I've caught up to the fourth episode of My Brilliant Friend Season 4. I don't want to say too many negative things about a story that has accompanied me for six years, but it's true that, as many fans have noted, the overall quality of this final season differs from the first three, and it's hard to ignore that gap.
The casting of middle-aged actors, especially for Elena, is somewhat disappointing. After all, we've grown accustomed to and formed a deep connection with the original young actors. Perhaps that's the magic of a long-running series; when you see those familiar faces again, you feel a sense of familiarity, comfort, trust, and strength. How many times have I wondered why the team didn't choose to give the original actors a middle-aged look using makeup? The current special effects makeup technology is so advanced—Margherita Mazzucco and Gaia Girace could continue their roles without issue. Additionally, even though a new female director is at the helm this time, the overall style lacks the original's nuance. You can see this in Elena's narration; what used to be thought-provoking and moving has now turned somewhat rambling, mechanically recounting complex emotions that the director struggles to capture. I find that quite unfortunate.

However! Despite all this, when I see a flood of negative reviews criticizing Elena, now in her middle age, for still being so love-struck and repeatedly getting caught in Nino's web, I can't help but feel angry. I feel the need to speak up for her—or rather, for myself, my female friends, and many other women who, at certain moments, embody Elena.
Doesn't this attack on Elena feel familiar? If you have a smartphone and access to the internet, you can find posts like this on almost any social media platform. For instance, a group of women harshly criticizes another woman (usually the one seeking advice), berating her for not breaking up with a man who has cheated on her multiple times and has exposed her to various high-risk HPV strains, or for not leaving her husband who is often drunk and potentially violent, or for trying to have a second or third child in an unhappy marriage to hold her crumbling family together. Alternatively, young women might vent about their mothers, unable to understand why they continue to stay with their spouses they wanted to divorce over twenty years ago.
Of course, we can't deny that these comments that initiate break-ups often stem from good intentions, driven by an urgent desire to save the suffering party (usually women), just as the audience's pointing of blame at Elena arises from a heightened awareness of feminism. However, especially in recent years, these comments have become increasingly furious and extreme. All women are assumed to be already familiar with the popular feminist discourse online—a declaration that women should distance themselves from men and live for themselves. This growing anger begins to overlook the specific struggles women face; it's merely a relentless attack on behaviors and thoughts that contradict the ideals of feminism.

But people who made such comments forget that Elena was raised in a poor family in a small town in Naples during the 1950s and 60s. For girls like her, the struggle is that they're born sinners. Whatever she does, she's almost always wrong. If she doesn't do well in school, she's deemed too stupid; even if she studies hard and excels, her educational expenses are considered a waste; if she's not pretty, she gets bullied mercilessly; if she's pretty, she's called a slut. Growing up in such an environment, it's hard not to be drawn to Nino. Yes, to truly understand Elena, we must also acknowledge Nino's allure as a complex man, symbolizing many desires and ideals that women find hard to resist.
Nino is extremely handsome, but more importantly, he respects women, even if this respect is just a tactic in his pursuit of them. He always shows genuine enthusiasm towards the women around him, patiently and kindly listening to whatever they say. He makes them feel like they exist as themselves, not as extensions of their parents, brothers, or husbands—especially when Elena's stuck in her dismal and stifling marriage with Pietro. Her choice to cheat with Nino is like picking up a stone to break the stillness of her life. Nino just happens to be that stone, the key to letting go of her pent-up frustration, disguise, and restraint over the years, and reclaiming the part of herself that's melted away. If not Nino, it'd be someone else, something else, or some triggering circumstance.
Women experience awakenings in diverse ways; no one's born a feminist. Some, like Lila, are exceptionally perceptive, recognizing the essence of men, the environment, and the patriarchal society around them early on. But many others need to go through repeated pain and trial-and-error, like Elena who must navigate her awakening through Nino. This is also the norm for many of my female friends. We often become more aware and stronger after being hurt by men, whether that harm stems from individual character flaws or the collective unconscious of male privilege. My close friends and I have discussed that the best way for us to demystify anything or anyone (including men) is to have our own experiences with them. Only then do we learn not to fall into the trap of blind admiration or false and unrealistic illusions. No one's qualified to judge your worth, and no one's qualified to save your life. The so-called charm of "exceptional" men is merely an illusion.

Thus, fundamentally, the condemnation of Elena—which escalated into the online abuse of the actress—and the harshness towards any suffering woman reflect the real dilemmas of contemporary feminism. Even today, as we enter the fourth wave of feminism (which primarily focuses on issues like sexual harassment, sexual assault, and gender inequality through social media platforms, such as the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements), there are still countless women in the world facing different complex situations. When we use oversimplified justifications like "love-struck women," "they're set in their ways," and "they brought it upon themselves" to criticize them, we reflect on how this society (including women themselves) is encroaching on women's spaces.
Watching My Brilliant Friend feels like looking in a mirror; I always see reflections of myself and my female friends in Lila and Elena. Although the overall performance of Season 4 has been somewhat disappointing so far, it definitely doesn't overshadow the brilliance of the series. I think this is absolutely the series of my life.
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