Skip to main content

Kelli Giddish: "SVU"

 Recently, the NYT put a spotlight on three long-running shows: "The Simpsons," "SVU," and "Curb Your Enthusiasm." (Since "Curb" sometimes takes a few seasons off, people tend to forget it has been around since the President was Clinton. And yet....)


Of these shows, "SVU" obviously has the number-one spot in my heart, and I just have to say I'm so sad about the departure of Rollins. Although Kelli Giddish was less flashy than some of her co-stars, I thought she was consistently plausible. I also thought there was real chemistry between Giddish and Hargitay--for example, it was interesting to see the two dancing around Rollins's tricky love life, or sort-of-avoiding the Aidan Quinn subject--and I think it's risky to excise all of this from the new season (or new seasons).

Finally, I loved the grace notes in the writing. Rollins, a Georgia native, did not always have the enlightened views of her colleagues; Rollins also struggled with her addled father, who had a kind of co-dependent arrangement with a semi-estranged spouse or girlfriend. Rollins worried about introducing her daughters to a new love, and Rollins deliberately misquoted her shrink's advice to avoid a personal confrontation (for as long as possible). And Rollins struggled--in interesting ways--with a hotheaded colleague/boyfriend; Rollins sometimes had a more heroic outlook than Carisi, but she had to manage her anger to preserve an important thing that she had built, a thing that resembled a "normal" domestic life.

I just really liked her. I wish she weren't signing off.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more