Who’s That Girl

I’ve a well documented tendency to get seriously hooked on TV shows. Possible explanations for my disturbing condition include my mother’s Days of Our Lives habit, doing a BA (such limited contact hours! So much time for TV ‘studying at home’), and sharehousing with other likeminded folk in my early twenties.

The only defence I can make for my shameful viewing behaviour is that I’m fairly laid back when it comes to TV shows. Basically, I’m not going to bore you with senseless details of characters you don’t know and love the way I do. Unless you happen to mention Dwight K Schrute – in which case I will have no choice but to profess my undying love for him, my belief that we would have genetically superior offspring, and my overwhelming desire to be a beet farmer’s wife. And then you’ll have to excuse me while I throw myself through a cold shower.

I’m making one additional exception to my usual rule, though. Because New Girl, although it’s cheesy and American, is one of the best gosh-darn things you can watch right now.

New Girl is the story of a girl called Jess (played, beautifully, by Zooey Deschanel) who suddenly finds herself single in the most soul-crushing way imaginable (HINT: it features infidelity, a naked dance, and an oversized floor cushion. I wish I could say that these things happen only on TV). Jess finds a new place to live, complete with three new housemates, and goes about the process of mending her life.

So far, so schmaltzy, right? Except, you’re wrong. Because this isn’t a schmaltzy show. There’s something about the way New Girl is executed that’s inherently truthful which saves it from saccharine.

From Jess’s dorky sayings, to her housemates’ questionable personal habits, I challenge you to watch an episode and not find yourself nodding along in agreement, thinking of a friend, a brother, a past or present housemate, who does EXACTLY THE SAME THING.

But what really gets me about this show is how Jess moves on. Without going into too much detail (also, I don’t want to spoil the show for you, if you are yet to watch), New Girl offers an account of recovering from a hurt closer to how it really feels than anything I’ve watched, read or listened to. New Girl doesn’t resolve Jess’s broken heart by having her fall into the arms of one of her lovely-if-hygenically-challenged housemates, or the cutely compatible guy that she dates soon after finding herself single again (he buys her tickets to Paris for Christmas. These things, most certainly, happen ONLY on TV). No, New Girl doesn’t give a midtwenties break up the soft-lighting-and-vaseline-on-the-lense treatment.

Rather, New Girl shines a forensically-fluorescent-show-all-the-blemishes-and-scars light on the awkward fumbling that happens post break. New Girl tells it like it is - and thank goodness for that, because I was beginning to wonder whether I was the only one out there who has Hey Tiger conversations with herself in the mirror (youtube it, it’s brills).

I have an unfair advantage here, having watched the whole season of New Girl ahead of Australian broadcasting schedules, but I can say that New Girl is good, and truthful, and full-body-hugs-the-awkward right to the end. It’s because of this truthfulness that I’ve put myself out on an awkward limb in suggesting, no, imploring, you to watch New Girl, for your own good.

Also, Zooey Deschanel has inspired me to mix my prints. I hope she inspires you to do so as well.