I hoped for more of these bonding scenes, but they’ve got to get to the sex, after all. Or at a dinner between all the girls and their parents, when dynamics of race, gender, and class finally have some weight to them. If you can accept its anachronisms, the show has its moments - especially when it homes in on the relationships among the four roommates - like the antics that ensue when the dorm’s mini fridge stinks and none of the girls wants to take the blame. The episodes range in length from about 25 to 50 minutes, and I wish the writers had used this flexibility to linger more on these topics and less on the “naked party” in the second episode. In another, a cash-strapped Kimberly vows to keep the tags on an expensive dress so that she can return it later, only to rip off the tags once her crush compliments her on it.
In one scene, Bela, who is Indian American, is told explicitly that there are only a few spots set aside for female writers on her college’s magazine, an act of exclusion that might have been more powerful if it had resembled the more sinister microaggressions that run rampant on college campuses. The attempts at exploring social justice issues also often feel surface level.
Haven’t we graduated to something more nuanced? There’s the blonde who doesn’t “eat for enjoyment,” as Leighton quips, the overachiever embroiled in a forbidden affair, and the dorky girl pining after the jock in a relentless will-they-or-won’t-they. It hits all the marks of a hackneyed teen soap, including the cringe-worthy use of slang (do we really need to talk in emojis?). Despite its charms, “Sex Lives” can feel like a show that’s about 10 years past its prime.
Whitney (Alyah Chanelle Scott) is a star soccer player and the daughter of a United States senator.įrom left: Reneé Rapp, Alyah Chanelle Scott, Pauline Chalamet, and Amrit Kaur in the HBO Max series "The Sex Lives of College Girls." Jessica Brooks
Kimberly, played by a lovably cloddish Pauline Chalamet (sister of Timothée once you see the resemblance, you can’t unsee it), grapples with financial insecurity at a college full of one-percenters. Bela (Amrit Kaur in a role that feels like a grown-up Devi from Kaling’s “Never Have I Ever”) is trying desperately to have as much sex as possible and to break into the boys club of the college’s prestigious comedy magazine. Leighton, played by Reneé Rapp (she was Regina George in the musical adaptation of “Mean Girls” on Broadway), is an entitled sorority girl wannabe, but she’s leading a double life of sorts. The roommate quartet proves an odd bunch. Imagine if a Judy Blume novel were set in idyllic Vermont and its characters had access to Instagram. It celebrates the gracelessness of 18-year-olds hungry for fun, freedom, and, as the title suggests, another f-word that’s not fit to print. I am a senior in college, and the show speaks to the inelegance of the female gaze that I’ve witnessed and experienced. The blunt title of the show (I saw six of its 10 episodes) piqued my interest.