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When it slips from her rosy lips so languidly yet demanding of attention I get a thrill: Cunt.
It plays like a dare to her audience:I dare you to recoil.
I dare you to push back.
I dare you to face the discomfort you have with womens bodies, and me, and my words.
You guys ever … you know?
The two of you plus a guy?
Yes, yo lets go, she responds.
We love fucking each other.
I love putting my tongue on her tongue and inside hercunt.
And for a mans pleasure?
And for your pleasure?
Elliot, never one to sit out a perversion, chimes in.
Is your imagination so fucked you have to see things twice for your dick to get hard?
Beverly concludes, her digraphs pointedly curt, left to flutter in the air.
Weiszs voice is tremendous in its dexterity.
I was 17 when he pulled me over, high as a kite, the monologue begins.
Weisz is doing a southern accent, drawing out each syllable.
Davis is clearly enamored with the pleasure of playing against herself, and her admiration is contagious.
As Elliot, she takes up space with her posture, with her gaze.
They are meant to be a study in contrasts, not in total opposition.
But when Rebecca drolls out, How are you Beverly?
with all the sweetness of a threat, the scene shifts.
She stutters, drifts, falters at every sentence.
Where Elliot leans into ostentation, Beverly demures.
When an older woman asks, What happens if you put that 24-year olds tissue straight in me?
her vision flirts with all the potential responses; shes delighted by her own intelligence.
Beverly operates in a more modest register, allowing Weisz to demonstrate how effective pure discipline can be onscreen.
As Beverly, Weiszs eyes are searching, yearning, on the precipice of tears.
This is not appropriate.
You cant have everything in your sisters life, and you certainly cant have this.
This kind of acting can go south, the eyebrows dancing while the face remains strangely still.
(Emilia Clarke over the course ofGame of Thronescomes to mind.
Natalie Portman when shes given improper material, leaving her to fall back on those bone-straight brunette arches.)
Weisz uses her eyebrows with a light touch.
I need you not to go, Elliot finally says with a sigh.
She embraces her sister whose face is masklike in its unreadability turning her open heaving mouth upon her neck.
Is it a kiss, or is she trying to devour her?
The psychosexual contours of the series glimmers.
From this point things grow even wilder for Weiszs sisters.
By the beginning of episode six, life has gone tits up for Elliot.
Shes botched a C-section, puncturing the mothers bladder after drinking booze to quell her ragged emotions.
But here their overlaps are more evident.
They sigh and laugh.
A kiss on the forehead becomes an embrace.
They are enraptured, until Beverly catches the icy glow of two fetuses genetically engineered by Elliot.
I have to climb inside of you now.
There was only supposed to be one of us.
You were always the better me.
And so the twins, indistinguishable by now, congeal their lives into a single entity.
A pact is made.
If I had to describeDead Ringersin a single color it would be red.
But not just any red.
The red of arteries, gaping wounds, placenta, and bruised knuckles.
