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There’s somebody for everyone in Ilene Chaikens 2004-2009 Showtime series The L Word. With it’s DVD box-set emblazoned with the ironic sub-title ‘Same sex. Different city’, the series plays on some semblance to Sex and the City, with two main differences. New York is replaced with West Hollywood, Los Angeles, and with the exception of Kit Porter (Pam Grier), the token straight woman, almost all the characters are lesbians. However, as Tim Goodman has noted, The L Word one up’s SATC’s exploration of the lives and loves of a group of successful, post second-wave feminist women with “more true sex and more dramatic intent.” And watching the pilot of season 1, it’s not difficult to see why.
Entry into the world of Los Angleles lesbians is generated by writer Jenny Schecter (Mia Kirshner), who moves to Los Angeles to be with her boyfriend Tim Haspel. But Jenny’s life, like the show, almost immediately takes a turn from the straight and narrow when she spies two naked girls having sex in a pool next door. A party later that day immerses Jenny into the lesbian world, where she is plunged into an illicit affair with the beautiful Marina Ferrer (Karina Lombard), owner of the hip café The Planet. Here is the meeting place of a slew of attractive, successful young lesbians from various walks of life. There is art world mogul Bette Porter (Jennifer Beals) and partner Tina Kennard (Laurel Holloman), Jenny’s neighbours, who are attempting to find a sperm donor in order to have a baby. Also part of the group is unlucky in love tennis player Dana Fairbanks (Erin Daniels), peppy bisexual journalist Alice Pieszecki (Leisha Hayley) and androgynous heart-breaker hairdresser Shane McCutcheon (Katherine Moennig).

Alice with Lisa
It is this initial crew from which spawn the plotlines of the first season of The L Word. This covers Jenny’s exploration of her sexual identity and relationship’s with Tim and Marina, Bette and Tina’s struggle to fall pregnant, Dana’s first girlfriend and coming out to her conservative parents, and Shane’s affair with hollywood wife (guest star Rosanna Arquette). Not to shy away from complex sexual relationships, season 1 also covers Alice’s relationship with ‘lesbian-identified man’ Lisa. In later series, more complex narratives of sexual and gender identity are explored with with trans-man Max Sweeny’s (Daniela Sea) struggle with his chosen gender and questions of what it means to identify as ‘woman’ or ‘man’.

Shane
The question of whether The L Word can be seen as a success on feminist terms is a tricky one. Certainly, there is room for criticism. The overriding criticism the show has received is for its lack of diverse representation of lesbians. Almost all the characters can be seen as ‘femme’, and certainly ‘butch’ is almost nowhere to be found amongst the pretty people of L.A. Those who are slightly less femme still hold an aesthetic that is attractive in some kind of feminine sense; even super-thin, androgynous Shane certainly comes nowhere close to butch. The second criticism is a difficult one to situate in the feminist ranks also; the sex. From the pilot onwards, almost every episode grants us flashy, sexy, girl-on-girl nakedness, the only pair of breasts not to be glimpsed at any point of the show seem to be Bette’s; the rest are on show from the word go. These two criticisms go hand in hand; is The L Word un-feminist for only depicting ‘hot’ lesbians having (potentially) gratuitous ‘hot’ sex? Feminist author Ariel Levy apparently thinks no, writing in her article ‘Why The L Word Matters’ that The L Word corrects pervasive cultural beliefs that lesbianism itself is ‘not that sexy’. In a persuasive argument, she writes that The L Word’s sexiness throws off second-wave feminist ideas of lesbian separatism as a form of protest, instead asserting the validity of a woman’s desire for another woman being the central reason for being a lesbian. Secondly, The L Word sets up lesbians not as a marginalised group but instead, if you are a lesbian, reflects the “terrain of your social life reflected back at you on television, cool and glamorous for once.”
I tend to agree with Levy. Sure, the sex on The L word can be seen as a not-so-strategic marketing pull for both male and female viewers and thus be a source for criticism. Or, it can be seen as the first time that lesbians have ever been depicted on television as successful, glamorous and as part of a central, thriving community with it’s own entanglements and drama’s, it’s own social codes and hangouts, and an unmistakable sense of both togetherness and normalisation. Which is not only refreshing, but revolutionary. Unlike its predecessor SATC, The L Word promotes a community of women who don’t rely on men, for sex, happiness or self-fulfilment. That said, the show is not anti-male. It does frequent a series of male guest stars season to season, which both challenge and build on the female relationships in the show. So whether you’re into art, sport, or literature, (or lets be honest) ultra-femme-ness or androgyny, The L Word (which finished it’s sixth and final season in 2009) can be seen as a significant movement in popular culture, whether you’re into women or not.
OK, so I’m incredibly biased. This film got shitty to mediocre reviews. But I really don’t care – I was hooked. Chloe is an erotic thriller set in Toronto, Canada, starring Amanda Seyfried, Julianne Moore and Liam Neeson. The cinematography is quite stunning – Toronto is crisp and beautiful, a city made of icicles and cool, glassy architecture. The camera angles situate you as a spy, hovering above the scenes and peering through sheer panes of glass, around corners, through fences and mirrors.
Chloe (Seyfried) is an escort hired by Catherine (Moore) to seduce her husband David (Neeson) whom she suspects is cheating on her. Chloe reports back to Catherine, describing her and David’s intimate encounters, while the camera takes us back to depict some of them visually. Catherine listens, gradually getting more and more obsessed with knowing the details of her husbands affair.
Their meetings culminate in an erotic sex scene which Catherine instigates in the name of feeling closer to her husband, after Chloe attempts to kiss her earlier that same day.
Then comes the twist. What (and who) has Chloe really been doing? And why?
Despite the “bad lesbian must die to reunite the heterosexual family” angle that I should probably criticise the film for, I’m afraid I have to let it slide. Julianne Moore is just too damn hot, and the sexual tension between her and Seyfried did work for me, despite the fact that both of them said how odd and “different” it was acting it out. Now I’m looking forward to seeing her in another lesbian relationship with Annette Bening in “The Kids are Alright”.
Go, J. Moore.










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