Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
It’s always a general rule of art — the more members from marginalized communities are allowed to create, the more interesting and insightful the work becomes. The era of peak TV has certainly produced that, introducing audiences to mainstream shows about everything from life as a trans parent to lolling reflections about a side of Atlanta we never see on screen. However, one of my favorite new trends is exhibited best by its female-created comedies. Abbi, Ilana, and Sam Fox have absolutely no time for the parade of insecurities that can be the masculine ego.
The fragility of masculinity has been something that’s mocked and discussed often in the age of the internet, especially when it comes to insane marketing strategies. But most shows, which are still largely created and written by men, tend to gloss over this particular well of material. If a male character is insecure about the artificial standard of masculinity he has established for himself, that’s typically cause for an entire episode about getting him back on manly track. Very few shows, particularly comedies, take the time to shrug off these artificially constructed standards, and even fewer examine what women think of this phenomenon.
That’s what makes Broad City such a fun watch. Abbi (Abbi Jacobson) and Ilana (Ilana Glazer) are surrounded by male insecurities, but they never define these women, their relationship, or this show. Broad City is always going to be about these two best friends, everyone else be damned. Their contact with male breakdowns are few and far between, but when they do happen, they stick out. In Season 4’s premiere, a man with a bubble blower shoots the toy at Abbi’s crotch, telling her that she must be wet. That’s when Ilana colorfully rips into him, ending with “That’s your symbol of masculinity, a bubble gun? Good luck living the rest of your life.” The man is silent for a moment before breaking down and crying. This moment illustrates a large reason why Broad City is such a deeply enjoyable show. It can have insightful conversations about gender, sex, sexuality, and race while calling someone a “needle-dicked bitch.”
This isn’t to say that the show doesn’t like men or portrays its male characters poorly. Hannibal Buress’ Lincoln is secretly one of the best romantic leads on television, and every male character from Trey (Paul W. Downs) to Jaimé (Arturo Castro) is hilarious. However, there is a sense of confidence that Broad City reserves for its favorite characters the rest of television largely lacks. These men are allowed to be funny, interesting, insightful, and masculine all without having a near-constant breakdown about constructed standards about their gender. It’s refreshing.
But whereas critiques of masculinity color the fringes of Broad City, it’s all but the centerpiece of Better Things’ second season. No matter where she turns, Sam (Pamela Adlon) can’t seem to get away from needy, insecure men. First there’s her ex-husband, a man who is rarely there for his three daughters but consistently asks Sam to cover for him and argue that he’s not a bad guy. Then there’s her Max’s (Mikey Madison) new boyfriend Arturo, a man who’s generously 20 years her senior and is clearly a terrible match for her largely immature, teenage daughter. But Sam’s frustrations with men who can’t get past their gender-based hang ups comes to a head in “Robin.”
In the episode, Sam goes on an unexpected weekend getaway with Robin (Henry Thomas), a single father she meets at a poetry reading. Things are going great until the she asks where they’re staying for the night. He wants to keep it a giant secret and escort her through this “perfect” date he has planned, but Sam wants her own room. In that moment, Robin’s expectations of what a date should be and how his date should act clash with the actual needs of the woman before him, and he comes close to throwing a temper tantrum. It’s ugly, frustrating, and the already worn-out Sam has no time for any of it.
That’s the theme of these very funny women who are forced to deal with the insecure men around them — they don’t have any patience for this nonsense. They don’t want to be the Sherpa or the sympathetic nod in this journey through societal constructs of gender. Instead, they’re the centers of their much more exciting adventures. Abbi, Ilana, and Sam all want the same thing from everyone — for people to be cool and to be themselves. Very same, ladies.
