[Any reference in this post to Sex and the City pertains only to the HBO TV series and has nothing to do with either of the movies. I really adored Sex and the City when it was on HBO, and now I feel the same infatuation with Nurse Jackie. I enjoy both series immensely. So I’d rather not see the comments turn into a debate about the merits of the movies. If you want to discuss the big screen SATCs, you can find opportunities for that here and here. Please try to keep your thoughts on this topic corralled in the TV arena, ok? Thanks.]
Four fascinating women. One’s a confident, successful professional with the glamorous flamboyance and privileged demeanor we see when intelligence meets an entitled birthright. Her free-spirited sexuality is tossed off with the casually fierce independence of a woman who’s rich, single and loving it. The youngest of the four is a tenderhearted sweetie, an innocent naif who’s gradually wising up to the ways of the world. Quietly observant, but not yet jaded by what she’s seen, she remains unsophisticated in the best sense of the word. Another of these women is a non-nonsense realist, dedicated to a thankless job of administrative responsibility attuned to every nuance of public image and legal liability. We gradually discover her stern pragmatism masks more soulful longings and a surprisingly girlish sense of fun.
The dominate force in this group of deeply engaging women has some of the best and worst qualities of each. Her messy complexity bridges the gaps in their backgrounds. The central female figure of this wonderful group of girlfriends has been through so much hell and self-inflicted emotional turmoil, by all rights she ought to have a far more jaundiced outlook. But she’s seemingly indefatigable; driven by an engine of resilience borne of cynical self-awareness, fending off inner demons and external foes with devastating flashes of whiplash wit.
Bonding in pursuit of common goals these four women form a loose-knit and rather unlikely sisterhood.
Do the broad outlines of these personality types sound vaguely familiar? The brash cosmopolitan lady I’m taking about here is similar in a lot of ways to HBO‚Äôs Samantha Jones ‚Äî but on Showtime she’s Dr. Eleanor O‚ÄôHara of All Saints Hospital, played with elegant glitzy aplomb by the gorgeous Eve Best. She breezes through the ER in silky tops and party-girl heels, dressed to kill but on hand to resuscitate.
Does the wide-eyed and preternaturally perky ingenue with the childlike innocence remind you at all of sheltered Charlotte from SATC? She does me too; but on Showtime’s terrific series Nurse Jackie, these traits are embodied with huggable warmth by Merritt Wever as first-year nurse named Zoey Barkow. Hers is the angelic face you want to wake up to in ICU feeding you ice chips and eager to make your stay in the Trauma Hotel as pleasant as IVs and catheters allow.
These comparisons didn‚Äôt really dawn on me until a third important player emerged from the subplots as one the most unexpected pleasures of Nurse Jackie‚Äôs ensemble. With a merciless glare and tough-minded disciplinarian presence, she’s saddled at first with a script-bound tendency to scold. Her impatience with any nonsense is a lot like Miranda Hobbes’ attitude in Sex and the City. But just as it took me a while to warm up to Miranda‚Äôs air of frazzled agitation before I started to admire her backbone, I needed several episodes of Showtime‚Äôs series to see past the severe exterior of All Saints administrator, Gloria Akalitus. I should have know the writers couldn‚Äôt let the talents of the remarkable Anna Deavere Smith go to waste. She‚Äôs been a real joy to watch the past few weeks, breaking the restraints of a constricted role, carving a place for her character with all the assurance and clear-eyed efficiency we‚Äôd expect from a woman presiding over day-to-day matters of life and death.
The parallels between Carrie Bradshaw and Nurse Jackie Peyton at first seem more of a reach. One tragic aspect they have in common is their refusal to settle obediently for any sort of ordinary existence ‚Äî they‚Äôve achieved a lot and want even more, They gather so much in their arms, they’re in danger of losing their grip on all of it. They‚Äôre both searching for a level of fulfillment they seem to think is out of reach. Though maybe it‚Äôs their tendency to demand the most of themselves that creates a restless sense of dismay with the many rewards right in front of them.
These leading ladies are both battered idealists, but the beating they’ve taken is largely self-induced. If at times we felt like we wanted to wring Carrie Bradshaw’s bratty neck, we want somebody to slap a dose of sense into Jackie Peyton even more. It was easier to forgive Sarah Jessica Parker since we were often willingly complicit in her dreamy flights of fantasy. But because Edie Falco is playing a mother and a caregiver, it’s more of a shock to see how recklessly she lets her anxiety veer into risky behavior and watch her self-medicated sideshow spin out control.
If you know anything at all about Nurse Jackie, you’ll have heard that she has a serious — and wretchedly hilarious — problem with prescription drugs. How she manages to maintain her precarious balance as a high-functioning addict is a horrifying marvel to witness week to week. That’s perhaps another twisted Jackie/Carrie overlap, their obsessive fixations: Nurse Jackie’s Oxycontin is equivalent to Carrie’s Manolo Blahniks. Jackie hoards narcotics like Carrie collects cute pumps. And with that distinction drawn you can begin to see how the relative stakes of their dilemmas give Nurse Jackie an entirely different level of crushing gravity.
Is there another actress alive who owns the aura of exasperated stress and shattered fortitude like Edie Falco? Or any who can alleviate the pressure of her characters’ ghastly burdens with such acidic blasts of verbal retaliation from tight-lipped hissing release valves?
Sex and the City brought to TV a groundbreaking celebration of feminine resilience. Screwy role-models, for sure, but the girls earned our admiration when we saw them banding together in a united front. Sex and the City tackled some serious issues, but as much as I always enjoyed seeing work through the litany of issues, the series never let us forget that normal human foibles were incidental hurdles for these four invincible women to skip past with their fabulousness. And that’s fine. It was wonderful. There’s no reason to deduct points because it’s main aim was light entertainment.
As surreal and wickedly sick as some situations in Nurse Jackie may be, they‚Äôre grounded in flesh and blood troubles. It’s recognizable and relatable damage, and I feel invested in seeing the wreckage get fixed. The humor is naturally much darker than most other half-hour series, and I think that could be a cause for concern of category confusion. It’s really not a comedy, even by today’s non-traditional standards. It’s a serious drama that just happens to be infused with some of the brightest writing and snappiest dialogue on TV. If it were up to me, all four of these actresses would be nominated for Emmys. (Marion Ross turns up as an elderly patient, in a shocking image of disheveled neglect that will make you wonder how Richie Cunningham could have deserted his mom ‚Äì that’s a guest performance I’d put on my Emmy short list, too.)
Like I said before, even though the series is viciously funny, it‚Äôs riveting because the lives of a loving husband, troubled kids and critically ill patients are at stake for Jackie. That‚Äôs probably one of the reasons I have so much trouble talking friends into checking this series out. Though the acting and writing are as good as anything on TV, I promise you, it might seem like little more than an R-rated Scrubs for some who‚Äôve seen one too many ER shows throughout the history of television. But you know, like deserted islands, hospitals are amazingly intense self-contained microcosms of dramatic potential. We wouldn‚Äôt shrug off Lost just because we‚Äôve seen Gilligan‚Äôs Island. Anybody who’s not watching Nurse Jackie is missing a marvelous update on the four-sided sisterhood pioneered on Showtime’s rival channel a decade ago.
Even though I missed the first few seasons of Sex and the City when they originally aired, and didn’t catch up till late its run, I can see how those sparkly brunches every Sunday night might have become an addictively frivolous injection of appointment TV, a bubbly outrageous gasp to top off the weekend. The film sequels to Sex and the City are not even part of the same series for me, but so what? There‚Äôs no denying their massive popularity.
After a period of weirding out about Sex and the City this summer, it’s now clear that I don’t have to let the current resurrection ruin what was so brilliantly exhilarating about that original girls club — the Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte of the small screen will never fade in my heart. But I do miss spending time with a warm and supportive group of female friends. So now that the best days of SATC are a memory, I’m glad to have Jackie, Eleanor, Gloria and Zoey on the scene — four magnificently complex women whose well-crafted fictional lives are once again worthy of my fickle affections.
