Theresa Basile

[Women’s History Month, Day 19]

This next performer is not someone who is usually singled out for her acting, but she played two characters on a critically acclaimed show for four years and she deserves some recognition.

Battlestar Galactica was widely admired by critics and fans alike. I was obsessed with it for a little while, but the show would never make my all-time favorite list simply because it was so inconsistent in its mythology and became so ponderous and lecturing.

Despite the show’s flaws, I still became very attached to the stories of Boomer, a sleeper Cylon agent who thought she was human, and Sharon, a Cylon who eventually allied with the humans out of love for one man. I never bought into the concept of equality between Cylons and humans, but I believed in the stories of both Sharons from beginning to end. I was pleased with Sharon’s growth and moved by the tragedy of Boomer.

Grace Park is a formative performance because she made me feel emotionally invested in a robot. The following clip is from the series finale where one version of her character kills the other. Poor Boomer. Poor, poor Boomer.

[Women’s History Month, Day 15]

This next performer is one of the two best sketch comedy actresses I’ve ever seen: Andrea Martin in SCTV. There was something inherently lovable about every one of her characters, yet they were all so different.

Here she is as immigrant cleaning woman Pirini Scleroso:

Here she is as SCTV station head, Edith Prickley:

Here she is as feminist talk show host, Libby Wolfson:

SCTV was filled with excellent performers, all of whom had different talents. What I loved about Andrea Martin was that her inner clown came through in every character she played. She and John Candy were the two biggest clowns on the show. You can see how much she loves performing every time she’s onscreen. If I were ever to break into sketch comedy performing, I’d want to be like Andrea Martin.

[Women’s History Month, Day 14]

Today’s highlighted actress had the sometimes thankless job of being the moral center and “straight man” on a sitcom: Judy Reyes on Scrubs.

Scrubs is a show dear to my heart for its combination of silliness and genuine emotional moments, but the balance would never have worked without Judy Reyes as Carla. She often provided the heart on the show without ever delving into saccharine sentimentality. (She also had great chemistry with Donald Faison, making Turk and Carla one of my all-time favorite fictional couples.) John C. McGinley once said that Reyes was the best actor on their show, and I think he’s right.

The following clip is a great dramatic moment from Scrubs, where Carla defends herself against JD’s patronizing attitude. It’s so emotional and angry and dignified, and she pulls out all the stops. She wasn’t given the opportunity to be as funny as most of the other Scrubs cast, but she always felt like a real person to me, closer to a real human being than any other character on the show.

And when she did get the chance to be funny, she excelled at that, too:

[Women’s History Month, Day 13]

You know what’s an amusing exercise? Watching an episode of Freaks and Geeks and counting the number of famous people in it: Jason Segel, Seth Rogen, Rashida Jones, and Professor James Franco, to name a few.

You know what’s another fun exercise? Watching Freaks and Geeks, period. It is just the best show ever. The writing is wonderful, the characters are so well-defined, and the performances are great. I almost feel guilty singling out one performance from such a wonderful cast, but I can’t in good conscience write about acting in Women’s History Month without talking about Busy Phillips.

Busy Phillips was never nominated for an Emmy while on Freaks and Geeks. Neither was any other performer on the show, which is just ludicrous, but it’s especially ludicrous in her case, because “Kim Kelly is My Friend” is the kind of episode that’s just made for Emmy awards. She shows such an impressive range of emotion in forty-five minutes and makes Kim’s pain both moving and hilarious. “You’re like my only friend, Lindsay – and you’re a total loser! No offense,” is just one of my favorite moments in TV history. I’m including nine whole minutes of this episode for you to enjoy, and marvel at Busy’s greatness. (Linda Cardellini and Becky Ann Baker are also great, as are the male cast members, but this episode really belongs to Busy/Kim.)

[Women’s History Month: Day 12]

I really should have written something about Tina Fey and 30 Rock before today. But better late than never.

Tina Fey has become super famous over the last decade, and rightly so. She’s multitalented, hilarious, and openly feminist, and I love seeing talented, funny, feminist women become super famous. I am eternally grateful to her for 30 Rock and the character of Liz Lemon, especially because Liz was a character that grew and changed over the seven years on the show.

In the beginning of 30 Rock, Liz was the main character and “straight man” on the show, the relatively put-together protagonist whose main job involved putting out fires set by her staff members, reacting to whatever wackiness Jenna or Tracy came up with, and learning lessons from Jack Donaghy. But Liz grew progressively sillier and more ridiculous as the show went on, giving Fey a chance to really shine in her performance, whether she’s freaking out over the writers stealing her sandwich, collapsing to the floor when she has her period, getting married dressed like her favorite princess (Leia, of course), or saying “Blerg” in multiple different contexts.

Fey gets a lot of well-deserved accolades for her Sarah Palin impersonation, her showrunning and writing abilities, and her creation of a feminist character, but I don’t think she gets enough credit for her performance as Liz Lemon, perhaps because people perceive that she’s basically playing herself. It’s true that Liz is an exaggerated version of Fey herself in some ways, but I don’t care. It’s still one of the finest comic performances I’ve seen on television.

[Women’s History Month, Day 11]

Fuckin’ Glee, man. It’s such a dumb show, so filled with preachy speeches, ridiculous storylines, and repetitive musical performances, but when it shows gay people loving each other, it gets it so, so right, because then the talented cast members can elevate the stupid writing and let the emotions shine through. One of those cast members is the triple threat known as Naya Rivera.

I watched the following performance with my hand over my heart, my mouth halfway open. Up until this episode, I was convinced that Santana was a character who barely had a human emotion to spare. She hated everyone except Brittany. With this performance, where she is positively aching with love for her best friend – unable to hide it, yet so scared to show it that she throws Gwyneth Paltrow between them as a barrier – my heart went out to her and never left.

There are numerous problems with the writing of Santana’s storyline. (Numerous. That can’t be emphasized enough.) But Rivera’s performance elevates it and brings to life a type of character I haven’t seen often: a teen gay woman of color, informed by her sexuality but not defined by it. The writing would have us believe that Santana is mean because she’s lashing out, angry at the world for not letting her be comfortable in her own skin, but Rivera gives an extra layer to Santana’s character not present in the writing. She shows us a girl who isn’t comfortable expressing any genuine emotion except anger. She shows what internalized homophobia can do to a person and how navigating love – especially gay love – is so difficult for teenagers to handle. She’s great, and I hope she has an excellent career once Glee is over.