As I said in my review of the premiere, I’m not reviewing the podcast on which this show is based, and I am absolutely not “reviewing” the life and death of the real Molly, or the experiences she shared with the real Nikki. Maybe this is exactly how things went down. Certainly no show is under any obligation to be a huge bummer just because a critic is goth and likes depressing sex stuff like In the Realm of the Senses better than the more uplifting alternative.
But let’s say it did all go down like this. Molly never had any need to earn a living during her illness. Her estranged husband kept her on his insurance, even as he formed a happy new family. Her “sex quest” was more or less effortless, guided by her palliative care counserlor, its culmination coincidentally living across the hall. Her best friend gave up everything for her but didn’t give up anything in the end — same great boyfriend, even better relationship with his quasi-estranged daughter, even better gig in showbiz as a skilled director instead of struggling actor. Her ex-husband is having a baby with his wonderful new partner. Her ex-junkie mother who never respected a boundary of hers in her life finally got the picture and was a helpful, warming presence instead of a draining one. Death itself was greeted with a cheery “Let’s get this show on the road!”
Let’s say it all happened like it did in Dying for Sex. Again, no show is required to be bleak. But shows about dying from cancer, I think, are required to explore the ways in which they aren’t bleak a lot better than this one did. Money, beauty, a unflagging support system, legions of sexual suitors, a love that demands little of her but gives her a cure for her lifelong trauma — with one or two very obvious exceptions!!!, Molly has so much going for her, and Dying for Sex doesn’t address any of it as such even once. For all the skill of its execution, it’s half a show.
I reviewed the finale of Dying for Sex for Decider.
Tags: decider, dying for sex, TV, TV reviews