Jimsy Jampots #182 - When TV is written for women

In which I rave about Rivals, and adore Agatha All Along

Things I think

TW for discussion of rape. This newsletter also contains spoilers for Agatha All Along, Rivals, and um, Charmed? Our Flag Means Death? Bridgerton? How does anyone ever write about pop culture without spoiling everything for everyone!? Anyway, don’t read it if you care about spoilers for any of these. It also contains massive generalisations about women and men that I didn’t caveat every time because I trust you and respect your level of intelligence and reading comprehension so don’t think you need it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Rivals, recently. I read the book years ago, when I was new to London and desperately trying to fit in with a cool writer-lady crowd who adored Jilly Cooper and her novels. These women pressed copies of the Rutshire Chronicles into my hands and promised me I’d discover lots of sex and lots of men I would fall in love with within their pages. To be honest, I didn’t find a shocking amount of either - when you’ve gone through your adolescence reading and writing fanfiction, you end up with a pretty high bar for fictional sex scenes - but I still thought they were brilliant.

They were huge tomes, books you could stand on to reach a high shelf or whack an intruder over the head with, and packed with plot: I started with Riders and was astonished by the way it spanned generations without feeling boring or gratuitous at any point. They were sharp and acerbic in places, but astonishingly kind and empathetic in others. Even when you hated the characters, hated them and wanted to scream at them for the stupid choices they made or the evil things they were doing, you understood them. You rooted for them when author Jilly Cooper wanted you to, even if two chapters before you’d prayed for their downfall. They’re all just so wonderfully human, desperately relatable to me despite living in worlds far richer than mine and occupying their lives with things I had no understanding of or care for before I picked the book up.

Rivals was the best example of this. It doesn’t seem like the most promising concept for a novel or a glossy TV show - almost all the reviews of the show start with assurances that even though this is a show about the politics of warring regional television consortiums, it’s still worth watching - and yet, it was gripping. I didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about the nitty-gritty of running a TV station, but I did and do care about the people in Cooper’s novels who cared about it, and so it became of utmost importance to me. My allegiance switched from Tony to Declan to Rupert and back again repeatedly, and even though it’s got more twists and turns than an Action Park waterslide, I never felt less than satisfied. Just like the women in the book, fnaaarrr.

Anyway. I really liked and admired the books and I was intrigued by the idea of a TV adaptation, especially when more and more of the cast was announced. And then the TV show was released so I watched the first episode out of curiosity, and just like that I was bloody hooked. It’s fucking brilliant - I don’t need to tell you how brilliant it is, review after review after review after review has already done so. But what I do think is interesting is the brilliance of this put up against the brilliance of another show that was released at the same time, again on D+ - Agatha All Along.

(I promise this isn’t a secret advert for Disney+. I should be so lucky to be getting Disney money for any of this nonsense. Disney, if you’re reading, call me, I will write unhinged essays on any of your shows if you pay me)

Agatha All Along

On the surface of it, Agatha All Along and Rivals could not be more different. Rivals is an adaptation of a modern literary classic, whereas Agatha is a new addition to the all-enveloping monster that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Rivals has a huge cast and is focused on 80s glitz and glamour and sex appeal, whereas Agatha has a very tight main cast of 5, most of whom are alternatively-styled women above the age of 35. Rivals is raunchy and debauched and full of swearing and explicit shagging, whereas the closest we get to a sex scene in Agatha is a teenage boy telling his boyfriend his arms are distracting. But I loved them. Both of them. Immediately, and with a passion that surprised me. They both felt like they were for me, precisely me, and it wasn’t until I watched them all, followed up with Alma’s Not Normal, that I realised why.

They feel like shows made for women.

This isn’t to say that men or non-binary people can’t enjoy them - said folks enjoy TV and film made for men, aka most TV ever made, just fine - but these show definitely feel made for women, quietly highlighting the things women care about or deftly centering characters that women specifically would fall in love with, even in the midst of plots about something completely different.

Jilly Cooper obviously writes for women, and Rivals reflects that. There’s the fact that the women enjoy the sex just as much as the men for one thing - has there ever been a TV show with quite so much cunnilingus or female orgasm in it as Rivals? Bridgerton came (lol) close until Colin didn’t deliver last series, but even so, every series in Bridgerton has a moment where the female lead has to be taught about their own bodies and desires by a man. Rivals, however, starts with a female journalist having a marvellous fuck in a toilet on Concorde. It has Sarah Stratton bouncing around the Cotswolds shaking her boobs at anyone she fancies for any reason she fancies. It has Cameron Cook directing Rupert Campbell-Black, canonically Britain’s most desired man, to pay more attention to her clitoris.

These are women who know what they want sexually and are happy to go and get it. They are women who enjoy sex, who feel no shame around being sexual, who aren’t punished for their desire. Sex in Jilly Cooper’s world is fun for everyone involved (with one notable exception which I’ll discuss below). It’s as soft and sensual as champagne poured over a bare chest and kissed off, as raucous as a bed so full of naked people you’re not entirely sure what you’re looking at until someone comes up for air, as frantic as two people who’ve spent all evening playing cat and mouse finally tearing each other’s clothes off, and as silly as someone wearing a Santa hat asking if they can come down your chimney, and it’s all wonderful.

This man is now Britain’s best romantic lead, I don’t make the rules

But then there’s the subtler stuff. For example, the entire romance between Freddy and Lizzie, which has sent every single man-fancying woman I know into a tizzy over Danny Dyer of all people. It’s a love story where the highlights are one person bringing the other a typewriter and encouraging their talent, sharing fruitcake on a train, sneaking potatoes and chocolate and giggling over it, and a heart-melting smile with the remark “What a lovely question!”. It isn’t the kind of epic romance written for men, but it pierces right to the heart of many women.

Then there’s the characters! The women in Rivals are so, so complicated, in such a rarely seen way. Lizzie, the forgotten, downtrodden wife finding her power and her own self-worth. Maud, complicated, wonderful dickhead Maud, with all the rage and frustration and desperate loneliness she feels having given up her life for her husband and children - the oddly touching moment after Rupert rejects her where her husband asks “How did you want him to touch you?” and acts it out for her has stuck with me as so beautifully painful and vulnerable, and unlike anything I think I’ve ever seen. Taggie, ignored and lonely and doing everything for everyone else without being seen finally being recognised for how brilliant she is. Caitlin, wild and untamed and sneaking off for Malibu and snogging. Cameron, driven and furious and always on the defensive because that’s how the world has taught her to act, until she finds a place she doesn’t have to be. Lady Baddingham, stoic and strong and dedicated to her husband even while he quietly breaks her heart. The many ditzy, bitchy, gossipy and otherwise delightfully nasty female staff at the TV station. No matter who you are, you can see parts of yourself reflected on screen here, and it’s wonderful.

And even the big story beats feel like they’re explored from a female point of view. A rape is the catalyst for a huge change in Declan’s life, but the whole thing is really understood via how it affects the survivor, Daysee. Sure, it’s a chance to show what a shit Tony is, but through that conversation you focus on Daysee, her hope and her heartbreak, and in the aftermath you see how Joyce (who has been in the business a lot longer than Daysee) tries to balance comforting her and being brutally practical in the way women just had to be back then. In a way they often have to be now. When Declan punches the rapist, his conversation with Daysee afterwards means that he doesn’t get to play the hero, this doesn’t get to be his triumph - it reminds the viewer that no matter what the powerful men do to each other because of this, she is the one who suffers. It would have been so easy for it to have been another example of a fictional story hurting women in order to progress the arc of men, and Rivals doesn’t let that happen. It’s male violence against women seen through a lens of how it affects the woman, and it’s depressing how new and fresh that feels.

I would die for both of these women

There’s more I could say about Rivals, but I should move on to the other show that sparked this off - Agatha All Along. Whereas Rivals had both men and women in lead roles, Agatha is almost entirely female-led, with the one male main cast member literally being referred to as a “pet” multiple times. It’s not the fact that it’s female-led that makes it feel like it was made for women, though - WandaVision was also female-led and doesn’t have the same feel to it.

So what is it about Agatha that makes it feel so women-y? Part of it is simply its focus on witchcraft - women and girls are overwhelmingly more drawn to witchcraft and magick than men. Whereas Wanda’s magic has always just been a thing she does without really knowing why, the magick in Agatha calls to any woman who has ever plucked at the petals of a flower to see if her crush loves her or not, or recited a poem over a lit candle, a rock, a feather and a shell, and hoped her wishes would come true (which is, from my experience, an overwhelming amount of us).

Agatha’s cast was mainly made up of women between the ages of 35 and 75, and it had jokes about kegels in its opening episodes. It had hints of a relationship between Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza that sent every women-loving-woman who watched it slightly lightheaded (Kathryn Hahn got Instagram over the course of the series and when I first checked it the only people I knew who followed her were me and my lesbian friends. It’s a thing). It has deftly dealt-with themes around complicated maternal relationships, men taking away the power of women, specifically black women having their power taken away by men aided by white women, midwifery, motherhood, guilt around motherhood - and guilt around daughterhood, too. Things that resonate deeply with women, but often don’t get explored because they’re not things that men are affected by. Here, they’re front and centre.

It’s also camp as balls in the best possible way. A fight scene that ends with Rio saying to Agatha “I have a heart. It’s black, and it beats for you” before licking away the blood on her hand. The styling of the trials - WandaVision was a perfect pastiche of TV shows generally, TV shows everyone enjoys, but Agatha had episodes that referenced Nancy Meyers films and teenage sleepovers and musicals and it all just feels so feminine. All of it. It’s weird and creepy and intense and slightly unhinged in a way I recognise completely. It’s the weird choices in the “hear me out” meme, it’s the article I wrote half a decade ago about girls discovering themselves on Tumblr, it’s dark romance novels, it’s girls spending ages learning how to do make-up looks or sewing accurate historically accurate clothing from the 17th century, or obsessing over Mr Darcy’s hand tightening, or relating uncomfortable hard to the songs in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - it’s camp and it’s extra and it’s unashamed and it feels like it’s speaking straight to the heart of every woman I know, regardless of whether or not the men in the room really get it. Like I said, it’s not to say men can’t enjoy it, but it’s a show for women. And it feels special because of that.

Aubrey Plaza is LITERALLY Death in this show, and it’s the hottest most women have ever found her. Female sexuality is unhinged, I love it

I’ve gone on way too long here and I’m slightly afraid that none of this makes sense, so let me end with this - TV shows and films from days past, whether they’re for women or not, and why.

Our Flag Means Death - A show for women. Two men in their late 40s slowly fall in love amidst a cast of oddballs who become a found family, explore and reject/accept traditional notions of masculinity and work through their issues together? Give over.

Charmed - Not for women. If nothing else, because the leads were forced into skimpier and skimpier outfits even though they hated it, and because they really thought Cole and Coop were enviable love interests for Phoebe

Gilmore Girls - For women. It’s pumpkin spice latte and fluffy slippers in a TV show, with so many references and jokes about women things and women concerns that you need multiple watches to catch them all even if you’re living it at the same time. Men don’t have a chance

Marvellous Mrs. Maisel - See above, but it’s a little black dress and pearls instead of the PSL and slippers

The Mindy Project - See above, but this time it’s a gel pen with a fluffy pink pencil topper on it. Also, Danny is seen so much through the female gaze, please read here kthxbye

30 Rock - Not for women. That’s not a criticism and Liz Lemon is obviously an icon

Parks and Rec - Not for women. Ditto about Leslie Knope

S1 of Killing Eve - For women. I’ve only seen S1 so I can only comment on that, but both Eve and Villainelle were made for women to lust over and men to fear

Girls/Sex and the City - For women. At the time, at least. I’ve not seen either but anything that generates that many thinkpieces by women about the feminism contained within feels like it has to be actually for women

Bridgerton - For women. Most regency stuff is tbh unless it’s dealing with war

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - For Women. Rachel Bloom took all the things we don’t say and put them to music and doesn’t give a fuck what men think about it

Buffy - Not for women. Weird sexual assault scenes for one thing, and Joss Whedon. And Buffy feels like the exemplification of the first character in that Margaret Atwood quote - “Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it's all a male fantasy: that you're strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it”

Almost everything discussed on Sentimental Garbage ever - For women. Men should really take us more seriously, there is so amazing art in here

It’s been A Week and so honestly, I wrote this in a rush and it definitely feels unhinged. Maybe next week will be better? But I truly believe in what I’m saying here and would love to know which shows you think are, or aren’t, for women, and why.

Until next time?

Love, Amy xxx

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