JamesG
11-04-2019, 05:13 PM
"Shrill" Premiere Date
by Vlada Gelman
November 4, 2019
The Hulu comedy "Shrill", starring SNL‘s Aidy Bryant, will return with eight episodes on Friday, Jan. 24.
The new season begins with Bryant’s Annie “feeling pretty good” after facing her demons, including her mom, her boss and her troll, per the official synopsis:
“She also has her boyfriend Ryan by her side. But the high doesn’t last long. … This season Annie is no longer the doormat she once was, but it’s not as easy as she thought to get what she always imagined she wanted.”
https://tvline.com/2019/11/04/shrill-season-2-premiere-date-hulu-aidy-bryant/
From Shrill to Work in Progress to Euphoria, fat women are no longer the butt of TV jokes (https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/shrill-work-progress-euphoria-tvs-fat-women-are-no-longer-a-joke-1271431)
"Fat, it seems, is the new frontier," says Robyn Bahr. "And auteurs like (Abby) McEnany and Shrill's Lindy West have been working to shift the narrative for TV's fat women, who have often been relegated to chipper sidekick roles or the zoo of gawking reality television, to reveal the truths of living in a body that is painfully visible and invisible simultaneously. Series like Shrill, Work in Progress, Euphoria and TLC's new reality show Hot & Heavy demonstrate that fatness is no longer just joke fodder and that these characters/subjects can indeed find love (and be loved by people who don't physically match them, à la This Is Us and Mike and Molly). Refreshingly, these new shows aren't fixated on weight itself — losing/gaining, physical transformation — but the weight of weight: the family pressures, romantic stigmas and self-hatred endemic to inhabiting a fat form in a disapproving environment. Thanks to social changes that occurred during Industrialization, we've come to see fatness as a perversion of femininity: a trait that both over-sexualizes and de-sexualizes a female body that should ideally take up no space at all. From this perspective, fatness is desire; fatness is anger; fatness is failure. It's everything a woman isn't supposed to be. The year 2019 was the year fat women broke through to the mainstream, with Lizzo, Beanie Feldstein, CupcakKe, Aidy Bryant, Naomi Watanabe and others proving that female fatness isn't a monolith that equates to one overarching cultural value (historically, either hypersexuality or comic chops). As a fat woman myself, I'm particularly attuned to how women who look like me are portrayed in popular culture, and I've been astonished to see so many thickly built female celebs suddenly wearing their experiences openly and proudly, which I partially attribute to the successes of the Fat Acceptance Movement and fat feminism. Beyond public personas and body-pos soundbites, however, TV's structured stories are helping expose the molten human core of conflicts surrounding weight."
Aidy Bryant's Shrill continues normalizing fat people in Season 2 (https://theweek.com/articles/890874/shrill-normalizes-fat-people-thats-good-thing)
Season 1 of the Hulu series starring Bryant was "unabashedly about Annie deciding that she will no longer live a stunted half-life spent apologizing for her body — that she will take up as much space as she damn well pleases. She will be fat and loud," says Laura Bogart. In Season 2, Bogart adds, "Shrill still delivers robust barbs against sizeism — this season skewers the capitalist hollowing-out of 'body positivity' — while demonstrating that Annie also has a life of challenges and choices beyond her weight. She worries about readers finding her writing, or whether her father will remain healthy. Her body isn't the site of neurotic fixation, it is the vessel that carries her through the world. No more, no less. Just like anyone else. Just like me. I know how terrifying it is to leap out of the ever-whirring hamster wheel of diet culture."
ALSO:
Season 2 underscores Shrill's weaknesses while barely developing its characters (https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/shrill-review-1270514): "With its Portland Oregon, setting, muted affect and wan cinematography, Shrill could be mistaken for a particularly unmemorable Sundance film," says Inkoo Kang. "But after two seasons (comprising 14 episodes, or a whopping seven hours), it feels like we've only reached the end of a screenplay's Act 1. It doesn't help that this follow-up season tacks more toward satire and comedy, exposing how brutally unfunny the show can be." Season 2's puttering plots, says Kang, reveal Aidy Bryant's limitations as a lead actress. "The comedian mugs for the camera here as she does on Saturday Night Live, pantomiming emotions with the subtlety of a Greek mask," says Kang.
Shrill gets bolder and better in Season 2 (https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2020/01/shrill-season-2-review-aidy-bryant): "If the show’s first season was about a young woman daring to call out abuse–from strangers, bosses, her mother, men–this new one is more about learning to push beyond that," says Karen Valby, adding: "In its second season, the show isn’t screaming for our attention. Instead, it trusts that a smart and funny woman’s steady progression into a fuller life is its own kind of battle cry."
This season of Shrill, much like the last, manages to find itself in a very sweet spot between true-to-life and heartwarming (https://www.salon.com/2020/01/24/shrill-review-season-2-hulu-aidy-bryant/)
Meet Patti Harrison, whose malevolent one-liners steal the show (https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2020/01/shrill-season-2-patti-harrison-interview)
Showrunner Ali Rushfield wanted to take advantage of Annie's Season 2 self-confidence: "We wanted to show someone having a newfound superhero power" (https://variety.com/2020/tv/features/shrill-season-2-annie-fat-relationship-goop-conference-interview-1203476558/)
Aidy Bryant says she had to fight for her Shrill sex scenes (https://www.vulture.com/2020/01/aidy-bryant-shrill-snl.html): "How can you have a story about a person’s body and about their relationship to their selves and not involve sex?,” she says. “I just always felt like so many fat characters were so sexless, or the sex was hypercartoony, where it was like she jumps on a man and she’s going to break his dick off and suck him until he’s dead or whatever. But I always was having cool sex and had boyfriends."
Bryant admits it feels more natural playing a self-confident character this season (https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/tv/story/2020-01-24/aidy-bryant-shrill-hulu-snl): "Basically, playing this season felt more real to me in a lot of ways because I think it’s quite closer to kind of where I am in my own life. Nine out 10 days I feel good about myself," she says. "... The image that comes to mind is basically a trip wire. Where it’s like you’re going through your days, you’re feeling good and then something or someone happens to you. It’s similar to the thunderbolt of pain with Twitter. There’s a zing in your life and you kind of have to reach inside yourself and work through it and keep going. I think that’s more comparable to what life feels like for me at this point. But certainly, first-season Annie was me in my early 20s. She’s a lot of us."