My Half a Dozen Fave Female Characters on TV Right Now

Scream Lydia, scream.

Television is a fickle thing: while on paper the concept of a female character can seem ground-breaking, inspiring, and/or relatable, often a viewer’s interpretation doesn’t align with critical consensus.

Instead of a blog disagreeing with certain much-touted female characters pushed upon audiences as positive representations, I thought I'd write about six female characters that engage and interest me to the point where I never miss an episode of the series, in the hopes they make an appearance.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Maintaining an audience is important, and unless people find characters appealing—whether cruel or kind, devious or honest—interest in the show will wane.

A great female character is the culmination of a few factors (all of which apply to male actors/characters as well)*:

-Firstly, impeccable casting. An actor who completely embodies the character understands the person they're portraying on a deeper level, and communicates this to the audience. 

-Writing that creates a multi-dimensional, believable person is (of course) paramount. It's easy to create a character, but taking it to another level, where they seem like a person, is the challenge.

-A show with a framework that provides a wide scope of plot opportunities for the character to grow. 

-Excellent direction. Now and again a director of a tv episode understands the character and the actor so well they help guide a performance from great to phenomenal.

-On point costuming, hair, and makeup. Visual cues can help with characterization, and subtle changes are a great external signal for inner turmoil.

Quinn King in UnREAL
played by Constance Zimmer

I agree with the critics on this one (Zimmer won a Critics' Choice Award for her performance). As the Executive Producer on a Bachelorette-style reality show, Quinn King is a manipulative, ruthless, and complex character. Professionally she's a survivor (reality tv pun) in a male-dominated field, and most of her days are spent avoiding the sharks. 

Relationships with Chet, her lover, and Rachel, her producer, offer insights into the woman behind the ambition. The episode where Quinn was caught reading a bridal magazine was proof even the most cynical and world-weary can occasional fall to the allure of Happily Ever After, no matter how toxic their relationships (or work environment!). Quinn's professional trajectory is achieved through sheer will power and hard work, with ethics more often than not taking a backseat. Guessing Quinn's next move is relatively impossible, which makes for great television.

The key here is believability: Zimmer makes Quinn into an incredibly engaging character you find yourself empathizing with, despite the havoc she's sometimes causing in other people's lives. Her motivations, and her perspective, are so well sold by the ever-impressive Zimmer that in the hyper-world of UnREAL, Quinn feels like a real person.

Mona Vanderwaal in Pretty Little Liars

played by Janel Parrish

Speaking of hyper-realities, Mona Vanderwaal is one of tv's most compelling teenage characters (pre time jump). Over the years Pretty Little Liars has evolved into a complex web of subtext, gender issues and social commentary, to the point where it's bound to end up the subject of a college course - and I'd be happy to give a lecture.

Mona is a dork who transforms herself into an It Girl after the disappearance of queen bee Alison. When Alison's friends are bullied and blackmailed by cyber-presence "A", it turns out to be Mona, who is then admitted to a psych ward; the girls became her dolls, but Mona's actions stemmed from insecurity, and revenge. Thanks in part to a genius IQ, Mona is a manipulator and a survivor. Kidnapped in later seasons, she spends weeks in an underground bunker, forced to pretend to be Alison - blonde wig and all.

Five years into the future and Mona is still brilliant, yet still obsessed with the schoolmates she never managed to make into friends.

The point is you're never quite sure where Mona stands, and Parrish's performance has made Mona arguably the show's most popular character. When Mona smiles she's either happy, hoping to fit in, gloating over secrets (knowledge is power for this clever hacker), or mimicking human emotion for her own ends. The few times the character is truly emotionally vulnerable, Parrish's delivery hits it out of the park.

Dr. Cassandra Railly in 12 Monkeys

played by Amanda Schull

What I love about Cassie Railly in 12 Monkeys is that on paper she is not a character I would relate to, yet the no-nonsense doctor (well, virologist) is portrayed in such an emotive and subtle way by Schull that the audience can't help becoming instantly invested. 

Cassie is kidnapped in the pilot. The guy, Cole, turns out to be time traveller, and tells her where he will be in one year's time before disappearing into thin air (literally). When we next see Cassie, a year has passed and she's a bit of a mess: both her professional career and her personal relationship have unraveled. Still, she's determined to help Cole stop the plague that has almost wiped out humanity in the future.

Cassie really holds her own in this plot. There is an eventual romantic development between Cassie and Cole but it's natural and organic, and doesn't overwhelm the dominating storyline (i.e. saving humanity). Cassie has to do the best she can in her timeline to help Cole with his mission, as he is regularly pulled back to the future. Some of her choices are tough, and occasionally Cassie's responses are unexpected but in some sense understandable (thanks to great writing). 

Obviously the psychological and emotional pressure on the character is extreme, and there is a sincerity and depth to Schull's portrayal that's made her one of current sci-fi television's most rounded female characters.

Lydia Martin in Teen Wolf

played by Holland Roden

I keep meaning to blog on the modern gothic aesthetic of Teen Wolf; even just in terms of cinematography this is a beautifully presented production. Every episode offers a number of shots that could be printed as stills, framed, and hung in a gallery.

Then there is Lydia Martin. Originally the bitchy, beautiful best friend careful to hide her high IQ, clueless to the existence of the supernatural, Lydia's life is reshaped as she begins to discover the true nature of her friends. But the character truly comes into her own with the revelation Lydia is a banshee.

The writer's take on this mythical creature is unusual and frankly, fabulous, amplifying (bad joke) two elements of the traditional tales: sound and death. Lydia is drawn to scenes of death, or impending death, often in a trance-like state (meaning she's driving one place and suddenly finds herself near a corpse, no memory of her change in direction). She also "hears" premonitions in the form of sound. Since most banshees don't manage to hold onto their sanity, Lydia's journey is not an easy one. 

Roden plays the disturbing scenes with an eerie gravitas. At the other end of the spectrum are Lydia's more comedic/fun moments, delivered with equal pizzazz. The key here is the extremely complex character development the writers have spread over a number of seasons, which the actress's topnotch performance turns into into riveting viewing.

Agent Peggy Carter in Agent Carter

played by Hayley Atwell

Peggy Carter was an unusual choice for Marvel's first female-led series. Not only because of the lack of a modern setting, but Peggy isn't a leather-clad vigilante, alien, mutant, or wonder woman (ha!). She's an educated individual whose greatest fight, it could be argued, is against gender prejudices (as the show is set in the 1940s).

Turns out these elements are what make Marvel's Agent Carter so memorable, and so entertaining. Peggy's head is always held high; she battles both super villains and bureaucracy with focus, inventiveness, bravery, and zest. But Peggy is also human - occasionally she gets hurt, and it's this three-dimensional representation that makes Peggy resonate with viewers.

One of the best moments in the series was a flashback to Peggy as a naive young romantic who turns down the chance to become a spy due to her pending marriage. The stark contrast between the past and present versions of the character highlight how much Peggy has changed over the years, and makes the audience empathize with her more. Atwell's nuanced performance combined with quality scripts make the series one to watch.

Uehara Yuri in Good Morning Call
played by Mori Erika

Good Morning Call is a Japanese series on Netflix adapted from a manga. The story follows the evolving romance of two teens at the same high school who end up sharing an apartment after a real estate scam. Very sweet, and fun viewing. I enjoy noting the cultural differences, and the way the show's pace and visual tone differ from American programs. (Side note: The actors eat a lot onscreen, and I like that food isn't just a prop.)

Yuri, played by Mori Erika, is the sister-in-law of the male lead character Hisashi Uehara. Every now and again the show delves into deeper fare with moments of emotional intensity and complex dynamics between characters that are more implied than explicitly explored in the dialogue, and it's these sudden subtle forays (bold contrast to sillier moments) that make the show entertaining.

Erika's character has a mischievous side, but when the laughing, fashionable, professionally successful young woman turns up at Nao and Uehara's apartment—rain-soaked and devastated—to announce she's getting a divorce, the audience sees a whole other side to Yuri.

Considering the language barrier (meaning for English-speaking audiences Erika is communicating largely through tone, body language, facial expressions, and her eyes), the actress' ability to hint at the emotional depths/inner turmoil of the vivacious character is really impressive.


(*Two shows I haven't mentioned with notable female portrayals are Game of Thrones and Downtown Abbey. Both brilliant, but I find what happens to the character's too sad for regular viewing, so I only catch an episode now and again; not enough to really comment on character development.)

Watching Comic-Based TV Shows When You Haven't Read The Comics

Writers of a television show adapted from a comic are writing for two very different audiences: avid fans of an already existing narrative, and those who've never read the comics and therefore need to be introduced to each element of the story.

Writing about comic-based television shows online while declaring a complete ignorance of the source material feels somewhat risque. Critiquing comic-based shows is often viewed as the domain of comic book fans. But as an aspiring tv writer and avid consumer of scripted television, I think my opinion is just as relevant, especially when you take into account the companies screening such programs are hoping to secure more than a niche audience.

I've thought about this topic a lot following the release of Daredevil and the subsequent tweets and posts in my social media feed. For me, Daredevil had a great freshman season. The series has a confident style (I think establishing a visual/editorial style is a key element of success on tv these days, but that's another blog). The script was strong, free from chunks of clumsy exposition, and the acting was high calibre. Yet I didn't find it groundbreaking or magnificent, like so many comic fans claimed. 

Scanning the reaction of comic fans to comic-based television shows seems to be a lesson in extremes, a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows. Often when they're onboard it's in the form of overzealous praise. Good doesn't really exist; everything about the show becomes magnificent, incredible, unbelievable. On the other hand, disappoint them with your television interpretation of an adored character and the criticism can be scathing: no redeeming qualities acknowledged.

Trying to discuss a program by putting forward a mix of positive and negative reactions to different elements of the production can become tedious, and prove nigh on impossible. (Also because source material is so often cited in conversation, which means nothing to a viewer who draws a distinct line between the two mediums.) I haven't read any of the comics that provide the inspiration for the television programs I'm watching. Experiencing the story only in a television format made me understand how vast the gap between the uninformed viewer and the informed viewer can become.

You might argue films and television series' adapted from books are in a similar boat, but generally they don't seem to incite the same level of extreme reactions you encounter when discussing comic adaptations.

On watching The Vampire Diaries, my first reaction was apathy bordering on dislike for the lead character Elena, apparently a reworked version of the Elena found in the original novel. (I think the dreaded "relatable female character" trope came into play—another blog for another day!) I didn't feel compelled to read the books because watching the show as a separate entity has become more standard procedure for book-to-tv transformations.

Looking back, I experienced the same comic fan/non-comic fan conundrum when Arrow hit the small screen. The show was entertaining, beautifully done, and I loved Stephen Amell in the lead role. But many fans focused solely on disparate elements between the comics and the small screen: how his character was costumed differently, and his kill count. Commenting on the television show as a stand-alone experience wasn't really welcome online.

In a way, I felt like I wasn't part of the fan base for the show because I couldn't discuss what happened in Issue Whatever of the comics compared to what was unfolding on the small screen. On the other hand, becoming a hit series involves turning casual viewers into avid fans, separate to the comic-saturated portion of the fan base. It's the only way to pull big ratings, meaning my feedback was just as valid/of worth, even if it didn't feel that way.

The Flash is another example. Grant Gustin is brilliantly cast, as are most of the supporting roles. I think the show itself skews younger than Arrow, and I think it works. The series has heart, and an earnest sort of youthful optimism. The concept of the mentor is also a big theme. The Flash has it's own definitive style that comes together to create an entertaining hour of television. Still, a lot of online conversation stayed focused on the discrepancies between the comics and the small screen interpretation.

My only issue with both programs is the representation of women, problematic at best. Don't get me wrong, characters like Felicity and Caitlin are great, but the love interests our leads pine for from the pilot feel like forced plot points, becoming the program's weakest elements.

I sometimes wonder if this is because it's part of a comic trope from earlier years that isn't sitting as well in modern television? I'm not versed enough in the origin stories to say. But every time someone talks about "protecting" Iris on The Flash, I can't help wincing. 

My core issue, though, is the inference Laurel and Iris are more sexually desirable than Felicity and Caitlin. You can't cast beautiful, slender actresses to play women who are geniuses, each with a successful, complex career, not to mention a great sense of humor (also styled gorgeously btw) and then write narrative that implies Felicity and Caitlin are obviously not as attractive/desirable in the eyes of the modern world as Laurel and Iris. Considering higher IQs seem to be the only real differences (to me as an audience member), between Felicity and Laurel, and Caitlin and Iris, I find the implied subliminal messages here quite disturbing.

Obviously over time the scripts are working—episode by episode—to change these dynamics and give us more rounded female leads, but I would say definitely at the cost of initial retention in audience numbers (especially those early days of Arrow). I didn't get the same impression from Daredevil. I really like the multifaceted female characters on that show from the outset. 

I've since been told Daredevil is by Marvel, and Arrow and Flash are from DC. Once again, this aspect of their origins hadn't occurred to me, but it probably should come into consideration. I thought perhaps the fact two of the shows were on CW and the other on a different television format, explained part of the differences. Who can say?

Which brings me to Marvel's Agent Carter. This nearly slipped under my radar, and what a loss that would have been. The program didn't have the fanboy support shown for The Flash and Arrow. Someone whose opinion I trust recommended it, saying I would enjoy the series. I'd read it was about Captain America's girlfriend, and a girlfriend-of-a-superhero focused show sounded like a terrible idea.

Next I saw online that the series was set in the past. I remember thinking, who is going to watch this?! Eventually I checked it out and found the show to be absolutely fascinating. (But more on that later.)

Part of what makes the series so interesting, from a cultural perspective, is the way the show stacked the odds against itself. With no superhero lead, comic fan hype was low. But non-comic fans were staying away too, assuming the series was a kind of superhero thing. At the time, calling the show Marvel's Agent Carter probably seemed like an obvious positive, but in retrospect, I'd consider it a misstep, alienating the program from audiences who would have appreciated it the most: those unfamiliar with its comic roots, but appreciative of television with complex themes.

Basically, Marvel's Agent Carter fell through marketing gaps left, right, and center before the pilot screened. When I watched the episode, I noted the stylized look. The series came across like an old-fashioned television show, in terms of angles and lighting. Even the editing seemed slower paced (although I could be wrong). An entirely different aesthetic. Beautiful, yes, but not really on trend.

Then I realized it was on trend, stylistically, when lined up next to a show like Mad Men. It just wasn't being compared to that, it was being compared to Arrow. Fans who would appreciate the wit and intelligence at work in the scripts weren't watching because they didn't consider themselves part of the target audience. 

And then you ran into other problems. Peggy Carter was a feminist who loved glamor (always wearing lipstick), but wasn't hyper-sexualized. In the modern day, we're not sure if this is an iconic female hero. But Carter is much more complex and interesting than most women who've appeared in comic-related fare; Hayley Atwell's portrayal of the under-utilized agent hits the mark (and then some), making this by far my favorite of all the television shows linked to either the DC or Marvel comic universes.

(On a side note, seeing the openly sexist society of the post WWII workplace on Marvel's Agent Carter was sobering, partly because so many women have experienced echoes of such attitudes in the modern day. The show is an unsettling multifaceted mirror, reflecting both how far we've come, and how far we have to go.)

I'm not sure if the series is based on certain comics. No idea if Peggy has her own comics or is a side character referenced in other characters' adventures. I don't need to know because I enjoyed the series as-is. (I haven't seen the first Captain America film, so I had no idea who Carter was.)

Maybe that's the point. Maybe the idea that comics provide a ready made fan base for television outings is only true to a certain point. As television shows with a link to comic-based narratives step further away from accepted traditional narrative forms and explore the opportunities a different medium provides, so must marketing adapt to bring a different kind of audience into the fold. 

Comic-based television shows don't just belong to fans of comics: those discovering new heroes and inspirations are just as welcome audience members, even if, occasionally, it really doesn't feel that way. 

In summary, the current comic-to-television model is a strange one, relying on a difficult fusion of established fans of another medium and new fans completely unfamiliar with said medium. This also means offerings working outside a (roughly) standardized structure, no matter how entertaining, are at this point in time invariably doomed to slip through the cracks, which is a great pity. Hopefully, in the future, the dynamic will change.*

*Note: I haven't referenced Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Constantine in this post, as I barely made it through the pilots. I've yet to watch Gotham. It will be interesting to see if Gotham, also working outside the standard superhero format, suffers for it. Hopefully it will be another step in breaking the mold. (Also worth noting, this blog only addresses recent television productions sourced from comic material, and not classic examples of small screen superhero outings.)