What would be the last thing you decide to do before you die?
In Dying for Sex, Molly’s (Michelle Williams) initial goal is simple. Because Molly IS dying (yes, we’re all dying, but Molly has been diagnosed with a terminal condition, and the show does a great job of differentiating the two). Her goal? To reach orgasm with another person before she dies. Molly is married, so one might think “well, this will be wrapped up quickly”. But, not so fast. Appropriate and risky obstacles are skillfully placed in Molly’s way, delaying gratification, as it were.
How exactly does one map out a course for getting off with someone before they kick the bucket? Checking in with the one you’re currently intimate with is probably a good start. When Molly confronts her husband Steve (Jay Duplass) about their nonexistent sex life—which started dwindling during her previous fight with breast cancer—she realizes that they still have several hang-ups that they won’t be able to get past in the time she has left. She swiftly decides to move on, and that’s when the show really gets going. Not to worry, she’s not alone on her journey: enter Nikki (Jenny Slate), Molly’s brash best friend and charming drama queen (she’s an actor) who finds herself even more devastated by the recent diagnosis than Molly. Slate goes head-to-head with Williams and holds her ground in a thoughtful yet dynamic way. So it is decided: Molly wants to die with Nikki and soon enough, their lives are more intertwined than ever.
Dying for Sex, based on the real-life Molly Kochan and the podcast of the same name, is as compelling as the real story. Slate and Williams do an excellent job of sounding like their real-life counterparts, albeit fictionalized and more theatrical, and they bring the energy of a friendship rooted in loyalty and unconditional love, even to the point of sacrifice. The show reminds you several times over to do what you want to do, say what you want to say, in the now, before you find yourself in Molly’s position. They don’t say it explicitly, but you’re reminded constantly through action.
Many will assume this is a show about sex, and they would be right, but not just because it’s in the title. Others may think it’s a show about dying, and they wouldn’t be wrong, either. There is no hidden meaning here and both topics are dealt with deftly. But the series is also about the specifics surrounding those themes, like grief, pleasure, childhood trauma and kink exploration. This series is an examination of a person’s life more than their death.
Molly’s life is one defined by her wants, needs and relationships: a daughter; an emotionally and physically distant mother (Sissy Spacek, who sweeps in and pulls your attention instantly); a non-judgmental palliative care counsellor (Esco Jouley) who gives Molly permission to choose life; a kind neighbour Guy (Rob Delaney) seeking an unorthodox connection; and a doctor (David Rasche) who could stand to reassess his bedside manner. You will laugh, you will cry, and you may be devastated in turn, particularly by the moments tied to a childhood sexual assault that hangs over our protagonist and continues to haunt her and inform her struggles with power and pleasure, in her life in and out of the bedroom.
Like everyone, Molly’s life is complex and can be a bit of a mystery; but as hospice nurse (Paula Pell) says in the final episode, “death is not a mystery.” The gift this show gives you, episode after episode, is a kind of playbook to dying well. Which, when it comes right down to it, really translates into a how-to for living life well, for those of us lucky enough to have a future ahead of us. It offers ideas for coping, too. In Episode Eight, Molly is told to “‘enjoy ‘the rally,” with the idea that we should all enjoy life while were still here, instead of waiting until we’re on borrowed time. Part of ‘the rally’ for all of us might be enjoying this powerful example of storytelling.
FX’s Dying for Sex is available to stream on Disney+ Canada.
