‘ I Love Dick’ finds comedy in art, sexual obsession
Awful characters worth the trip to Marfa, Texas
When it comes to our own stories, we all want to be the artist in charge.
That hasn’t always happened in TV for women or people of color, who so often saw their stories bought, chopped up and repackaged by white male writers and executives. But new outlets have opened new opportunities — allowing women such as Jill Soloway ( creator of Transparent) and Sarah Gubbins to turn a female artist’s memoir into an Amazon series, and staff that series exclusively with women writers.
The show — I Love Dick ( streaming Friday, eeeg out of four) — will not speak to everyone. But for those willing to listen, there’s a fascinating story here about the power of art to open our eyes, and the power of an artist to transform herself and the world around her.
For some, no doubt, an initial hurdle will be that title, which comes directly from Chris Kraus’ highly praised 1997 novel and serves as something of a Rorschach test. If you see it and think “clever,” “funny” and “bold,” this is the show for you. If you think “vulgar,” “trite” and “embarrassing,” maybe not — particularly because those adjectives can apply to more than just the title of this sometimes smug, self- conscious series. But there’s more here, as well, in Kathryn Hahn’s funny, no- holds- barred performance as a woman who is tired of being overlooked — and finds freedom and art in being the one who does the looking.
Hahn plays Chris, a filmmaker of indeterminate talent whose work and life are overshadowed by her condescending husband Sylvere ( Griffin Dunne). Chris’ plan is to drop Sylvere off in Marfa, a Texas artists’ colony, and fly to Venice, where her latest movie has been accepted for the film festival. And then Venice drops her film, and her plans change.
Enter Dick ( a perfectly cast and just perfect Kevin Bacon): cowboy, artist and Marfa’s leader, who immediately belittles Chris’ work. She responds by writing a series of letters proclaiming her obsession with him. When the letters become public, they change the way people see Chris, Dick and each other, unleashing a sexual tidal wave.
Though unalike in tone, in a way Dick works as a companion piece to Amazon’s Mozart in the Jungle. Neither show is afraid to present its artists as preten- tious, annoying or buffoonish — but both take art and the desire to create seriously, a rarity on TV.
The major difference is that while the characters on Mozart are conventionally likable, those on Dick are not. As viewers of Transparent know, Soloway specializes in self- obsessed characters who somehow manage to be both awful and empathetic. It’s not always clear that Soloway or her actors know how awful these characters are — but the mix works because they remain believable and because they’re not asking for our approval.
Like Chris, and like Dick, they demand to be seen. Try giving in.