“Before they bite, they bark”

There is a dearth of content that depicts the insidious, subtle nature of abuse in its emotional form. Too often, people only associate the word with threats or acts of physical violence. This is rarely the actual beginning of the cycle, and that cycle is rarely as simple as we on the outside like to think. Adapted from the 2019 autobiography by the same name, 2021’s Maid deals with this issue without flair, without theatrics, and without hesitation when it comes to delivering truly powerful scenes, performances, setbacks, and triumphs.

This is a show that is difficult to watch and one that every single person should make the time and space to absorb.

In Maid we follow Alex as she struggles to create a stable life for herself and 3-year old daughter, Maddy, after leaving her alcoholic husband, Sean. She’s forced to lean on her unreliable mother, accept the help of those who only offer it with secret conditions, reconnect with people who laid the foundation of neglect for her, and face a system that is so busy protecting itself that it leaves the people who truly need it hungry, cold, and lost. How is any person, especially a newly single mother, possibly supposed to succeed?

Where most shows take aggressive approaches to showing abusive spouses and otherwise negative people, Maid takes a much more measured and intelligent one. Many of Maid’s best scenes are subtle, reflecting the small ways that abuse takes hold and begins to slowly strangle its victims from within. There is very little hand-holding in the show and it often elects to allow things to simmer rather than explaining them, trusting that the audience will either pick up on the emotional tones and setting – injuring them further for their lack of ability to reach into their screens and help Alex –, or allowing that viewers are going to miss them entirely – intentionally reflecting the way that society at large is blind to the commonality of microaggressions that have macro consequences. In the scenes where this trend is not followed, the progression near the more “common” forms of abuse is natural and undramatic, leaving us just as shocked as the characters we are watching.

Bringing all of this to life is a cast lead by Margaret Qualley [Alex], Andie MacDowell [Paula, Alex’s mom… and also Margaret’s real-life mother], and Nick Robinson [Sean]. While these three lead the show in on-screen minutes, there is not a single performance in the entire 9-hour runtime that I would call “minor”. I am shocked that every person involved in this has not won several talent-based awards. This is to include the crew behind the cameras and score as well. Every scene is shot with such care and emotional-visual intelligence, that [apart from a handful of classically TV moments] it would be easy to sell them as real-life happenings and the soundtrack is so well utilized that one couldn't be blamed for thinking them all bespoke pieces of music. Maid sets an entirely new bar when it comes to professionalism.

“Important” is not a word I use to describe pieces of entertainment media lightly. Most of my favorite films don’t even earn that moniker. So, when I tell you that Molly Smith Metzler’s adaptation of Stephanie Land’s memoir is undeniably capital-I “Important”, I hope that carries some weight. While, yes, there are some moments that you have to practice your typical TV watching skills to get past, the vast, vast majority of this show is smart, sensitive, powerful, and sharp. The situations, people, ideas, mentalities, struggles, barriers, stigmas, and dangers presented in Maid are anything but fictional, and we should all take a moment to reflect on the society that often denigrates those who suffer these injustices, and find a way to do better moving forward.

“The hike will be hard, but we’re gonna make it to the top and, when we do, I’m gonna tell her that the ‘M’ stands for ‘Maddy’. That this whole new world is for her.”