Sunday marked the end of the third season for HBO’s smash success, Girls. Lena Dunham, who also portrays the character Hannah Horvath, created the show. Girls has been touted as the Sex and the City for the 20-something crowd.
It details the lives of four friends living in Brooklyn, all of whom are “Millennials” attempting to make their mark on the world. Girls had a massively successful first season, with praise lauded on creator and actor Lena Dunham’s writing and feminist edge. Still, criticisms were well founded: All four main characters are white, and all actresses who portray them come from well-to-do families (Alison Williams, for example, who portrays Marnie, is the daughter of Brian Williams, NBC Nightly newscaster).
The characters are difficult to like. Being self-centered is the common trait that binds them together as they collectively whine about each other’s actions. Dunham defended her characterizations, stating at the Television Critics Association Conference that she “love[s] them.”
“I love writing them,” Dunham said. “I’m excited by the unique ways they fail and succeed… I think they accurately reflect people I know, people we’ve all been. I think they’re all trying their hardest.”
In many ways, that holds true. We all have selfish outbursts and moments of deep insecurity, but if Girls is an accurate representation of the majority of people, men included, leaving their teens and becoming 20-somethings—as a nation, we are in a lot of trouble.
At its core, Girls thrives off the idea that all of us as individuals are undeniably special. Everyone is unique, and everyone deserves everything that they set their minds to. Consider the opener of the first season, episode one: Dunham’s character, Hannah, is cut off financially by her parents, who have been paying more than $1,000 per month for her to be able to live in Brooklyn. She is devastated, arguing that all she needs to compose the new great American novel is $1,100 per month for the next two years.
“Mom,” Hannah says, “I don’t want to alarm you, but I may be the voice of my generation. Or, at least… a voice of a generation.”
That line alone was almost enough to make me give up on Girls for good—but I stuck with the show, and now, at the close of three seasons, I think I’ve seen enough. Hannah has a job and moved in with her boyfriend, but is still unsure if she really “feels” 24. Marnie’s college degree is essentially useless at this point in time, as she is now working as a personal assistant in an art gallery to a woman the same age as her. Jessa is a cocaine addict, still in possession of a killer British accent, dating a man twice her age who she met in rehab. Shoshanna is about to graduate from NYU with a degree in mathematics, but will likely be buried in debt.
There are streaks of accuracy, sure—but by and large, Girls is a celebration of wealthy young women who feel they are entitled to much more than they deserve. It’s hard to drum up pity and sympathy for girls who, as Shoshanna so quaintly put it, “have accomplished so little in the four years since college.” Quite frankly, most people will never be put up in Brooklyn, one of the most expensive places to live in the country, by their parents. Even after Hannah is cut off by her parents, if she was really in trouble, she could go stay at her parents’ house to sort it all out. The only character touted as being without parental support and completely independent is Jessa, and she’s living with Shoshanna, buying cocaine, and waking up at noon—hardly a role model.
There is something to be said for being supportive of the successful career of a woman such as Dunham—a self-proclaimed feminist without fear of putting herself out there. Most of Girls, according to Dunham, is based on personal experience. Dunham is indeed a triple threat, as she writes, co-produces and stars in Girls.
It is crucially important that women writers are able to have their voices equally represented in media across the board. That being said, perhaps Girls should be viewed as a cautionary tale. After finishing an episode with my mother, she turned to me and said, “If you ever end up like the women in this show at 24 years of age, I’ve failed as a parent.”
Send your thoughts to Justine at technician-viewpoint@ncsu.edu.