Dimension

more and more outside her family’s inner circle, Season
3 finds Shelly trying whatever means necessary to work
her way back in. Early on, she’s immediately identifiable
as the uncool mom desperately seeking her children’s affection
(and her ex-husband’s), but the fresh motivations
for seeking that love are made as clear to the viewer as
There are things in this
world that are certain and
unshakably real to these
characters, things that can’t
be seen with the naked eye.
they are unclear to Shelly’s kids. There are cringe-inducing
moments of disparagement that feel like they’re building
up to something incomparably painful, but — without
spoilers — let’s just say Shelly’s resolution is broad enough
to justify her difficult journey, if not profound enough to
cover the rest of the family.
When Shelly curtly refers to her ex’s “sex change,” she’s
rebutted with the preferred term: gender-confirmation
surgery. In that moment, season three hits upon a crucial
theme. There are things in this world that are certain
and unshakably real to these characters, things that can’t
be seen with the naked eye: Maura’s gender, or the faith
of Rabbi Raquel (Kathryn Hahn). Then there are the
preoccupations and quick fixes that encircle Shelly, Sarah,
Josh, and Ali, things like a capricious relocation or an
epiphany induced by nitrous oxide. It’s these things that
isolate and alienate the younger Pfeffermans, especially
when they attempt to equate the lies they tell themselves
with the truth someone else knows.
And watching them tell those lies is damn compelling.
Light, playing a character whom Transparent is more
frequently laughing at than with, is both ludicrous and
deserving of sympathy in Shelly’s single-minded pursuit to
mount a one-woman show, titled To Shell And Back. The
guilt-trip-wielding martyr she plays is easily caricatured,
but Light brings such earnestness to Shelly’s creative
ambitions, seeing her actually performing To Shell And
Back is practically euphoric.
Soloway and her team of writers — including her sister,
Faith Soloway, Season 2’s discovery Our Lady J (who
penned a telling flashback episode in Season 3) and a bevy
of women as talented as they are diverse — should be applauded
for daring to explore broadly relatable existentialist
questions in relation to gender, race and forms of identity.
Much of what they uncover is immediately gripping and
relevant, even if its long-term effect is less revealing than
past seasons. Yet perhaps what’s most admirable about the
third season of Transparent is that it’s distinctly different
than the first two: More formally daring than Season 1
and less structured than Season 2, Transparent continues
to push boundaries in rewarding ways.
What’s next? We still can’t wait to find out.
REVIEWS 47