FX’s Dying for Sex is a rambunctious, heartfelt portrayal of what happens when you choose to live for yourself during the last years of your life. Warm and charming, these honest performances shine throughout the run of this miniseries.
★★★★☆
Spoiler warning: This review contains spoilers for Dying For Sex.
In Dying for Sex, five-time Academy Award nominee Michelle Williams plays Molly, a 40-year-old woman diagnosed with terminal cancer as she goes through the last years of her life. We’re first introduced to Molly whilst she is in couples therapy with her husband of ten years, Steve (Jay Duplass). The session discusses that he has lost all sense of attraction towards her, as she zones in and out of a daydream of an experience with a past lover that she can hardly remember. She receives a call from her doctor and is informed that her breast cancer (that she thought was getting better) is now terminal, and instantaneously, we are taken on an adventure. Based on the podcast of the same name that covered the real-life events of Molly Kochan’s own experience, showrunners Kim Rosenstock and Elizabeth Meriwether (of New Girl fame) adapt the pain, horniness, exuberance, and anguish of Molly’s story, but most importantly, they nail the utter tenderness of friendship between her and her best friend Nikki (Jenny Slate).
Molly has a goal: she wants to experience an orgasm before she dies, a goal that can’t be achieved with a husband who doesn’t want to touch her out of fear of her fragility. However, through the runtime of this miniseries, Molly’s steadfast focus on her pleasure and openness to exploring sex in ways she never did with her husband, or any other partner, is intertwined with her direct approach of communication with the medical professionals in charge of taking care of her. She proves that there is no such fragility. We also see a physical representation of her inner child, her seven-year-old self, representing the age that she was sexually abused by her mother’s boyfriend. A thing that leaves a strain on her relationship with sex and her relationship with her mother Gail (Sissy Spacek). This insight into Molly’s childhood and past, adds dimension to a character that, through both performance and writing, refuses to be a singular caricature. All these things come to the surface as she goes on her shame-free sexcapades. These renderings of complex family relationships and sexual trauma, within a show that also includes silly comedic moments, such as a fart joke at the end of an emotionally intimate moment between the two best friends, are incredibly rare and part of what makes Dying for Sex a singular show.
Dying For Sex doesn’t cower in the presence of death, rather embracing the inevitability that comes with Molly’s diagnosis. She is devoted to living as thoroughly as possible and on her terms whilst the clock is still ticking. A piece of dialogue that charms me is when she tells her best friend Nikki that she wants “to die with her,” a clear and comprehensive communication of her wishes and an incredible way of portraying their closeness to us in the very first episode. Nikki’s role as main caretaker turns her life upside down and puts strain on her own first successful romantic relationship. Regardless of this, she is empty of regrets, as she struggles through being the responsible one for the first time in her life. Williams’s performance is undeniable, nevertheless, the emotionality at play through Jenny Slate is nothing short of spellbinding and dizzying. You are invested in this believable friendship, feeling involved with these bizarre and vivid women through their trauma and reverie.
The audience is wrapped up in Molly’s journey through a recurring voice-over; you get insight into Molly’s innermost interiority as she goes through her experience with dying and with trying to achieve something within her remaining days. It’s a refreshing directness. Due to her childhood trauma, it’s not easy for her to get to the stage where she can have an orgasm. She embraces taking control, taking on several different types of lovers whom she has dominance over. They rarely touch her in any way, but none of these frills of fancy end up fulfilling her or helping her reach her goal until she meets Neighbour Guy (Rob Delaney). Molly falls in love with the unnamed character, it’s a miracle of understanding and similar desire. His lack of identity presents that even though there is a love story baked into the end of Molly’s life, what she has with Nikki is stronger and more critical. During intercourse with some of her partners, visions of the abuser from childhood loom in her periphery, giving the show rare moments of ominous tone. Each of these flashes still feels like they live within the same world as the comedy on the show.
The Verdict
What makes Dying for Sex successful is the magic of the balancing act because life is neither just misery nor gallivanting through sexual partners. Multiplicity of tone breathes life into these characters and the story being depicted. Every ridiculous or painful moment is covered in a blanket of tangibility through the two accomplished central performances.
You can stream Dying for Sex on Disney+ now.
Words by Jasmin Barré
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