Two of my favorite television characters of all time are Harriet Hayes from Studio 60 and Nancy Botkin from Weeds. Was thinking this morning about what appealed to me about both of them, and I think it has to do with the way that they visibly struggle with their own flaws and vulnerabilities. Similarly unafraid to show the world their imperfections, both are also tangibly engaged in an effort to master these internal conflicts.
Harriet’s character centers on her resolute faith, and on the ongoing on-and-off romance she shares with Matt Albee. At one point, during yet another argument, Matt says to her: “You can’t walk away, so you are burning down the house.” This stuck with me because it’s an approach I so often take – rather than addressing the actual core of the issue, Harriet (and I) chooses to broadly attack and try to tear down the scaffolding of the entire relationship.
I have also always been envious of people with profound, abiding faith like Harriet’s. I remember a conversation with Melissa Schettini at Princeton, where I fought tears while telling her how much I envied the bedrock that true religious belief provided for a life.
Nancy’s character is similarly complex and appealing. A young widow, she fights daily to hide her struggles from her grieving sons. Raising a teenager and a 9-year-old alone, in a judgmental and narrow-minded community, Nancy seems at turns the same age as her sons and also oddly old, ossified in her loneliness. She is constantly portrayed playing with the straw in an iced coffee, and this affectation plays with her youthful looks to make her seem like one of the high school girls her son pines for. Other moments remind us that she’s an adult woman, with depths of darkness we only occasionally glimpse: a chance encounter in a dark alley with an unsavory character, and fighting with fierce loyalty for her son when he is teased on the soccer field.
I love and relate to both of these women. I felt the same way about Elizabeth Gilbert in “Eat, Pray, Love.” These women are profoundly reassuring to me in the same way a conversation with a dear friend is: a simple reminder that we are not alone.