Michael Sheen is doing some terrific work as trailblazing, 1950s sex researcher William Masters on Showtime's racy drama, Masters of Sex.
Look for Welsh actor to get an Emmy nod next year for his quietly understated performance. Unlike ABC's Scandal, where just about every character utters their lines as if they're in a DEFCON 1 scenario, Sheen's performance is more muted.
But just as powerful and attention grabbing.
Nice to see the good doctor finally letting go of his emotions on Sunday -- and taking that proverbial stick out of his butt -- after his wife, Libby (Caitlin Fitzgerald) suffered a miscarriage. It wasn't easy for Bill to, in a sense, stand naked and vulnerable is front of his assistant, Virginia Johnson (Lizzy Caplan).
Which is why Bill literally closed Virginia's eyes before letting out a cry that was decades in the making. You understand why, given his complex relationship with his mother, whose head is buried so far in the sand it would take ages for her to dig it out.
Bill's bedside manner is about as warm and fuzzy as a rattlesnake attack, a personality trait that can be traced to Bill's childhood. Many times, men compartmentalize their emotions. Bill, however, locks his in a steel vault.
Although sex obviously plays a big role in the series -- heck, the word is in the title -- that's not the main reason to watch. To me, Bill and Virginia have become the new Mulder and Scully, those intrepid FBI agents from The X-Files.
They say more with a knowing glace, a slight brush of the hand than they could with 50 pages of dialogue.
And the tightly-wound Bill holds my attention whenever he's on screen. The folks at Showtime were smart to pick up the show for a second season.
The Academy of Television of Arts & Sciences would be equally smart to give Sheen the Emmy nomination he so richly deserves.
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