Fans of the HBO series Girls may have a flash of recognition during the new sci-fi-action-horror-comedy M3GAN 2.0, of all things – just as they might have during the similarly genre-mixing (but not particularly Girls-like) Get Out. That’s because Allison Williams’ characters in those movies are what those viewers might call Marnie-coded. She’s not playing the same rule-following yet entitled yet insecure yet insufferable person she was on Girls; that show was a basically realistic character study with hints of satire around the edges, largely dissimilar in tone from any of Williams’ genre films. But when Gemma, the computer scientist who accidentally created a killer robo-doll in M3GAN, pivots to a kind of smug anti-tech activism at the beginning of the sequel, complete with media appearances “bestselling” parenting book, fans of the HBO show will probably think: Yeah, Marnie would do this if she could. (She seems well on her way in the Girls finale, volunteering to co-parent Hannah’s baby upstate.) On the other side, Get Out manages to weaponize any lingering desire Girls-watchers might have to see Marnie just chill already. At the beginning of the movie, she seems downright sweet compared to her fussy, self-conscious, standoffish character on that show. By the end, we see her cheerfully embracing her worst self.
The characters on Girls often embraced their worst selves, albeit without always realizing that’s what they were doing. You can see the unsparing nature of Lena Dunham’s series in what’s left out of its subsequent imitators. The recent show Adults, for example, also deals with twentysomethings belatedly coming of age while navigating an uncertain employment and personal landscape in New York City. It’s intermittently funny, but in place of characters experiencing genuine desperation and weak moments, it swaps in a desperation for laughs; this is a more frantic, comedy-writer version of Girls, which was a nominal sitcom originating from someone with no real sitcom experience.
Dunham’s show, also guided by her creative partners Jenni Konner and Judd Apatow, may have done its job too well, at least for its quartet of female leads. Williams, in another detail that would make Marnie’s heart leap, has been the most traditionally successful, leading multiple hit movies (albeit, also in perfectly Marnie fashion, not really as the dominant selling point of any of them). The rest of the show’s success stories have skewed ironically male. Adam Driver has put together one of the most astonishing great-director checklists of any modern performer. The recent Wolf Man may have flopped, but Christopher Abbott was cast in that high-profile leading role after much acclaim in smaller films. Ebon Moss-Bachrach, who hilariously played Marnie’s scrub of a creative partner Desi in later seasons, is an Emmy-winner thanks to The Bear, scored a sizable role in Andor, and poised to blow up now that he’s one of the Fantastic Four. All of these guys have much higher-profile acting careers than Dunham, Zosia Mamet, or Jemima Kirke. Even Williams, despite her horror hits, doesn’t seem especially more in-demand than her male counterparts who often had smaller roles on the show.
Obviously, there are some mitigating factors here. Dunham is principally a writer and director who has made two feature films since Girls ended, booked some acting gigs, and created a new Netflix show Too Much, out next month. (She’s not the star but she does have a supporting part.) Jemima Kirke, mirroring her character Jessa, seems to more or less do whatever she wants, which seems to involve working in TV sometimes. And Zosia Mamet isn’t hurting for work. (None of them are; all four central Girls stars come from money, and Mamet and Williams specifically come from famous parents.)
But it is strange how the men of Girls are treated as tour-de-force leading actors in waiting who happened to get their start giving their all to an HBO comedy series, while it seems like the tacit message about the show’s women is: Well, were they really acting all that much? But no matter how true that is or is not – Dunham and Kirke, at least, seemed to base elements of their characters of themselves – all four of them give fantastic performances throughout the series. In “What Will We Do This Time About Adam?,” the show’s third-to-last episode, Dunham, so pilloried for her supposedly insufferable behavior, has a silent moment of sad acceptance sitting opposite Driver in a diner that’s as well-acted as anything I’ve ever seen on television. Watch “The Panic in Central Park,” a Marnie-centric showcase for Williams, and you may not conclude that the best use of her time would be babysitting M3GAN, even if she’s funny in the role. At times, M3GAN 2.0 seems to be struggling with how to best use her, making several provocative implications about Gemma’s psychology and sexuality before backing off, as if she hasn’t already plumbed greater (and more gloriously unlikable) depths on her breakout series. And seriously: Christopher Abbott? The guy who played Charlie?!
None of this denies the talent of the Girls men. Driver in particular is a generational force. But it’s striking to see how Hollywood can absorb the success of a female-driven show literally called Girls, and make sure to extract the talented men from it as efficiently as possible.
Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn podcasting at www.sportsalcohol.com. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others.