Starz’s Disjointed Three Women Clumsily Tries to Do Too Much

Starz series Three Women is a show about sex. There’s a lot of nudity (both full frontal and otherwise), plenty of reminders to wear condoms, and an intense focus on whether (and how!) women are enjoying themselves during the act. But despite its racy bona fides, the 10-part drama often feels ponderous and disjointed, determined to make its exploration of women’s desire for sex mean something in a grander cultural sense, rather than as simple aspects of the characters whose stories it’s telling. 

Don’t get me wrong, the show is gloriously unflinching in the way it depicts sex, female pleasure, and women’s bodies. Sex scenes are extended and explicit, a decision that feels both refreshing and deliberate in a time when entertainment discourse seems so focused on whether TV and film should feature people having sex at all. We see our leads not only lost in the throes of pleasure, but dealing with the everyday specifics of living in a female body, from managing body hair and periods to the gut-wrenching pain of a miscarriage or the terror of a condom mishap. These moments feel important and necessary from an industry perspective, even if some of the sex scenes don’t necessarily add very much to the show’s larger narrative.

But, the series’ overly tidy ending carries a whiff of afterschool special about it, and for every genuinely valid observation the show makes about the desire that women experience or the choices they make with their bodies, there’s a lot of painfully earnest handholding about the supposed lessons and larger messages of the story. (This show has opinions on whether it’s okay to refer to women as sluts!) For all that Three Women wants its characters to be seen for who they are, it seems equally invested in making sure we interpret their choices in a specific way.

Based on Lisa Taddeo’s bestselling book, the story follows a triptych of women, all from different states and each at very different points in their lives. There’s Lina (Betty Gilpin), a housewife from small town Indiana whose husband refuses to kiss her. Desperate for love, she reconnects with an old high-school flame named Aidan (Austin Stowell) and rediscovers herself through the rush of an illicit affair. Sloane (DeWanda Wise) and her husband Richard (Blair Underwood, looking great) are wealthy party planners in Martha’s Vineyard whose open marriage allows them to bring guests into their bed, provided certain rules are followed. Rules that Sloane finds herself wanting permission to break with hot local fisherman, Will (Blair Redford). And Maggie (Gabrielle Creevy), a twentysomething waitress in North Dakota who’s finally ready to reckon with the trauma of the sexual relationship she had with her high school English teacher, Mr. Knodel, when she was underage.

To be technical about it: Three Women actually revolves around four main characters. In a slight deviation from the book upon which the series is based, a fourth lead, journalist Gia (Shailene Woodley) is added as a fictionalized self-insert version of its author, ostensibly meant to serve as a narrative framing device but who is mysteriously given a subplot of her own, a head-scratcher of a romance where she keeps rejecting the nice but kind of obsessive guy (John Patrick Amedori) who keeps trying to have a real relationship with her, and a truly obnoxious amount of “authorial” voiceovers that are intended to inform the audience of the show’s larger thematic goals.