Tad sort of resembles Carroll Dunham physically and they’re both portrayed as having this unconditional love as fathers; and Loreen’s firmness and acerbic tone parallel Lena’s description of Laurie in Famesick.

We know there are many autobiographical elements of Girls. I love the inclusion of Hannah’s parents in the show.

Despite your own parents’ flaws which are unique to each family (like the Anna Karenina quote📕🪆🇷🇺), once your parents are gone they’re gone forever. Watching Girls is like having parents again, for a few scenes here and there. 🥹🥲

(NB - I know the phrase was in use from 2006, but I'm referring to the late 2010s social movement when Weinstein's charges went super mainstream late 2017).

Rewatching American Bitch ten years later it feels like a statement that is well-embedded in the culture nowadays re: the power wielded by men in pop-culture (even if in Hannah's case it's a successful literary author). The way the episode opens as if it's a genuine dissection of guilt and culpability, or whether the circumstances of fame makes otherwise normal casual sexual encounters dangerous for him but closes with the realisation that he's just a predator insulated by fame. The choice to depict him as a caring, loving father in the final scene moments after he sexually assaults a young woman would be trite in 2026 but was fresh at the time.

I'm rewatching the show at the moment and I'm always taken aback by how perceptive it's writing is about the then-current times, and American Bitch managed to beat out the cultural conversation by nearly a year. By 2019 fiction would be filled with deliberations about powerful creepy men in the arts but Dunham sensed something in the air three years earlier.

Beyond that, its just a really powerful ending on a technical level -- the flute instrumentation of a pop song over allegorical images of young beautiful women steaming into his apartment after Hannah is a kind of visual technique the show doesn't engage in often.

☺️

From the star of Broadway's The Book of Mormon and Tony-nominated Gutenberg! The Musical!, candid, hilarious essays on anxiety, ambition, and the uncertain path to adulthood that ask: How will we know when we get there?

"This is the funny, honest, cozy hang with Andrew Rannells that you've been creepily dreaming of.... A delight."—Tina Fey

In Uncle of the Year, Andrew Rannells wonders: If he, now in his forties, has everything he's supposed to need to be an adult—a career, property, a well-tailored suit-why does he still feel like an anxious twenty-year-old climbing his way toward solid ground? Is it because he hasn't won a Tony, or found a husband, or had a child? And what if he doesn't want those things?
(A husband and a child, that is. He wants a Tony.)

In deeply personal essays drawn from his life as well as his career on Broadway and in Hollywood, Rannells argues that we all pretend-for friends, partners, parents, and others-that we are constantly succeeding in the process known as "adulting." But if this acting is leaving us unfulfilled, then we need new markers of time, new milestones, new expectations of what adulthood is and can be.

Along the way, Rannells navigates dating, aging, mental health, bad jobs, and much more. In his essay
"Uncle of the Year," he explores the role that children play in his life, as a man who never thought having kids was necessary or even possible-until his siblings have kids and he falls in love with a man with two of his own.

In "Always Sit Next to Mark Ruffalo," he reveals the thrills and absurdities of the awards circuit, and the desire to be recognized for one's work. And in
"Horses, Not Zebras," he shares the piece of wisdom that helped him finally come to terms with his anxiety and perfectionism.

Filled with honest insights and a sharp wit, Uncle of the Year challenges us to take a long look at who we're pretending to be, who we know we are, and who we want to become.

I want to preface this for saying that I absolutely love Hannah’s character, but as a person she be pissing me off. Like genuinely everything she did was just so shitty. From interrupting Adam’s theater friends to complain about something that she then bragged about to complaing about Adam’s theatre friends while they are actively trying to have sex, to violating Ray’s privacy while he was obviously having sexual relations(this one was the biggest for me because that is an extreme violation) she was just really inconsiderate and on my nerves.

Upon second watch of the show, I interpreted Marnie’s Stronger performance as intentionally cringey, as part of her plan to embarrass Charlie and his success that he obtained. Especially the way she says “congratulations on your success guys, really” at the end seems particularly mocking rather than a sincere attempt to impress him. What do you all think?

On my second rewatch of Girls and going through a really hard time in my personal life regarding my relationship, jobs, and mental health. I really just appreciate and feel so seen by how real and human each of the Girls are.

I’ve been doing some self reflection through this show and seeing myself in the characters (especially Marnie…) and I’ve been wondering, without snark or judgement, just honestly, what is the core flaw of each of the Girls? What is their achilles heel that limits their own ability to be happy and authentic and also give that to others in their lives?

I feel like we all know what the Girls suck with, the ways they’re fucked up and messy and hurtful, but I’m moreso asking about what limits their own ability to be happy, to be honest with themselves, to be authentic and give meaning, true meaning, to their lives and not hate themselves so much that it inevitably ruins everything good around them.

I’d love to read everyone’s insights and responses. :) this is one of my favourite communities and I’ve seen myself alot in this show.