1. A woman’s story is being told. She is not relegated to the role of sidekick, romantic interest, or bit player.
2. Her world is populated with intelligent women who also have stories worth telling, even if their stories aren’t the focus of the movie.
3. If she must engage in a romantic storyline, she doesn’t have to compromise her sanity or common sense for love.
4. At least half the time, this woman needs to be a woman of color and/or a transgender woman and/or a queer woman because all these women exist! Though she is different, her story should not focus solely on this difference because she is a sum of her parts. She is not the token. She has friends who look like her so they need to show up once in a while.
5. She cannot live in an inexplicably perfect apartment in an expensive city with no visible means of affording said inexplicably perfect apartment.
6. She doesn’t have to live up to an unrealistic feminist standard. She can and should be human. She just needs to be intelligent and witty and interesting in the way women, the world over are, if we ever got a chance to really know them on the silver screen.

A great Slate article on raising the bar for women in Film and TV and challenging filmmakers to move on from the “The Bechdel Test.” This is Roxane Gay’s wish list.  Full Artcile is linked below.


When I was 22 this Columbian girl dumped me. She was Colombian, and she went to University of Columbia. And she was beautiful, and she was smart…just as fast as we fell in love, she disappeared. And I knew she has just used me. She was an intellectual and I was a thug. And I just stared at the ceiling all day, remembering the first time we fucked. On my couch. In Sunnyside. After a rainstorm. On a Thursday.

Then one day after being fucked up for months, I realized something. I didn’t know her. She didn’t know me. Just because I tasted her cum and spit or could tell you her middle name or knew what record she liked, that doesn’t mean anything. That’s not a connection. Anyone can have that. Really knowing someone is something else. It’s a completely different thing, and when it happens, you won’t be able to miss it. You’ll be aware and won’t hurt or be afraid.

—  Girls’ Adam Sackler

Elastic’s affecting titles for HBO’s True Detective make one hell of a case.

True Detective on Art of the Title

JERRY:  So what do you want for breakfast?
JASON:  Ham.  Eggs.  Whatever.
JERRY:  “Ham eggs whatever?”  
JASON:  Yeah. What about it?
JERRY:  Jason, this is New York City.  Manhattan.  We could go anywhere and eat anything and you want “ham eggs whatever”?
JASON:  I’m not a food snob, Jerry!
JERRY:  Not with that red jacket you’re not.
JASON:  I’m hungry, okay?  Let’s go to a diner.  How about Tom’s?
JERRY:  Tom’s?  (Dismissive.)  Too obvious.
JASON:  Jerry, I’m hungry.
JERRY:  Yeah, I know.  Ham eggs whatever.
JASON:  Yes.  Ham.  Eggs.  Whatever.  Stuff my mouth.  Need to stuff.  My Mouth.
JERRY (surrender mode):  Oh okay, fine.  Tom’s it is.
JASON:  Oh good.  Their orange juice is fresh squeezed, you know.
JERRY:  No, George.  No one is actually doing that.  No one is actually in the kitchen inside Tom’s in Manhattan freshly squeezing oranges for you.
JASON:  Did you just call me “George”?  (Flustered.)   And… and… you’re a professional buzzkill, you know that?
JERRY:  Are you really going to wear that?
JASON:  What?
JERRY:  The puffy red jacket… the loose-fitting jeans… You look like you’re dressed in a 90’s sitcom.
JASON:  I’m comfortable.
JERRY:  All right, Mr. ham eggs whatever.  Where do you want to go afterward?
JASON:  I need a lift to the airport.

(Photo of Jason Alexander and Jerry Seinfeld walking by – or going to? – Tom’s Restaurant, which stood in for “Monk’s” in the hit show Seinfeld, in Manhattan on Monday by Ali Phil / Twitter via Mashable)