hipstercrite says

Lena Dunham stole my life: Why I’m jealous of Girls' success

Lena Dunham
Photo courtesy of HBO
Allison Williams, Jemima Kirke, Lena Dunham, Zosia Mamet in HBO's 'Girls.'

After finding myself rolling my eyes at yet another Internet ad for HBO's new series, Girls, I had to finally admit to myself that my aversion to Lena Dunham is stems from my utter and complete jealousy of her.

I've never wanted to be that girl who dislikes other girls simply because they have something I don't. I try to be supportive of my gender because we girls need to look out for one another. I think Dunham said it herself in a recent interview — "a success for one woman is a success for all of us."

Or she could have not said that, I'm not sure. I've read so many freaking articles about her lately, I can't keep track. But if she did say that, maybe she's right. Maybe she'll pave the way for us narcissistic twentysomethings who love talking about our less-than-unique neuroses and "problems." We need a champion, dammit!

Or maybe she just fucked us all.

My issue with Dunham developed after viewing the first 20 minutes of her freshman feature, Tiny Furniture. My initial excitement for the film quickly turned to revulsion when I realized that not only could I not relate to the film, but I couldn't even understand what all the hubbub was about.

Though I, like many girls, had an early twentysomething existential crisis in the form of self-loathing and bad decision-making similar to that of the heroine, I found Aura absolutely obnoxious. And not in an "I was exactly like her — this is too hard for me to watch!" kind of way. More like an "I know this is loosely based off of Dunham — why do the rich kids always get famous so easily?" kind of way.

Let’s face it: Most people hate on Lena Dunham because they think, “Oh, I can do that!” Maybe we can, maybe we can’t. Maybe we’re not talented enough, or maybe we’re not lucky enough.

If I dig deep down I can recognize that there is a part of me that despises Dunham for becoming the voice of my generation. This is not an idea she herself believes, but one that critics, fans and HBO editors have rallied behind. She is The Golden One and all us other twentysomething creatives who think they have something special to say are turds.

Let’s face it: Most people hate on Lena Dunham because they think, “Oh, I can do that!” Maybe we can, maybe we can’t. Maybe we’re not talented enough, or maybe we’re not lucky enough.

Even being objective, I can confidently say that Tiny Furniture is not a special movie. What is special is Dunham's writing, which must be a large reason why the accolades for Girls have been so wonderful. She is witty, and she's smart, and I can't take that away from her.

Vogue calls her a modern day female Woody Allen, and as much as it pains me to read something like that, what if it's true? What if the title so many of us anxious and awkward lady Jews strive for just got taken? (I’ll still gladly give that crown to Sloane Crosley)

Girls premiered last week. Even if I had HBO, I'm not sure I'd watch it. I'm afraid of loving it. I'm afraid of hearing dialogue I wish I wrote and cursing Dunham while raising a fist to the sky. I want to like her and I want to support her. I want to stop judging her for the things she has that I do not. But above all, I want the assault of Girls advertisements to stop being a constant reminder of my creative failures.

Update: I finally watched Girls. Though I still have complaints similar to the ones I have with Tiny Furniture (“Oh God, can these women get anymore unrelatable and cringeworthy?!”) the Judd Apatow sheen made for a slightly more digestible viewing. Though I wasn’t wowed by the premiere, I’m curious to see where the show goes.

You’re slowly winning me over, Lena Dunham. I’m still jealous of you though.

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Movie Review

Elizabeth Holmes' doc You Can See Everything is an audacious genre-bender

Photo courtesy of A24

Nathan Fielder and Elizabeth Holmes in You Can See Everything.

Elizabeth Holmes faced one of the most public downfalls in recent history after she was accused of defrauding investors in her health technology company, Theranos. Her subsequent indictment and conviction drew the interest of many, including, it seems, comedian/actor/filmmaker Nathan Fielder. Fielder somehow convinced Holmes and her husband, Billy Evans, to make a documentary about her final days of freedom, called You Can See Everything.

It’s not immediately clear why Fielder — who only has one previous feature-length documentary to his credit — is interested in profiling Holmes, but the approach that he and co-director Lance Oppenheim (Primetime) take is one that puts Fielder in the spotlight as much as her or Evans. Fielder looms over the couple — sometimes literally, sometimes from afar — as they care for their children, make meals, try to re-establish business relationships, and prepare for Holmes’ prison sentence, which is due to start about a month after the film begins in 2023.

Fielder quizzes Holmes and Evans about predictable subjects — such as how Theranos worked, her relationship with COO Sunny Balwani, and her conviction — and ones that are slightly off-kilter, including the miniseries The Dropout, which dramatized Holmes’ rise and fall. He is met with seeming openness by both of them — the title of the movie is uttered by Holmes at one point — but there are times where their idea of transparency doesn’t jibe with Fielder’s expectations.

Through it all, the quirky reputation that Fielder has from TV shows like Nathan for You, The Curse, and The Rehearsal colors his participation, as well. He appears sincere, if surprisingly intense, in his questioning, but there are more than a few moments where it’s fair to wonder if the whole thing is an act of performance art. That suspicion grows in the second half of the nearly three-hour film as Fielder and Oppenheim go down roads that stretch the definition of what a documentary is or can be.

The film is utterly fascinating as the filmmakers go on what seems to be a full-on exploration of the meaning of truth. Holmes and Evans, either intentionally or unintentionally, carry on conversations with Fielder with wide-open, unblinking eyes, something that conveys honesty and creepiness in equal measures. Fielder meets them with squinting expressions, looking like he’s trying to determine how candid they’re actually being.

One of the biggest things the film reveals (or does it?) is that — if she’s not a sociopath — Holmes might be someone who’s either oblivious or naive. As cryptic or strange as she can be in words and actions, Evans is even more so, and as the film progresses it’s him whose motives and ideas are called into question. Control over the narrative of the film wobbles back-and-forth between Fielder, Holmes, and Evans, and even at the end it’s unclear whose perspective has truly won out.

There is no way to accurately get across what it’s like to watch You Can See Everything for the first time. The motives of everyone involved are up in the air, resulting in a roller coaster ride that’s full of astonishment, laughs, and a number of surprises. It’s an audacious film that can’t be categorized, one that will challenge the thinking of voters when it comes time for awards season.

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You Can See Everything opens in theaters on October 16.

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