【damaged goods poems of queer eroticism】

Some TV shows transport you through time and damaged goods poems of queer eroticismspace. Some show you a fantasy, a brief but welcome escape. Shows like this offer a break from everyday life and comfort within their stories.

Maidis not that kind of show.

The Netflix limited series, created by Molly Smith Metzler and based on a memoir by Stephanie Land, stars Margaret Qualley as Alex, a young woman who leaves her husband after he threatens her safety while intoxicated. Without a job or home, Alex quickly finds herself tangled in bureaucracy of social service, encountering one obstacle after another as she just tries to keep herself and her daughter safe.

Qualley is outstanding from start to finish. She captures Alex's hope, despondence, and determination, all numbed by the aftershocks of abuse. She strikes a perfect tone in the show's lighter moments and small victories, breaking down commensurately when life throws her another hurdle. She's deeply, painfully realistic, a performance that will stay with you between episodes and after an emotionally dense finale.

Watching Maidinevitably signs the viewer up for immense stress. The conflicts hit differently from other shows because child care, employment, and rent are inescapable realities. Alex navigates a labyrinth of red tape while living check-to-check, doors repeatedly slamming in her face for housing and employment, and the tension sits in your sternum, an incessant gnawing.

Metzler and her directors pull exceptional performances from the rest of the cast, too, especially Nick Robinson as Alex's husband Sean. An abusive husband is an easy TV villain, all rage and violence with no subtlety to spare. But Maidunderscores early on that emotional abuse is still abuse. Sean is often kind and considerate; he genuinely loves his wife and daughter and hates the person he becomes under the influence. He can be violent, he can be tender, and he can be everything in between while still feeling like a real person, showcasing Robinson's impressive range.

The same care is applied to Andie McDowell as Alex's bipolar artist mother and Billy Burke as her estranged father, a born-again Christian with his own dark past. McDowell — Qualley's real-life mother — stands out particularly. Generational divides keep Paula (McDowell) from calling herself abused, but a string of bad relationships and unchecked mental health often make her a hindrance to Alex during desperate times. Alex can't help loving her despite this, but it's speaks volumes about McDowell's performance that we too feel her warmth after a storm.

With nuanced writing and deliberate direction, Maidis a masterful finished product. It's just damn good television, palpably well-assembled. It shines a harsh spotlight on this country's failure to support victims of poverty and abuse, sucking them into a system that exhausts the spirit and drives so many women inexorably back to their abusers. It is not easy or enjoyable to witness Alex's hardship, but after 10 episodes the series leaves you feeling raw, moved, and full.

Maidis now streaming on Netflix.