How <em>The Deuce </em>Sidelined Desire
David Simon’s show about the sex industry has lost all its curiosity about what humans want.
At the very beginning of the first episode of The Deuce, right after the static crackle of the HBO logo and the sounds of traffic and subway trains coming into soft focus, a man and a woman sat at a bar. He stroked her hair; “C’mon,” he cajoled. “Ask your wife,” she replied, tartly. He leaned in to nuzzle her neck; she inhaled sharply and gripped his arm in response. “Gimme something I can’t get at home,” he murmured.
Once, was about desire. Being a David Simon show, it was about capitalism as the infernal Pac-Man eating everything it came into contact with—the sex trade, art, souls, even the grimiest stretch of Midtown Manhattan real estate. But
