In the first scene of “The Bridge,” Rick Grimes rhapsodizes about the brightness of the future with his quintessential corniness. “We’re not fighting to survive,” Rick tells some unseen figure (though, of course, we know exactly who he’s talking to). His face is half-shadowed, a clear allusion to the dark past he’s…
It’s fitting that Persephone, the goddess most known for her suffering, is finally evoked in the last episode of Sharp Objects. Her story is inextricably bound to daughter-hood, motherhood, and obliteration. The innocent, care-free child of a woman powerful enough to freeze the world, to starve and parch every living…
In “Falling,” Chief Vickery wryly, wistfully, wonders why the women of Wind Gap aren’t content to be ordinary. The whole series has been a study in female extremity: Camille scars her body into a living testament to her pain; Adora and Amma assert themselves through pageants of stylized cruelty; Jackie presents…
Sharp Objects is a dark meditation of a show, long on mood and short on forward action. These six hours have been an imagistic evocation of history and emotion animated by a murder mystery that often seems quite cursory—at least, compared to the terrifying richness of the series’ real story, about how Camille Preaker…
In her seminal essay, “A Grand Unified Theory of Female Pain,” Leslie Jamison assesses the ways that women are violated and wounded, humiliated and abused, throughout our art and our culture. She describes Mina Harker from Dracula, crying out as she’s bitten and drained of her blood; Anna Karenina leaping to her doom…
The episode titles for Sharp Objects offer a kind of wry commentary about the surface and subterranean events of the show: “Vanish” is, on its surface, about the two disappeared girls, but it’s also very much about how Camille, despite her best efforts at self-obliteration, will never be able to truly leave her past…
Sharp Objects is saturated in menace: The ugly, acid-washed lighting that haunts seedy motel rooms, hospital corridors, and fancy manor homes alike; the quick yet hazy cuts between present day troubles and the terrors of the past; and the low and constant thrum of heavy rock music coming out of a cracked iPod conspire…
“Dirt,” the second episode of Sharp Objects, is a study in contradictions. Those contradictions revolve around beauty and brutality, grief and cruelty, familial love and twisted obsession. These contradictions exist in a tight, sharp symbiosis; they’re like the thin sides of the needle that Camille drives…
Toward the end of the first episode of Sharp Objects, a teenage girl tells her half-sister that, “Mama says I’m incorrigible.” Her tone winks with mischief, her words bright with a quicksilver menace. She’s wearing a prim, floral-patterned dress, her mother’s living doll (as she has called herself only moments before)…
“The Key” is simultaneously a reminder of how mercilessly boring The Walking Dead can be (another Rick and Negan bro-off, wherein they “I am rubber, you are glue” each other—and the audience—to death about their respectively crappy leadership styles? Oh joy.) and a tantalizing, frustrating glimpse at another version…
“Dead Or Alive” is a mostly quotidian episode of The Walking Dead. Daryl Dixon scowls in a most dirty-sexy fashion, and otherwise good people briefly flirt with their darker, crueler impulses, only to reject them (as we knew they would)—though those impulses are, arguably, more pragmatic. Jeffrey Dean Morgan plumbs…
