LISTEN FELLAS…

In which Kerri tackles (as a female writer) the kind of content that’s marketed only to females.

 

I remember when the term “chick-flick” started cropping up. It started out as an epithet of sorts to be used solely towards tear jerkers about middle aged women and particularly terrible romantic comedies with plots so convoluted and asinine that the phrase “suspension of disbelief” washed its hands of each and every one of them. Since then, it seems that all categories of media and genres contained within have their own tiny “chick” niche, from tv to music to books. While I may be completely female, I’m lucky enough to be only about 40% “chick,” 50% on the outside. As such, I am both cursed and blessed. I can’t fully escape being inundated with bits of these little pockets of media that I’m expected to enjoy because I was born with girl parts. However, I’m also lucky enough to be able to discern the hidden gems from the steaming piles of excrement. Not everything deemed “chick” is as terrible as you might think; some of it is much, much worse. And some of it is wildly underestimated simply because it centers on women. I’m here to help you discover the difference.

 

Grey’s Anatomy

I just heard the other day that Grey’s Anatomy, currently in it’s 10th season, is poised to continue on for two more seasons. Doing some quick math, I realized that this show has been on a major network for roughly one third of my existence on this planet and I’ve somehow managed to never view a single episode. Until now, that was something of a point of pride, as I automatically equated it to something housewives watched together over multiple bottles of Skinny Girl wine. Still, ten seasons is nothing to scoff at, particularly with the major networks being so fond of employing that “ax that shit within three episodes”  policy for new shows. So, for the betterment of society and to satisfy my own purely morbid curiosity, I decided to find out what the big deal was. An episode and a half into season one, I’d made my decision.

 

 

Why Chicks Love It

I don’t like to judge books by their covers — or tv series by their opening credits — but in this instance, the Grey’s theme montage basically tells you everything you need to know. They oh-so-cleverly match action from surgical instruments on a tray to a hand curling eyelashes, from masculine hands zipping up someone else’s little black dress to latex gloved hands tying up some scrubs, from an IV bag and down the tubes to liquor pouring into a martini glass, finally ending on two pairs of naked legs entwined on a gurney as someone pulls a surgical curtain closed. Obviously, this isn’t your average steamy evening soap, ladies and gentlemen. This is a steamy evening soap about FABULOUS LADY DOCTORS! They’re smart, educated, and worried about landing a man! Just like you! Lucky for these really-very-pretty-but-only-average-by-ridiculous-Hollywood-standards ladies, they’re surrounded by gorgeous man doctors just a-ripe for the picking. Also, along the way, there are,  like, patients to save, or some junk. To set the scene adequately, the first scene of the pilot focuses on our titular Meredith Grey kicking out the naked (and so far nameless) man she drunkenly hooked up with the night before the first day of her surgical residency, remaining pithy and charming all the while. See ladies! You can have it all! Meredith Grey is like the Marlo Thomas of the 21st Century!

Is It Actually Good?

NO. Let me reiterate something here: the first scene of the pilot focuses on the heroine — typically a character intended to be redeemable — waking up naked on her own couch on the morning that she’s supposed to start learning how to be a surgeon, realizing she’s late, and remembering the naked dude on her floor whose name she never bothered to learn. This is not Marlo Thomas. This is not a smart, strong woman who makes intelligent choices based on attaining independent goals. This is, in fact, a woman who is barely better than a drunken college freshman trying to make it to their poorly-scheduled 8am. There is one important difference, though; Meredith Grey has successfully managed to figure out how to pull off this schtick all the way through medical school.  Sadly, in the episode and a half I made it through before wanting to scream, I didn’t get the impression that any of the characters were given any more depth than that puddle that forms on my driveway every time it rains. The little bit of humor they desperately crow-barred in for levity was cringe-worthy at best and, in some instances, down right fucking insulting to the intelligence of the masses. At one point, it’s discovered that a patient – the victim of a very violent rape – actually bit off the penis of her attacker. One of our supposedly clever lady doctors takes one look at the tip on ice and says, “Hm. Well, that’s one way to take a bite out of crime.” I mean, rape jokes are almost always a hit, right? People love them and they almost never incite internet flame wars or anything.

ER was on the air for fifteen years. Remember those first few years when it was actually a really good show about the personal and professional lives of truly caring ER doctors and nurses? Grey’s Anatomy doesn’t, obviously, since the show is essentially a direct lift of those last 6-10 seasons that were purely about which George-Clooney-wanna-be was sleeping with whoever replaced Julianna Margulies.