"There is only sex, love, and death." Someone said that once, in reference to storytelling, and do you see how much mileage "Insecure" gets out of sex? A big twist, in Season Two, is Issa growing tired of her own "ho-tation." She has learned some new oral sex moves in the "Sexplosion" sex-toy party, and they're just a bit too effective. Daniel, in the midst of receiving a blow job, sprays his ejaculate all over Issa's face. (Comedy writer Jessi Klein says that sex in the age of internet porn is very different from sex in the mid nineties. In the mid nineties, you were unlikely to get semen dumped on your head. She says, when you encounter this phenomenon, as you are toweling off, you might ask, "What made you want to do that? Where did you get the idea? How do you think I feel?" And the answer to the first two questions is "porn." And the answer to number three is generally: "I don't know or care.")
Molly becomes entangled in someone else's "open marriage." Of course the sex is better than any she has ever had, but she becomes irritated, again and again, when the guy has to go back to his wife (who is also her friend). Issa Rae smartly suggests that the emotional exclusion is just as powerful, if not more powerful, than the physical exclusion; at a dinner party, Molly struggles to get in a comment about a new museum exhibition. (A dinner party! Hissing and sighing over the seating arrangement! In this way, "Insecure" resembles Jane Austen, or Barbara Pym. Who would have thought?) Molly exacts revenge on the wife by luring the husband into a bathroom; after the furtive sex, Molly is again annoyed when she can't walk back out with the husband in lockstep. Then: the most potent scene in the season, as far as I know. Issa catches Molly in the hallway and rearranges her hair, fully aware, in a wordless way, of the thing that has just transpired in the bathroom. And Molly reciprocates: She removes the price tag from Issa's dress. "I was thinking of returning it," mumbles the cash-strapped Issa. (To the extent that "Insecure" cares about love, it's the love between Molly and Issa--a highlight of the show.)
Then there's a parallel interest in power. Issa revives herself; she acknowledges that her lack of interest in the high-school principal's racism is problematic. (Some would say that a non-white person cannot be racist--can only be a bigot. I think this is debatable.) Issa's white colleague, who is perhaps too over-eager in pursuing friendship--"It's like we're always thinking the same thoughts!"--is relieved to have a new ally in recruiting Latino students to the library. We see the We Got Y'all staff working through joyless coaching sessions; the twentysomethings are given prompts, e.g. "Your student seems increasingly withdrawn; what do you do?"--and different staffers rush to different melodramatic conclusions. In one of the sweetest scenes, the white colleague is bitchy to Issa, and immediately recants when Issa acknowledges her passive-acquiescence-to-bigotry. (I don't know the white colleague's name, but her relationship with Issa, along with the Molly/Issa relationship, is a sterling feature of this show.)
"Why did you go back?" asks Molly, disappointed in her mother's having-taken-back-a-spouse after an affair. The mother has forgiven Molly for a great deal of silence and judgment--forgiven this with a quick shrug (another smart touch in the show). "I went back because he hurt me and he made me happy, and I decided that the happiness outweighed the hurt." It's a complicated--maybe frustrating--answer, and it's truthful. Molly--who seems to be a bit of an unthinking perfectionist, and who rejected therapy the moment it became mildly uncomfortable--is forced to consider the possibility of shades of grey. Perhaps moved by her own mother's thoughtfulness, Molly very quickly ends the dalliance with the married man. A flawed relationship worked for Molly's mother; a more-deeply-flawed relationship is not working for Molly. The semen-on-the-face might generate the flashiest think-pieces this season, but the quieter moments are equally worthy of attention; maybe they are *more* worthy-of-attention.
I've lost patience with Lawrence, who doesn't bother to investigate what kind of dinner party he is getting into with his new paramour. Really? And the terrible mishandling of Tasha's barbecue. And the obtuse misreading of his boss's condescension. But, then, I feel for him in the aftermath of the threeway; one of the women becomes infuriated because he can't get it up instantaneously post-orgasm. Immediately bored, the woman begins talking inanely about Chipotle burritos--or some similarly random subject. This is a bit of absurd-yet-realistic humor that will lodge in the memory.
It's still difficult to find great, observant TV written by women--TV that focuses on how people relate to one another. (That's because of a paucity of opportunities/funding; I think this goes without saying!) Issa Rae, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Laura Dern--they all get (or did get) half-hours, rather than hours. Issa Rae's seasons are notably short. Laura Dern was written out of HBO after two short years, despite having the best-reviewed show in ages. But: A secret. "Insecure" and "Enlightened" are among the greatest shows on TV. Like "Girls," they push a door open, slightly wider, slightly wider. They do their work quietly. Keep your eye on Issa Rae.
Molly becomes entangled in someone else's "open marriage." Of course the sex is better than any she has ever had, but she becomes irritated, again and again, when the guy has to go back to his wife (who is also her friend). Issa Rae smartly suggests that the emotional exclusion is just as powerful, if not more powerful, than the physical exclusion; at a dinner party, Molly struggles to get in a comment about a new museum exhibition. (A dinner party! Hissing and sighing over the seating arrangement! In this way, "Insecure" resembles Jane Austen, or Barbara Pym. Who would have thought?) Molly exacts revenge on the wife by luring the husband into a bathroom; after the furtive sex, Molly is again annoyed when she can't walk back out with the husband in lockstep. Then: the most potent scene in the season, as far as I know. Issa catches Molly in the hallway and rearranges her hair, fully aware, in a wordless way, of the thing that has just transpired in the bathroom. And Molly reciprocates: She removes the price tag from Issa's dress. "I was thinking of returning it," mumbles the cash-strapped Issa. (To the extent that "Insecure" cares about love, it's the love between Molly and Issa--a highlight of the show.)
Then there's a parallel interest in power. Issa revives herself; she acknowledges that her lack of interest in the high-school principal's racism is problematic. (Some would say that a non-white person cannot be racist--can only be a bigot. I think this is debatable.) Issa's white colleague, who is perhaps too over-eager in pursuing friendship--"It's like we're always thinking the same thoughts!"--is relieved to have a new ally in recruiting Latino students to the library. We see the We Got Y'all staff working through joyless coaching sessions; the twentysomethings are given prompts, e.g. "Your student seems increasingly withdrawn; what do you do?"--and different staffers rush to different melodramatic conclusions. In one of the sweetest scenes, the white colleague is bitchy to Issa, and immediately recants when Issa acknowledges her passive-acquiescence-to-bigotry. (I don't know the white colleague's name, but her relationship with Issa, along with the Molly/Issa relationship, is a sterling feature of this show.)
"Why did you go back?" asks Molly, disappointed in her mother's having-taken-back-a-spouse after an affair. The mother has forgiven Molly for a great deal of silence and judgment--forgiven this with a quick shrug (another smart touch in the show). "I went back because he hurt me and he made me happy, and I decided that the happiness outweighed the hurt." It's a complicated--maybe frustrating--answer, and it's truthful. Molly--who seems to be a bit of an unthinking perfectionist, and who rejected therapy the moment it became mildly uncomfortable--is forced to consider the possibility of shades of grey. Perhaps moved by her own mother's thoughtfulness, Molly very quickly ends the dalliance with the married man. A flawed relationship worked for Molly's mother; a more-deeply-flawed relationship is not working for Molly. The semen-on-the-face might generate the flashiest think-pieces this season, but the quieter moments are equally worthy of attention; maybe they are *more* worthy-of-attention.
I've lost patience with Lawrence, who doesn't bother to investigate what kind of dinner party he is getting into with his new paramour. Really? And the terrible mishandling of Tasha's barbecue. And the obtuse misreading of his boss's condescension. But, then, I feel for him in the aftermath of the threeway; one of the women becomes infuriated because he can't get it up instantaneously post-orgasm. Immediately bored, the woman begins talking inanely about Chipotle burritos--or some similarly random subject. This is a bit of absurd-yet-realistic humor that will lodge in the memory.
It's still difficult to find great, observant TV written by women--TV that focuses on how people relate to one another. (That's because of a paucity of opportunities/funding; I think this goes without saying!) Issa Rae, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Laura Dern--they all get (or did get) half-hours, rather than hours. Issa Rae's seasons are notably short. Laura Dern was written out of HBO after two short years, despite having the best-reviewed show in ages. But: A secret. "Insecure" and "Enlightened" are among the greatest shows on TV. Like "Girls," they push a door open, slightly wider, slightly wider. They do their work quietly. Keep your eye on Issa Rae.
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