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.)

UnREAL Makes For Mighty Compelling Television

I'm not a fan of reality television and rarely watch straightforward scripted drama, so on the surface, new series UnREAL shouldn't appeal to me as a viewer. But beneath the surface, beyond the preconceptions of the genre it's parodying—that's where UnREAL truly excels; making it one of the most riveting programs I've seen in a long while.

The show's creators are Marti Noxon (she cut her teeth on Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel) and Sarah Gertrude Shapiro, who worked on The Bachelor in a variety of producing roles from 2002-2004.

The series follows the lives and adventures of a production team working on a reality show called Everlasting (similar to The Bachelor). Romance is one of my most disliked reality television sub-genres, but I hung in there because I like star Shiri Appleby (Roswell, Life Unexpected, Chicago Fire, Girls) although I had no idea she possessed the depth and intensity showcased here. When her character is revealed to be a producer for Everlasting, all the while looking incongruously disheveled in a t-shirt that says, "THIS IS WHAT A FEMINIST LOOKS LIKE", I really tuned in.

It's made clear from the pilot she is persona non grata on set, her character having had a breakdown last season, making the audience wonder why she's back? The question is answered when we see her manipulate the bachelor-style male lead Adam (played by Freddie Stroma) into signing a contract after he threatens to leave.

Rachel is a master manipulator. She understands the reality show's core audience, can visualize what kind of material corporate wants, and knows what strings to pull to get the reactions she needs from the contestants on camera. A part of her finds her own behavior abhorrent, another part of her psyche revels in it. She is completely self-aware, making her a magnificent anti-hero.

And here is the crux of the matter. What does one do when you're not only very, very good at your morally bankrupt job, but thrive on it, secretly adrenalized by the experience? Suffice to say I doubt Rachel's college professors envisioned a major in Women's Studies being put to use on a reality show.

These elements are part of what makes the material so fascinating. On some level nearly all the characters are being manipulated, and are also manipulative: simultaneously puppet and puppeteer. The idea that everyone has a price isn't even a question in this context, it's an assumption that fuels, and often redirects, the narrative.

Another solid factor is the way the contestants are presented—as pawns moved around the board, partially if not fully complicit in each scenario. While they're given enough depth to be believable, the audience is offered more insight into the production crew characters. Their motivations and insecurities are projected onto the contestants they "manage"; each contestant is in fact a metaphor for their particular producer's ambition, which hence subconsciously dehumanizes them in the mind of their producer handler.

The series has no real "goodies" and "baddies"—only the overly naive stand out as traditionally "good" characters but it feels like they lack the depth to conceptually understand what's happening, so they don't feel elevated.

In terms of subtext, there is so much going on. Romance and relationships are prime meat here; obviously reality television sells a cynical interpretation of true love, but that goes without saying and is almost too easy a target. Instead we watch the characters of Rachel and her boss Quinn attempt to traverse their emotional landscapes from within an emotionally unhealthy environment, i.e. one that focuses on fabricated intimacy and is propelled by the cold goal of commercial success, almost devoid of/considered exempt from ethical considerations.

Competitiveness and ambition are also key themes. In a sense these traits are great weaknesses (because they leave the characters open to manipulation), while simultaneously proving great strengths (compelling them to manipulate others on the show in a way that empowers their position in whatever hierarchy they inhabit). It’s an ugly dichotomy. Be warned—rose tinted glasses are only on the cameras.

Constance Zimmer plays Quinn King, who runs the reality series. Quinn offers her production team cash bonuses for eliciting catfights, nudity, and 911 calls, which pretty much sums up her empathic tendencies.

And yet Quinn is easily one of my favorite characters, possibly because Zimmer's portrayal completely humanizes her. Professionally Quinn is thriving in a traditionally male-dominated environment. Her intelligence and ruthlessness are tempered by moments where she does show a Quinn-esque brand of convoluted empathy: the kind that has to return some dividend, short or long term, for her character. 

In stark contrast is Quinn's lover and the show's big cahoot Chet Wilton (portrayed by Craig Bierko), a coked-up party type who also possesses ruthless business acumen. As Quinn tells Rachel—when learning she asked for Chet's help—Chet never does a favor without expecting something back. Their solemn expressions and a general sense of foreboding bring a dark, ominous foreshadowing to the scene.

A handful of episodes in and Quinn is stepping up to battle with Chet (this should be interesting); Rachel's confronted her mother (a psychiatrist who introduces us to a unique form of child abuse: ever-changing diagnoses of multiple disorders to explain Rachel's personality), not to mention embarked on a veiled and complex interaction with Adam, the show's charming but spoilt "bachelor".

It's clear from the get-go political correctness has not only been thrown out the window, but run down at high speed, before being reversed over. The rules are simple and boil down to one guiding premise: Only. Ratings. Matter. We're offered blunt, unapologetic portrayals; all gloves are off, and I love it.

Lines like "sluts get cut" (a warning to the contestant Grace, played by Nathalie Kelley, caught giving the bachelor a blow job) and Rachel reminding Adam the girls aren't hookers, highlights the confusing and often contradictory idea of female sexuality the viewing public possesses and that reality shows like Everlasting have to appease. When Adam's best friend visits the set and sexual assault behind closed doors is inferred, the contestant (Maya, played by Natasha Wilson) fuelled by fear of victim-blaming, neither confirms nor denies the incident, concerned primarily with how the situation impacts her chances on the show.

Race issues are highlighted just as bluntly. In the opening of the pilot a dark-skinned woman, Shamiqua, gets out of the contestant carriage and Quinn explodes, calling cut. The first one out is supposed to be wife material: hence she can't be black. As Quinn says, "It's not my fault America is racist, people." (Almost ironic that in highlighting these ugly facts UnREAL is presenting the reality of the situation.)

Viewers also see two dark-skinned contestants (Shamiqua and Athena, played by Christie Laing and Natasha Burnett) face a less than sterling choice; given that colored competitors rarely make it to the final, they can either play up the race card or face the possibility of getting cut. Each woman takes a different path, and watching the unfolding impact of their choices makes for thought-provoking television.

Horrifyingly, the contestants' psychological profiles are viewed as tools with which to play them. Bulimic character Anna (played by Johanna Braddy) is a prime example. After removing her “marker” food (i.e. something bright so she knows when to stop throwing up) Rachel promises to get the snack food back on set, but not before manipulating the character's fears while she’s in a weakened and vulnerable state. As expected, the dramatic fallout is ratings gold.

In the context of the show, fame is just another metaphor for success. Professional, personal, romantic: whatever the form, success is the primary goal. And it's all a game. Albeit one that's sick, twisted, complex, and let's face it, downright riveting, but still a game. I think this is brought home (literally) in the episode where Adam and Rachel attend a funeral in an attempt to regain a contestant. There is no border to the board: even offset, the game is still on. 

In a way the show is an exaggerated, satirical metaphor for life (well the way many live it nowadays) and that is the ugly beauty of UnREAL. The competition continues, and the cameras are always rolling—even when they're not. In today’s world it could be argued we're all pieces in play.