The
L Word has
made lesbianism visible on the small screen in grand
scale, depicting lesbian relationships as both sexual and complicated.
As the pioneering cable TV show suits up for a third season
on the Showtime network, this lesbian series has become compulsory
viewing for most women who like women, regardless of whether
they happen to like melodrama.
A
fine program with a good serving of Alice and Dana’s quirky-cute
humor to counterbalance its other characters’ constant
displays of self-destructive behavior, The L Word is
understandably full of the precious overacting and drummed-up
melodrama that fuels its addictive brand of soap opera.
The
L Word, especially in its first season, also flaunts a
Fred Segalized chic-punk fashion dynamic and exhibits a mostly-femmy,
professionally-classed community in which café owners,
high-powered art curators, and sports stars reign, and carpenters
end up with the short end of the stick.
In
The L Word’s second season, however, two characters
representing the younger, struggling generation come more into
focus: Shane falls into a barbiturate haze after quitting her
stint as a production assistant and becoming vulnerable to love,
while Jenny takes up amateur stripping to battle her abuse-based
relationship and self-image issues, exacerbated by her roommate
Mark’s voyeurism.
The
L Word’s second season retains a fair, albeit lesser,
amount of the first season’s bourgeoisie slant. A newly-single
Bette is “meat tagged” by a gaggle of white-collar
lesbians, likely due to as much to her closet o’ power
suits and wallet o’ disposable income as to her lovely
curls and pouty beauty. The L Word’s vision of
lesbian lifestyles, while widely expanded upon in season two,
is one originally conceived of based on Hollywood’s prestige-
and appearance-based culture.
That’s
not to say it’s not a fantastic, engrossing show and a
giant leap towards lesbian representations on TV; it is.
But
The L Word’s tendency to take itself tres seriously,
as well as its upscale setting--wherein the Charteau Marmont’s
swimming pool looks deliciously steamy and $5,000 is easily
shelled out for a single dress--is rife for satire.
That’s
where The D Word, a pet project of executive producer
Dasha Snyder, comes in.
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