Girls on Girls - Season 2, Episode 1
Last year, we had mixed feelings about Girls, which, when given a little breathing time turned into starry-eyed infatuation. We weren’t alone. The show took out two Golden Globes (Best Comedy and Best Actress for auteur Lena Dunham) and was responsible for some of fellow lady-people Tina Fey and Amy Poehler’s best jokes of the night*.
Last night, the second season kicked off on Showcase at 8.30. Through the mystical power of screeners, we ensured our favourite female writers (Shoshannas, one and all) have already watched it. We asked them all to share their thoughts.
*“If they’re making you do all that nudity, we can call child services.”
Season Two begins with three girls severed and one untethered. Shoshanna has lost her virginity, Marnie has lost her job, and Jessa has lost all sense of her place in the world. Hannah, on the other hand, has found freedom. Sure her perfect new roommate might call her a c-nt behind her back, and an Ayn Rand reference at the episode’s conclusion is as much foreshadowing as head-joke, but what we’re seeing here is a girl in her stride.
When Dunham took out the Golden Globe she said she felt validated (what’s not validating about being called The Best in a ball gown?) but she also said she felt less alone in the world. Before switching on Girls last night, I was, for a deck of flimsy reasons, crying on my apartment floor. Being 24 with no real problems is hard sometimes. After Girls had pitched their fits, like only your best-worst friends can, mine stopped. Watching a comedy of errors can remind you of the humour in your own.
Last night, the cats stole my chèvre from a rocket-salad as Mummy watched the new Girls.
I cannot be certain but I believe this makes me the hemisphere's most bourgeois single cat-lady; a wretched title for which I'd feel more shame were it not that Hannah outdoes us all.
In Season 2 – newly gorged on Golden Globes – Horvath and co. show few signs of emotional maturity. They're all still appalling. Phew. Lena Dunham's premier creation remains a glorious, infuriating, middle-class f-ck-wreck. Expect some of the most achingly bad sex you will ever see this side of RedTube; Dunham has extraordinary cinematographic skill in honouring ugliness. Her film-making skills have moved ahead even if our Hannah is still a puddle made from neediness, pretension and ill-chosen dresses.
I won't spoil but I will say that these intimate observations have the punch of a great goat cheese. Which my cats seemed to enjoy a good deal.
Thank the SH-T for Lena Dunham.
The premier episode of Girls Season Two re-introduces us to Hannah Hovarth (Lena Dunham) and her crew of shamelessly dysfunctional twenty-somethings, assuring the show’s devoted audience that the imminent installments will be jam-packed with all the resonant, debasing and filter-lacking action that made the first season so compelling.
Of course, the prime chapter was not without flaws. Although there was a sense of progression (Hannah gets a job, Hannah sort of looks after Adam after he’s hit by a truck because of her, Hannah pretends to “be there” for a now-pathetic Marnie) she remains little more than a petulant, spoilt egomaniac – she announces that she's done being “selfless” – which, in all honestly, was a little bit disappointing for me. Girls has been celebrated for the way viewers – present included – identify with the on-screen triumphs and tragedies, and, at 11pm on Monday night, scoffing down a jumbo packet of Light’N’Tangy chips for dinner, I was hoping that, at least on-screen, life had evolved a little beyond the realm of a new (racially diverse) boyfriend and being an Opening Ceremony-clad calamity. (Of course, many would say that this is the show’s essential point.)
It was, however, satisfying to see that though Marnie’s (Allison Williams) life is a clustered mess, she’s dropped some of that stifling smugness and makes some admirably bad judgement calls, while Shoshanna (Zoisa Mamet) emerges as the show’s prime comic, who, after 10 episodes of being a highly-anxious one-dimensional virgin grows into a somewhat self-aware, and – dare I say it – level-headed emoji-blasting scene-stealer.
As usual, the show fluctuated between being overtly contrived (it is comedy, after all) and acutely insightful, where after a season of contemplating and thus concluding that you love the show’s deplorable retinue, you’re thrown headfirst into to hating them (and in turn, yourself) again. Now, let’s rehash those brilliant one-liners together.