I can't fathom why, but I have now seen the first two episodes of Courtney Cox's new (to the UK) series Dirt. I wasn't expecting to like it, mostly because it's a whole show about trash - Cox plays the ruthless editor of a Hollywood gossip mag.
The show is all sex, betrayal, and career-ruining front covers. Celebrities examine the viciousness of celebrity culture - this is supposed to be edgy, I think. Some prof is quoted here, saying, obnoxiously enough, "This sort of thing is why the word postmodern was invented."
Except Dirt is the same old story. This show is about how women can't be motivated or successful without also being crazy and dead inside. Case in point:
Scene A:
Cox is in bed with the sweet musician boy she picked up last episode - he's the only remotely likable character in the show so far. Cox's character is bored, and tells him that she won't have an orgasm, pretty much whatever he does - she needs a vibrator. He seems mildly offended, but offers to make her pancakes and play her guitar. She sends him on his way, because she has "lots of work to do". "You're just like a guy!" he exclaims, on his way out the door.
Scene B:
Cox has printed three huge stories, sold her idea for a new magazine to her boss, and saved her job, all in one week. In bed, she flips open this week's magazine, switches on the vibrator, and...
...she only gets off on work! Get it?
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