Gypsy's Jean Holloway at the Top of Maslow's Hierarchy

“All drama is conflict; without conflict, you have no action. Without action, you have no character. Without character, you have no story. And without story, you have no screenplay.” 
~Syd Field, Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting

The new Netflix 10-episode series “Gypsy,” released on June 30th, has been widely panned, though some reviews have exhibited mercy and a few have even been relatively positive. Like any movie or TV series, it’s only as good as the script. Many critics have savaged the show for its snail pace (with one critic suggesting that you need only watch episodes 1, 7 and 10 to get the full picture, and another critic suggesting that half-hour episodes would've been more palatable). But I think the pace is just fine. When the story-telling is slower and more deliberate, you feel more like you’re a fly-on-the-wall, silently observing the characters, discerning subtle character insights. This is especially true when the characters are engaging and compelling, and you have a keen interest in how they live and what choices they make. When you’re a fly-on-wall, there are mundane actions and boring dialog to endure, but that’s part of what makes the tone feel more realistic.

What’s unforgivable, though, are the clichés in the script. Phrases like “mother knows best” and “you can’t judge a book by its cover” are cringe-inducing, especially when said phrases are exchanged between the two female lead characters as they engage in flirtatious behavior. If ever a script could have benefited from a script doctor, this is a shining example. That's the extent of my negative criticism, though. Despite the clichés in some of the dialog, the show has artistic and thematic merit, particularly because it ruminates on the two key common afflictions of modern day life in first world countries.

A script does more than set the pace and define the dialog. The other key function of the script is to lay out the character trajectory (or, as Christopher Moltisanti of The Sopranos so endearingly refers to it with his New Jersey accent, the “arc”). The lead character’s arc is alluring as an anti-hero model. Jean Holloway, a therapist based in Manhattan, is enduring a typical mid-life crisis made worse by her impulsiveness and her ethical lapses. 

What’s evident in the beginning is that Jean’s arc is of the “first world problems” genre. Initially, on the surface, there doesn’t seem to be any obvious conflict for Jean to resolve, other than a somewhat prickly (and arguably typical) relationship with her mother. Her husband Michael, a successful attorney, is devoted and genuine; their sex life (always a good barometer of a relationship) is robust and thriving. She and Michael have a darling nine-year daughter named Dolly with tom boy-like characteristics. They live in a splendid home in Fairfield County, Connecticut, one of the wealthiest suburbs in the U.S., enjoying lives among the 1% (even if it does involve obligatory social engagements with narrow-minded neighbors).  

Conflict Driven by Affliction

Jean’s primary conflict is slowly bubbling under the surface. She suffers from the two key components of any modern-day mid-life crisis in developed countries:

• Mid-life reflection on significant life choices and the resulting trajectory of one’s life
• Boredom with a settled, routine life (the Jack Nicholson “what if this is as good as it gets?” question)

These afflictions are atop Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, characterized as “self-actualization.” All of Jean’s fundamental needs are taken care of; she is wrestling with the pinnacle of the hierarchy, self-actualization. Who am I, how did I get here, and how should I act now?

At the top of the pyramid, self-actualization is comprised of the following characteristics:

• Morality
• Creativity
• Spontaneity
• Problem solving
• Lack of prejudice
• Acceptance of facts

Morality and Problem Solving

Jean engages in highly questionable behaviors as a therapist; chief among them, violating personal boundaries in the context of a professional relationship with her clients. In one case, she casually befriends the daughter of a client at a beauty salon. Both the client and her daughter are completely oblivious that Jean has covertly inserted herself into these women’s lives; it’s highly unethical behavior. 

From Jean’s perspective, she is engaged in problem solving; the mother and daughter are at an impasse in their relationship, and Jean is frustrated by the lack of significant progress. Jean exploits the insight gained during therapy sessions to directly influence the trajectory of these women’s lives. This exploitation clearly exhibits Jean’s sociopathic tendencies, and yet there’s an angle that she’s not really breaking the rules, she’s simply “just trying to help.”  But there’s a reason why professionals are trained to respect the confidentiality of their sessions with clients. By not doing so, Jean is living by her own set of rules, pushing the boundaries of the end justifying the means.

Spontaneity and Creativity

The most profound blurring of boundaries occurs with Jean’s client named Sam. Sam is a young man struggling with the effects of a difficult break-up with a young woman named Sidney. Throughout multiple therapy sessions, it emerges that Sam has had a highly co-dependent and combustible relationship with Sidney (involving matching tattoos, no less). 

Jean seems unable to maintain a healthy professional distance between herself and Sam’s descriptions of his relationship with Sidney. The more Sam reveals, the more intrigued Jean becomes; she eventually commits another egregious ethical lapse and introduces herself to Sidney at her workplace (a local coffee shop called “The Rabbit Hole”). She introduces herself to Sidney with a false name, setting the stage to interact with Sidney as an alternate persona, thus laying the foundation for a mountain of lies.

From the initial meeting at the coffee shop, the primary trajectory of Jean’s character is established. “Diane” (Jean’s alter-ego) and Sidney play a highly flirtatious game of cat-and-mouse throughout the first six episodes, mired in a “will they or won’t they?” framework, until episode seven’s consummation. There's fierce anticipation mixed in with subtle nervousness, as Sidney takes Jean by the hand as they abruptly leave the bar for her apartment. 

The pre-coital game of "Truth or Dare" is a potentially disturbing foreshadow of season two, as Sidney asks an exceedingly dark question, "If you were going to kill someone, how would you do it?" Jean's answer is not grisly but is disturbing none-the-less; she doesn't flinch at the question and recounts how she would exploit the victim's weakness by getting to know them. After "Truth or Dare," a bit of dancing to this superb groove, some toking and the requisite pizza and licorice, it's time for bed. 

The sex scenes in "Gypsy" aren’t gratuitous. The evening at Sidney's apartment is a manifestation of Sidney’s successful seduction of “Diane,” and of Jean’s roguish deception. Jean even has the audacity to tell Sidney that the reason she "broke up" with Michael was because of Sidney (or, because of what Sidney represents). The fabricated tales just keep getting spun, burying unsuspecting Sidney in a trough of lies. Perhaps Jean's story portends an ominous event later.

Sidney's lust shines through the entire interaction. Is Sidney's lust for Jean largely driven by the mystery that she has not yet untangled (but longs to)? Or is the sexual attraction more layered than that? Like any fledgling sexual relationship, it's nuanced and complex for both parties. Jean studies herself in the mirror the following morning and doesn't seem to like what she sees. Though we don't know what she's thinking, it's likely that the weight of her deception is starting to intrude on the ecstasy of the fantasy.

Jean’s relationship with Sidney is spontaneous, precisely in contrast with the established routine of her daily life. It provides her with a new layer of sexual experimentation and excitement, not only because Sidney is strikingly gorgeous and charismatic (and 20 years her junior), but because Sidney is a woman. A sexual relationship with a woman is exactly the kind of spice that Jean thinks she needs to abate the monotony of her marriage. But Sidney is alluring to her for other reasons; Jean sees characteristics of herself in Sidney, such as a devil-may-care attitude, a defiance of societal norms and an enviable lust for life. Jean is also intrigued by Sidney’s creativity as a singer in a local indie band. 

In Sidney, Jean is able to assuage the longing for an alternate life she may have had, had she chosen to forgo the traditional trajectory of career and family. At the same time, Jean chides Sidney for failing to create a “back-up plan" and become “an adult” with “responsibilities.” This chiding secretly comforts Jean for choosing the traditional path (though Sidney is none the wiser, because of course she doesn’t know the real Jean). Sidney, poor darling, perceives Jean as “unencumbered” and can’t understand why Jean is concerned with the traditional trappings of career and family.  

The grand irony is that Jean pursues Sidney in an attempt to escape from her encumbrances.  

Acceptance of Facts

Jean is not able to accept the facts of her circumstances, and therein lies her core conflict. Instead of accepting the fact that even the most fortunate among us suffer periods of boredom with routine, she remains unsatisfied. She indulges her impulse to retreat into sexual fantasy, setting up a dangerous artifice of lies as an alternate persona. Jean is in a place in life where she doesn't want to accept the facts as they are; and maybe that's ok. Maybe she is rebelling against all of the facts she has earnestly accepted all of her adult life. 

Without any kind of visible moral quandary, she engages Sidney in a relationship and doesn’t seem to consider the consequences that will likely crush Sidney when the artifice collapses. Or, instead of crushing Sidney, perhaps the revelation will only further compel Sidney to up the ante and engage deeper with Jean. 

It's not at all clear how Sidney will react when the facts do eventually emerge. We don’t yet know the price that Jean will pay for failing to accept the facts; season two will illuminate the situation. At this stage of the story, Jean has a long way to go to reach self-actualization, and there's a strong possibility that she'll leave a trail of heartache in her wake. There is a fierce strand of irony throughout Jean's engagement with Sidney; while she is presenting a false narrative to Sidney, she is simultaneously wrestling with true and very potent feelings that are driving her to explore her suppressed sexuality. 

What will be the cost of her identity exploration? Will she lose her husband? Will she disengage from her family? Will she further delve into her sexual relationship with Sidney? How does an intense extra-marital sexual relationship fit within Jean's personal and public persona? What is Jean's "plan" for her engagement with Sidney; is it deeper than infatuation and experimentation? What constitutes a fulfilling and satisfying sexual relationship and how does it contribute to identity? We NEED SEASON TWO to further explore these real questions of mid-life female identity in the public and private domain.

Note: On August 11, Netflix announced it was cancelling Gypsy after one season.