The Pride Parade is a distant memory, now, but before the week closes, I want to look at one other major gay achievement from the recent past: "Sex and the City." Perhaps you've heard of it? Perhaps I've mentioned it here before?
"Sex and the City" came, first, from the pen of a woman, Candace Bushnell. Then it was sort of co-opted by a gay man, Darren Star. Eventually, another gay man--Michael Patrick King--took over. It's King who interests me. King oversaw the emotionally-rich episodes of the late seasons, and King wrote the triumphant first movie. (Did I call that movie triumphant? Yes, I did. Having Miranda meet repentant Steve at the midpoint of a bridge, as India Arie's "Heart of the Matter" played loudly in the background? Brilliant. Having Joanna Gleason, the spiky, cerebral Sondheim muse, in the role of Miranda's therapist? A gift to gays--everywhere. Michael Patrick King also authored the disastrous second movie--but we won't talk about that.)
One thing that bonded both gay men and single women--w/r/t SATC--was the show's awareness of "subtextual judgy-ness." There was--and is--a dominant narrative in America: You are to find a spouse, "settle down," and then spawn some new little humans. If you don't do that, you are in some way deficient. (I, personally, am not arguing this; I'm summarizing someone else's argument.) Regardless of its flaws, SATC did push back against this narrative. It allowed Samantha to have the sex she wanted to have; Kim Cattrall's self-assured performance seems to be a big, loud, relentless "Fuck You" to Catholic America. The show gave us four friends who took care of one another; it asked, more than once, how is this arrangement any less satisfying or functional than more "conventional" choices other characters might make? Gay male viewers--who had a habit of forming new non-nuclear families after having fled the midwest for NYC--responded warmly to the friendships at the show's core.
To me, a major banner-waving "gay" moment in the series is in Season Six: "A Woman's Right to Shoes." Michael Patrick King didn't write this; it's the work of series staple Jenny Bicks. That said, King was the show-runner for Season Six, and it's safe to say he had a role in the plotting and shaping of the episode (and in all late episodes).
"Right to Shoes" famously has Carrie attending a friend's baby shower. There's a rule: No shoes. Appalled, Carrie must shed her Manolo Blahniks, which cost (almost) five-hundred dollars. "But this is an outfit," she says, feebly, and it's to the writer's (and the performer's) credit that we aren't led to roll our eyes at this line. Of course the shoes go missing. Has someone stolen them? (Probably.) Did they disappear into some heap of stuff in this moderately chaotic home? That's a possibility, as well.
Carrie's friend can't seem to feel very apologetic or concerned about the missing shoes. Later, after a fight, Carrie's friend can't even seem to feel concerned about the ruffled feathers, the tension within the friendship. "I'd forgotten all about that argument," she says. Implied: "Really, you have too much time on your hands." Matters become even worse when the friend remembers her manners and offers to pay for the shoes, then rescinds the offer when she learns of the real cost. "I'll give you two hundred," she says, while turning up her nose. Implied: "You ought to start making different choices."
In a wonderful twist, Carrie begins recalling all of the gifts she has purchased for her friend--to celebrate weddings, to mark various triumphs in the lives of the friend's kids. It's not that she resents spending this money, she says; it's just that there's nothing reciprocal. She has taken a path less traveled. Why shouldn't that path be celebrated--in its own way? You take on enough shit when you do something unconventional with your life. (Ask any gay man for confirmation.) Should you also--in the midst of this shit--be required to weather the judgment and faux-superiority of a person who has followed a more traditional path?
Carrie doesn't confront the friend again. She does announce that she is getting married--to herself--and that she has registered for one item: An extravagant pair of shoes at Manolo Blahnik. She informs her friend, and, in a move that makes us love the friend, that very friend gets the message. She buys the shoes for Carrie, and includes a short, sweet note: "Congratulations. We are very happy for you and you!"
The episode ends with a spot-on voice-over: "It's difficult to walk the route of a single woman in NYC. Sometimes, we need the right pair of shoes for support." The twist in the notion of support: The idea that brutally-uncomfortable Blahniks could also be a kind of spiritual boost. Who could argue with that? Great, surprising writing.
Watching this episode, I was startled to note how moved I felt. I imagine it's a favorite among many gay viewers. One of its strengths is that it doesn't say one path is better than the other; both Carrie and her friend are flawed, confused, vulnerable. There isn't really a villain. There's tension, and then there's a surprising and graceful resolution. (In a way, the episode recalls Samantha's struggles in a fancy restaurant. She must silence her cell phone. But why mustn't that mother at the neighboring table silence her cute/obnoxious small child? Samantha asks her question, and the adorable baby flings pesto all over her--Samantha's--face. Both the hapless mom and the frazzled single lady have some issues. They have to coexist; they have to keep moving, despite frayed emotions and basil-in-the-hair. That's New York City.)
At its best, SATC found major depths within apparently small choices (often *sartorial* choices). The show suggested that there is more than one way to live a life--and, whatever we choose, we're going to face pain and embarrassment, and we're going to struggle with misunderstandings and miscommunication. In this way, the show can make a viewer feel less alone. This is not an achievement to "sniff" at.
P.S. The title! A pun on "A Woman's Right to Choose." One of the less irritating bits of wordplay in SATC's long history of verbal hyperactivity. In these troubled times, let's all remember that a woman has the right to choose.
"Sex and the City" came, first, from the pen of a woman, Candace Bushnell. Then it was sort of co-opted by a gay man, Darren Star. Eventually, another gay man--Michael Patrick King--took over. It's King who interests me. King oversaw the emotionally-rich episodes of the late seasons, and King wrote the triumphant first movie. (Did I call that movie triumphant? Yes, I did. Having Miranda meet repentant Steve at the midpoint of a bridge, as India Arie's "Heart of the Matter" played loudly in the background? Brilliant. Having Joanna Gleason, the spiky, cerebral Sondheim muse, in the role of Miranda's therapist? A gift to gays--everywhere. Michael Patrick King also authored the disastrous second movie--but we won't talk about that.)
One thing that bonded both gay men and single women--w/r/t SATC--was the show's awareness of "subtextual judgy-ness." There was--and is--a dominant narrative in America: You are to find a spouse, "settle down," and then spawn some new little humans. If you don't do that, you are in some way deficient. (I, personally, am not arguing this; I'm summarizing someone else's argument.) Regardless of its flaws, SATC did push back against this narrative. It allowed Samantha to have the sex she wanted to have; Kim Cattrall's self-assured performance seems to be a big, loud, relentless "Fuck You" to Catholic America. The show gave us four friends who took care of one another; it asked, more than once, how is this arrangement any less satisfying or functional than more "conventional" choices other characters might make? Gay male viewers--who had a habit of forming new non-nuclear families after having fled the midwest for NYC--responded warmly to the friendships at the show's core.
To me, a major banner-waving "gay" moment in the series is in Season Six: "A Woman's Right to Shoes." Michael Patrick King didn't write this; it's the work of series staple Jenny Bicks. That said, King was the show-runner for Season Six, and it's safe to say he had a role in the plotting and shaping of the episode (and in all late episodes).
"Right to Shoes" famously has Carrie attending a friend's baby shower. There's a rule: No shoes. Appalled, Carrie must shed her Manolo Blahniks, which cost (almost) five-hundred dollars. "But this is an outfit," she says, feebly, and it's to the writer's (and the performer's) credit that we aren't led to roll our eyes at this line. Of course the shoes go missing. Has someone stolen them? (Probably.) Did they disappear into some heap of stuff in this moderately chaotic home? That's a possibility, as well.
Carrie's friend can't seem to feel very apologetic or concerned about the missing shoes. Later, after a fight, Carrie's friend can't even seem to feel concerned about the ruffled feathers, the tension within the friendship. "I'd forgotten all about that argument," she says. Implied: "Really, you have too much time on your hands." Matters become even worse when the friend remembers her manners and offers to pay for the shoes, then rescinds the offer when she learns of the real cost. "I'll give you two hundred," she says, while turning up her nose. Implied: "You ought to start making different choices."
In a wonderful twist, Carrie begins recalling all of the gifts she has purchased for her friend--to celebrate weddings, to mark various triumphs in the lives of the friend's kids. It's not that she resents spending this money, she says; it's just that there's nothing reciprocal. She has taken a path less traveled. Why shouldn't that path be celebrated--in its own way? You take on enough shit when you do something unconventional with your life. (Ask any gay man for confirmation.) Should you also--in the midst of this shit--be required to weather the judgment and faux-superiority of a person who has followed a more traditional path?
Carrie doesn't confront the friend again. She does announce that she is getting married--to herself--and that she has registered for one item: An extravagant pair of shoes at Manolo Blahnik. She informs her friend, and, in a move that makes us love the friend, that very friend gets the message. She buys the shoes for Carrie, and includes a short, sweet note: "Congratulations. We are very happy for you and you!"
The episode ends with a spot-on voice-over: "It's difficult to walk the route of a single woman in NYC. Sometimes, we need the right pair of shoes for support." The twist in the notion of support: The idea that brutally-uncomfortable Blahniks could also be a kind of spiritual boost. Who could argue with that? Great, surprising writing.
Watching this episode, I was startled to note how moved I felt. I imagine it's a favorite among many gay viewers. One of its strengths is that it doesn't say one path is better than the other; both Carrie and her friend are flawed, confused, vulnerable. There isn't really a villain. There's tension, and then there's a surprising and graceful resolution. (In a way, the episode recalls Samantha's struggles in a fancy restaurant. She must silence her cell phone. But why mustn't that mother at the neighboring table silence her cute/obnoxious small child? Samantha asks her question, and the adorable baby flings pesto all over her--Samantha's--face. Both the hapless mom and the frazzled single lady have some issues. They have to coexist; they have to keep moving, despite frayed emotions and basil-in-the-hair. That's New York City.)
At its best, SATC found major depths within apparently small choices (often *sartorial* choices). The show suggested that there is more than one way to live a life--and, whatever we choose, we're going to face pain and embarrassment, and we're going to struggle with misunderstandings and miscommunication. In this way, the show can make a viewer feel less alone. This is not an achievement to "sniff" at.
P.S. The title! A pun on "A Woman's Right to Choose." One of the less irritating bits of wordplay in SATC's long history of verbal hyperactivity. In these troubled times, let's all remember that a woman has the right to choose.
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