"Mirror, Mirror," the eighth episode of Masters of Sex Season 2, directed by Michael Apted, delves deeply into themes of self-perception and the fragmented nature of identity. The episode weaves together multiple storylines that reflect the internal conflicts of the characters, using both literal and metaphorical mirrors to explore how people see themselves versus how they are perceived by others. Apted's direction emphasizes introspection and subtle tension, creating an episode that feels both intimate and transformative.
The episode opens with William Masters and Virginia Johnson continuing their work on human sexuality, but the personal stakes in their partnership grow increasingly pronounced. Bill, grappling with his insecurities and childhood trauma, begins to question his own motives, his vulnerability exposed in poignant scenes where he confesses his doubts to Virginia. Virginia, in turn, is torn between her professional aspirations and the emotional consequences of her increasingly blurred boundaries with Bill. Meanwhile, Libby Masters confronts her discontentment as she ventures into a tentative relationship with Coral's brother, Robert, adding a layer of social commentary on racial and societal divides. The subplot involving Lester and Barbara, secondary characters in the clinic, provides a lighter yet insightful counterbalance, exploring how shame and self-acceptance influence relationships.
The performances in "Mirror, Mirror" are a testament to the cast's ability to convey complex emotions with nuance. Michael Sheen delivers a deeply introspective portrayal of Bill Masters, capturing the character's fragile masculinity and internal conflict with remarkable depth. Lizzy Caplan continues to shine as Virginia, her expressions and body language revealing the cracks in her confident exterior. Caitlin FitzGerald's portrayal of Libby reaches new heights, as her character begins to challenge societal norms and her own expectations.
Apted's direction brings a deliberate pace to the episode, allowing each scene to breathe and emphasizing the reflective nature of the narrative. The use of mirrors and reflective surfaces throughout the cinematography reinforces the theme of duality, with characters often framed against their own distorted reflections. The muted color palette, combined with soft lighting, creates a somber and contemplative atmosphere, underscoring the characters' inner turmoil. The editing is seamless, transitioning between storylines in a way that feels organic and cohesive, ensuring that the narrative remains engaging without becoming overwhelming.
The writing in "Mirror, Mirror" is sharp and introspective, diving into the emotional and psychological depths of the characters. The dialogue is laced with subtext, revealing more about the characters' true feelings than they are willing to admit aloud. The episode excels in its ability to balance the personal and the universal, using the intimate struggles of its characters to comment on larger societal issues, such as gender roles, race, and the stigma surrounding sexuality. This thematic richness makes the episode feel not only relevant to its 1950s setting but also resonant with contemporary audiences.
In conclusion, "Mirror, Mirror" is a standout episode that masterfully blends introspection, drama, and social commentary. Michael Apted's nuanced direction, combined with stellar performances and thoughtful writing, creates an hour of television that is both emotionally resonant and thematically profound. By holding a mirror up to its characters-and, by extension, its audience-the episode invites reflection on the dualities of human nature and the complexities of identity. As the series continues to evolve, "Mirror, Mirror" serves as a poignant reminder of its ability to navigate the intricate interplay of the personal and the societal, leaving a lasting impression that lingers long after the credits roll.
