For a work of literary nonfiction to captivate readers the way ‘s 2019 bestseller has done, it needs more than just compelling subject matter. There has to be a connection between the author and the story; readers must feel her intimate understanding of its characters and perceive the unique perspective she brings to their situations. Fittingly, given that Three Women is a multifaceted portrayal of female desire in 21st century America, there’s an element of seduction. achieves this by closing the gap that separates her from the women whose sex lives she chronicles. Their thoughts, feelings, and desires are so vividly expressed that you might forget she’s even present.
It’s no surprise that such a captivating read was adapted into a steamy yet poignant premium-cable drama. However, the 10-episode series, initially developed by Taddeo for Showtime and later picked up by Starz, fails to capture the book’s electrifying aura. This version of Three Women, premiering Sept. 13, feels like the text has been spun in a centrifuge, weaving together accounts of the subjects’ stories with the narrative of a fourth woman: the Taddeo-like journalist (played by ‘s Gia) who travels the country to find her subjects. Despite strong performances and sensitive direction that focuses on women’s subjective experiences of sex and their bodies, the show’s disjointed structure and flimsy frame narrative suggest that the book might not have been suited for television after all.
Taddeo sets the stage with an encounter between Gia and Gay Talese (James Naughton), a real-life giant of literary journalism whose 1981 book about sex in the ’70s, Thy Neighbor’s Wife, Gia aims to update—a figure whose cultural significance and masculine reputation will likely be unfamiliar to most viewers under 60. “You’re gonna go out there and f-ck married men,” Talese, whose role as a mentor with ambiguous usefulness was to the , proclaims. But she doesn’t, in part because she realizes early on that, when it comes to sex, love, and specifically desire, women are more interesting.
The premiere introduces all three subjects. Lina, portrayed with fiery desperation by , is an Indiana housewife and mother whose husband (Sean Meehan) won’t kiss her. Craving passion, she reconnects with a high school boyfriend who has haunted her fantasies. Sloane (a radiant ), the belle of every Martha’s Vineyard ball, satisfies her unruly desires by letting her husband (Blair Underwood) select men and sometimes women for her to sleep with while he watches. But then she becomes infatuated with a man (Blair Redford) she doesn’t want to share. And Maggie (Gabrielle Creevy) is a 23-year-old waitress in North Dakota whose life was turned upside down by an affair, years earlier, with her high school English teacher (Jason Ralph). When he’s named the state’s teacher of the year, Maggie finally files charges.
“What they all had,” Gia tells us, in glibly inspirational voice-over narration that belies Taddeo’s ability for nuance, “was the audacity to believe that they deserved more.” But a scattered format that dedicates some full episodes to single characters and, in others, blends vignettes about two or more only highlights how loosely the women fit together. Bolstered by Gilpin’s almost feral vulnerability, only Lina embodies the intensity of an ordinary woman untethered by repressed desires. Based on a trial that didn’t end well for the accuser (and paired with a wordy on-screen disclaimer to that effect), Maggie’s story suffers from its similarity to so many previous stories of teacher-student boundary-crossing on TV. A New England WASP recast as a wealthy Black woman, presumably to diversify an otherwise white series, with only attention paid to the implications of that identity shift, Sloane’s arc feels conspicuously lightweight.
Most incongruous is the Gia storyline. The new character compels viewers to make sense of a convoluted, ultimately inessential chronology of the reporting process; her entry into Lina’s life is particularly confusing. And instead of offering much insight into what might motivate a journalist to stake her career on a cross-country quest to illuminate women’s sexuality, Three Women gives Gia an inexplicably devoted love interest (John Patrick Amedori) and embroils them in a progressively more far-fetched conflict between his commitment and her avoidance.
It’s not difficult to understand why Taddeo felt compelled to adjust the structure for television or to add a semi-autobiographical character who could shed light on a remarkable feat of reportage. But in separating her voice from those of her subjects, the series breaks the mind-meld connection that made so captivating.