SPOILER ALERT: This piece con­tains, well, all of them.

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The four-episode “Gil­more Girls” re­vival, which de­buted Friday on Net­flix, of­fers fans plenty of ma­te­rial to cri­tique. Aban­doned plot­lines (Lore­lai and Luke’s 20-minute foray into preg­nancy sur­ro­gacy), miss­ing key char­ac­ters (Sookie), not enough Dean (im­por­tant to some peo­ple), oc­ca­sion­ally flat di­a­logue (the first ex­cru­ci­at­ing few min­utes), un­likely plot de­vices (Lore­lai re­ally can’t think of some­thing nice to say about her fa­ther at his fu­neral?) and ab­sur­dity with­out charm (the Stars Hol­low mu­si­cal, the Life and Death Brigade se­quence) abound. But its worst sin, for which no one as­so­ci­ated with this pro­duc­tion can be for­given, is re­veal­ing that Rory Gil­more is ac­tu­ally a mon­ster.

The old Rory had flaws, but she re­mained a rev­e­la­tion—a shy, smart teen girl who gets the guys is still a rar­ity on TV. The new “Gil­more Girls” episodes only high­light the worst of Rory’s qual­i­ties: her im­pul­sive­ness, her self­ish­ness, her in­flated sense of her own worth, her ten­dency to quit at the first sign of trou­ble— and now she’s a grown woman, one who doesn’t seem to have learned from any of her mis­takes. The re­vival also in­tro­duces us to a ter­ri­ble new qual­ity in her: amoral­ity. Turns out there’s noth­ing rev­e­la­tory about an adult who moves through the world so thought­lessly.

Ten years have lapsed from when we last saw Rory vic­to­ri­ous, grad­u­at­ing from Yale with a jour­nal­ism job and a newly sin­gle sta- tus. But Rory at 32 feels more like what Rory at 24 might have been. She is free­lanc­ing here and there but ap­par­ently not mak­ing a liv­ing—as she puts it, she is “broke.” Some­how, though, she main­tains a res­i­dence in Brook­lyn and reg­u­larly flits back and forth from Lon­don, where we find her car­ry­ing on a point­less af­fair with her col­lege boyfriend, Lo­gan.

Mean­while, Rory has a boyfriend of her own, Paul, to whom she is so in­dif­fer­ent that she can’t even be both­ered to break up with him, de­spite cheat­ing on him re­peat­edly with Lo­gan and once with a guy in a Chew­bacca cos­tume. A run­ning joke in the new episodes, that ev­ery­one re­peat­edly for­gets about Paul, feels like a rip-off of the Ann/Egg story line from “Ar­rested De­vel­op­ment.” Worse than be­ing de­riv­a­tive, though, it makes Rory seem un­be­liev­ably cal­lous.

Rory’s pro­fes­sional mis­steps don’t do much to en­dear her to view­ers. She throws away a per­fectly good op­por­tu­nity to write for GQ and squan­ders an in­ter­view for a gig that she deems be­neath her. In­form­ing her mother that she will be re­veal­ing the painful de­tails of her past in a book and then throw­ing a tantrum when Lore­lai (un­der­stand­ably) ob­jects isn’t ex­actly a pro move or a de­cent thing to do, ei­ther.

She does not, to my rec­ol­lec­tion, ever ap­pear to be read­ing, when her vo­ra­cious book habit was what sep­a­rated her from the typ­i­cal TV teenage girl. And maybe most ir­ri­tat­ingly, she re­fuses to ac­cept the cir­cum­stances that have placed her back at Stars Hol­low (her lack of job, her lack of di­rec­tion), an­grily snap­ping at all the kind town folk who wel­come her back: “I’m not ‘back’!” And why is she al­ways ha­rangu­ing peo­ple about this miss­ing red out­fit of hers? Girl, keep­ing track of one’s clothes is a fairly typ­i­cal adult ac­tiv­ity.

As for Rory’s sur­prise preg­nancy, no judg­ment there—per­haps be­ing a par­ent will help her chan­nel some of her mother’s for­ti­tude.

It’s not like we never saw Rory make a mis­take in the orig­i­nal se­ries. She made huge, life-al­ter­ing ones, like sleep­ing with her mar­ried ex-boyfriend, steal­ing a yacht and drop­ping out of Yale. But they were the sins of a very young woman who was both sen­si­tive and a lit­tle bit self­ish. We for­gave and em­pathized with her mis­takes, partly be­cause we saw how much they pained her and partly be­cause she wasn’t like any TV char­ac­ter we’d seen.

But re­gret or re­morse, or even self-re­flec­tion, do not seem like qual­i­ties that the new Rory is fa­mil­iar with. Call­ing the Rory of to­day “flawed” cre­ates a too-gen­er­ous com­par­i­son to more-in­ter­est­ing lead­ing ladies such as Ali­cia Flor­rick, Nancy Botwin, Cer­sei Lan­nis­ter or, frankly, Lore­lai Gil­more. Rory isn’t “flawed.” She’s sim­ply un­kind and un­grate­ful, in the most com­mon way pos­si­ble. Her fans de­served bet­ter.

Alexis Bledel (left) as Rory and Lau­ren Gra­ham as Lore­lai in ‘Gil­more GIrls: A Year in the Life’

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