On The Exquisite Validation Of Hacks

And the exhausting quest for redemption among the relentless, merciless gatekeeping of "legitimacy"

Is there anything better to stream now than season 3 of Hacks?

I think not. Just when you think the writing on this show couldn’t get funnier, smarter, or more poignant, Deborah and Ava fall into a deeper alliance beyond the barriers of their experiences and we reap the benefits.

If you identify as female (or love someone who does), few stories confront myriad micro- and macro-aggressions against the lived female experience as clearly and as eloquently as Hacks does.

And when I say “lived,” I mean the pervasive demonic discriminative force in the ether that is ageism—a form of self-hatred our culture shamelessly bathes in.

If you haven’t done yourself the favor of taking it Hacks yet, let me break it down for you with a little synopsis:

Hacks is centered around Deborah Vance (Jean Smart), a sharp Vegas Boomer comedian who gave up on herself as an artist and thus has no problem shilling anything and everything to maintain her posh standard of living. To make her schtick younger and fresher, her sweet, bumbling agent Jimmy (played by one of the brilliant minds behind this show, Paul W. Downs) connects her with his client Ava (Hannah Einbinder), a sanctimonious 20-something comedy writer and enfant terrible who Tweeted her way into cancellation and desperately needs work. Ava ships off to Vegas and into Deborah’s inner sanctum to write new material and is amusingly hazed before the two form an unlikely bond.

Over three marvelous seasons, their always dysfunctional, usually complicated intergenerational friendship grows and blossoms into the kind of authentic ride-or-die connection that happens when two people join in a Sisphysian mission and reckon with the fact it is, in fact, them against the world. Season two left us with how Ava’s guidance led Deborah onto a path of DIY Zennial authenticity in the form of a self-produced, best-selling, critically acclaimed comedy special—resulting in an unexpected letting go. But Deborah soon realizes she needs Ava because she makes her better, and, in season 3 (SPOILER), Ava abandons her newly acquired domestic bliss for the same reason.

The beauty of season three (thus far) is that Deborah and Ava are OK. They’re more than OK—they’re becoming best friends. Their newly egalitarian dynamic anchors the show in a way that allows them to take on Deborah’s biggest dream of hosting a late-night talk show. All odds are against them, yet they know they must persist. The time is nigh because there is no more time.

While lost on a rural Pennsylvania hike they took to center themselves after painful rejections, Deborah sums up the entire premise of her quest and the premise of the show:

Deborah: Your whole life you say ‘one day.’ ‘One day’ I’ll do this, ‘one day’ I’ll accomplish that. The magic of ‘one day’ is that it’s all ahead of you. But for me, ‘one day’ is now. Anything I want to do I have to do now, or else I’ll never do it. That’s the worst part of getting older.

Ava: I believe you told me the worst part of getting older was the collagen loss.

Deborah: That too. The best part of being young is you don’t have to savor everything. You don’t have to consider it: Eat that candy bar. Sleep in on Saturday morning. Or have a breakup. It’s not the end of the world. It’s just the beginning. That’s the ultimate luxury. Not having to suck the marrow out of every day. Just toss the bones. Not even make a soup.

***

Let’s just back up and sit with the word “hack” for a second. It’s demeaning. It’s bereating. The “hack” is counterfeit. It’s less than, an imposter. Someone who hasn’t earned their stripes. Someone who lacks legitimacy.

Both women are incredibly legitimate, yet they are constantly and consistently underestimated by the gatekeepers in their business. Though Ava experiences triumphs and failures in both her personal and professional life, she has the consolation prize of time to right all the wrongs life is bound to dole upon her. Even though Deborah has more than proven herself through decades upon decades of comic brilliance and ingenuity, the gatekeepers in her world refuse to give her the keys to the kingdom she’s paid for. Time and again, high as she climbs, they think nothing of FCKNG her while FCKNG her over because she isn’t one of them.

Outsider artists (like myself) experience this brand of total bullshit all the time. Once entering the marketplace, creatives learn really fast that cliques are going to clique, and gatekeepers are going to gatekeep. If you don’t come from the same level of privilege, share a pedigree, and/or look the way they look (despite possibly sharing myriad other experiences as humans), the shitty ingrained reflex humans have is to exclude and discredit you (instead of learning from you) to preserve the sanctity of their members-only club. Why? Because exclusivity is our cheapest form of capitalist currency.

Poor Gen Z. They know we’re counting on them to save us all and their role in this episode is no exception. Deborah and Ava are in the wilderness, losing hope and getting loopy, when three teenagers roll up on dirtbikes asking if they’re lost. Like heroes with capes, they deliver the Hacks heroines back to their car on the back of their bikes. As they clip through the forestry, Deborah and Ava hold hands across the trail, their hair slo-mo blowing poetically to the tune of America’s “Lonely People,” a classic from 1974.

This is for all the lonely people
Thinkin' that life has passed them by
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
And ride that highway in the sky

This is for all the single people
Thinkin' that love has left them dry
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
You never know until you try

Well, I'm on my way
Yes, I'm back to stay
Well, I'm on my way back home
(Hit it)

This is for all the lonely people
Thinkin' that life has passed them by
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
Never take you down or never give you up
Never know until you try

For Deborah, that silver cup isn’t necessarily love but her moment in the sun. She empowered herself by announcing her desire for this late-night gig live on national television, yet felt shame about seeming ‘thirsty’ until Ava reminded her it wasn’t who she was and there was no shame in it.

But Deborah is tired. In both her personal and professional life, Deborah’s cup has been wanna lick? psyche! yanked from her grasp thousands of times. I can relate—I’m tired, too. Just last week, my silver chalice was yanked from my grip twice. Really FCKNG hard and fast, without a drop of lube or a kiss.

Is it dumb to keep lunging for that cup if you’re thirsty? What shame is there in thirst for what you deserve? Why is it embarrassing to ask for what we want when good fortune isn’t served to us on a silver platter? Are we supposed to be content with swallowing our spit?

Some of us won’t give up until we drink from the silver cup and ride that highway in the sky. I’m just psyched to watch these fictional female vigilantes for some hilarious inspo.

Do you watch Hacks? What are your thoughts on this season thus far? Let me know in the comments below!

xx