lands on Netflix, giving us the opportunity to return to Capeside and once more wrap ourselves in the lives of Dawson, Joey, Pacey and Jen. I am a big fan of the show, of how it captured the true angst of teen melodrama, of its honest depiction of how important everything seemed when you were on the cusp of adulthood, of its depiction of a young, gay man Jack McPhee. But there's one thing I cannot forgive.
The death of Jen over any other candidate presents a dangerous message. Are you a woman in Noughties television? Do you like to party? Enjoy a drink? Use recreational drugs? Like to rattle the headboard on occasion? You must be punished. While your male peers can screw up constantly, and the girl-next-door in your peer group can wander through life doe-eyed and unharmed, you're pretty much doomed. Jen was never going to survive. Even becoming a mother couldn't save her.
Consider Samantha Jones, the cherry on top of Kim Cattrall's delicious career. I know, I know, she didn't die. But when I look around the brunch table at Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York, Miranda Hobbes and Samantha Jones, I wonder why the smart-talking, sexually charged PR maven had to be the one to be stricken with cancer in the show's final series.'s writers were smart people.