Reader, as you may have gathered from the past few months wrap-ups, I am mildly obsessed with the CW show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. This show is a musical satire focused on romantic comedies and mental illness, and like, can you get a better description than that? The show centres around Rebecca Bunch, a high-profile lawyer in New York, who, after randomly bumping into her ex-boyfriend from summer camp when she was sixteen, decides to quit her job and move all the way to West Covina (California), to pursue him.
Put like that, it doesn’t sound super feminist, does it? But, as the theme song assures us, the situation’s a lot more nuanced than that. And to prove that, it’s time for a feminist spotlight on one of the best shows to ever be made, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, and the titular Crazy Ex-Girlfriend herself, Rebecca Bunch. Beware: spoilers abound.
The Good
For the first time in awhile, this post is going to be pretty much just good stuff. So let’s start with the obvious. When we first meet her, Rebecca is a high-powered lawyer. She’s educated (she went to Harvard and Yale), she’s extremely competent (when she wants to be), and she’s good at her job. And no matter what twists and turns she goes through, that doesn’t change. When she moves to West Covina, she’s still a lawyer and she’s still good at her job. She frequently chooses to ignore her job, but that’s because she’s impulsive not because she’s bad at it. In a lot of ways, on the surface, she’s the model of what 3rd-Wave Feminism wants to see.
Except, there’s a lot more going on there. Rebecca (like most actual 3rd-wave feminists) is a mass of contradictions. She is a successful career woman, but it makes her miserable. She was pushed into her career as a lawyer by her domineering mother, and when she finally finds a career she loves, even though it’s not at all prestigious, she’s much happier. She’s fully aware of problematic standards of beauty, but she’s also perfectly happy to bust out “The Sexy Getting Ready Song” to impress a guy. She very much belongs to the Roxanne Gay school of bad feminists (which you can read more about here). And honestly, it is such a relief. Too often, empowered women on television are exactly the same: they are high-powered lawyers or police officers, who never show any weakness, who are razor-focused on their career, have no sense of humour, but will eventually melt for the obligatory love interest who is fun and silly, and everything they’re missing in their lives. That’s an old narrative. Rebecca is much more complex and real than that. She’s balancing different cultural narratives, trying to figure out who she is, and what will make her happy, just like everyone else. To reiterate: feminist writing means creating female characters who are well-rounded, developed, and realistic. By that standard, Rebecca passes with flying colours.
Of course, most of us are not desperately trying to manufactor our lives into fitting a culturally prescribed version of a romantic comedy. That’s where the satire comes in. The show is actively interrogating tropes of romantic comedies, and in so doing, revealing to us that Rebecca’s behaviour is not okay. Moving across the country for a guy you dated for a summer when you were sixteen? Impulsive and unhealthy. Continually pursuing him even though he has a live-in girlfriend? It’s not whimsical, it’s stalking. Compiling lies on top of lies so he never, ever thinks anything about you but what you have deliberately presented for him to think? That’s a recipe for disaster, because eventually all of those lies will crush you like a boulder (to quote the song). Rebecca’s behaviour is not okay, it’s not healthy, and it’s occasionally illegal. The show is really aware of this; these actions are never presented as something to emulate, and that makes all the difference.
Just so the audience is extra aware of how dangerous all of this behaviour is, the show introduces us to the character of Trent, the male version of Rebecca, who has a refreshing amount of self-awareness about his stalkerish and obsessive tendencies. Inserting himself into her life with a chirpy, “Well, one person’s blackmail is another person’s love story”, he provides a terrifyingly stark image of what Rebecca could become if she isn’t careful, and what she’s already done. He’s a mirror that shows Rebecca’s darkest self, and how unhealthy all of this obsession over a guy is.
And furthermore, Rebecca herself figures this out. She realizes that she’s “The Villain In Her Own Story” and takes steps to change her life. She goes on an introspective journey and realizes that she has love in her life, even if it isn’t romantic love. And she learns. She befriends Josh’s girlfriend, Valencia, and after several bumpy starts involving making-out, hacked Instagram accounts, and a bout of kidnapping, they become good, close friends away from the influence of Josh, disproving the myth that it isn’t possible for women to be friends without fighting over a man. Valencia even becomes Rebecca’s wedding planner, helping instead of sabotaging her.
But that’s getting ahead of myself. Back to Josh. Rebecca’s relationship with Josh is increasingly revealed to be a safety net, an obsession that Rebecca throws herself into to avoid facing reality. It is something that holds her back, as their engagement is a direct result of her attempts to avoid a breakthrough in therapy, and the accelerated timeline of that engagement is a result of the realization that she might not be as happy with Josh as romcoms and Disney have told her she should be. And the rupture of that engagement brings her to such dark places that it eventually leads to her suicide attempt. Obsession like this isn’t cute or romantic. It’s dangerous, and the show’s acknowledgment of that is a welcome acknowledgement of the dangerous myths perpetuated by romantic comedies.
But it’s after this suicide attempt, in the episode “Josh Is Irrelevant,” that the show reveals the long-game it’s been playing and shows its feminist side once and for all. It’s in this episode that Rebecca is diagnosed with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), and it’s a revelation that changes everything, as she realizes that her obsession with Josh has always been about her and her mental health, not about him (the nuanced, powerful, and respectful treatment of mental health in this show is a post all to itself). He has been a convenient outlet for her behaviour. Josh is irrelevant, and that is a revelation that pushes Rebecca on the path to better mental health, and totally changes the course of the show. After that episode, Josh’s name no longer appears in the episode titles. Rebecca is finally changing her patterns for the better, and focusing on her life and health, as opposed to obsessing over men.
She begins to figure out her triggers and stops a similar obsession with Nathaniel in its tracks. She refocuses on therapy and utilizes it for the first time. She starts to take accountability for her actions. She learns to empathasize and help other people, volunteering her legal aid at the local women’s prison. As noted before, she leaves her job as a lawyer and finds one she’s actually happy with (selling pretzels, high-powered career goals, be damned). She finally sets healthy boundaries and stands up to her mother. She recognizes when she needs help. She goes on antidepressants. And in the final episode, she recognizes the need to have something in her life that comes from her, no one else, that she loves and fulfills her and makes her feel truly happy, which she realizes is songwriting. The realization of that finally brings her to a place where she is ready for a romantic relationship, where it won’t be obsessive or unhealthy. It will be real. But in mentioning such a relationship, she says perhaps the most important words ever spoken on a T.V. show, that if she finds romantic love, it will not be her whole story. It’s only part of her story. Way, way, way more examples of pop culture need to learn that lesson.
So Crazy Ex-Girlfriend reveals that its central story has been all along the story of one woman learning to love herself and finding happiness and fulfillment doing something she loves; the romance was just a smoke-screen to the more important story happening within. What’s more feminist than that?
But wait, there’s still more nuance to explore. Because there is one love story that really does matter in this show, one relationship that grows and evolves to mutual love and respect, and that is the friendship between Paula and Rebecca, which is the love that centers the show.
Think about it. The first episode of season one ends with Paula and Rebecca holding hands and singing “West Covina” about Josh. The last episode of season one ends with Paula and Rebecca holding hands, reaffirming their friendship. The last episode of season two ends with Paula and Rebecca standing on a cliffside vowing revenge. The last episode of season three ends with Paula and Rebecca smiling at each other across a courtroom. And the last episode of season four ends with Paula and Rebecca, holding hands, singing “West Covina” this time about the new life Rebecca has found and the fulfillment she has. It has always been about these two, about their love and affection. Their relationship has grown over the course of the series: they’ve addressed their boundary issues, they’ve become more equal, they’ve shared secrets, and they’ve become more equally supportive. But at the end of the day, the true heart of this show is the beautiful, strong, platonic friendship between Rebecca and Paula, another very feminist thing.
And finally, just like Buffy, Rebecca’s self-awareness serves as an inspiration to others. There isn’t a single character on the show from love interests Josh, Greg, and Nathaniel, to friends, Paula, Heather, and Valencia, to frenemy Audra Levine, to random outsiders like White Josh and Hector whose lives are not improved by Rebecca. They learn from her, they’re helped by her, and they all begin the same journey of introspection because of her. This little corner of West Covina is a healthier, more self-aware and caring place because of Rebecca Bunch. That’s quite a legacy for someone who breezed into town to chase a boy.
The Bad
Just kidding, there isn’t any. It’s all perfect, go watch it.
And there you have it, that is a feminist spotlight on Rebecca Bunch. There is so much feminist depth on this TV show that I will certainly have to revisit other character’s in later posts. For now though, we bid adieu to the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.
That’s all I’ve got for you today, you guys should let me know in the comments what you think of Rebecca Bunch specifically or Crazy Ex-Girlfriend generally, stay safe, and I’ll see you on Wednesday.
Until the next time.
The Phantom of the Bookshelf 