Girls: “Two Plane Rides”
(Episode 3.12)

After last night’s stressful season finale of Girls, I’m mostly trying to process what I just watched this year. As we saw (and acknowledged in “Beach House”), every passing season of the show takes us a little further down the spiral of each character. Nothing—and no one person, as most 20-somethings will reinforce—will stay the same in Girls—not even the seemingly static Shoshanna. And we’ve hit a few definitive moments here for main, secondary and auxiliary characters alike.
The scattered, hard bumps of this season have been mildly annoying (Marnie’s forceful Rent singalong) to infuriating (I still don’t think I’ll forgive Hannah for her deceitful tale of her fake cousin who just wanted to go to prom). Up close, under a microscope they’re brutal, unrealistic. They’re the dumb moments you couldn’t believe your friend did in retrospect. They’re seeing your good friend miss graduation, or maybe s/he quit a good job for at-the-time unrealistic ideals. They’re the one friend who’s maybe tiptoed too close to death with drugs or alcohol. Maybe they’re just desperate requests for the spotlight.
But when you step far enough back—maybe it’s like surveying your own year in review on New Year’s Eve, those exasperated I-Can’t-Even-Believe-What-Happened-in-2013s—Girls remains the definitive source on what it’s like to go through the growing pains of your 20s in the year 2014. There’s the single-episode madness followed by your later long-term feelings of endearment toward the cast. Yeah, that’s probably how this show should run. And now we’re going through some big changes to set up season four.
First, Hannah got into a writers workshop program in Iowa, the best in the country. We’ve seen great divides between her and Adam all season, but the biggest one here (and one I have to side with Adam on) was her idea that, yeah, it’s somehow a good idea to let your boyfriend know you might be moving to Iowa minutes before he takes the stage in his Broadway debut.
I tried to explain this to myself over and over, as Adam didn’t seem to overreact (who wouldn’t?) and he didn’t botch any lines in the play (I figured he would). Of course she was excited at the idea of real-life validation in her field of choice, not just GQ advertorial nonsense. And it seemed she spoke with a glimmer in her eye (and some honesty) when she brought up this sort of artist-y, long-distance, bohemian relationship she had in mind with Adam. But who could blame the guy who, after explaining the announcement made him blow his role (his observation, not anyone else’s), that he’s tired of working around Hannah’s ever-evolving drama? We’re left with the image of Hannah smelling a sheet of paper—her acceptance letter, we learn—and I’m about 75 percent sure she’s going to pull the paper away from her face, tears streaming down as we so often see. But there’s a look of satisfaction, happiness.