentary on the way women fight when their personalities clash. Julia (Lizzy Caplan) is immediately put off by Jess’s whole persona, assuming that her super-girly attitude is nothing but an act, and feels threatened by Jess’s place in Nick’s life:

“I know that I’m the mean lawyer girl who wears suits and works too much, and you – you’re the really fun teacher girl with all the colorful skirts, and you bake things, and eventually Nick will come running to you, and you’ll tuck him in under his blankie.”

This ends in an argument where Julia flat-out admits that she doesn’t like Jess and quietly asks her to go away so she can cry in the bathroom. Jess doesn’t want to leave because then she won’t have anywhere to cry, but runs into the men’s bathroom to see Nick crying, and is then forced to cry in the hallway.

The sequence is hilarious and I watched it several times, but I also thought the scene, and the episode in general, was a great portrayal of how women sometimes misunderstand each other. Julia sees Jess as a threat because Jess is the living embodiment of the bubbly feminine stereotype that male writers use and re-use and over-use in their navel-gazing stories. Julia’s not being fair to Jess, but her feelings are more than understandable. Our society gives us such a narrow definition of how to be a woman that it’s easy to have knee-jerk feelings of resentment towards women who are more traditionally feminine, even if we know it’s irrational.

Julia (Lizzy Caplan) and Jess – two clashing personalities

And by the end of the episode, Jess and Julia have put their issues aside and bonded over some girl time crocheting. They’re not suddenly best friends, but they’re cool with each other, and it was so refreshing to see two women put aside their differences without a) showing any underlying cattiness, or b) turning the show into a Hallmark card.

The show isn’t perfect, of course. The writers broke up Schmidt and Cece much too quickly, almost as though they bought into the idea that happy couples are never funny. Winston as a character still isn’t as clearly defined as the other three roommates, even though Lamorne Morris is a very funny actor. And as a former teacher, I’m perplexed as to why Jess has to quit teaching entirely after getting laid off from one school, instead of, I don’t know, trying to find a job at a different school, like most teachers do. But despite its flaws, I love New Girl for introducing me to this group of weird people and treating all of its characters with respect and affection.

Did you think I would write a whole post about New Girl without a reference to the douchebag jar?

Best Picture Nominee Review Series: 127 Hours

I didn’t go into 127 Hours expecting to see any women in the film. After all, it’s about a man who goes out for a day of canyoneering fun, doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, bikes through some amazing scenery while occasionally performing random, impressive athletic moves for no reason, decides to do some hiking, and ultimately falls off (and into) a cliff-type structure that becomes a trap. Basically, he smashes his right arm between a giant rock and the wall of a canyon. And gets stuck. I mean stuck.

We know what’s in store for us–at least an hour of watching this guy attempt to get the hell out of there (and, as it turns out in the end, by any means necessary). I immediately caught myself thinking, “Where can the filmmakers possibly go with this? You mean I’m going to have to sit here and watch this d-bag James Franco chip away at a boulder with a dull knife for an hour? While he makes jokes about his shitty Made-in-China adventure-equipment and urges us to Buy American?” Well, yes. And no. While the film certainly has its problems, especially in its presentation of women (and there are only, like, two, so it’s disheartening that they manage to still fuck that up), dare I say I walked away kind of loving it? With a renewed respect for James Franco?

Ha. Well. First, let’s talk about Danny Boyle. I had the same problems with Slumdog Millionaire that every film-goer with a set of critical thinking skills had. So walking into 127 Hours, I was already all “meh.” But damn did he manage to make some bike riding exciting. Seriously. After ten minutes of watching Franco pedal across the horizon accompanied by A. R. Rahman’s soundtrack of tribal drums with violin and brass combo beats, I wanted to leave the theater and go buy a mountain bike. That feeling lasted all the way up until the first two women were introduced three seconds later.

They’re lost. And they need Franco to help them navigate the terrain. He does. Franco hangs with them for a while and they do some canyon-climbing and they record themselves swimming and they splash around and they flirt a little bit and it’s actually pretty fun to watch. This scene, which doesn’t seem like it has much of a point at first, becomes essential, especially considering it’s one of only a handful of real-time scenes that exists outside of his entrapment. We get to know him here, and the truth is, it’s difficult not to fall in love with him. He plays Ralston as a full-of-life, thrill-seeking sweetheart who’s hellbent on having as much fun as possible before the day ends. So when he and the women part ways, and his new friends invite him to a party later, it’s impossible not to experience a little unease. We like him now. And we know there’s no fucking way he’s making it to that party.

The rest of the movie takes place in the canyon–a claustrophobic nightmare that only works because Franco is apparently an amazing actor–and inside Franco’s mind, through flashbacks of his super hot (gasp) blond ex-girlfriend and the phone calls from his mom and sister that he clearly stupidly ignored prior to his departure. He also hallucinates some crazy shit, like a giant Scooby-Doo blowup doll that’s soundtracked to that ghoulish laughter reminiscent of the last few seconds of Thriller. Yeah! And though it sounds absolutely insane, it’s why the film works. Boyle takes a narrative about a guy struggling to get out of a hole and turns it into an action film, a radio show, a documentary, a commercial, a disaster movie, a cartoon, and a comedy. About a guy struggling to get out of a hole.

Not that there aren’t a few impossible-to-deal-with moments. The final scene, which is poignant enough on its own, insists on beating the audience over the head with its call to EXPERIENCE EMOTION, courtesy of this ridiculous Dido & A.R. Rahman song. And I still can’t quite figure out how the closeup shots of ice-encased Gatorade and Mountain Dew add anything more than advertising revenue, as much as I’d like to argue that, “If I were trapped in a cave, about to die, drinking my own urine, toying with the idea of amputating a limb, I’d totally hallucinate all these brand-name beverages from Pepsico.”

And yes, god, seriously, The Women. I know this is a movie about Ralston’s journey. I respect that and enjoyed watching the innovative ways Boyle used split screens, reverse zooms, fantastical elements, warped focus, and speed variations to tell Ralston’s story in a way I can’t imagine another director successfully telling it. That doesn’t mean I could ignore my own cringing every time a woman entered the frame. The ex-girlfriend clearly serves as a vehicle to show Ralston’s loner-ness; see, he pushed her away all cliche-like. We know this because she says Very Important Things to him. “You’re going to be so lonely,” she yells, after he silently (but with his eyes!) asks her to leave a sporting event they’re attending. (I want to say hockey?)

His hallucinations suck, too. His sister shows up in a wedding dress. His sister showing up in a wedding dress clearly serves as a vehicle to make us feel bad that he’ll be missing Very Important Life Events if he dies, like his sister’s wedding. More pointlessly, the hallucinated sister, who might have one speaking line if I’m being generous, is played by Lizzy Caplan, an actress who’s had large roles in True Blood, Party Down, Hot Tub Time Machine, Cloverfield, and Mean Girls. Instead of engaging with the film, I found myself taken completely out of it, as I wondered why they would cast an actress who’s clearly got more skills than standing in a wedding dress, looking sullen and disappointed, to stand in a wedding dress looking sullen and disappointed.

So, the first two women (the lost ones) show Ralston’s carefree coolness. The ex-girlfriend illustrates Ralston’s darkness and his need for independence–as do the voicemails he ignores from his mother and sister, which are played in flashback. His sister reminds the audience that Ralston has Things to Live For. Hell, Ralston even tries to console his mother in advance (when he records his deathbed goodbye with his video cam) by saying things like, “Don’t feel bad about buying me such cheap, crappy mountain climbing equipment Mom … I mean, how were you supposed to know this would happen!” Hehe. What? Apparently it’s easier to use every possible cliche ever of how men and women interact (as a way to reveal information about the hero’s personality and psyche) than it is to, I don’t know, show him interacting with some guys? Have him flashback-interact with Dad? Nope, we get Lost Women in Need, Wedding Dresses, and Mommy Blaming. And I haven’t even gotten to the masturbation scene yet.

[This is your Spoiler Alert.]

I struggled with the masturbation scene. Because it’s a failed masturbation scene. I mean, it’s a scene where masturbation is attempted unsuccessfully. I didn’t like that he took out his video camera and freeze-framed and zoomed in on a woman’s breasts from earlier–as far as I’m concerned, there’s no other way to look at that than as classic Objectification (and dismemberment) of Women. (Also, the audience laughed, and I was taken out of the film yet again.) But at the same time … whoa. Ralston knows he’s about to die. He’s out of water. He’s got no hope of being rescued. Ultimately, masturbation for him is an act of desperation, the desire to feel something that his body has already let go of. Yes–it’s powerful stuff. Watching Ralston’s body betray him shows his imminent physical death.

But it felt too much like The Ultimate Betrayal. As much as I sympathized with Ralston–and Franco is brilliant in this scene–I don’t want to let the film off the hook entirely. I mean, what’s with men and their dicks? If I’m trapped down there, I’m thinking, “A little less masturbation, a little more amputation.” Honestly. The scene played too much like a metaphor for his final loss of power (read: masculinity), as impotence usually does on-screen. In that moment, I no longer identified with the film’s initial overarching theme of hope and possible redemption; I just thought, “Oh man, he can’t get it up it. SNAP.” I guess I’m just wondering if the film really needed to go there …

So, aside from the women “characters” being cliched, pointless, slightly offensive insertions used only to further our understanding of Ralston, 127 Hours is a fabulous film. I’m not even being sarcastic. I’ve never been much of a Franco fan–I mean, apparently he’s teaching a class about himself now?–but this performance is a game-changer for James and me. Boyle certainly showed his directing chops, too; this movie goes places a viewer would never expect–in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. I cried. I eye-rolled. I looked away (often). And I laughed. Especially at the end of the film, when the woman behind me said, “Wait. You mean that shit was a true story?!”