“Whether Tony Soprano or Don Draper, the mysterious men with a complicated past and an even more complicated present reflected not only changes in viewing patterns but also a deep change in how the nation reflects itself on television. But who are the “Difficult Women” of the television revolution?”
Difficult Men, Difficult Women
Americans have a uniquely complicated history with the antihero. We are a nation that wants to root for the underdog and for the hard worker who we want to believe will finally be rewarded for their faith in the system. Recently, this changed, and we all had a VIP seat . . . in front of our televisions. Brett Martin’s book, Difficult Men, traces the major changes in television since the late ’90s. Most noticeably, Martin argues, shows shifted focus in favor of the antihero. Whether Tony Soprano or Don Draper, the mysterious men with a complicated past and an even more complicated present reflected not only changes in viewing patterns but also a deep change in how the nation reflects itself on television.
An antihero is a central character in a story that lacks typical heroic attributes. This type of character traditionally found a home on the stage with Arthur Miller or on the big screen with Martin Scorsese. Television was reserved for the likable and idealized American families of Full House and other sitcoms of the ’80s and ’90s. These characters were beloved and a safe bet for investors. How would an American public react to someone who lives within the gray areas we fear most? What would happen if the mobsters, businessmen, and overzealous cops of the country took the spotlight?
While difficult men appeared frequently in film, their television debut on shows like The Sopranos, The Wire, and Mad Men transformed American shows into more dramatic and well-written work. Before such shows, television was not a medium artists aspired to, but film rejects such as David Chase and Matthew Weiner proved that great writing could revive any platform, big or small. However, what Martin understands that many who write about this revolution fail to is how male-centric the sea of change in television was. At the inclusion of Don, Tony, and Walter, one omits Carrie Bradshaw, Claire Underwood, and Olivia Pope. He writes,
“Though a handful of women play hugely influential roles in this narrative—as writers, actors, producers, and executives—there aren’t enough of them. Not only were the most important shows of the era run by men, they were also largely about manhood—in particular the contours of male power and the infinite varieties of male combat.”1
In addition to the difficult men on screen, Martin also addresses the difficult men off the screen. The idea of being a showrunner or director appeals to the male ego and the artistic need to create their vision. For many of these men, used to being just writers, the pressure of the entire operation caused them to break or attain the level of hubris their characters exhibited on screen.
Martin traces an intense history of not only the characters, or so-called “Difficult Men,” but also analyzes how this trend commenced and continues. Because one book can’t do everything, I am going to break down some of the “Difficult Women” essential to the television revolution. From Shonda Rhimes to Lena Dunham, female showrunners have proven alternative ways of taking power to be equally profitable and creatively fulfilling.
Shonda Rhimes has transformed American television. Creator of Scandal, How to Get Away With Murder, and Grey’s Anatomy, Rhimes writes female characters—many females of color—that are multifaceted and central to her shows. Olivia Pope (Scandal) and Annalise Keating (How to Get Away With Murder) are the most prominent examples. Both are intelligent black women who run the world around them and display many of the same contradictory and antiheroic qualities of the men described in Martin’s book. Olivia, a political “problem solver,” finds herself at the center of Washington DC scandals, while Annalise finds her power over interns at her law firm. Both women also occasionally defend guilty people. Whether a politician trying to cover up an affair, or run the defense for a criminal trial, Olivia and Annalise will put morality aside if it means getting ahead in a white-male-dominated world. This causes them a lot of problems, not only with men in their lives, but other women, whom they also toss to the side. Not only are Olivia and Annalise antithetical to the American notion of a female professional, but also to the “girl-code” that female friends are encouraged to follow. Shonda Rhimes creates worlds where women are just as destructive, problematic, lonely, and successful as the men.
The shows that Martin focuses on are exclusively dramas. He suggests that as the Bush era moved forward and American influence abroad became heavily criticized, antiheroes and drama became more useful tools of reflection than comedy. But comedic writers Lena Dunham and Issa Rae created female antiheroes as complex and effective as the characters Martin discusses. With the premiere of Girls on HBO, Dunham created a new sense of how social satire could be as equally game-changing as drama. Whatever one may think of Dunham herself, she created a poignant satire of millennial Brooklyn that at once makes fun of its narcissistic tendencies and hipster coffee shops while still treating rising rent and a lack of job opportunities as serious issues. Issa Rae’s Insecure, also on HBO, has a similarly satirical tone but applied to Los Angeles. While Girls was criticized for being focused solely on the white millennial experience, Insecure not only shifts to a different coast, but places black millenials at the core of the show, presenting a different side of gentrification and millennial life. Issa Rae (writer/creator of the show and main protagonist) and her friend, Molly, are morally complicated, dealing with societal expectations in a rapidly changing world.
While the discussion of female representation in film and television continues to grow in the #MeToo era, it is also important to ask what kind of representation women desire. By having more complex female characters, like the antiheroes discussed above, our culture can move beyond the oversimplified binary of being good or bad. We need to represent women as complete human beings on various points on the spectrum of human emotions. If we start to see this reflected in the media, it will help change the way we conceive of women and their power to be just as good and just as bad as men. No longer on the periphery, women of all shapes and backgrounds will take up more space in the culture and after that, the government. As these changes occur, hopefully with the increased support of female writers, directors, and actors, those who review and critique television will give equal attention to the shows and films of females as they do to those of men. This must also extend to festivals. Female directors are routinely left out of festivals, making it harder for their films to be seen and reviewed. While Martin is an intelligent critic with great ability to reflect on the history of television and how it is changing, it is also crucial that we have more female critics who can analyze and promote the work of women. Media made by women and for women are often ignored or misunderstood by male critics. It is time for a change on screen and beyond it.
The celebration of male complexity and the condemnation of female complexity has shaped who is canonized and who is remembered to have written the revolution. Martin’s book asks important questions about what it means for difficult men to be seen, but it also discusses what it means to be seen and celebrated. Let us lift up, praise, and celebrate women who create art reflecting their humanity!