More on Lena Dunham

I'm finding the Lena Dunham controversy much more interesting than I would have thought.

The dust is settling and the opinions are forming; the majority are not in Dunham's favor.

Only a small part of the majority echo Williamson's contention that Dunham is more alien than artist. Most are satisfied to say that Dunham's ongoing manipulation and sexual play with her sister was abusive and leave it at that.

Certainly, this is more grist for the culture war mill. It shouldn't be a surprise that the women-of-color faction of feminism were quick to disown Dunham but another rift in the solidarity rose to the surface. Many feminists, it appears, found their ideology because it's the loudest voice against sexual abuse; Dunham's confessions struck a chord with them.

As for myself, I've kept an eye on Dunham over the last few years because I always pay attention when a new "genius" is introduced to the culture. As I've written about many times before, the arts and entertainment field--particularly the journalism covering it--has been dominated by progressives for years. Dunham, in particular, came to us anointed as, at least, a potential "voice of a generation." But what had she done to deserve it?

A Redditor linked this article, "Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of NYC’s Lena Dunham Obsession," published last January, before her book was published. It's a compendium of Dunham mentions in the NYC press.

Here's the thing:  It goes back to 1998. Dunham was born in 1986. Not even a teenager, here she is in Vogue (!):

Laurie Simmons and Carroll Dunham's eleven-year-old daughter, Lena, has a street edge that could leave even Miss Schnabel feeling momentarily inadequate. 'I tried to model this after Helmut Lang,' says Lena, showing off a shift she sewed herself. Her fashion pronouncements are something you'd expect from a woman (at least) three times her age: 'I tend not to go for trends. You can only wear them for two weeks . . . . I really like Jil Sander, but it's so expensive.... I find Calvin Klein really hard to respect because he's everywhere. I view him as a clothesmonger . . . . Manolo is really classy.'

This particular excerpt has stuck with me because it shows a real disconnect between the real world and the insulated NYC elite. Dunham here smacks of the most irritating type of precociousness, the kind in which she affects a sophistication which she couldn't possibly claim. She finds Calvin Klein "really hard to respect" because he's a "clothesmonger?"

Most adults would recognize this as creative mimicry. The child has heard this type of discussion and is more or less pretending to be an adult discussing adult things in an adult way. Kind people will listen with gentle tolerance but take very little stock in what the child is saying.

Apparently, if one is a member of the artistic-literary-publishing NYC elite, one hears a precocious heiress and decides that she must be a brilliant young thing, worthy of quoting in an international publication. Truly we must be a special breed, the thinking seems to be here, otherwise, how else would we have such remarkable children?

At fifteen, the NYT quotes her discussing a hangout that her fellow classmates frequent:  " I have a friend who's 36 who went to St. Ann's, and she used to go to U.T.B." She goes on to wax poetic about the spot, but two things are more important. One, a fifteen-year-old has a friend who is 36? Second, a fifteen-year-old making her second appearance in the international press?

When she was sixteen, the NYT sent a reporter to cover her vegan dinner party. The article points out that only she and a friend are actually vegans, though Dunham proudly decides to enforce her gustatory ideology by making everyone remove their shoes on the premise that they are probably leather. They denounce/listen-ironically to Justin Timberlake and Dunham tells the reporter, "I go to one party every five months. I watch everyone get drunk and I'm really freaked out. I enjoy it, but then I don't want to see it again for five months."

By this time we can see that Dunham's precociousness has not only gone unchallenged but encouraged. We can also see what kind of person she is becoming, using intellectual positioning and "enlightened" self-absorption as a way to assert status.

The beginning of Dunham's public profile as a creator came at 21 in the NYT for a series for Nerve Video (Remember Nerve?) in which she films herself in Spanx, has unappetizing sex and then has her partner insult her. Sound familiar?

From then on, everything Dunham did got attention from the NYC press and, thus, international exposure. She followed the Nerve series with another web series that featured well-known NYC art and fashion figures, then the film Tiny Furniture, followed by full-bloom national status and Girls.

Three things:

First, is there a better example of how the entertainment market is broken? Dunham's talent isn't even an issue here--she could be twice as talented or half as talented and have the exact same career. More importantly, her work could be entertaining, but how can one believe that her tiny and insular experience could give her anything important to say? Looking at her history, it appears that she was groomed to be a media darling.

Second, like I discussed the other day, a serious, disinterested look at Dunham's public persona reveals not depth but narcissism. Her "courage" for displaying her average naked body and her willingness to look pathetic, her inability to create vehicles that don't star herself, all point to a desperate need for attention. She would have taken Paris Hilton's path if she had the looks for it. Since she didn't, she took the role of the smartest person in the room. Since the room was full of the children of editors and artists and fashion designers, they thought she was very smart, indeed--smart enough to better the world.

Finally, Kevin D. Williamson's original intention in his review of Dunham's book was buried under the "molestation or not?" controversy, but I think that he's introduced a valuable technique to our arsenal. The Dunham who comes across, in her own words, is alien. Her priorities, her experience with the difficulties of life and her coddling by the national press are all light-years away from the lives of her audience. We should be doing more of this.