“Close-Up” begins with a tender portrait of romantic devotion that the episode slowly, cunningly upends.
Picking up immediately where last week’s episode left off, “Sit-In” an impeccably constructed tour de force.
As it fixates on a set of characters languishing in their current situations, the episode locates the genuine comfort that clichés can offer us.
The episode’s title is an acknowledgement of the agency wielded by the show’s core group of women.
Even if “Iowa” is a workhorse of an episode, it bodes well for what comes next.
One of the more consistent and admirable qualities of Girls is its messy, funny, and heartfelt depiction of relationships as fluid.
And the jury’s still very much out over whether Shawn Levy is an inept comedy director masquerading as an opportunistically dramatic one, or vice versa.
The feminist bent of Robyn’s quest nicely shadows the John Curran’s film without ever being stated aloud.
Right up to its simplistic ending, the film is pleased to regurgitate the contrived tropes of the genre without ever honestly addressing the ethics of romantic boundaries.
It more or less resolves the season’s narrative concerns while simultaneously reminding us that such convenient closure is ultimately an illusion.
The episode reminds us that everyone in the Girls universe is still uncomfortable in their skin, per usual.
“Role-Play” features the best performance of Lena Dunham’s career.
“Flo” benefits enormously from Becky Ann Baker’s reliably lucid and moving performance as Hannah’s mom, Loreen.
As an amusing cameo by Patti LuPone illustrates, Hannah often resembles a jingle salesman.
“Only Child” serves as a succinct primer on all that’s currently right and wrong with Girls.
It finds Girls addressing the Biggest Subject without losing its sense of oxymoronic comedy that’s rooted in contained rootlessness.
It suggests that Girls may be undergoing a tricky transition that somewhat accounts for last week’s growing pains.
The opening pair of episodes, both directed by Lena Dunham, pointedly denies the titular foursome of much of anything resembling sympathy.
The film is a return to form for its director, and the first truly satisfying vehicle for its star.
Llewyn Davis is arguably the most vivid and complex character the Coens have dreamed up since Marge Gunderson.