‘Insecure’s’ Final Season Proves It’s One of TV’s Best Shows

Everything we can't stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.

Manage newsletters View in browser with Kevin Fallon Everything we can't stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture. This Week: Loving the new season of Insecure. Having enough of spoilerphobes. Being scarred by Nicole Kidman. Getting burned by NPR. Feeling seen by Adele. Insecure Gets It Maybe the best .GIF to come from a TV show in the past decade is from Insecure. It features Natasha Rothwell as Kelly. (Easily the most award-worthy "scene-stealing friend of the protagonist" performance of the decade as well, and when are we going to have that conversation?)    She has a deadpan expression on her face and says, "You know what that is? Growth." As she finishes the statement, she makes a gesture with her hand like a plant sprouting from the earth. Her eyes go a little wide. You laugh, but you also go, "Oh…" It's hilarious, and it's poignant. It's the perfect .GIF because it's so versatile. You can use it to be snarky or to be earnest. Brag to your friend that you made dinner instead of ordering delivery for the fifth night in a row. Report back to someone that, yes, you were drunk last night, but, no, you did not text your ex. Tell your coworker that when your boss sent that annoying email, you did not reply back with a passive-aggressive note.    It's interesting that this .GIF has become a somewhat defining viral moment for Insecure, because it represents so accurately what the series is about and, more than that, actually accomplished—as proven by the four episodes that I've seen of the new and final season, which starts Sunday on HBO.    That's almost too lazy of an observation when it comes to the praise that Insecure, in fine form again as one of the best series on television, deserves, and certainly seems obvious.    This is a coming-of-age series about a woman, Issa (creator and star Issa Rae) and her friends navigating the awkward stages of becoming full-fledged adults, figuring out what that means for their love lives, professional lives, and personal fulfillment. Of course it's a show about growth, and of course a fifth and final season is going to explore what that looks like.    But I can't think of a series that has done it better, and then reflected that narrative back on itself in the way that it tells stories and films them. You look at other shows that might be grouped in for tackling similar issues at a similar stage of life—Girls is the easiest comparison, and maybe Broad City or Girlfriends—and you clock where the characters are in the final episodes as growth. In fact, a threshold of growth is narratively the reason to send series like them out to pasture… there's nowhere left to go.    You don't get that feeling with Insecure. No one is hitting markers or milestones, or figuring anything out. The series acknowledges that growth, especially from a person's late twenties to their early thirties, means settling for the reality that you didn't figure things out and maybe you never will. Whatever epiphanies or awakenings you expected to have about life, whether it's your career, your relationships, or who you are as a person, don't actually come—or, when they do, they're not the seismic events you had been waiting for, or craved.    Light bulbs don't suddenly go off in your life. Instead, they're just kind of constantly flickering. Sometimes you notice them, and sometimes you don't, but there's enough light to see your way along the path either way. The journey is only ever going to be dimly lit. Being OK with that? That's growth.    The thing is, that uncertainty and nuance doesn't scream "this will be great to dramatize on TV." That's probably why TV series typically portray growth as a bullet-point checklist of conventional life events.    On Broad City, one of the best friends realizes that taking the next step for her career means leaving New York City for an artist residency in Colorado. In the Girls finale, Hannah has a baby. I haven't seen how Insecure sticks its landing yet, but what's struck me about its run so far is its resistance to stick to that checklist. (Though parenthood, as it is when a group of friends are the age of the characters in the show, is a major storyline.)    It's what has seemed so authentic about the series, and I think why people have rallied around it so much. It sees the potential for drama in the small blips of life, the choices that may not seem extreme to the outside world but are crippling for the individual—moments of growth, realization, and, perhaps more often than we acknowledge, unchangeable or inevitable circumstance that dictate what our life is going to become. These things can be ordinary but, in that, they are extreme. That seems to be what Insecure gets.    This isn't necessarily a brilliant observation about the series. Insecure is rarely on-the-nose about what it is saying to its audience, but it allows itself that brief indulgence in Sunday's season five premiere. After these last four seasons, it's earned.    Issa, Kelly, Molly (Yvonne Orji), and Tiffany (Amanda Seales) go to their 10-year college reunion at Stanford. What other time in a person's life so squarely necessitates a survey of how they've grown and forces them to confront who they've become and whether or not that's met their younger selves' expectations?   Issa has a conversation with her younger self in the mirror, and College Issa seems surprised that certain things about her life didn't happen the way she logically assumed they would because of who she thought she was at that age. Later, she is on a panel of alumni entrepreneurs and is asked when she knew she was on the right path. Everyone else on the panel has smart, confident answers. Her answer: She isn't sure she is.    Everything she has invested in what she is doing now, from money to time to energy, might have been a waste. She could be completely wrong. But isn't that uncertainty the point? And, even if it isn't, isn't it just the reality of life? You can't change that. So why bother trying?    It's not nihilistic. It's also not particularly illuminating or wise. It's just what life is. And maybe that's growth. Few shows are as honest about what it means to be an adult and figure out what romance and love means to you as you reach a new stage of life. Few shows are as blunt—and, in that respect, maybe truthful to the point of being cruel—about what friendship is and what you need from it. Most relatably, few shows reveal with such insight how, on that path that you're not sure you're supposed to be on where you're not really figuring things out, you can be your own worst enemy and saboteur.    That can be because of fleeting times when you allow yourself to be selfish or careless or dangerous. The show is truthful about the fact that there's no safety net for you when that happens. But, metaphorically at least, there is often a trampoline somewhere along that fall, and you have the opportunity to bounce back. Maybe not to the heights you were aiming for at first, but you can be OK with settling where you land.    I can't imagine the pressure the people who make Insecure felt during its run. It had to be about Black love, Black friendship, and Black excellence, a burden of representation and expectation that is impossible to live up to. It had to be about everybody and for everybody the way they wanted and how they wanted to see it. That's an impossible mandate. But I think the show realized that it couldn't juggle everything. And besides, you know who juggles? A clown.    It's a show that knew who Issa is, who Molly and Lawrence and these characters are, and allowed that to guide the way. And as the series went on, it became deeper. It got more cinematic, perhaps the most beautifully framed and shot comedy on TV. And it had the courage to lean into seriousness. Some episodes could have been entered in drama categories at the Emmys, and deserved to win.    Now, it's a show that knows when it's time to say goodbye, too. More than anything else, that's growth. Spoiler Alert: This Is About Spoilers  Someone tweeted something about a Marvel movie this week, and the internet lost its mind.   I could probably copy and paste that statement into an article that publishes every week, but the truth is I rarely bother to care about why people are losing their minds over a Marvel movie. But this week, the hysteria was particularly irritating. And this is Marvel and its fans we are talking about, so that is a high bar to meet.    Critics who have seen the upcoming movie Eternals, which is out Nov. 5, have started posting their reactions. Directed by Chloé Zhao, who won Best Picture and Best Director last year for Nomadland, it's apparently much different visually from other Marvel films. There's a sex scene! And a gay superhero! And, surprisingly, those are not the things that people are freaking out about! (You know what that is? Growth.)   Apparently, someone spoiled a small part of the movie on Twitter. I won't link to the spoiler, because I value my safety and mental health and don't need Marvel fans armed with pitchforks in my life. But I have seen it, and really, truly can't imagine anyone caring about it.    It is a casting reveal that apparently was being kept a surprise. It's a fun name. An exciting celebrity. Maybe the information was secret for a reason, with the idea that a fan's experience discovering the casting while watching the movie in real time would be more meaningful if they weren't expecting it.    Sure, I buy that. I also think that unless a person goes to the very first screening in the world of Eternals, there is no way that secret would last two seconds after the credits begin. And while I certainly don't understand a journalist's impulse to tweet something that might be construed as a spoiler immediately after seeing a movie, I also do understand it. Like I said, that news isn't being kept secret long. And it is news. Why not report it?   Media has evolved in a way that is absolutely obnoxious about spoilers. There's no winning.    There's a race among outlets to publish post-mortem coverage of TV series and movies to the point that they go online immediately. A series goes live on Netflix at midnight, the deep-dive into the episode 13 finale goes live at 12:01.    That's a bummer to anyone who, you know, has a life and doesn't binge all 13 episodes before they wake up in the morning. But also, an outlet looks negligent if it waits a reasonable time to publish those pieces, because everywhere else has. It's in service to superfans. Yet the people who are spoiled because they accidentally clicked on it are outraged. And rightfully so! There's no good answer!   But also what is considered a spoiler has gotten completely out of hand. That's on the fan side; I've been yelled at for summarizing a basic plot of a movie that is in the actual trailer because someone considered it a "spoiler." But it's gotten even worse on the studio and network side. Some people annoyed over this Marvel thing have suggested that journalists and critics be required to sign NDAs before screenings to prevent this. The thing is: We already do! It's ridiculous. One streaming service used to not allow critics to see one frame of footage without returning NDAs first. But even when they are not legally binding, "letters" sent to critics along with episodes will often include an outline of what they are not allowed to mention in their coverage. (You know, spoiling things for us before we can even watch.)   Quite often, though, they are insane.   I am not kidding when I say that, for season two of The Morning Show, there was not one plot point that was allowed to be discussed in reviews. That's not an exaggeration. Sure, I'm glad that Reese Witherspoon kissing Julianna Margulies out of goddamn nowhere was something we could all experience collectively without having known it was coming. But so much else was forbidden from being mentioned.  I could write endlessly about plot points that were on spoiler lists sent to critics. One recent one was for Midnight Mass. We were not allowed to mention that there were demon vampires. In other words, in reviews of that series, you were not allowed to talk about what the series was about.    There's no good answer to this problem, which has gotten so out of hand we are left with no resort but to go for the easy answer: Spoil everything.  There has never been a movie or TV show that I found out a "spoiler" for beforehand and felt like it was ruined for me when I actually watched. It's less of a thing than we build it up to be. Sure, I'm glad that when I was 12 I didn't know Bruce Willis was dead the whole time in The Sixth Sense. But I also think if I did know, I wouldn't have given a shit. Plus, if Twitter was around then, there's not a human in the world who would have seen the movie unspoiled. Twists are fun, but they're not the only reason why something is worth watching. Luuuucy, I Have a Bad Feeling About This! It is not fair to judge an entire movie based on its trailer. It is fair, however, to say that after the world let out a rousing "WTF" mixed with some booming "huhs?!" when Nicole Kidman was confusingly cast to play Lucille Ball in Being in the Ricardos, it is a confusing move to release a teaser trailer that does not show her, like a monster movie hiding what its creature looks like in promo materials. Is it to stave off judgment of her performance as long as possible? Is it because people are unable to accept an actor's performance as a real person unless they look exactly alike? (And the blink-and-miss-it look at Kidman in the trailer shows that they certainly do not.) Is it because, in Being the Ricardos, Lucille Ball is actually a ghost haunting Desi Arnaz, and so a disembodied voice is all we're going to get?   Anyway here's the teaser, which seemed to think the part of a Nicole Kidman performance we should all focus the most on is her, um, accent work. 'Sorry Not Sorry' Is Having a Moment It was a big week for major media entities serving "I said what I said" energy.    In an interview for Variety, Meghan McCain revealed that one of the reasons why she left The View is that Joy Behar responded to her joke about missing her while she was on maternity leave with a curt and jarring insistence that she did not. McCain apparently asked for an apology, but a producer told her Behar wouldn't do it.  Also doubling down this week was classic rabble-rousing media shit-stirrer, uh… NPR? Tweeting out an article criticizing former Fifth Harmony member Jesy Nelson's new single, the site posted that her vocals were "reminiscent of a bad Camila Cabello impression." The account eventually took down the tweet and apologized… for originally spelling Cabello's name wrong. Translation: Sorry for the misspelling, but the girl still can't sing. Finally, Someone Said It Asked whether she preferred Spice Girls or The Beatles, Adele said:  Points were made. Insecure: One of the best shows on TV, back in fine form. (Sun. on HBO) Curb Your Enthusiasm: What better time than now to complain about things? (Sun. on HBO) The French Dispatch: The most Wes Anderson-y Wes Anderson film yet. (Fri. in theaters) Dune: The way that I could not tell you what this film is about, not even a little bit. But it's pretty! (Thurs. in theaters and on HBO Max) Love Life: I despised the first season of this show, yet also watched every episode. Do with that what you will. (Thurs. on HBO Max) Advertisement © Copyright 2021 The Daily Beast Company LLC 555 W. 18th Street, New York NY 10011 Privacy Policy If you are on a mobile device or cannot view the images in this message, click here to view this email in your browser. To ensure delivery of these emails, please add emails@thedailybeast.com to your address book. If you no longer wish to receive these emails, or think you have received this message in error, you can safely unsubscribe.