As fans of Girls know, Hannah, Marnie, Shoshanna, and Jessa are big on mouthiness but low on maturity. So each week, blogger Chris J. Kelly is grading the four main characters’ emotional ages based on their words and actions.
Chris took a semester of psychology so he’s, like, totally qualified.
Emotional Age: 11
I’m thrilled that the show has finally begun to explore the consequences of Hannah’s inability to care for herself. And while I don’t want to blame her for her OCD, I have no choice but to reduce her age significantly because, really, she couldn’t be more helpless.
Her situation is made all the more difficult because she’s asking people who she thinks will give her what she wants, while avoiding the people who will give her what she needs. She hides, sometimes literally, from doctors with meds and sound advice, Marnie with her stern pragmatism, and Mom with the tough love. Her preferred brand of support comes from listless Jessa, lecherous Laird (who at least has the good sense not to take the bait) and, worst of all, looney-tunes Adam.
In the end, she’s content to be swept away by a knight in shining armor because she’d rather live in a fairy tale than admit that she’s willfully broken and just throwing herself into the arms of the least stable person she knows—other than herself.
Emotional Age: 25
Speaking of fairy tales, Marnie is pretty sure that she’s getting exactly what she wants. Reaching a boiling point about all the drama with Charlie (including quite a bit that she created herself), she pitches a public fit, storms out, cries, and finally confesses that she’s had the worst year of her life and she loves him.
Truthfully, I don’t know whether to believe her. I don’t know if she’s stable enough to love him or if she just wants that stability he represents. I don’t know if Charlie’s confession that he returns her love is all that accurate either. They seem codependent more than anything else. But you’re only young once, and 25 is about the time to embark on your first serious relationship, and they’ll learn from their mistakes later. Or not, knowing this show.
Emotional Age: 25
Shosh hits a different kind of mid-twenties milestone. Her situation is honestly quite similar to Marnie’s in that she also has a man in her life who she seems to both love and hate. But while Marnie can’t live without him, Shosh can’t live with him, so she kicks Ray out and ends the relationship.
Of course, having just gone through her first significant breakup, she’s free to hit the bars and hit on the men. There’s nothing like being young, single, and ready to mingle. Go get ‘em, girl.
Emotional Age: 25
Since she’s still gone, it’s tough to gauge Jessa’s maturity, so I’m just going to let her be what I assume is her actual age. All these women are supposed to be 25, right? That’s the whole schtick, that they’re in their mid-20s and figuring it out. Please tell me that I have that right. Though if I found out that I had missed the episode explaining that they’re all centuries-old vampires, that would be mind-blowing in the best way.
Anyhow, the only new information we learn this week is that Jessa likes to say she’s above voicemail—on her phone’s voicemail. That’s a solid 25. I’ll give it to her.
ODDS AND ENDS
- While I feel bad for Natalia, who is almost certainly getting dumped, I also feel like she can do better than Adam, so in the long run this is probably good for her.
- What the hell is Colin Quinn doing here? And did he hint at maybe having a life-threatening disease or something? Is there going to be a season 3 subplot in which Colin Quinn dies of cancer? I really didn’t see that one coming.
- Speaking of being blindsided: how is it already the season finale? I’m even more disappointed with this show’s disjointedness now that I know they only had ten episodes to plan. We’re talking about less than five hours of material altogether. Including prep and clean-up, that’s a single dinner party.
- I’m so glad Ray didn’t go back to getting his Ph.D. in Latin, because that would have been so dull to watch. Then again, seeing him manage a fictional Café Grumpy in Brooklyn Heights probably isn’t going to light our world on fire, either.
- I hope Jessa comes back next season. Everyone ended on this really false up note, and she’s exactly the human wrecking ball they need to kick-start another ten choppy half-hour vignettes about shallowly examined feelings.
Quite satisfied with the writing (except the Hannah’s part). All characters have their breakthrough and serious dialogue among each other. And guess who wrote this? Judd Apatow. Seriously, Apatow needs to re-teach Lena Dunham another film writing courses because I just cannot digest her scripts anymore.
Total. Mess. Oh, look — people having sex and arguing. Now MORE people having sex and arguing. Hey, let’s see how stunningly stupid Hannah can be. Let’s have her burn her hand on an Easy-Bake Oven next.
Judd Apatow writes preposterous, and not well. That’s what we got last night. Big, flamboyant scenes prompted by idiots or, more often, nothing.
While I totally believe a woman would frantically try to reconnect with her ex after finding out he’s rich, Williamsburg dudes aren’t stupid enough to take them back.
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