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“We’re all just putting on a show,” reflects Jinx, the former wrestler, as he muses over the nature of their professions. “Entertaining, as Lace or Jinx or…”
“HungryGhost,” his daughter, Margo, chimes in, reminding him of her persona as an OnlyFans model.
Jinx’s previous objections about the lack of honor in nude modeling seem to have disappeared. Sitting in the medical tent at a wrestling convention, he reassesses his stance. From this vantage point, earning money by shedding your shirt without the risk of a body slam seems quite appealing. A real injury, courtesy of the real-life wrestler Chris Jericho and the fictional wrestler Lace, portrayed by Nicole Kidman, has provided him with a fresh perspective.
Finally, Jinx understands Margo’s perspective: her work is simply another form of performance, not so different from the waitressing at Hooters or his own wrestling days at the WWF. It’s all part of the entertainment industry.
However, this realization comes a bit too conveniently. The film, Margo’s Got Money Troubles, rushes through its character development, with Jinx’s change of heart occurring just two scenes after his initial outburst. This is a recurring issue with the movie—it feels as though it’s been scripted on easy mode, lacking depth and complexity in its storytelling.
Think of how many times Margo’s obstacles, in the form of judgmental roommates or job interviewers or babydaddy’s moms or whatever, have made their nature as obstacles known by being so obnoxious they might as well be twirling their mustaches. To use wrestling parlance, they’re heels, garnering “cheap heat” — easy negative fan reactions — by doing lowest-common-denominator shitty stuff to the babyface, Margo. Jinx himself does it in this episode, telling his own daughter she doesn’t want to be “one of those girls.” This gives Margo an opportunity to monologue righteously, like she’s Cody Rhodes or “Hangman” Adam Page grabbing the mic and blasting Roman Reigns or Swerve Strickland. (Trust me.)
So it’s no surprise when Jinx discovers Margo taking topless pics with Susie (her costumer/photographer/daycare provider), freaks out, and makes his peace with it in less than the time it took for the Undertaker to defeat Mankind after tossing him off and through a steel cage in Hell in a Cell. (Again, trust me.) When he immediately does something incredibly stupid and breaks the hand of the professor who knocked Margo up, that’s a real basic move too: instant conflict escalation, just add a pro wrestler who decides to ignore difference between a work (a fake attack) and a shoot (a real one), brother.
Margo’s career is proceeding with the same kind of artificially increased pace. Her gag idea of comparing penises to Pokémon (“Your penis is filled with a quiet menace”) nets her some subscribers and diaper money, but not enough to make a real living. For that, she turns to a pair of nearby content creators, KC (musician Rico Nasty), aka WangMangler99, and SucculentRose (Anora’s Lindsey Normington), for advice and collaboration. It takes a grand total of two DMs, one of them a series of expletives, to win their trust and be invited to their place to feel out working together. You’re never gonna guess what they decide to do!
I will say that this episode of Margo comes closer than ever before to containing actual laughs. That line about some guy’s dick’s “quiet menace” was pretty good, right? I also like the way Jinx gently but firmly needless his ex-wife about her new life as an Episcopalian lay minister’s fiancé: “How is church, Shyanne? Are you enjoying church? What’s your favorite song?” Margo responding to Rose and KC’s pitch that she use visual effects to create the illusion of “infinite puss” by saying “I’ll marinate on it” is the kind of evocative word choice that makes you realize why the good professor saw promise in her writing.
For me, the main attraction here is Nick Offerman and Nicole Kidman wrestling, and not just for the obvious reasons, although for those too. This isn’t a perfect representation of how this stuff works — any convention that doesn’t want to be sued into oblivion is not going to let a guy get in the ring and wrestle an impromptu match without being medically cleared, and also you can’t send old wrestling equipment via media mail — but it’s a respectful one. It honors the idea that while this art for may be silly, as silly as taking pictures of your boobs with the word BOOBS written on them for example, it is still an art form, with artists who care about their craft and viewers who derive great happiness from watching their incredible bodies at work. If that doesn’t also describe erotica and pornography, I don’t know what does.
Sean T. Collins (@seantcollins.com on Bluesky and theseantcollins on Patreon) has written about television for The New York Times, Vulture, Rolling Stone, and elsewhere. He is the author of Pain Don’t Hurt: Meditations on Road House. He lives with his family on Long Island.