Having a female creator/showrunner makes a difference, and it seems to be more and more in vogue. We’ve witnessed one of the most excellent and popular debuts just recently with Jenji Kohan’s Orange is the New Black, and Shonda Rhimes’ Scandal is reaching heights that Grey’s Anatomy only dreamed of. Michelle Ashford doesn’t have a previously successful series to her name like those two do, but she’s developed an impressive résumé with work on the aforementioned HBO miniseries, The Pacific and John Adams. What we tend to see in these female-run shows is that they feature characters who are both women and immensely compelling figures—that is to say, they’re made as real as any male protagonists we’ve come to expect. They’re treated as, you know, people.
This show is dominated by its women, and by stories that we’re likely to have never seen on screen before. People complain about a lack of new stories being told in movies and TV, and yet there are countless stories featuring an entire half of the earth’s population that seem completely untapped. Perhaps the answer to what many (not me, of course!) complain is an epidemic of remakes, sequels and reboots is original stories about real women.
One of the many outstanding achievements of Masters of Sex is that it depicts these women’s stories—which includes the incredible characters of Dr. DePaul and Bill’s wife Libby—alongside fascinating dudes. It seems like this ought to give it broad appeal, that it doesn’t apply an either/or focus when it comes to men and women. Don’t you agree?
It goes without saying that this is a highly ambitious series, tackling loaded issues and facing the temptation of dwelling in provocativeness. Instead, it’s probably one of the smartest first seasons of television I’ve ever encountered, and it seems to only be entering its plateau stage. I can’t wait for that climax to finally come.
