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Iserson\u2019s quest was to balance the humor and heaviness. \u201cPart of our purpose is to take a show about two women who can be funny with each other, but actually is grounded in emotion and narrative weight,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd to treat it the way that many people would treat shows about men.\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s no secret that the television industry remains largely male-dominated. For decades, spy movies\u2014and intelligence work itself\u2014have been as well. But onscreen, Bea and Twila use misogyny to their advantage. As unassuming women, said Fogel, their invisibility is their superpower.<\/p>\n Susanna Fogel and Ira Glass<\/span>OK McCausland.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/figure>\n \u201cThe \u201970s are interesting, because it\u2019s a time that\u2014at least in America\u2014we were loudly talking about feminism a lot in culture, but people were still in traditional marriages and had families with traditional expectations,\u201d Fogel told VF.<\/em> \u201cThis was an interesting prism through which to look at: How empowered are you, really, deeply down?\u201d<\/p>\n Post-screening, the crowd spilled out into The Whitby Bar and Restaurant, where Richardson sipped a dirty martini (with three olives) alongside her fellow cast members. She joined her dashing costars from episode one: Artjom Gilz, Nicholas Podany,<\/strong> and Petro Ninovskyi,<\/strong> circling a faux-memorial for the one comrade who couldn\u2019t make it, Adrian Lester.<\/strong> On a table below them, a framed photo of Lester\u2019s smizing headshot was adorned with flowers and votive candles.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n