Season One of The L Word is a mildly flawed (probably necessarily so), spectacular, sexy, alluring drama centering on a group of 6 core women and their various goings-on (and gettings-on). It has the beauty and glamour of Sex in the City, the drama of Angels in America, and the gay-ness of…well…the gayness is all its own.

The first season takes us through 13 episodes of life with Bette (Jennifer Beals) and Tina (Laurel Holloman), a couple who have been together for seven years and are trying to have a baby. They appear to be the essence of stability and relationship wisdom, although that is shown to unravel at times. Bette is the art director of an L.A. museum, and is intense, high-powered, and a bit high-strung. In contrast, Tina is a much softer ex-publicist who has quit her job to prepare for a child. These two actresses have enormously palpable chemistry. Many of the episodes take place (at least partly) in the local L.A. coffee shop/dance club/restaurant, The Planet, where Bette and Tina meet up with their friends Alice (a marvelous Leisha Hailey), Shane (Katherine Moennig) and Dana (Erin Daniels). Alice is a bisexual journalist who is the “energy” of the group – consoling, firing up, and giving some comic relief to her crazy, disparate friends. Shane is probably the most radical (and I think least believable) character. She is an aspiring hair dresser who used to be a street kid big on the drug scene. She has a “no relationship” rule which does not prevent her from running through the list of eligible L.A. women. And Dana is a star tennis player who has yet to come out, and whose utter lack of “gaydar” provides bits of amusement throughout the season.

Rounding out the main contenders, we have Kit (Pam Grier), the (straight) half-sister of Bette who is a recovering alcoholic and hit R&B vocalist. And Jenny (Mia Kirshner), the new waif in town who comes to LA from Iowa to live with her boyfriend Tim (Eric Mabius) but soon is “alerted” to the power of female sexuality. Her unfaithfulness, indecisiveness, and general selfishness is alternately frustrating and empowering.

The existence of this show points to incredible evolutions in the entertainment industry – that we are now able to delve into a woman-centered drama that, while obviously very much involving sexuality, is not about sexuality, per se. One of the complaints of the show is that all of the characters are these gorgeous, well-off, unrealistic portrayals. And that in the lesbian world, you are unlikely to find such people. And it is true that the women in this show are stunning. However, this criticism could be made of virtually any successful prime time show. Yes, there are unrealistic elements here. But the themes are very relevant to people’s lives.

The acting across the board is really excellent. Laurel Holloman (of Angel fame), Leisha Hailey and Pam Grier are, I think, especially tremendous. The relationship between Bette (Beals) and Kit (Grier) is one of the stronger points of the show. It pulls gently on many “issues”…among them race (they share an African-American father but Bette has a white mother), sexuality (it is often assumed by outsiders that Kit is gay because Bette is gay), and alcoholism. But the core give-and-take of their sisterly relationship is an appealing watch.

Each episode of the show begins with about 2 minutes of a seemingly-disconnected scene from another era, that usually has a hidden link to that episode’s plot. It took me awhile to figure out that these intros always are connected, but it’s very clever. For example, one of the more moving episodes involves Dana finally coming out to her wealthy, Republican parents. They do not take it well, and as her mother rolls up the window of her Lincoln towncar to a wild-eyed Dana, she says “All of us have feelings about our girlfriends, Dana. That doesn’t mean we have to act on them.” The first two minutes of that episode showed two young girls in the 1960’s who were riding horses together. One of them, in a flustery moment of pre-teen passion, attempts to kiss the other and is harshly rebuffed. By listening very carefully, we learn that the first girl was Dana’s mom.

Another indisputable strength of the show is the music. Each episode ends with almost a full song, as the show closes with no dialogue. It could easily get tedious, and yet I am always surprised when it comes up. The selections are perfect: Rufus Wainwright’s cover of Hallelujah, Damien Rice’s The Blowers Daughter, Joan Armatrading’s The Weakness in Me, Nick Cave’s Into My Arms. Poignant and powerful, just like many of the episodes.

Season 1 also scores some fantastic guest stars. Tammy Lynn Michaels stars as an obsessive-but-lovable stalker who posts Shane's promiscuity all over town because she is so heartbroken. Holland Taylor is marvelous as an iconic art collector who bonds with Bette and nearly saves her job. And my favorite, Anne Ramsay of Mad About You fame, makes a guest appearance in the last few episodes as Jenny's potential new lover.

Of course, there are a few areas in which the show could improve. A few of the storylines are drawn out too long – by the end, I was so sick of Jenny and Tim’s fading relationship (something we saw coming in the very first episode) that I almost fast-forwarded through her dialogue. And while many of the sex scenes are truly sexy and sensual, occasionally I was made to feel as if they were meant to titillate rather than be a natural part of the story line. However, on the whole this was an excellent first season that explored openly issues only hinted at on other shows. Acting, directing, and cinematography were top notch, and there is nowhere to go but up. It is a 4 ½ stars, rounded up to 5.


Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age