I can’t write honestly about Lena Dunham‘s personal, non-professional situation without sounding cruel, and I really don’t want to go there. It’s all been coughed up.
One last time: The metaphor conveyed by a condition of over-the-top obesity is inescapable, and I’d really love to get away from that…to wade into Dunham’s insights and creative presentations (she’s a very sharp writer and a grade-A filmmaker…I’ve been a fan from the get-go) on their own terms without grappling with the other thing…okay, enough.
I’d like to know if there’s any chance that Good Sex, Dunham’s Natalie Portman Netflix film, is going to play any of the early-fall festivals before debuting on Netflix in October or November or whenever.
Dunham’s memoir, “Famesick“, pops tomorrow.















