It seems like every week I have a giddy response to at least one line delivered by one of the characters in Masters of Sex. There are moments where Bill has a kind of divine insight, pointing out that “humans have taken the basic impulse for sex and turned it into some unrecognizable ordeal: romance, chivalry, codes of etiquette.” There are others where he is less aware of what he’s revealing, such as the moment he shares that Freud’s fixation on the Oedipal complex made him want to stab his own eyes out (Bill has, shall we say, rather deep issues with his mother).
The supporting characters provide subplots that are almost unfairly categorized as subplots. Allison Janney absolutely dazzles as the frustrated wife of Beau Bridges’ provost character. Bridges himself is fascinating as he oscillates between hiding and fighting and engaging in his own sexual impulses.
Most impressive of all its accomplishments though is the way Masters of Sex is able to confidently and ably pass between comedy and drama, delving into some rather severe tragedy only three episodes into this premiere season. The events of Episode Three are handled far more sadly and beautifully than one would expect from a series in its first season, let alone one of its first episodes. It strikes chords you’d never expect.
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