The Indian Age has entered its second term – Weekend
[ad_1]
Thirty-year-old women, friends, live in Manhattan, go on dates, build a career, buy dresses, sit in cafes and constantly discuss sex and relationships: this is the summary of “Sex and the City” – and then, in the nineties/zeros, this formula for women life ensured the series a tremendous success. Exactly the same women are doing in the series “And Just Like That” – only 25 years have passed, and they are no longer 30, but well over 50 – and it looks depressing. Not because they have aged, but because they have not changed at all.
“And Just Like That,” the second season of which recently ended, is a frankly weak series, there is no need to expose it, few people liked it anyway, just look at the rating. But one thing is interesting and revealing about it – it makes a very characteristic substitution: under the guise of anti-ageism, it promotes a set of ageist (and sexist) clichés. Moreover, this is not done maliciously, but sincerely: the authors seem to be sincerely confident that they have given their heroines the opportunity to cope well with age.
If in the first season these women painfully adjusted themselves to the norms of the new ethics, tried to cope with their suddenly realized old age and, as they say, were looking for themselves again, then in the second this weight has already been taken: they again fell into a rut.
True, it turns out that this is a well-known rut for them and for us – a woman in the world of “And just like that” is not supposed to do anything other than once chosen: she can quit her career, but if she decides to return to it, she will do the same as before . Men in this world can afford to retrain from stylists to bakers, from carpenters to farmers, from who knows what to Buddhist monks. For women, a demonstration that at over 50 everything is still possible is a return to approximately the same positions (actually a little worse) that they were in 25 years ago – after various life cataclysms and manifestos about change.
Carrie, having received advice to allow herself everything that will help her get out of depression, returns home with a bunch of bags of shoes (the same stiletto heels, yes). Charlotte, deciding to prove to herself, her family and everyone around her that she is a person and not a housewife crazy with control, again goes to sell paintings in a gallery, like 25 years ago (yes, in almost the same dress). And even Miranda, who is going through the most seemingly serious metamorphoses, returns to the work of a lawyer, although not a corporate one (and yes, to the same trouser suits).
But it’s not just about the profession – the entire life strategy has been restored in full. The heroines have no new interests, no new passions, no new ways to spend their leisure time, they are left with only their old joys – they start relationships, experience them emotionally and discuss them with each other.
“Look at us – we’re 56 and we still have hot sexy dates!” Miranda says to Carrie. This is the main marker of youth offered by “And Just Like That”: they want you – that means you’re ok, get laid – age is defeated. Scenes of hot sex (usually in the missionary position) open the season and run through it like a red thread. As enjoyable as hot sexy dates can be, the idea that your self-worth should depend on being in demand on the dating market forever sounds, frankly, scary. That is, our heroines never managed to jump off the turning circle they entered a quarter of a century ago – they remain spinning among the so-called positive clichés of youth, loyalty to them unites the bourgeois inhabitants of the Upper East Side with the left-wing professors of Columbia University from Brooklyn. It is also noteworthy that all this persistent sexualization of progressive older women occurs at the same time as progressive young women are fighting this sexualization.
True, to the theme of relationships with lovers was added the theme of relationships with growing children – and here the heroines are overtaken by a complete disaster. In their interactions with teenagers, they reproduce the entire set of parental platitudes, which by definition infuriates them. The series gives them the opportunity to still be alive and funny and cool with each other and those around them; why it forces them to be such sad clowns with their own children is impossible to understand. And again, it’s the women who have it so bad; the fathers behave absolutely normally with their children.
And, of course, clothes. The way the heroines are dressed here can be summed up in about three words – “all the most ridiculous things.” How can women resist aging? Of course, choosing the wildest colors and patterns, the most bulky and extravagant styles and the most uncomfortable shoes. The men here are dressed like men, the teenagers are dressed like teenagers, and only the main characters are wandering through the New York snowstorm in pink coats with fur earmuffs or dragging some kind of crazy train behind them through the snow. At the same time, if 25 years ago in their clothes, hairstyles, makeup there could be – and indeed often arose – negligence, disorder, fun, then at 50+ this is not allowed: only well-groomedness, only perfection. Hair should be styled in elastic waves, the color in front of the eyes can only blur during the moment of truth that has come from a hangover.
All this predetermination and predetermination of the female world in “And Just Like That” arises from a simple and essentially deeply ageist (and sexist) idea: age (female) is something that must be overcome. You must constantly strive to make everything available to you that was before, constantly chase after your former self – but as if at a new stage. Real anti-ageism tells us something completely different: aging is a chain of losses and constant adaptation to them. And if you invest in this adaptation, in changing yourself and your life circumstances, and not in maintaining the appearance of youth, then new opportunities, new joys, and new freedoms will arise along this path. Among other things, freedom from the need to always be dressed up and desired. But you don’t have to use it at all.
Subscribe to Weekend channel in Telegram
[ad_2]
Source link
