"[Science-fiction movies] are the kinds of movies I enjoy watching, much as I really enjoy history and science, but I was noticing that I was having trouble convincing people, when I was pitching on projects, that I would be capable of doing this. There was a little bit of an attitude of, ‘Well, you’re a woman, you’re not writing romantic comedies, we’ll give you the Marie Curie biopic.’"
Masters of Sex Was Nearly Perfect Last Night
"A lesser show might ask whether boxing is a useful metaphor for the feints and fears and bruises of love: Obviously. And great shows have asked whether the release of tension under highly regulated conditions like the boxing ring is substantially different than certain forms of lovemaking or verbal debate or passive aggressions. But only Masters, I think, could get away with so boldly putting that hoary metaphor in the middle of an extended meditation on intimacy and forcing it into so many shapes and layers at once. There’s no need to handicap a bottle episode when the bottle contains the show’s entire world; Libby Masters never leaves the room, Austin Langham is there in Bill’s angry tears, Mrs. Scully is there in Gini’s tentative inquiries. You’re there, I’m there.”