Few series come out of the box as brilliant as Girls does. The new HBO series from Lena Dunham (Tiny Furniture) is one of the most original, spot-on, no-missed-steps series in recent memory. 
 
 For her part, Dunham, who writes, directs, stars in, created and executive produces the series, is a talent as unique and refreshing to the medium as Louis C.K. – high praise indeed, as FX’s Louie is one of the most critically acclaimed series on television. 
 
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 Girls is about four women in their early twenties trying to find out who they are, what they want and how to get it while living in New York. But any comparison to the older HBO series Sex and the City is wide of the mark in numerous ways. Where that series had a high sheen to it and was all about finding men and shoes and happiness (about in that order), and the four variations on a feminine theme came together all-too-neatly for lunch and chat sessions, Girls is a much more lo-fi, rooted-in-realism affair, and it mines the honesty of its characters in such a way that it produces both robust comedy and genuine, emotionally dramatic moments. 
 
 That is in no way meant to dismiss Sex and the City, but the two are shows so vastly different they don’t really reside in the same creative solar system. And there are bound to be similarly inadequate comparisons to the CBS sitcom 2 Broke Girls, which tries to flaunt its female characters constant use of “vagina” as somehow cutting edge, but its portrayal of young women in the big city is a glossy, superficial affair that screams “Look how wild we are” while Girls is more authentically scrubby and monochromatic (evocative of their personalities and New York as its setting). 
 
 VIDEO: HBO Premieres Lena Dunham's 'Girls' Trailer 
 
 Since so few people actually saw Tiny Furniture (which got its debut at SXSW, where Girls is poetically receiving its world premiere on Monday, before its April 15 debut on HBO), Dunham is going to be a very new discovery (and likely a sensation). Like Louis C.K., Dunham has created a series that is 100 percent her vision (even though it was championed and is executive produced by Judd Apatow and Jennifer Konner). Like Louie, Girls is shot through with the unmistakable DNA of its creator and it’s impossible to overstate the brilliance of the artistic vision at hand here. 
 
 In the first three half-hour episodes (of a 10 episode season), Dunham manages to convey real female friendships, the angst of emerging adulthood, nuanced relationships, sexuality, self-esteem, body image, intimacy in a tech-savvy world that promotes distance, the bloodlust of surviving New York on very little money and the modern parenting of entitled children, among many other things – all laced together with humor and poignancy. 
 
 You shouldn’t have to be told what a difficult party trick that is. 
 
 Dunham is fearless in this role. Not only does she drive much of the comedy – and Girls is primarily a comedy – but she’s stark naked both emotionally and physically. As we meet Dunham’s character Hannah in the pilot – having dinner with her parents who are about to cut off the cash flow of the last two post-college years – she seems spoiled and entitled. But she quickly becomes sympathetically overwhelmed with how to succeed in New York and in life. She’s got a loser “boyfriend” who essentially uses her for sex (hilariously perverted, degrading sex, which makes you feel simultaneously sad for Hannah as you laugh at Dunham’s exceptional performance). Hannah has weight issues, which she approaches with a complex duality – accepting them half the time, haunted by them the other (which is precisely how so many people feel). What separates Girls (Dunham has said the characters wouldn’t yet self-identify with the term “women”) from so many other comedies is that it’s aggressively rooted in naturalism, with all of its vulnerability and uncertainty and fleeting moments of being assuredly in control. The conversations are frank. The sex is awkward and sometimes embarrassing. Being adrift is part of being alive to these characters – the confusion of what to make of yourself or even how to go about it. The comedy comes from those situations (when it’s not coming directly from the tone-perfect dialogue). 
 
 Girls also benefits greatly from casting so dead right that it makes you want to applaud. In many ways each half-hour episode of Girls is like a small movie -- and that takes performances from actors who inherently understand the mood and the tone to a science (like a good Woody Allen ensemble film). You could make the argument that there are breakout performances galore in Girls. 
 
 Allison Williams is excellent as Marnie, Hannah’s closest friend. She’s beautiful and grounded, has a doting boyfriend and a secure job – but instead of being the broadcast-television version of a friend whose more of a nemesis or a shallow depiction of someone you’re actually close to, Marnie is a true friend who knows Hannah (and her parents) exceptionally well and is always there for her. In a nice twist, Marnie feels horrible for being sick of her overly-doting boyfriend Charlie (Christopher Abbott, who nails the sweet-to-a-fault thing, which in Marnie's eyes neuters his sexuality). 
 
 Marnie is also protective of how much Hannah likes their friend Jessa (Jemima Kirke, Tiny Furniture), the flighty, globe-trotting Brit who is one of the few people Hannah thinks is actually “fun.” Jessa has a knack for reading Hannah completely wrong, and her hands off approach is opposite the protective Marnie. 
 
 Shoshanna (Zosia Mamet), who is Jessa’s American cousin, is the most naïve and ill-equipped of the friends (for both New York and the onrush of maturity). She’s a virgin, wears girly pink a lot and talks in hyper-fast slang more reminiscent of high school and texting than someone ready to come of age. (Her adoration of Sex and the City says a lot.) But here, too, Girls takes the right approach and doesn’t leave Shoshanna as a caricature, allowing her fears, embarrassments and insecurities to leak through her shallow exterior to show vulnerability, not stupidity. 
 
 Another bit of casting that really stands out is Adam Driver as Hannah’s boyfriend Adam. It’s a role that requires him to be a self-centered jerk without actually being malevolent about it. Driver needs to be as fearless as Dunham because he’s also in those sex scenes and is called upon to act out porn-fantasies without appearing super pervy about it. Driver takes what could be a cookie-cutter part and gives Adam nuance and even honesty – a difficult, impressive performance. And Alex Karpovsky (who was opposite Dunham in Tiny Furniture) is the perfect example of the excellent casting and note-perfect acting as Ray, a friend of Charlie’s who is only in one episode so far but nails every moment of it. 
 
 HBO has a real and rare gem in Girls. It’s a comedy that earns its numerous laughs by mining these characters lives for honesty instead of incessantly giving them witticisms to spout like a traditional network sitcom. Girls also deftly avoids the problem of a lot of Showtime's half-hour comedies by not being 80 percent dour drama. You could splice any number of scenes from Girls into a funny trailer, but once you see the whole package you realize how intuitively and even brazenly the series explores the full emotive palette of its characters. 
 
 Dunham has created a tour de force in Girls and in the process announced herself as one of the most unique talents on television. 
 
 Email: Tim.Goodman@THR.com 
 
 Twitter: @BastardMachine ||||| The following feature appears in the February 2017 issue of NYLON. 
 
 Like many successful, so-called nasty women, Lena Dunham is a masterful practitioner of the sugarcoated business voice. You know the one; Melanie Griffith cooed it in Working Girl. Taylor Swift could offer an MBA in it. Game of Thrones’ Margaery Tyrell wrapped boy-kings around her pinkie with it. If you wield it incorrectly, though, beware: Hillary Clinton, Dunham’s political girl-crush, never powdered enough sugar on those boss pipes during the election, according to the pundits. And, well, we all know how that went. 
 
 Dunham, 30, identified with Clinton, whom she actively campaigned for alongside friends America Ferrera and Amber Tamblyn, because the demands to be a different kind of woman have burned her, too. More aggressive, more gentle, more clothed, more invisible, more whatever, it’s always changing. But after six seasons of creating, writing, directing, producing, and acting in her HBO series, Girls, which premieres its final season on February 12, Dunham has finally learned how to be her own kind of bohemian boss. She’s learned to apologize when she makes mistakes, but never to apologize for living in plain sight. And living in plain sight means asking for what you want—but in the voice, always the voice. 
 
 On a Sunday morning at Soho House, the West Hollywood outpost of the posh members-only club for creatives, Dunham and I search for a table in the buzzing dining room. We’ve already rejected the garden area, which threatened to erupt into live jazz at any minute. We could wait for a hostess, but instead Dunham sidles right up to the bar in her tan Ugg boots, heather gray sweats, and Fair Isle cardigan. “Hiiiiii,” she says in a bright, cheery tone, followed by a honeyed but firm request to be seated, her unwavering eye contact reaching state diplomacy levels. We’re led to a lovely perch by the windows. But when the waiter doesn’t visit fast enough, she’s back up to the bar. “Hiiiiii,” she says, before sweetly demanding that he come by quick. To me, she says, “I’ve always done this. I learned it from my Jewish mother. I didn’t start doing this when I got famous or anything.” Dunham tosses this off nonchalantly, but there’s a perverse thrill to it, this mentioning of her celebrity. She was perfectly polite to everyone, but realizes how close she veered to the diva celebrity cliché (and being a diva to service-industry people is the rankest of diva sins). Instead of letting it quietly gain traction, she calls it out. This is peak Dunham. Naming the chafing spots that happen in everyday interactions is her favorite sport. The trivial, the gauche, the downright forbidden—she loves all of her awkward children. Part of the game is that she recognizes you’ve noticed it, too, and she’s already one step ahead of you by having the audacity to name it. Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Coat by Prada, bathing suit by Lonely Lingerie, necklace by Energy Muse. 
 
 In person, the hyper-articulate, hyper-self-aware Dunham is a marvel to behold, if a little unnerving. She’s so observant—fluidly tracking every single time I scribble a note, eye contact like a retinal scan—that sitting across from her gives the sensation of being read by a super-high-performing care robot. She’s not cold or forced—quite the opposite, in fact. Her bare face with just a hint of coral lipstick lights up when she’s excited, which is often. She’s warm and spontaneous, funny and disarming. It’s just that she speaks and listens (every single friend of Dunham’s I talk with praises her full-body listening skills) with such tangible emotional access and presence, it’s a little uncanny. Underneath the lighthearted self-deprecation and quips about how both she and her dog Susan have endometriosis is a laser-focused mind that barely misses a thing. She admits, though, that there are gaps in her self-knowledge: “I’m realizing more and more as I get older that I’m actually way less self-aware than I thought,” she says, noting that she countered the first pings of public critique with shielding thoughts like, “‘Oh, I’ve been in therapy since I was seven. There’s nothing you could say about me that other people wouldn’t know.’ But the older I get, the more I’m like, ‘I don’t fucking know what anybody is seeing when they look at me,’ and the coolest thing is it’s not my problem.” Her hazel eyes open wide. “That’s an interesting thing. It kind of doesn’t matter. I used to think the worst thing in the world could be for someone to have a thought about you that you didn’t have yourself. Now I’m like, ‘Have at it, guys!’” Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Dress by Opening Ceremony, necklace by Energy Muse. 
 
 Have at it they do. Since its premiere in 2012, legions of futon critics have claimed they could make Girls better than Dunham. And truth be told, certain aspects of the show don’t feel right to her anymore either. “I wouldn’t do another show that starred four white girls,” Dunham, who plays Hannah Horvath, acknowledges. “That being said, when I wrote the pilot I was 23. Each character was an extension of me. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was not trying to write the experience of somebody I didn’t know, and not trying to stick a black girl in without understanding the nuance of what her experience of hipster Brooklyn was.” She wasn’t alone in her self-doubt. Jemima Kirke, Dunham’s childhood friend who plays Jessa, the long-haired wild child with a secret grounded core, hardly accepted herself as an actor on a prestige network. “I didn’t think I had earned that show,” she says. “It was like, ‘You didn’t even take a class.’ I was embarrassed to say I liked acting.” But when Jessa got her most meaningful story line—dating Adam, Hannah’s mercurial ex played by the series’ breakout actor, Adam Driver, in season five—Kirke sunk deeper into her character, thrilled to be given more responsibility by Dunham. “In the beginning,” Kirke says, “she was holding on really tight. She was a machine of creativity, of putting out this product. She’s dropped that significantly and the creativity level has gone up.” Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Kimono by Bordelle, dress by H&M, shoes by Aldo, socks by Stance. 
 
 In a season where many characters wrestled with their boldest story lines yet—Marnie (Allison Williams) got married, for instance, in a feast of twee-folk narcissism—none inspired debate in the writers’ room quite like Jessa and Adam’s budding affair. “That’s what takes someone from being kind of a shitty friend to being an actually shitty friend, but at the same time, it’s one of the ways you meet people,” Dunham says. Her beloved parents, the artists Laurie Simmons and Carroll Dunham, met this way. “I am the product of a much-discussed downtown SoHo romance,” she merrily dishes, “that put a few people in a really bad mood.” Kirke sees her character’s development as a sign of Dunham’s growth, creatively and beyond. “Lena’s becoming more free,” she says. “She wants people to understand her, but she’s also trying not to apologize so much. I don’t know why Lena Dunham, more than anyone else, is asked to fucking apologize so much.” For all of Dunham’s emotional intelligence, she has her blind spots. That desire to call out the awkward moments sometimes backfires, like when she joked about the NFL player Odell Beckham Jr. ignoring her at the Met Ball because she wasn’t attractive enough (a joke that unfortunately involved projecting misogynistic thoughts onto a black man she didn’t know). Her good friend, writer Ashley Ford, wishes more people would recognize Dunham’s efforts to broaden her perspective. “I’ve never seen her not take the opportunity to learn how her words and actions might affect other people. That’s what frustrates me about reactions to her.… She’s perceived to be this super-evil pinnacle of white feminism, but they haven’t even investigated those feelings,” Ford says of Dunham’s critics. “A lot of them decided a long time ago that they don’t like her. She can’t live by those opinions.” Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Sweater by Victor Glemaud, dress by H&M, socks by Stance. 
 
 Dunham can, however, respond to the valid concerns that she hasn’t done enough to depict life outside the white hipster bubble. Quietly, outside of Girls, she’s been building a media fempire that constitutes what Ford describes as a new platform “to support women’s voices that need to be heard the most.” Lenny Letter, the media brand she created with longtime Girls showrunner Jenni Konner, and Women of the Hour, her podcast now in its second season, are both showcases for eclectic stories, including Ford’s own gripping experience with her father, who was incarcerated 30 years on rape charges. A recent WoTH episode, “Faith & Spirituality,” featured a Muslim woman sharing dating tips, and a hilarious tale of a lapsed Mormon in flagrante with a former Orthodox Jew. In both forums, Dunham leaves her stamp, with her nurturing interviewing style and wryly vulnerable stories, but she isn’t the star by any means. Konner says that Dunham came “pretty fully formed as an artist,” but it’s been her comfort level with public life that’s grown in the past couple of years. “She’s honest and straightforward, and it comes with a price. I see it chip away at her, but ultimately, it’s more important for her to be a Hillary supporter and a supporter of reproductive rights. It’s more important to be out there,” she says. Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Top by Advisory Board Crystals, shoes and choker by Giuseppe Zanotti Design, crystal necklace by Energy Muse. 
 
 Due to her campaigning for Clinton, but also because she’s been targeted as an outspoken feminist for years, Dunham has been harassed by the alt-right brigade. After Trump won the election, her Instagram account, where she captures life with her three fur babies and boyfriend Jack Antonoff, was besieged with threats. To a certain degree, she understands why she’s a target: “So much of what we’re dealing with in America isn’t just misogyny, isn’t just racism, but is also this unspoken constant tug between people living on different sides of the class divide,” she says. “You come in and you’re like, ‘I went to Oberlin. My godparents are both art critics. I was raised at a women’s action coalition meeting,’ and that’s repugnant to them on a thousand levels. There’s a sense of snobbery or intellectualism that feels like it’s the enemy of patriotism and also the enemy of the working class, which is by no means where I ever wanted to position myself.” Dunham is clear that she doesn’t condone any threats or violence, but she’s always open to respectful conversation. Her younger sibling, Grace, a gender-nonconforming activist who has been dragged into the alt-right maelstrom before, is in a constant debate with Lena. Is it better to be radical and reach fewer people, or soften the message and reach more? “Lena is an amazing listener, and she’s not stubborn,” says Grace. “But she’ll push your thinking—she’s pushed me to really consider the goals of my activism. We go toe to toe; it’s really rigorous.” Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Raincoat by Diesel. 
 
 “Grace is my fucking boss spirit guide on this stuff,” Dunham says. “She’s definitely the best member of our family, and I don’t think anyone would refute that.” The two text daily, Facetime every few days, and spent this past Thanksgiving together serving food to trans teens at a community center. Grace is six years younger but very protective of her older sibling. “I wish she’d move to British Columbia, throw all her tech in the ocean, get a garden going, and write a novel,” Grace says. “She’s been prolific for so long. She will never stop making things, that’s one thing I know. You could tie her hands behind her back, and she’d still find a way to write.” The young woman’s curse, the need to be liked by everyone, has been one of Dunham’s toughest lessons professionally: “Sometimes being a creator, and especially being a female creator, is an exercise in shutting people’s voices out, because there are so many who think they understand better than you how to do your job,” she says. Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Coat by Prada, bathing suit by Lonely Lingerie, shoes by Christian Louboutin, necklace by Energy Muse, socks by Stance. 
 
 Threats be damned, Dunham won’t be quieting her voice anytime soon. For the final season of Girls, “we wrote in a climate where we were thinking a lot about this election, and the election was heating up as we shot the show, and that energy for sure made its way into how we tackled topics. I don’t mean to be demurring, but there are some big female issues, more than maybe ever before,” she says. While Dunham shares a home with Antonoff, both in New York and Los Angeles, the die-hard workaholic says she would hardly see her boyfriend if they didn’t intertwine their frenetic work lives. (She’s directed a few of his music videos, and he contributed two songs to the final season of Girls.) “I have no social life, I have a tiny personal life, and I work myself to the point of illness three times a month,” she says. In 2016, she had three surgeries related to her severe endometriosis. Her friends and family wonder if her pace is sustainable. That question will be carried over to the conclusion of Girls. “This is for sure the season where people are like, ‘It’s now or never. Am I going to perish in the worst apartment in Bushwick, or am I going to figure out a way to actually live where I’m not scared every day?’” she says. “It’s also a lot about examining these friendships, which we’ve looked at over five seasons, and asking, ‘Are these sustainable in any way? Why are we even doing this? And are these friendships even the healthiest thing for us, or are we holding on to hold on?’” Photographed by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello. Styled by Sally Lyndley. Sweater by Victor Glemaud, dress by H&M. ||||| One of the amazing things about women is how quickly we adapt to change. No matter how weird or new things are to us at first—ankle-revealing dresses? the right to vote? Lady Gaga?—we eventually just absorb them, like drops in a stream, until memory fades and they join up with the continually flowing river that is progress. Which is why it’s kind of hard to remember that five years ago, when Girls premiered on HBO, the world was a different place. Sure, single-gal shows like The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Murphy Brown had laid the groundwork for then 25-year-old Lena Dunham’s creation. But Dunham made clear in the first episode that neither her character, Hannah, nor Jessa (Jemima Kirke), nor Marnie (Allison Williams), nor Shoshanna (Zosia Mamet) would be a Sex and the City fantasy: When chirpy Shoshanna tells Jessa, “You’re definitely like a Carrie, but with, like, some Samantha aspects, and Charlotte hair,” Jessa shoots her a look that just says: No. This show would be different. 
 
 Girls is fiction, obviously. But it has been committed to portraying life, for the most part, as it is. The characters look like people, not actors who spend every waking second working out or tanning or shooting up human growth hormone. The apartments they inhabit are dim and cramped. Their panic about work, money, and love is relatable, the sex they have is awkward, and they go to the bathroom, a lot. At times watching the characters flail around and shoot snot rockets in the bathtub can get uncomfortable, but then they reel you back in with a spot-on joke: “Nobody tells you how bad it’s going to be in the real world,” moans Shoshanna in season four. “Yeah they do,” Marnie snaps. “It’s pretty much all they ever tell you.” 
 
 It is a comedy, after all. But from the start Girls intentionally pushed buttons: There’s nudity, which Dunham has explained is her way of trying to normalize real women’s bodies, homosexuality, and a character who is “super chill,” as the website Jezebel put it, about getting an abortion. Because of that, conservative critics began to rage against it almost immediately with what seemed like outsize fervor. “If, as [Dunham’s] character suggests in the show’s first episode, she is the voice of her generation, then one could seriously argue that we’re doomed,” the National Review warned in 2013. 
 
 In hindsight it seems that perhaps its detractors saw before anyone else what a force Girls would be and how it would permeate our culture. The Internet roiled with Girls think pieces and interviews with the intelligent cast, all of whom made a point of identifying as feminists and encouraged others to do so. Traveling to Texas with Dunham in 2014 for a profile, I was startled by the size of the crowds at events for her book, Not That Kind of Girl, which she held in conjunction with Planned Parenthood, a favored cause. Since then Dunham has further immersed herself in politics; she was one of Hillary Clinton’s most vocal campaign surrogates. Meanwhile, Kirke advocated for the Center for Reproductive Rights, candidly sharing her own abortion story; Mamet wrote about her insecurities and struggles with an eating disorder in Glamour; and as an ambassador to Horizons National, Williams focused on closing the education gap. Last year all four women released a PSA urging support for sexual-assault survivors. 
 
 One can bet that Girls isn’t going to go out lightly in its last season. And the show’s legacy will be felt long after it goes off the air: Shows like Broad City, Love, and Better Things all have Girls in their DNA. Dunham and Girls executive producer Jenni Konner, who interviews the cast below, have made it their mission to deepen the bench of women storytellers by founding a newsletter, Lenny Letter, and a production company, A Casual Romance Productions. And so the river of progress will continue its inexorable flow forward and not back. With that, Jenni, take it away. —Jessica Pressler 
 
 JENNI KONNER: Here’s the idea: When you leave a job, they do something called an exit interview, where they ask you questions about your experience at that company. I want to ask you questions from a corporation’s actual exit interview for this interview. And the company we’re going to talk about is Girls. So. Hi, guys. Welcome. 
 
 LENA DUNHAM: Hi, Jennifer. 
 
 JENNI: I’m going to start with Jemima. What was the most satisfying thing about your job, and the least satisfying? 
 
 JEMIMA KIRKE: OK, thank you. The least and the most satisfying thing about my job was my relationship with Lena. [ Laughter. ] In a good way. It definitely caused us to get closer [after 15 years of friendship,] and it caused us to fight. And then at the end of it, you know, [our relationship] was nicer. 
 
 JENNI: Everyone, take your cue from Jemima and be brutally honest. [ Laughter. ] All right—Allison? 
 
 ALLISON WILLIAMS: I started playing one person, then she evolved so much. I got to exercise all kinds of muscles. The least satisfying? I always wanted to be in the show more. [ Laughter. ] That was my M.O. every year. I wanted to be a piece of furniture in Hannah’s apartment, if that’s what it took. 
 
 JENNI: Jemima just said, “That’s so typical.” And I was about to say, “That’s so on-brand.” 
 
 ALLISON: Listen, I’m consistent. 
 
 JENNI: You are nothing if not consistent. It’s such a relief. Zosia? 
 
 ZOSIA MAMET: The most satisfying part was getting to play a person who was so intrinsically opposite of me in, like, every atom of my being. The dissatisfying thing was that I came to know this human that I created. And love her. And now I miss her. 
 
 JENNI: Lena? 
 
 LENA: I think the most satisfying part was learning to treasure collaboration. When I went into the job, I had fear about letting other people into my process. So whether it was becoming partners with you, Jenni, and realizing that I had a lifelong creative partner, which isn’t something that I ever expected to have in my life based on being raised by parents who went into a studio alone and acted like art was a solitary activity. Or building my relationships with Allison and Zosia, and learning to listen when they had a note and not become defensive. Or the hardest, learning to listen to Jemima, because I always felt like she was, like, six steps from murdering me and I had to protect myself. But all of that helped me learn the satisfying thing of opening up and understanding that other people’s concepts of their characters, their ideas, are just as valuable as mine. 
 
 JENNI: And least satisfying? 
 
 LENA: Sometimes I would get very lonely, because I wanted to be a part of the group, but there was also the element of, like, having to boss people around. And we would be doing all this as a team, [but] if we got criticism, I felt like it would all come down on me in this shit-storm torrent. Even though I was surrounded by love, there were times where I felt very “by myself” in the process. 
 
 JENNI: I’m just gonna say—the hardest part of my job was just trying to get you guys not to get haircuts and tattoos! [ Laughter. ] Now back to the questionnaire: What would you change about the job, if you could, now? 
 
 JEMIMA: Ugh, I think season two. 
 
 JENNI: Your whole season? 
 
 LENA: That was the season where you said I had to get out of your dressing room or you were gonna punch me, Jem. 
 
 JEMIMA: Season two was kind of traumatic for me. I think for everyone. And I know that I was a bit of a tyrant myself. 
 
 LENA: I think it’s time for us to disclose to the world that, like, three days before season two, Jemima tried to quit. [ Laughter. ] 
 
 JEMIMA: Yeah. My sense of who I was and what I wanted was really thin. I really wasn’t sure what the f-ck I was doing. 
 
 LENA: I remember being in a cab. And Jemima called me. She was like, “I have to tell you something. It’s not a big deal. I don’t want you to freak out. I want to quit the show.” [ Laughter. ] 
 
 JENNI: We’re so glad you stayed, Jem. Zosia, what would you change? 
 
 ZOSIA: Oh, f-ck. That’s so hard. So much of my day-to-day work on the show was my attempt to try and find Shoshanna. I think I had a lot of anxiety that I wouldn’t hit her tone right. 
 
 JENNI: But you invented her tone. 
 
 ZOSIA: It was such a surprise to me that that [character] came out of me. I was so all-encompassed in getting it right that I think I lost some of the “relishing the moment” of being in the scenes.
– In a move that seems fairly out of character, HBO is putting the first two episodes of Girls' third season—which just aired last night—on the HBO YouTube page, where anyone can watch them for free as of 10am today. Why? The show's audience is very active online, and "for us, this is an increasingly challenging demographic to reach with traditional means," HBO's VP of social media and marketing tells Mashable. The network is reaching out in other ways, too: It has Snapchat and Tumblr accounts for Girls and an Instagram video series featuring Lena Dunham sharing her character Hannah Horvath's opinions. On Twitter, cast and crew members will be live-tweeting the show starting with episode three, and on Facebook, emojis are used to recap what each character has gone through.