In particular, the episode is heartbreaking when it comes to Tammé, a black woman playing a wrestler dubbed “Welfare Queen.” Her Stanford-attending son gets his first chance to see his mom wrestle live on the night she has to defend her title against Debbie’s “Liberty Belle” character, a walking, (Southern-accented) talking celebration of white Americana. Take one of the season’s best episodes, its fourth, in which the build-up to a big match between Debbie and opponent Tammé Dawson ( Kia Stevens) becomes a focus on how both women, single moms raising sons (Debbie with her ex-husband’s help, Tammé seemingly without help), navigate trying to build a better world for their boys while also chasing their own dreams. And while that’s admirable, the series only has so much real estate. But it also leads to the show trying to tell stories about all of the people in its massive cast working within the rules built for them by men who don’t give a shit. This means when the season does a riff on #MeToo (with Ruth confronting an unscrupulous network head who all but promises her advancement if she’ll sleep with him), it doesn’t feel strained. Netflix's GLOW casts the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling in a scattered but undeniably fun comedy If the first season of GLOW was about the ways that narratives about women and people of color are often turned into stereotypical fodder for a viewership presumed to be largely white and largely male, the second season is (I think) about how women learn to navigate power structures built by men. Season two takes on ideas of how women navigate spaces built by men

And I’m going to have to spoil the entire season to talk about this. And looking at season’s two strongest episodes might help us better understand why. But I could never escape the feeling that GLOW season two kept circling something without ever quite zeroing in on it. That turns it into almost a collection of comedic sketches occasionally interspersed with wrestling matches - not unlike the TV show within the show.īeing left wanting more from a TV show (especially one built to be watched over a handful of days) is never a bad thing. But season two never succeeds in finding something as interesting as Ruth and Debbie’s conflict to slide into center stage. The show teems with interesting characters, any of whom could become its center. To be clear: This is just fine in theory. Season two shifts this relationship away from the center of the show, prioritizing other things. In its first season, the center came from the friendship-turned-foeship of Ruth ( Alison Brie) and Debbie ( Betty Gilpin), a long-running relationship turned sour after Ruth slept with Debbie’s husband. The show, as best I can determine, lacks the sort of strong center required to hold together a series with as many characters as this one. Vox-mark vox-mark vox-mark vox-mark vox-markīut something in GLOW holds me back, just a bit.

Glow netflix