Michelle Williams’ Superb ‘Dying for Sex’ Is a Defiantly Joyful Tale of Terminal Cancer and BDSM: TV Review

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A hospital worker explains to cancer patient Molly (Michelle Williams), ‘This is a natural bodily occurrence, similar to experiencing an intense moment like an orgasm.’

As a devoted cinephile, I’m eager to share my thoughts about the captivating FX show titled “Dying for Sex.” This series is inspired by real-life events, a 2020 podcast of the same name, and the life story of Molly Kochan. In this drama, we follow Molly, who faces a heartbreaking battle against breast cancer that eventually proves to be terminal. However, her diagnosis opens up an unexpected chapter of erotic exploration, which she documents with her best friend and caretaker, Nikki Boyer, portrayed by Jenny Slate in the series.

The show’s central theme revolves around the profound connection between death and sex, two aspects that might seem contradictory at first glance – one symbolizing life’s end, while the other represents its potential start. Yet, as the TV version of Molly learns in this bold, comedic, and uninhibited production, both can intertwine in our most intimate relationships to reveal hidden depths.

In essence, “Dying for Sex” teaches us that life’s most profound moments, whether they bring laughter or tears, ultimately shape the fabric of our existence.

The initial bond that significantly changes for Molly is her marriage to Steve (Jay Duplass), whom she discovers is surprisingly pleased when she receives a crucial phone call during their counseling session. Up until this point, Molly had been expressing her concern that Steve no longer viewed her as a sexual being but merely as a patient. Upon understanding the limited time they have to address this issue, Molly decides she doesn’t want to spend her remaining years with him. Instead, she embarks on a new journey, simultaneously undergoing chemotherapy and exploring casual relationships.

In depicting a middle-aged woman challenging societal norms around sexuality, Williams, who won an Emmy for her role in “Fosse/Verdon” on FX in 2019, steps into the shoes previously filled by Kathryn Hahn. Although Hahn has moved onto projects like “Agatha All Along” and “The Studio,” she remains the undisputed queen of this niche genre. Joey Soloway, a frequent collaborator of Hahn’s and known for shows like “Transparent” and “I Love Dick,” serves as an influential precursor to “Dying for Sex.” This series, similar to Soloway’s works, adopts a non-judgmental perspective on sexual freedom. I also drew comparisons with HBO’s “High Maintenance,” which shares a setting in Brooklyn with “Dying for Sex” and, as the series progressed, mirrored co-creator Katja Blichfeld’s personal journey of self-discovery regarding sexuality.

The creative forces behind “Dying for Sex,” Liz Meriwether and Kim Rosenstock, have a background in playwriting before joining forces on Meriwether’s show “New Girl.” They blend their collective experience in both sitcom writing and theater into “Dying for Sex,” offering a unique combination of comedic timing and authentic human emotion. Additionally, the series benefits from their past work in TV comedy by being succinct. Despite packing a lot of content, each half-hour episode is efficiently paced.

At the beginning of Molly’s spiritual journey, she knows where she aims to go although the path isn’t clear yet. Molly has never experienced sexual intimacy with a partner, an issue she links back to being sexually abused as a child by one of her mother’s boyfriends. Although Molly openly discusses her past, she hasn’t fully processed it, which leaves traces in her daily life. Her sexual inhibitions are so strong that when one of her recent partners, a younger man named Marcello Hernandez from “Saturday Night Live,” asks about her desires, she can only respond by asking what he wants instead (she means to grasp his testicles).

In my personal exploration, I’ve come to realize that I have a desire to take control in my intimate relationships, a revelation that unfolded following a lengthy solo session with my vibrator, an unwanted interaction with a seedy porn site, a surprising run-in with my boisterous neighbor, portrayed by comedian Rob Delaney, and numerous discussions with a compassionate social worker (Esco Jouléy). It turns out that BDSM encompasses a unique sexual lexicon beyond traditional penetrative acts, which aligns perfectly with my evolving physical capabilities. As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that I, much like the audience, must broaden our interpretation of what constitutes sex. “Sex is a state of mind,” as Sonya, played by Esco Jouléy, eloquently puts it.

Dying for Sex” delves into intense, raw, often cringeworthy emotions, demanding a skilled handling of tone and a versatile ensemble to prevent audiences from recoiling. Scenes like “Molly’s emotional breakthrough through interpretive dance” and “Molly urinating on a man in a dog costume as an act of mutual empowerment” necessitate a courageously vulnerable portrayal from Williams, who is also an executive producer. However, Williams’ powerful performance alone may not be enough; she still needs actors with exceptional warmth and emotional intelligence to complement her efforts. Delaney, who has been open about his personal experience with death, having lost his toddler-aged son to a brain tumor, and Slate, a comedian with a poetic spirit, both shine in this production.

Instead of Delaney, Duplass or any of Williams’ other fictional love interests, it is Slate’s character Nikki who shares the lead role in the series. When Molly decides to leave her marriage and embark on a period of unrestrained exploration, Nikki takes on the emotional, organizational, and financial responsibilities of caring for Molly. The bond between these two women was already quite close; after Molly’s diagnosis, their relationship becomes even more intimate, with boundaries blurring significantly. In fact, Nikki pauses her personal and professional life to accompany Molly to support groups and social events, including sex parties. As played by Slate, Nikki manages to both rise to the occasion and buckle under the pressure. When she says that she’s glad most of her clothes are stained with Molly’s blood because these stains will serve as a lasting keepsake when Molly is gone, her sincerity is convincing.

Just as bluntly candid as ‘Dying for Sex’ dares to be, this podcast and series boldly defy conventional narratives about terminal illness, championed by Molly who fiercely rejects sympathy. She challenges the pity of others, even inviting a lover to her hospital bed in the presence of her family, shocking them out of their sentimental gloom. ‘Dying for Sex’ respects this audacity, echoing it in both its content and structure. As Molly struggles to break free from the chains of her trauma, whether old or new, ‘Dying for Sex’ resists the dull, sorrowful tone often associated with cancer stories. It’s truly captivating to witness.

All eight episodes of “Dying for Sex” are now streaming on Hulu.

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2025-04-04 16:17