When we last saw them in season three, Deborah and colleagues were on a buzzy press tour, building Deborah’s profile to become the next host of late-night television. Deborah does indeed secure the position, promising Ava to be her head writer. But the immense pressure to succeed gets to Deborah, who rescinds her offer to go with a more established (male) writer.
Learning of the betrayal, Ava takes a page from Deborah’s playbook, blackmailing her to reinstate her as head writer.
Hacks has always examined women’s precarious place in the entertainment industry. This season introduces a new setting (late-night television) and a new character (network executive Winnie) to enable the series to subtly observe how women attain power and operate in a male-dominated industry.
Winnie (a winning Helen Hunt) has subtly assimilated to become a detached decision-maker. In treating her children as inconveniences and telling manager-producer Jimmy (Paul W. Downs) to smile, her actions typify Hollywood’s male-dominated old guard. We see Jimmy’s business partner Kayla (Megan Stalter) developing along similar lines, belittling her staff and telling Jimmy that to establish herself, she needs to show people their place.
Kayla’s abrupt transformation is an ostentatious example of how the series examines women in the workplace and the double-binds they often face. Be firm and get called frigid, or relent and become exploited.
But while Ava also attains power in the industry, she resists developing a cruel streak. Ava insists on reasonable working hours for her writers, much to the chagrin of Deborah. Her own anxiety about the quality of her show drives Deborah to be overly demanding of everyone around her. This tension between empathy and ruthlessness aligns with the generational divide between Ava and Deborah. It’s a central tension that the series continues to explore to strong effect.
The power of good editing
While Hacks has already been lauded for its excellent performances and writing, which continues in this season, the series also deserves praise for its craft, such as editing.
Episode four begins with a rapid montage depicting the flurry of activity in the weeks before Deborah’s late-night TV debut. Quickly cutting from her wig getting made, to production teams building the set, to Deborah anxiously weighing herself (pointing to a developing eating disorder), the montage shows both the verve and stress involved in the entire production.
Its vivacious energy and colour (few pale blue and greys here) are an antidote to the cold pallor of most streaming series. Also, in an era where streaming television run-times are aimlessly bloated, Hacks doesn’t overstay its welcome running between 25 and 35 minutes an episode. It maintains plot and character progression at a neat pace.
It’s been said that for a show about comedians, Hacks is more a drama than a comedy. This observation perhaps stems in part from Hacks being a comedy-drama rather than an outright sitcom.
Whereas sitcoms typically rely on character stasis, our dynamic duo has slowly changed – and changed each other – through the series. In this way, Deborah and Ava’s relationship echoes the recent films of Paul Thomas Anderson (Licorice Pizza, Phantom Thread, The Master), which examine entangled duos that recurrently attract and repel each other.
It’s worth comparing this season to The Larry Sanders Show (1992 to 1998). The HBO sitcom, set in the office and stage of a late-night talk show, skewered late-night TV and Hollywood more broadly.
While The Larry Sanders Show has insights about Hollywood as an industry (including women’s systematic exclusion), as a sitcom, its characters remain relatively static. The sitcom format doesn’t allow characters to develop much psychological depth. By contrast, the characters in Hacks change – albeit subtly. In a new twist to her character, normally so self-assured to the point of selfishness, Deborah feels insecure, a previously rare occurrence.
This anxiety likely comes from her newfound vulnerability. In making her comedy more vulnerable and authentic, Deborah charges Ava with also making her comedy too “niche” as a result.
As Deborah reminds her new writers, late-night TV works not because of the format, but “because of the person”. As she already receives scrutiny as a comedian, Deborah worries about the public’s acceptance of her new comedic persona.
From women’s precarious place in the entertainment industry, to generational divides, Hacks explores these complex issues well in its light, compelling mix of comedy and drama.
Jacqueline Ristola, Lecturer in Digital Animation, University of Bristol
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.