I Rewatched ‘Gypsy,’ Naomi Watts’ Insane Lesbian Show—Here Are My Thoughts

I know what you’re thinking: What person in their right mind would rewatch Gypsy, the serialized psychological thriller (using that phrase lightly) that Netflix cancelled after one season? Answer: A lesbian who is desperate and starving for gay content. I watched Gypsy when the first 10 episodes dropped in 2017, and outside of all the steamy lesbian sex, I agreed with everything people were saying about the show—mainly that it was, uhh, bad (the show has a 38% rating on Rotten Tomatoes). But this week, in my darkest hour, I decided to give it another shot, and I’m so happy I did, because I’ve actually had a violent change of heart. This might just be my hottest take yet, but I’m going to add a question mark for good measure: Gypsy is… good?

I know I’m not alone in upholding this brave and controversial opinion, as Gypsy fans go hard—last year, fans of the series erected two billboards in West Hollywood, CA asking Netflix to #RenewGypsy. Why such fervor over a series in which Naomi Watts gives arguably her worst performance to date, in a story that’s like the sequel to Mulholland Drive that no one asked for? A show in which none of the acting is objectively great, of which the music and cinematography are at times campy, at times comedic. Why—why do we care so much?!

Because the show is a sexual fantasy. When you strip away the badly written quips, the cringeworthy banter between the seductress and her prey, it’s really just a show about a lesbian fantasy, a porno with a bigger budget. The show follows Jean (Watts), a cognitive behavioral therapist who creates an alter ego, Diane, so she can go “undercover,” so to say, with her patients’ friends and family, as if she’s doing field work for them—solving their issues so they don’t have to. One of the people she becomes entangled with is Sidney, her patient Sam’s ex-girlfriend. Sidney is one of those toxic and noncommittal, alluring hookups that would leave anyone, including Sam, spiraling for all of eternity. Jean’s primary method of investigation in this specific case is, well, fucking Sidney—in order to see what Sam sees, she needs to fuck her too. It’s a sick, twisted, toxic lesbian fantasy about romantic obsession, power dynamics, and age gaps.

The older woman fantasy is extremely present in the current queer zeitgeist—in fact, I feel personally responsible for spearheading (or at least aiding in) a movement of queer women claiming they want to be murdered by Rachel Weisz. The older woman fantasy has been present in lesbian films and TV shows for quite some time, like in Carol (2015), which is also why queer women want to be subjugated by Cate Blanchett, Chloe (2009)—step on me, Julianne Moore—or even Loving Annabelle (2006), which is an objectively bad movie about an illegal romance between a high school student and her teacher. Personally, I love older women and 100% share this older woman fantasy, and I’m also into power dynamics—so like, of fucking course I want to see an erotic drama series about a wealthy therapist in her 40s boning a directionless twenty-something musician.

Gypsy is campy and cheesy, yes—watching it makes me feel like an old woman retreating to my tattered La-Z-Boy at night to watch my “stories.” But that’s what makes it so compelling; it’s candy, it’s digestible, it’s super watchable. It’s about desire and manipulation and power and sex—it’s Fifty Shades for lesbians (two of the episodes were directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson, who directed Fifty Shades of Grey). I can watch it while swiping through a bottomless pit of women on Tinder, barely paying attention during the scheming plots or the toils of Jean’s marriage, but tune back in with horse blinders for the sleazy sex stuff, like a horny old harridan. Gypsy is to lesbians what the Hallmark channel is to my grandmother (bless her, I’m sorry for dragging her into this).

Lesbians love sexual tension. We crave a slow burn. We want mind games and will-they-won’t-they’s and loaded glances and endless hand-grazing until we’re left sliding out of our seats. Gypsy gives us six episodes of that, and a giant payoff in Episode 7. Gypsy gives us an almost-makeout in a nightclub when Sidney shoves Jean against a wall but doesn’t kiss her. Gypsy gives us 1,000 almosts. A panic attack on a date in a museum. A dream/fantasy sequence of Sidney loosening Jean’s tie and unbuttoning her dress shirt. A clandestine bathroom fuck. Grinding in a chair. Gypsy gives us a trailer dubbed with “Waiting Game” by Banks, a canonically lesbian song (it’s canonically lesbian because I’ve had lesbian sex to it). Gypsy did not have to go that hard, but it did.

Usually, when I resolve to rewatch some campy lesbian movie or TV show, like The L Word or Pretty Little Liars or Orange is the New Black, I’m almost never left quenched. I’m left emptier, even more starved for engaging lesbian content. I’m left looking like Spongebob when he goes above water. But not this time. Rewatching Gypsy was the best decision I’ve made so far in 2019. It might just be the horniest lesbian show ever made, and that in itself is respectable and audacious.

Jill Gutowitz is a haunted pair of overalls / writer living in Los Angeles. Follow her on Twitter: @jillboard.

Stream Gypsy on Netflix