Well, the first series of Masters of Sex has come to a close this week, leaving me mournful and sullen. What on earth will I do this Christmas without weekly updates from William Masters and Virginia Johnson, my favourite sex researchers? But this show wasn’t just about boobs and butts. There was a lot of important information that I learned throughout the series- and here it all is. Warning: contains mild spoilers.
1. Masters is a douche.
Seriously, I know they’ve spiced things up to make the series more interesting, but the way the character is written, it feels like the main reason Masters went into gynaecology is because he likes hanging out with other twats. This is a man who lets his wife think that she’s infertile, when the reason she isn’t up the duff is because he’s shooting blanks. What a douche.
2. Douches can be beautiful.
But then Masters helps that black lady have a baby, and the prostitute who thinks she’s dying of a brain tumour, and he is one of the nicest, kindest, most awesome human beings ever. And then the douchery comes back! What is this?? Damn you three dimensional characterisation!
3. Hospital canteens in the 50’s have the best food ever.
The real porn in this series is the food these docs are tucking into! In one scene Hoss complains that all he had to look forward to was a Welsh Rarebit for lunch from the canteen? ALL? These people eat like Gods!
4. Freud, you card!
Oh Freud, keeping women down with penis envy and labelling female masturabation as immature! What are we going to do with you? Let’s play this at him obnoxiously!
5. The tits to wang ratio on this show is ridickulous.
I understand that in a show about sex, nudity is necessary for the storytelling yadda yadda yadda but almost every major female character (in fact, make that most women with more than six lines) has had a nude scene so far in this show, and not a single bloke has had his dick out. Eventually it’s going to stop feeling necessary and important to the storytelling, and going to cross into leery.
6. Barry Bostwick is still a fox.
Nearly forty years after Bostwick played Brad Majors in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, he’s back as an elderly lothario who still has plenty of sugar to go around. Frank-n-furter would be so proud *sniff*.
7. 1950’s Housewives must have been bored out of their perfectly coiffured skulls.
Master’s wife Libby does nothing but plan parties, shop and watch the fifties equivalent of Strictly Come Dancing. It’s a miracle she hasn’t gone batshit crazy and burnt all of Master’s research, before splashing naked in a fountain and yelling ‘I’m a Kraken from the sea!!’ Masters won’t even let her wank for his amusement. THE WOMAN NEEDS A HOBBY, MAN!!!
8. The return of the good feminist versus bad feminist.
What is with today’s media? I know not every feminist can be good, but it feels like it is impossible for television and film to have a strong, feminist, beautiful woman with a sense of a family without then also adding a frigid alternative. Lillian DePaul has a lot of characterisation, and you can love her crusty soul, but yeesh! So she doesn’t wear makeup or want a man. She’s a gynaecologist with cancer in the 50’s. She has NO TIME for your shit. Not every feminist can be a sexy, friendly lass with a love of family- do you know how hard it is to do all of that?
9. Never, ever, EVER, EVER type Masters of Sex into image search for pictures to accompany your article. DO NOT DO IT.
I think this one is fairly self-explanatory.