A vandalized advertisement in New York City for the final season of Girls.
Girls has now been formally declared unwatchable by me. I tried to watch the fifth episode last night (after trying to watch it the night before last night with a gifted girl painter), but I couldn’t watch more than eight minutes. There are so many more things to see on the internet than people of whiteness making movies and maybe even a baby.
There’s a cascade of criticism against Lena Dunham and Girls. I’ve said some things. But, up until recently, at least Girls was amusing. That Panic in Needle Park episode, the mockery of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and Hannah falling asleep on the train at the end of the first season were not un-entertaining.
Now, tearing out a tooth would probably be more pleasant for me than watching Girls. What’s particularly tedious about the final season is how hard Girls tries to include at least one person of color in each episode:
In the first episode, it was Hannah’s surfer boyfriend.
In the second episode, it was the owner of the enchanting junk store.
In the third episode, it was the daughter of some strange writer.
In the fourth episode, it was a lawyer.
“Truth and understanding are not such wares as to be monopolized and traded in by tickets and statutes and standards,” says John Milton. But that’s the kind of truth and understanding in Dunham’s 30-minute comedy-drama on HBO.
For a less contaminated truth and understanding, start watching other things (maybe for the first time... maybe for the 10th time).
Watch these stylish and sassy boys and girls create their own worlds:
Watch these people tell about why no one gave much attention to a man who was raping and murdering other men:
Watch a town blame three teenage boys for murdering three children:
If you’d rather read, read this essay by architectural theorist Rem Koolhaas. It’s about how sleazy the world is. I like it when Koolhaas says, “Identity is the new junk food for the dispossessed, globalization’s fodder for the disenfranchised."
