Minx offers a simple premise: Will a side of dick excite ladies enough to also read about politics, women’s rights, and the fact that single women can get their hands on birth control? The answer seems to be yes, but that isn’t to say there aren’t a lot of complications of getting good dick (and good writing) into the hands of women who hadn’t even been able to get their own credit cards before the revolutionary 1970s. Minx creator Ellen Rapoport has said one of her goals with the show was to make porn feel aspirational. She absolutely succeeds, and in these five screenwriting takeaways, there’s a look at how she did it. 

1. A great buddy comedy.  At the core of this show is an opposites attract, engaging duo in Doug (Jake Johnson) and Joyce (Ophelia Lovibond). Free-wheeling Doug meets literally buttoned-up Joyce at a magazine publishing conference. Joyce pitches a group of men on her magazine The Matriarchy Awakens, and it does not go well. But open-minded Doug sees something in her — particularly when his nude models get woke through Joyce’s writing — and he invites Joyce to join his stable of magazines at Bottom Dollar, if she agrees to sandwich her articles with some meat…man meat, that is. With some goading from her housewife sister (and in the wake-up of a bad break-up from an initially non-supportive boyfriend), Joyce agrees to Doug’s offer and one knows they are in for a head-butting, teach-each-other-something dick bell ringing fun ride as Minx the magazine is born. 

2. Balancing the profane and the intelligent.  Minx is unabashedly and refreshingly dirty. For the first publication of the magazine, Joyce’s co-workers pitch an article that is simply matching dicks to the man (it’s surprisingly difficult). Joyce initially turns down the idea until she finally comes to terms that if her magazine wants to address topics as heavy as rape, it’s going to need a side of fun. Joyce is herself challenged when she finds that she is overwhelmingly attracted to her fireman, who is dumb as a bag of rocks (but gifted in his nether regions), and becomes the mag's first centerfold. Much like the magazine itself, viewers may be initially attracted to the wonderful escapism of the 1970s freewheeling sexuality, but they may stay for the discourse on feminist issues and the debates on what makes it into a rag mag run by someone with a newswoman’s heart.   

3. Bad feminist.  Joyce is such a great dichotomy of character: a woman who has only ever seen 2.5 dicks is thrust into the porn world to make her dream magazine that’s she’s wanted since she was in elementary school. Not to mention she’s having a recurring dream that Gloria Steinem is pelting her with tomatoes. She’s constantly vying for workers’ rights, but then creating more problems for those who work for or support her in the process. And when Joyce finally gets a chance to speak to a group who should be her target audience (the feminist club on a college campus) she finds them terrifying. Joyce’s journey is much like the 1970s themselves. Feminism is complicated, but Joyce’s character reminds us it’s okay to mistakes and laugh at yourself along the way. 

4. A workplace comedy with fantastic workers.  The supporting cast in Minx is worth a giant shoutout. Johnson’s Doug is shouting them out in how they save the magazine on the daily, and the show itself would not be the same without them. It’s refreshing to see a workplace comedy where everyone actually really loves the work. There’s Idara Victor as Tina, who's constantly calling Doug out on his bullshit while serving a side of flirtatious side-eye that’s creating a tangible sexual tension in the office. There’s Jessica Lowe as Bambi who starts to question her own choices after Joyce and her sister Shelly (played by the incomparable Lennon Parham) enter her life while still delivering hysterical one-liners along the way. And then there’s Oscar Montoya as Richie, making photography sexy along the way. Rapoport did a deep dive on the types of people working at similar magazines in the '70s and it shows. All of these characters are succinctly drawn and feel tangible and real. Everyone is getting their own arc and their own mini-revolution, making the show that rare kind of must-see streaming television. 

5. The 1970s as a backdrop.  The '70s were a boiling pot of combined revolutions: The gay rights movement, the women’s liberation movement, and the sexual revolution were often overlapping with each other, giving Minx the chance to explore all three. So far the show is managing to keep it light even though the '80s brought serious backlash, claiming that all the non-traditional relationships of the '70s brought depression and suicidal tendencies along with it. Bottom line, Minx will not run out of steam any time soon, particularly when Joyce constantly questions if she’s making the right decision standing by her career versus moving towards a more traditional role of starting a family because having it all still seems virtually impossible. But even if Joyce can learn a thing or two from manipulative mob housewives in the Valley, it’s hard to picture an apron ever overshadowing the power of her pantsuits. 

Final Takeaway: Minx embraces the power, freedom, and full-on in-your-face sexuality of the 1970s through enriching characters, deep research, valley love, an addicting two-hander with an incredible office staff, and, well, a very generous helping of man meat on the side. Just like its fictional magazine of the same name, you will not be able to put it down.