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Monday, March 1, 2004
Sapphist Realism
Since it debuted on Showtime, there’s been a lot of noise about The “L” Word — one hears mention of it in everything from Leno to Gilmore Girls. But every reference I’ve heard thus far is a reference only to the show’s premise — not to any specific incident, character, or memorable line — which suggests that while everyone’s heard of the show, not many are actually watching it.
Why not?
Part of the problem is that, at its core, it’s a pretty run-of-the-mill soap. It doesn’t have the cleverness or originality of a Six Feet Under, the craftsmanship or colorful characters of a Sopranos, the memorable catch-phrases of a Seinfeld (whose “not that there’s anything wrong with that” regarding the uneasy acceptance of open homosexuality is heard from time to time even today), or anything else that might warrant discussion at the water cooler. Indeed, as happy as I was to see Mia Kirshner working again (I’ve been a fan of hers for a while), I’ve been unable to find motivation enough to sit through more than a few episodes. The “L” Word is, to be blunt, a very bland show with bland characters whose only remarkable attribute is that they’re all lesbians.
Ah, yes, lesbians — so alluring, yet so taboo ... in the seventies, perhaps. Certainly most homophobes are more preoccupied with gay men than gay women, and in any case the novelty of lesbians on TV has been wearing pretty thin for decades now, especially since anyone with a subscription to Cinemax has long been inured to the idea of girl-on-girl TV sex — and more graphic sex with better looking girls than on The “L” Word at that. In this day and age, the tepid Red Shoe Diaries-type erotica on The “L” Word comes off like the attention-starved girl in the bar who starts making out with another girl in a desperate cry of “Look at me, dammit!”
But if The “L” Word’s lesbians offer little in the way of titillation, they offer even less in education: It’s the show’s overt mission not to reflect and promote lesbian culture as it currently exists, but as the show’s creators feel it ought to exist — that is, as a glamorous, hipster culture in which Dior and Gaultier replace the more familiar flannel and mullets. The result comes off a bit like propaganda, where the agenda comes first and story-writing second; like in Socialist Realism during the Stalin era, there’s too little that’s real in the Sapphist Realism of The “L” Word to ring true to anyone, gay or straight.
But who knows? A lot of people might still fondly remember Jennifer Beals from Flashdance, and nostalgia can sometimes trump gimmicky dreck.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
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