The Bold Type
Seeing as school started last week, which for me still marks the official end of summer even if I’m no longer in school, I had planned to spend this post discussing my favourite shows from this year’s crop of new scripted summer series. (If you disregard shows on streaming platforms, returning shows, and any that fall under “unscripted” or “documentary,” there were more than 25 series that premiered between the months of May and September this year.) However, after last Tuesday’s incredibly moving season finale of The Bold Type, I decided to dedicate this entire post to one of the best new shows of 2017. Period.
Created by Sarah Watson and starring a trio of incredibly lovely and talented young actresses—Katie Stevens as newly minted writer Jane, Aisha Dee as social media maven Kat, and Meghann Fahy as fashion-loving go-getter Sutton—The Bold Type is an unexpectedly thoughtful and courageous addition to Freeform’s lineup. As someone who has seen The Devil Wears Prada more times than I care to admit, I was excited the minute I read the logline: “Inspired by the life of Cosmopolitan editor-in-chief, Joanna Coles, The Bold Type is a glimpse into the outrageous lives and loves of those responsible for a global women’s magazine. Their struggles are about finding your identity, managing friendships, and getting your heart broken, all while wearing the perfect jeans to flatter any body type.” I was expecting something fun, maybe even a little frivolous. The kind of show you watch for the fashion and pretty people and New York setting as much as anything else. What I wasn’t expecting was something important.
While Jane, Kat, and Sutton do indeed rock some truly drool-worthy designer labels (the show would have us believe that this makes sense because they can [seemingly] borrow anything they want from the magazine’s fashion closet…) and live in some pretty sweet Manhattan apartments (though Jane and Sutton are forced to share a one-bedroom with a shower hardly big enough to have sex in—the horror!), these ladies are far from clichés. They feel real because they are written as layered individuals who succeed and mess up, who get drunk and get scared, who sometimes say the wrong things and yet love each other unconditionally.
When we meet Jane, the group’s cautious overthinker, in the pilot, she has just been promoted to staff writer after three years of interning. She has loved Scarlet magazine since she was a girl—in her application she called it “the older sister I never had”—but she wants to write about more than the 10 best sex positions for multiple orgasms. Throughout the season we see her struggle to find her voice as a writer, learn to draw inspiration from the things that scare her, and embrace the unknown. She turns a puff piece about a female politician into an article about the use of fashion as political strategy. In one particularly poignant episode, she writes a deeply personal piece about the controversial BRCA gene test. "I need everyone to know how scary this is,"she says, as Kat films her on the exam table. And in the astounding finale, she takes on the task of telling a rape survivor’s story. As she tackles these stories, so too does the show, with real sensitivity and a genuine sense of responsibility.
While the beats of Sutton’s love life are perhaps the most conventional thing about the show (she is secretly dating an older guy, who just so happens to work for Steinem, the company that owns the magazine), her hustle is both relatable and inspirational. She has been an assistant for three years, and she wants to do more. After working up the courage to bring this up with her boss, who despite being prickly and demanding sees that Sutton can indeed do more than answer phones, she interviews for a position with the sales team. The practical parts of her, the parts that are afraid to put herself out there and fail, tell her to take the job. But what she really loves is fashion. Eventually she takes the leap and applies for a position in the magazine’s fashion department—only to discover that the starting salary is actually less than what she was making as an assistant. Her friends offer both support and encouragement, and with them as her safety net, she decides that living her dream is worth more than a generous salary. In true Sutton fashion, she does, however, negotiate some perks to offset the crummy pay, and throughout the rest of the season we see her work hard to prove herself (and learn to speak up for herself when necessary). As someone who for a long time felt that my dream would only ever be that, I felt a sense of kinship with Sutton for knowing what she wanted and going after it—even though it scared her. “If I’m going to go down, I’m going to go down swinging.”
Kat is on the surface the boldest member of the group—she is already a section director, she isn’t afraid to take on internet trolls, sexism, or the patriarchy, and she is the one most likely to advocate jumping in feet first. However, throughout the season, she discovers that when it comes to her heart she may not be as fearless as she thought. In the pilot she meets Adena, a “proud Muslim lesbian,” and finds herself questioning her sexuality. Their relationship, which unfolds slowly and beautifully over the ten episodes, leads Kat to a place of both vulnerability and self-discovery. What I love about this story is that Kat’s bi-curiosity is never an "issue." She is confused by her feelings for a woman, having always been attracted to men in the past, but she is never afraid of them. What scares her is love in general, opening up enough to let someone else in, leaving herself open to hurt. Jane and Sutton, meanwhile, are never anything other than supportive. They never question Kat’s feelings for Adena; in fact, they are the ones continuously encouraging Kat to explore them, at whatever pace she feels comfortable. They are also the ones literally jumping for joy when Kat reveals that she and Adena have finally kissed. This is inclusive storytelling.
Adena’s own story is equally important, as it directly addresses the Trump administration’s cruel immigration policy and the fear that immigrants now live with every day. She legally entered the US on a working visa, and after travelling to France, she returns to New York only to be told that she is being deported. It is heartbreaking and infuriating to see this woman forced to return to a country in which she does not feel safe. And yet when Kat tells her, “I’m here. I’m in this with you,” it feels like a message of hope for more than just the characters.
Presiding over all of this is Melora Hardin’s badass editor-in-chief Jacqueline. Though it is perhaps a bit unrealistic that a woman who oversees the operations of a “global” magazine would care so much about the personal dramas of her staff, it is wonderful to see a female in power who encourages other women and roots for them to succeed. She is truly a mentor, especially to Jane. With each story she forces Jane to go deeper because she knows that Jane could be an exceptional writer. Jacqueline is also shown to be a loving wife and mother. It’s encouraging to see a powerful woman with a career she loves and a stable home life, when most shows still seem to think that women can only have one or the other. Which isn’t to say that she is perfect, or that she hasn’t experienced her share of trauma—because she has. I won’t divulge too much about her part in the finale, I’ll just say that it reveals how strong Jacqueline really is.
While each of the characters on The Bold Type is wonderful in her own particular way, it is their friendship that really makes this show feel fresh. Jane, Kat, and Sutton love each other. They occasionally fight, misunderstand, or hurt each other’s feelings, but they always resolve things quickly. They tell each other everything (any secrets they do have don’t get kept for long), and never judge. There is no backstabbing—these ladies always have each other’s backs—or fighting over guys. It is one of the most realistic depictions of female friendship I have ever seen on TV, full of compassion and understanding and inside jokes and pep talks and coffee breaks and drinks at the bar and nights in binge-watching RuPaul’s Drag Race. I love it.
Okay, so here’s my final sales pitch: in a television landscape full of dystopian settings that feel more realistic with each passing day, The Bold Type offers an alternative to the darkness. It addresses real, important issues, and does so with heart and compassion. If I had to describe the show with one word it would be “hopeful.” Can you think of a better antidote to real life?
P.S. If you're interested, the other shows I had originally planned to touch on were:
- Midnight, Texas: Basically True Blood light. Come for the were-tigers, fallen angels, dreamy psychics, and talking cats, stay for the unexpectedly stirring messages of inclusion and self-acceptance.
- Somewhere Between: Despite Paula Patton's limited acting abilities, this show hooked me—a network mystery that is surprisingly compelling and well-plotted. Plus, Devon Sawa!
- Hooten & the Lady: This goofily named adventure-comedy is actually a British import. It has definite Romancing the Stone vibes (a pair of charming leads who spend all their time bickering, hidden treasures, an eclectic assortment of baddies), with each episode set in a different exotic locale. A whole lot of fun.
