GLOW: Finding Closure in Cancellation
NetflixThe following article contains spoilers for all three seasons of GLOW.
Reaching a proper, satisfying conclusion to a long-running show is no easy task. There can be countless problems in between that prevent this: low rating numbers, producers meddling with the creative team, losing sight of the original plan, becoming overzealous and continuing longer than was ever needed . . . Unfortunately, the beginning of the 2020 pandemic brought many cancellations that stung especially hard because of how unexpected they were. The most tragic casualty was GLOW, the Netflix show created by Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch: they had just finished filming the first episode of the fourth and final season in March 2020 when they had to halt production, and, in October 2020, they were cancelled by the streaming juggernaut.
Allegedly, Netflix’s primary concerns were the physical nature of the show in time of COVID, given that it heavily features wrestling scenes, and that it had too big a gap between seasons – it was estimated to be released in 2022, three years after the third season aired. While those might seem like reasonable excuses to pull the plug on this series, they become harder to believe when taking into consideration that Stranger Things – one of, if not the biggest Netflix show – will be released well over two years after the previous season, while Sex Education, a show all about intimacy and sexuality, managed to have a safe production in the middle of the pandemic.
The more likely reason why Netflix cancelled GLOW was that it was not bringing in the numbers they were hoping for: it is all about short-term engagement and trends, and, if something does not pull in an insane amount of hype and internet talk over the two-week period following its release, then it is seen as a waste of money. This is quite ironic when comparing the show with its inspiration, the real 1980s professional wrestling promotion of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling: that too was short-lived on television, being cancelled and revitalised after just a couple of seasons. It is history repeating itself.
Another tragic event in 2020 that lowered the morale of the show’s crew was the untimely death of one of the main directors, Lynn Shelton, who was also in a relationship with actor Marc Maron – who plays Sam Sylvia on GLOW. Needless to say, all of this and the other problems in the entertainment business as a whole led to a less than ideal 2020.
As of right now, there are no plans to conclude the show. In the live stream titled “After GLOW – The Final Bell with the GLOW Girls”, hosted by Jessica Radloff of Glamour a mere five days after the cancellation, the cast expressed sincere hopes that the show would get a proper final season, or even a movie, to cap things off in a satisfying way. After all, something similar happened in 2019 with Deadwood: The Movie, released thirteen years after that show was also cancelled after its third season. What is touching is how the stars of GLOW begrudgingly accepted their fate, treating the thirtieth episode of the show, A Very GLOW Christmas, as a retroactive finale for the entire narrative.
Having watched the show twice, before and after it was cancelled, what once seemed like an abrupt way to finish off the stories of these amazing characters now has an air of finality to it. The three seasons of GLOW work as a three-act story of sorts.
Season 1 is the beginning, used to introduce the main point of tension between Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie) and Debbie Eagan (Betty Gilpin), as well as leading to the cast of actresses and their director and producer to filming the pilot episode and building a strong team that goes beyond the purposefully cliched and stereotypical characters they have to portray.
Season 2 follows the production of the first season of the show, leading up to an emotional payoff between Ruth and Debbie that sees them making peace for how they treated each other over the years; meanwhile, the women of the team come to terms with working in a male-dominated industry, discover their identity and sexuality, and understand the impact of having a diverse group of women of all ages and origins being strong on television, and how this can bring some positive change in their audiences.
The third season is special because it manages to lead to a satisfying conclusion of many of the story arcs that were started back in the first season, avoiding predictable outcomes.
For starters, one of the characters that instantly stands out in the cast is Sheila “The She-Wolf” (Gayle Rankin): at first an outcast, using her wolf costume as a way to shield herself from reality, she slowly opens up to become a role model for a niche audience, culminating in her shedding the costume to be the best version of herself that she can be, likely going on to become a great actress who loses herself in each performance.
Melanie Rosen and Jenny Chey (Jackie Tohn and Ellen Wong) always had a love-hate relationship with one another, with constant teasing about their cultural heritage (Jewish and Cambodian, respectively), but it all comes together in a standout scene in Season 3, where both emotionally open up about how much their past is haunting their minds – one with antisemitism, the other having escaped the Khmer Rouge regime before it was too late.
Tammé Dawson (Kia Stevens) accepts that she will break her body if she keeps wrestling, thus choosing to become a manager – a perfect fit for her larger-than-life stage persona of “Welfare Queen”. Cherry Bang (Sydelle Noel) realises that she does not want to give up her career to have a baby and, with her husband Keith (Bashir Salahuddin), she decides to adopt a kid who will be followed closely by him while she keeps on working.
The lovable Carmen Wade (Britney Young) realises her potential as a wrestler, growing confident and sure of herself, and decides to abandon the repetitive nature of GLOW to go on the road with her brothers. Arthie Premkumar (Sunita Mani) learns that wrestling is her passion, and she slowly understands that she is a lesbian, in love with co-star Yolanda Rivas (Shakira Barrera), and how important it is to embrace her sexual identity in order to stop living in fear and confusion.
All of those are satisfying character arcs for virtually the entire side cast of characters, but it is nothing compared to the main characters. Producer Bash Howard (Chris Lowell) had been hinted at being a closeted homosexual right from the first season, especially given his obsession with his butler Florian Becker (Alex Rich). When he discovers that Florian was gay and died of unspecified circumstances, the blow of the news hits him so much that, rather than letting out his emotions – something he says never happened in his household – he makes the rash decision of marrying “Britannica” actress Rhonda Richardson (Kate Nash). It is an act done to hide his homosexuality, proving to himself that he was not like Florian. But, once they get to Las Vegas in Season 3 and their sex-fuelled honeymoon period is over, he completely loses interest in his wife. He keeps on hiding his feelings in a way that some people, like the flamboyant showman Bobby Barnes (Kevin Cahoon), clearly see through. In a desperate attempt to get him to love her again physically, Rhonda hires a gigolo to seduce her while Bash enters the room, which leads to a threesome in which he gives all the attention to the male prostitute. This leads him to feeling immense shame and, rather than discussing everything with his wife, he continues on living the lie, telling her that he wants to start a family. This is arguably the bleaker ending for any of the characters, leading to an epilogue that parallels the lives of many gay men who kept on living in denial and shame of their true selves – a stark contrast to Arthie’s growth.
Sam Sylvia, the director of the show, undergoes quite the change: he starts off as an arrogant has-been B-movie filmmaker with a love for booze and cocaine, but working with these women makes him re-evaluate what is important in life as he starts cleaning up his act. Plus, he discovers that one of the stars, Justine (Britt Baron), is actually his illegitimate daughter who went to L.A. to meet her father. The two strike up a strong bond in the second season with charming father-daughter shenanigans, where Sam encourages her to become independent and follow her own ambitions. This leads her to finalise a semi-autobiographical screenplay that she manages to have produced. In their last scene in the show, they are together: Justine, with a screenplay about to be produced by her father, and Sam having officially adopted his daughter by recognising his paternity. It is touching, hopefully leading to both of them having a successful film shoot, despite Sam starting to suffer from heart problems following his incessant drinking and previously destructive lifestyle.
Lastly, we come to the main stars of the show: Debbie and Ruth. They are introduced as best friends for life, one a soap opera star that abandoned her career to become a mother with her husband Mark (Rich Sommers), the other a struggling actress that never seems to land a good role. In the opening episode, Ruth cheats on Debbie by sleeping with her husband, something he tells his wife almost instantly, which makes Debbie resentful of her former friend. Both end up being cast by Sam for the show, Debbie as the all-American “Liberty Belle”, Ruth as the evil Russian “Zoya the Destroya”.
Ruth has to endure ridicule and hate from Debbie for the first two seasons, only to finally lash out at her for all her aggressive behaviour, wanting to move on from the horrible mistake she made and for which she has already atoned. In the third season, they have reconciled and become friends again. Debbie goes on an internal journey where she realises that her future is not in acting but in producing, and ultimately buys a television network with Bash Howard to produce her own projects and be in control. She is not just a wife or a mother anymore, but she is her own successful person who crafted her own way.
Ruth, on the other hand, has a long and arduous journey through the show. She bites plenty of dust from her co-stars in the first season because of her betrayal of Debbie, but her work ethic and commitment to the part make her connect quickly with Sam Sylvia. The friendship between the two is clearly more than just amicable, as Sam supports her when she gets an abortion – unbeknownst to Debbie and the others – and after she was sexually harassed by the head of K-DTV, while Ruth encourages him to keep his filmmaking aspirations alive. The two fall in love, something she cannot deal with initially and that he tells her very matter-of-factly in the third season. The “will they, won’t they” tension is truly captivating, but they do not end up together even after she embraces her feelings.
Through all three seasons, Ruth wants to be an active person, but she is forced into a submissive, passive position because of her circumstances and social standing in the group. It is only in the closing scene, after the heartache with Sam, losing an important film role, and realising that everyone else of GLOW is moving on with their lives, that she finally stands up for her herself: Debbie offers her the chance to direct shows for her new television network, but Ruth tells her that this is not what she wants for the future. She would rather struggle but keep following her dreams as a performer instead of finding a compromise, living a life that is fully her own. It is a bold choice for an ending but fitting for her character, as she is finally able to be herself without being tied down by guilt and regret for what she did.
Very few shows have a colourful cast of characters that is as complex, unpredictable and surprisingly real as that of GLOW. At a time where understanding different perspectives is important to feel more empathy for fellow human beings, this show managed to put front and centre the needs, hopes and desires of all types of women: young, old, black, white, poor, rich . . . They grow and change organically, believably, without the painful TV tropes that are usually present in similar series. This is even more apparent in the setting: it is far less nostalgic and sappy about the 1980s than something like Stranger Things.
Not only is it a great representation for women, but it can also lead men to better understand the importance of respecting and supporting their girlfriends, wives, sisters, and friends. Whether GLOW will be renewed post-COVID for a final season or a film is unknown. It is a little miracle though that the third season manages to feel rather conclusive despite the cancellation, giving a satisfying ending to all its characters, with the chance of following them on their future endeavours. This is truly one of the finest shows to ever air on Netflix, and it will likely only keep on growing as more and more subscribers discover it among the endless streaming catalogue.