So we've come to the end of this season of Girls. Have we learned anything? Did we expect to learn anything? Is the purpose of watching a television show to learn anything? I mean, sure it is. And, even if nobody else did, I learned something. I learned that Googling paranoid, health-related questions in order to further procrastinate writing a book is not something that is exclusive to me. And that was a valuable lesson. And so we open on Hannah doing exactly that. Her ear is still bothering her. The OCD is still rearing its ugly head. Hannah does not appear to have showered in quite some time and you can almost smell the sour milk body odor coming out of the screen. It is not good. She is not doing well. Girls.
We cut from Hannah to her editor, John Cameron Mitchell, who now has a name, which is David, and is made even more endearing to me than I thought possible because he sits at his computer, quoting e.e. cummings to himself while admiring a picture of Chloe Sevigny. "Oh, Chloe," he says. "Not even the rain has such small hands." So that was perfection. I never thought I could experience perfection from a line of dialogue uttered by a guy wearing a Bluetooth, but there you have it. And, of course, that cummings poem was also referenced in Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters" so that's just perfection too. Life is full of funny surprises, it really is. Some of them are even carefully crafted surprises, but still. They are still funny and perfect.
Anyway, David is asking Hannah for the pages that she owes him and as it becomes clearer and clearer that she's got nothing, David just flat out tells her, "If you don't give us the pages, then we sue you." You see, Hannah already received an advance, which of course she already spent, so David wants some content.
Hannah hangs up her phone and burrows deeper into her bed, sing-songing to herself, "I'm gonna write a whole book in a day. I'm gonna write a whole book in a day." Good luck with that Hannah.
And then we move on to Charlie, who doesn't need luck with anything, because the guy has some crazy skills at what it is he's doing. And what it is he's doing is eating pussy. Whose? Marnie's. They're still together and Marnie is definitely benefitting because Charlie is so, so good at going down on her. In fact, he's so good, that Marnie is a little suspicious and asks him, "Why did you get so good at this? Seriously. How many people have you slept with since we broke up?"
Charlie responds in the only way that is appropriate and, like, sane. He says, "Seriously. I'm not doing this if you do that. Relax." And so Marnie does shut up because I guess she's not a total idiot and they continue to have good, good sex. Good for them. I might not like Marnie at all, but I can at least appreciate a couple that appreciates each other's oral skills. That's a thing I appreciate, I guess.
Something that I would not appreciate in real life, but definitely appreciate in this show, is terrible sex. And even though we've seen really terrible sex on this show, I think this scene of Ray and Shoshanna having sex might be the most terrible sex ever on this show (and, yes, I watched last week's episode) and might even just be the worst sex I've ever seen. I mean, Shoshanna actually spits out the words "Will you get out of me?" in the middle of the terrible sex. Yikes. And she's wearing a sweatshirt and is clearly unhappy and, yeah, this isn't going anywhere good. But Shosh isn't the greatest at break-ups, so when Ray wants to know what's wrong, all she'll tell him is, "You have no ambition and it's wearing on me, your lack of ambition." Which, while not untrue, is not the whole truth, so their relationship gets a reprieve for now, but it's only temporary. Like, very temporary. We're talking about ten minutes.
Meanwhile, Adam and Natalia are also having sex. Everyone's having sex! But this sex isn't really so great. Although Natalia is being very vocal about what she wants and they have clearly moved on in one way or another from the last sexual encounter we saw them have, it's not going well. They're talking to each other, but they don't really speak the same language.
For example, Adam wants to know, "You like my cock?"
"Yeah," whispers Natalia, who tends to get "a bad case of the whispers" during sex, but so far so good in the communication department, right?
Adam comes right back with, "You're a dirty little whore and you like my cock."
Uh, well, actually, "No," Natalia says. "I can like your cock and not be a whore. Do you understand?"
And Adam does understand. But it's not what he's into. And it seems like Natalia understands too. They're just not meant to be. Which is really all for the best because there must be someone out there for Adam who likes to be called a dirty whore (Hi, Hannah!) and there must be someone out there for Natalia who doesn't need to debase her to get off. I mean, I would really hope there's someone out there like that for her. Maybe Patrick Wilson? They seem like they'd get along.
But so we're back to Hannah, who isn't having sex and is in fact doing the least sexy thing ever which is calling her dad to ask for money so that she can focus on her book without worrying about the advance, thereby "restoring freedom to her process." Hannah's father refuses, though, because apparently Hannah used to make up illnesses to get out of school, including a disease which Hannah just knew she had from reading Louisa May Alcott. This is the second "Little Women" shout-out this season, which I dig because I loved that book as a kid and was pretty compelled by the idea of dying from some horrifying disease at a very young age. This is also, of course, a reminder to vaccinate your kids so that they can't pretend to get weird diseases from the 19th century. Also vaccinate them so they can't really get weird diseases from the 19th century because how pointless would that be? Herd immunity is a real thing, everyone. Don't be like Jenny McCarthy.
But Hannah's dad is not buying any of this and just calls Hannah manipulative to which she replies, "How can I be manipulating you if I don't even know I'm being manipulative?" Solid question.
Anyway, Charlie and Marnie are at brunch at Roberta's and Marnie seems so happy, which, who wouldn't be if they'd spent all night getting fucked really well? She's rambling on about how this was what she'd been trying to tell Hannah all along, that "there's an endpoint. We have our experiences and now they're behind us and we're settled down."
Charlie acts like he doesn't know what she's talking about.
Marnie gets upset and screeches, "Are you trying to tell me that we're not dating?" She then storms out, telling Charlie, "You know, I would offer to pay, but that would be insulting to you." Would it, though? Anyway, Marnie takes one last stab, framed in the doorway, asking, "So you really don't want to date me? Because this is your last chance."
Charlie, being a sucker, follows her out. At which point Marnie decides to declare her love for Charlie. And her love is gross and includes the line, "I want you...eventually I want to have your little brown babies and I want to watch you die." SHE WANTS TO HAVE HIS LITTLE BROWN BABIES. That is not a thing you fucking say to someone or even a thing you think, is it? Unless you are a gross person. Marnie is a gross person.
But, then, so is Charlie. Because this appeals to him and he says, "That's all I ever wanted to hear. I love you and maybe I'm an idiot for it, but I always have." Really, Charlie? All you EVER wanted to hear was that Marnie wanted to have your little brown babies. Ok, then. I guess you deserve each other. Just to make me hate Marnie even more, she pauses their embrace to assure him, "I just want you to know that I don't love you for your money." Haha. Yeah, right. Whatever.
So, Ray has decided that in order to impress and keep Shoshanna, he needs to become serious. He goes to talk to his boss, Colin Quinn, who I guess runs the Café Grumpy empire. Ray tells him that, in order to win back Shosh, he "wants to go back and finish up a PhD in Latin Studies."
Colin Quinn astutely comments, "Is this the girl who carries around a purse shaped like a croissant? Ray, she doesn't want a Latin scholar." So true. Colin Quinn offers Ray the opportunity to open up a brand-new Grumpy that will have two floors and a pizza oven in Brooklyn Heights.
Ray is pumped. "Brooklyn Heights is classy, I'm in. What's my title?"
And even though Colin Quinn says "manager" they both acknowledge that titles are sort of ridiculous and made up things and decide that Ray can be called "district chief logistics and operations supervisor" so that Shoshanna will just wet herself with excitement because, sure. That sounds like something she'd care at all about.
Back at Hannah's, our heroine is eating Cool Whip out of the container when Marnie stops by. Now Marnie is ostensibly there to check up on Hannah, but, yeah, right. Nice timing that as soon as Marnie's life gets good again, she deigns to visit Hannah. Marnie just wants to rub the visions of her little brown babies in Hannah's face. But Hannah hides and Marnie doesn't look very hard for her and leaves, grabbing a candelabra on her way out. Class-act, that Marnie.
Still skidding along her downward spiral, Hannah decides to cut her own hair. This is a terrible idea that she makes even worse by getting Laird, the downstairs junkie, to fix the mess she made. Laird gives her Lloyd Christmas bangs that are awful and Hannah doesn't even care, saying that she's been a mess and hasn't been eating and is probably getting really skinny. Laird tells her that she still "looks like her volumptuous self to me" and I smile. I'm pretty sure he said "volumptuous" not "voluptuous" but I don't even want to know if I'm wrong. Because "volumptuous" is a great word.
Hannah, though, ruins the nice moment and insinuates that Laird might try to have sex with her against her will. He looks pained and disgusted and tells her, "You are the most self-involved presumptuous person I have ever met. I had feelings for you, sure, until I realized how rotten your insides are." Ouch.
Hannah asks, "Are you serious?"
Laird answers in the affirmative, "I think it's a pretty dark scene inside your head."
And, of course, he's not wrong. Hannah knows this and tells him, "I don't have anything to say to that, Laird, except I'm sorry and I didn't think about you as a person and I understand now that was wrong." Which is the worst and best apology of all time. But Laird accepts it anyway and leaves.
Oh, and now this is sad. We are in a sad place with Ray and Shosh, because they are breaking up. Ray must have told Shosh about the new position at Grumpy and its fancy new title and she just didn't care.
She tells him, "I love you so much, like to the ends of the world and back. But sometimes I love you the way that, like, I feel sorry for a monkey, like, they need so much help and they're in such an ugly cage. You know what I mean?"
Ray understandably does not take this well. He says, "This is not correct. You don't know what you're doing." But she does know. He asks if there's anyone else. Perhaps a Scandinavian? (Ed. note: Scandinavians ruin everything.)
Shoshanna assures him, "There's nobody else, especially not an adult male blond. You know me better than that."
But then she gets into the real problem with Ray. He's too dark for her. She tells him, "You hate everything. You hate the sound of children playing. You hate all your living relatives. You hate people who wear sunglasses, even during the day. You hate going to dinner, which you know I love. You hate colors. You hate pillows. You hate ribbons. I can't be the only thing you like. Maybe I can deal with your black soul when I'm older, but I can't deal with it now."
Ray makes a last ditch effort, telling her that "maybe she needs to change" before grabbing his life-size Andy Kaufman cardboard cutout and leaving. RIP, Ray and Shoshanna. We'll always have the L station.
Hannah, in full-on desperation mode, tries to call Jessa. She must know Jessa won't pick up, but that's ok because she leaves the best voicemail ever. After hearing the outgoing message—"You've reached Jessa. I would never listen to a voicemail but if you insist on trying"—and getting the beep, Hannah just goes off.
"Oh, hello, you fucker. Are you kidding me? Where did you go and who am I supposed to talk to if you won't answer your fucking phone, ok? That anorexic Marnie? Fucking Shoshanna or my stalker ex-boyfriend? It's not like any of them want to talk to me and I don't blame them because I cut off all my fucking hair. And now you're off somewhere just living it up, wearing a crop top, you probably got your vagina pierced and you're not answering your phone and you're forgetting about everyone who's fucking it up here. So I hope you're having a great time. Love you."
Really, that voicemail was a tour-de-force. Lena Dunham really brought her acting A-game this season. Well, in every episode but the cocaine one.
Anyway, so then we see Adam who is tearing all the stuff down in his apartment. His phone rings. It's Hannah. He can't swipe it open with the work-gloves he's wearing, so he yells at Siri.
Hannah's face pops up because she called him with Facetime. Adam asks, "Is this fucking face space or whatever?"
He can tell immediately that something is wrong with her, and realizes that it's the "OCDC shit" that she had in high school. And it is undeniably moving that Adam and Hannah had at one point been close enough that he can tell within a few seconds that something is wrong with her and know exactly what it is. And unlike Hannah's father or Jessa or even Marnie, who could have looked for Hannah a little harder if she'd wanted to, Adam sees and hears Hannah's pain and tells her he's coming to her. He runs, shirtless, out of his apartment as if it was a scene in a Nora Ephron movie, music swelling and everything. Adam runs to Hannah.
And as Adam runs, we see Shoshanna laughing and kissing a tall blond man in a bar strung with colored lights. We see Marnie and Charlie, happy together, walking arm in arm. We see Adam running again, up the stairs and to Hannah's door. She won't let him in, so he breaks it down. And so even though we saw earlier that the first line in Hannah's book is “A friendship between college girls is grander and more dramatic than any romance…" we actually see that none of Hannah's friends were grand and dramatic in attempting to help her. Only Adam was grand and dramatic. And those are two qualities Hannah craves.
"You're here," she says.
"Well, I was always here," he answers.
And he picks her up and cradles her like a baby. And even though this raises more questions than it answers—I mean, what will happen with Hannah's book? Is Adam really so good for her at such a fragile time in her life—there is something so perfect about that last image that I can't help but feel reassured. Hannah was drowning and Adam, for all of his many imperfections, was the only one who could rescue her. We'll just have to wait and see what happens next season, see who sinks and see who swims.
Follow Kristin Iversen on twitter @kmiversen