Lighter Fare: Netflix Date Night: Jane the Virgin
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Enter Netflix. In our Internet age
Enter Netflix. In our Internet age, there’s more content generated every minute than I could consume in a lifetime. I hate to waste time watching something sub-par. And of course I hate for my marriage to suffer because of a lackluster Netflix queue.
His typical viewing: Ken Burns’ Civil War, Mad Men, Locked Up Abroad. Mine: Gilmore Girls, The Great British Baking Show. Marriage is all about give and take, and as we’ve burned through most of our family classics, it’s great news when we find something that appeals to both of us.
The next show I’ll pitch to him is Jane the Virgin, precisely because of that give and take.
Like I said, the show’s great because of its contradictions. It holds on to opposing ideas at the same time; no sweat. Kind of like a marriage. Kind of like life.
A remake of a Venezuelan telenovela, Jane the Virgin retains the high drama and storytelling devices that typify the genre. See: the long lost twin, the villain wearing an eyepatch, and of course, the accidental artificial insemination that got our heroine Jane into this mess in the first place.
While the over-the-top plot developments provide a lot of entertainment—partially because of the self-awareness with which they’re delivered (“Wow, this is a lot of drug lords,” our narrator concedes.), it’s the everyday family drama that gives the show its heart.
In addition to our excellent narrator, Jane’s grandmother Alba continues to be one of my favorite characters. And I appreciate the realistic depiction of an immigrant family dynamic, in which abuela Alba speaks Spanish and Jane responds in English. Different generations retain different preferences and draw from divergent experiences. But, significantly, the Villanueva women remain united by shared values and, above all, family loyalty.
They speak two languages, and everyone understands one another.
Similarly, even the characters’ names—from Jane and Michael to Xiomara and Rogelio—demonstrate that Jane’s world, while fantastic in its drama, is realistic enough to contain names similar to ones I might find in the extended family that my own marriage created.
Gina Rodriguez as Jane is absolutely charming and fun to watch. Since the show is set largely in and around a luxury Miami hotel, the visuals are as vibrant as you’d expect. (And I love the clothes, even if the Target product placement is heavy-handed.)
In spite of her attractive appearance, Jane—the character and the show itself—is smart. We’re not constrained to either/or. It’s both/and—and the viewers appreciate it.
In particular, I appreciate Jane’s literary aspirations, and all the cultural references, from The Big Lebowski to Pygmalion and My Fair Lady. My husband would chuckle or fume, in turns, over the political nods (Rogelio’s telenovela crew unionizing, for example) and the clever integration of twitter and social media into the plot.
Here’s the thing, though. I don’t know that my husband would share my preference for Rafael over Michael. I go for suave, sophisticated, sincere; he might fall for Michael’s funny, masculine, dangerous-yet-also-safe detective.
But, it’s that ambiguity that drives the story forward and makes the show so much fun. Though I’m officially pulling for a canceled wedding and a return to Raf, realistically I’m willing to settle for whatever uncertainty the writers present us. Anything to prolong the love triangle and discover new layers for Jane and her family.
Netflix offers all of Jane the Virgin Season One. Meanwhile, the show has been renewed for its third season on The CW Network. I’m betting Jane’s virginal status will remain, but I hope the drama—high and low—will continue.
And, I hope my husband loves Raf as much as I do.
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