"I went to a place to eat. It said 'breakfast at any time.' So I ordered french toast during the Renaissance". --Steven Wright ... If you are a devotee of time travel, check out this song...

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Gypsy: Beyond Treatment

Binge-watch Gypsy on Netflix in you're in the mood for a highly original, riveting, erotic, New York-based, not quite a thriller in the conventional sense but it has a a lot of that too, and a tour-de-force performance by Naomi Watts.

It was especially good to see Watts after her necessarily gonzo, unidimensional performance in the alter-dimensional Twin Peaks: The Return, which was excellent in a very different way.  In Gypsy, she plays psychologist Jean Holloway, who has at least two identities and numerous looks and attitudes.  Watts plays them all to perfection.

The set-up is she's a shrink who crosses the line and gets involved - literally, in at least one case - with the close relations of her patients.   Though her motives could be magnanimous, i.e., born of a desire to better help her patients, we soon learn, at least in one case, that Holloway is doing this much more for her own gratification.  Further, she doesn't even struggle with this - it's as natural to her as stopping by the coffee shop where her main infatuation (or maybe it's true love), the ex-girlfriend of one of her patients, works as a barista. In other words, this is no In Treatment. Now, New York's a pretty big town, and we have to suspend our disbelief that she is constantly in danger of her patients running into her when she is seeing or doing more with one of their loved ones.  That's where the thriller part comes in, and Holloway loves the adrenalin rush.  I liked it, too.

There are good performances everywhere, especially by Melanie Liburd, who plays Alexis, secretary to Holloway's husband Michael, a lawyer, played by Billy Crudup, who does what's needed in portraying a well-meaning character who's usually behind the eight ball about his wife's activities, but gradually gets the picture.  In the end, this first season of a series that so evocatively calls for more is an ode to feminine sexual power, as typified by a scene in which Jean and Alexis each have sexual encounters, against most odds, and Michael, of his own choosing, has none.

Highly recommended for a few late summer evenings, or, I'd bet, a few evenings any time of year.


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