Dying for Sex Review: Williams Shines, Slate Excels

Even though the premise of FX’s Dying for Sex feels somewhat disconnected from its actual story, flawless performances and an empathetic script make this cancer dramedy worthwhile.

But then again, it hadn’t been that long since my entire life had revolved around my chemo cycles, and even spending a whole day with no nausea had felt like an achievement. At times, I’d get these waves of happiness at the thought of being alive, and an irresistible urge to experience as much of it as I could. But there were also days of self-loathing and despair, which I’d often conceal from others with some strategically placed humor. But then, one day, my therapist asked me, “What do you need, in order to be happy?,” and I realized that, despite being in my thirties, I had no idea. Eventually, I found myself, even though it meant losing some people, and grieving the version of me that didn’t exist anymore. But that person was replaced by someone else, who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. For the most part, Dying for Sex feels a lot like that journey.

FX’s new miniseries, from writers and showrunners Elizabeth Meriwether and Kim Rosenstock and directors Shannon Murphy (Babyteeth) and Chris Teague (Only Murders in the Building), starts with a couples’ therapy session. We learn that Molly (Michelle Williams, of The Fabelmans) has breast cancer, and that she’s been experiencing an interesting reaction to one of her meds: an increased libido. This “side effect,” as her husband Steve (Jay Duplass, of Penelope) calls it, has been frustrating for Molly, but not for the reasons you’d imagine. Molly would actually love to explore her desires; it’s her better half who has been unable to fulfil them, as he seems to have appointed himself as her “caretaker” and to be unable to see her as anything but a patient.

“I know my wife. She’s had a really complicated history with sex,” he tells their therapist. “I don’t think this is actually what you want,” he then says, looking at her wife, and Molly’s internal monologue tells us all we need to know about what she thinks of Steve’s opinion.

Steve isn’t entirely wrong, as we’ll eventually find out, but both characters soon have more pressing matters to worry about, as the session is interrupted by an important phone call. Molly’s cancer has reached Stage IV: it has metastasized to her bones, and it’s terminal. Without even realizing it, Molly takes it as a sign to make some changes in her life. Right there and then, she leaves the session and calls her messy, well-meaning best friend Nikki (Jenny Slate) from across the road.

“I haven’t done anything with my life. I don’t even know what I want or what I like,” she tells her, while she looks at Nikki and we hear her thoughts wonder, “are you the last person I’ll see before I die?”. Over the course of the show, we watch Molly and Nikki address both issues – the former on a quest to explore her sexuality for the first time in her life, and the latter determined to be there for her friend until the very end, despite what it’s doing to her own life.

Even if it revolves around a terminally ill protagonist, Dying for Sex isn’t as devastating as you’d think. Of course, we’re always aware that Molly is sick and we watch her get progressively worse, but the show does a great job of handling multiple tones. This is as much a series about someone who has terminal cancer as it is one about a woman growing into the person she wants to be, and it also doesn’t forget to look into the toll that cancer can have on caretakers. On top of this, it also gives us a beautiful, healthy love story, and though it’s not always as hilarious as it thinks it is, it’s definitely funnier than what its premise would suggest. There are at least three laugh-out-loud scenes that you absolutely won’t see coming, but you’re also bound to shed some tears with some equally unexpected moments of raw emotion at the end.

Storytelling-wise, Dying for Sex gets a lot right, but it also has some flaws. The show was inspired by the true story of Molly Kochan, originally shared on the titular Wondery podcast which she created with her best friend Nikki Boyer, and that might have something to do with how disconnected this premise feels from the actual story, at times. At first, the series gives us a pretty good idea of what to expect, with Molly setting up her profile on a dating app as a “homeless, married, can’t feel my breasts, and I like… trees?” forty-something and beginning to explore her sexuality.

Yet it doesn’t take her long at all to understand what she likes, as her paliative care social worker Sonya (Esco Jouléy), whom Molly has just met, just-so-happens to be an expert on BDSM. Not only that, but the man with whom she can experiment materializes immediately, in the form of Molly’s sultry, nameless neighbor (a superb Rob Delaney). Suddenly, Molly’s cancer becomes more aggressive, and though Molly’s neighbor and a few more men remain in the picture, their sexual adventures become the least interesting part of the story.

It doesn’t help that this moment coincides with the arrival of Molly’s mom, Gail (Sissy Spacek), which prompts our protagonist to revisit past trauma of which we had only gotten brief, awkward hints up till then. That’s when it becomes obvious that the traumatic incident in question was written in so that Molly and Gail could have something to process together, which would enable them to reconnect, at the speed of light, before the inevitable takes place.

This is the kind of storytelling that we find throughout Dying for Sex: even though we are always immersed in Molly’s world due to how authentic the character feels, it’s the story itself that could have used more depth. As it is, the series is just a little bit too “perfect” in how it takes us through the many stages of Molly’s journey, which almost comes across as a fairy tale due to the carefully constructed, unrealistic progression that defines most of its run time.

The paradox is that, despite all of this, we never lose interest in Molly, Nikki, the neighbor, and even Molly’s doctors, partners and acquaintances, because when the series works, it really does work, and those are the moments that make it all worthwhile. Even with such thin backstories and unrealistic developments, and even if Molly’s sexual awakening is actually kind of boring by the end, all of our characters never fail to feel like real people, and that is due partly to a script that knows exactly when to deliver emotion, but also, in no small part, to the performances.

Michelle Williams shines as Nikki, making each line feel so human that even the character’s internal monologue – a narrative device that doesn’t often work in film and TV – never overstays its welcome. Her chemistry with “neighbor” is fantastic, and when Williams and Rob Delaney share the screen, it’s impossible to look away. But the real standout is Jenny Slate, who, as Nikki, somehow manages to make a character that’s incredibly irritating at first become epic in every possible way by the time the credits roll. I won’t spoil it here, but a line she says in the finale had me in tears, and the credit goes to Slate for her flawless delivery and the sheer raw emotion she brings to the role at all times.

Despite their characters’ desperate need for more depth, Esco Jouléy, David Rasche, Jay Duplass and Kelvin Yu all do the best they can with what they’re given, and manage to still make their supporting roles – social worker Sonya, oncologist Dr. Pankowitz, and Molly and Nikki’s exes – memorable.

Thanks to superb performances and a screenplay that, though unfocused, is also filled to the brim with emotion, Dying for Sex gets more right than it does wrong, and it’s bound to resonate with audiences. Both surprisingly funny and deeply thought-provoking, The FX show manages to be an effective exploration of the kind of soul searching that comes with a serious diagnosis, and a story that is more about friendship and identity than it is about sex and romance. More in-depth characterization could have made the show even more memorable, but as it is, it’s still a compelling, worthwhile watch.

Dying for Sex Review will be available to watch on Hulu (U.S.) and on Disney+ (U.K. and globally) on April 4, 2025.