| Everything we can't stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.
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Everything we can't stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.
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Emma Stone is so good in Poor Things. A shameful secret revealed. Norman Lear was the GOAT. A new holiday tradition. I can't wait for this TV show.
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If there's one thing that a person who spends a lot of time watching or, in my case, covering pop culture loves, it's complaining. Bitching is akin to breathing for us. The opportunity to whine uninterrupted for several minutes cures days of dehydration, clears up skin, and regulates digestion. Being given a public platform to do so? That's like nature's Ozempic. That's part of why I think entertainment media continues to go along with the outlandish expansion in scale, length, and attention paid to award season. Depending on when a film is released, an Oscar campaign can last for more than a year; a film that premieres at the annual Sundance Film Festival, the 2024 lineup for which was just announced, could spend 15 months on the trail until the following year's Academy Awards ceremony. Each year, the expense and lavishness of FYC events, film festivals, and press coverage focused solely on promoting awards races over those months balloon faster my credit card bill when a pop diva announces a new Las Vegas residency. Why do those of us in my field allow for this outrageous proliferation and, moreover, give it so much credence? My theory is: the opportunity to complain. We can complain about the ludicrousness of how overblown this all has become, sure. But more thrillingly, we can complain about the choices made. When there are more awards and awards conversations, we get to vent about who's left out of them—and, sometimes more passionately, our annoyance over who is undeservedly included. |
Personally, that's taken a similar form over the years: an exasperation over the Academy's predictable taste in the films and performances it nominates, one that doesn't reflect my own (obviously) more sophisticated and adventurous preferences. So happy have I been to rely on that same old argument year after year, I've failed to notice something: award season, and even the Academy, has gotten admirably weird. I had this realization this past week while revisiting some early awards-season staples, some of which are not only among my favorite films of the year, but also undeniably, gloriously odd.
This weekend, Poor Things opens in limited release. The film is directed by Yorgos Lanthimos (The Favourite) and stars Emma Stone and Mark Ruffalo, credentials that seem award-friendly on paper. Then you find out what it's about. And then you watch it.
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Stone plays Bella Baxter, a creation—literally—of a Victorian-era mad scientist (Willem Dafoe's Dr. Godwin Baxter, aka "God"). Bella has the body of a woman Stone's age, but the mind and emotional intelligence of a child—though her understanding of the world, her body, and her desires grow rapidly each day. That is to say, an insatiable sexual libido rises within her, which she unleashes into the world without having the conscience or shame of a fully grown person groomed by the prudent morals of polite society. Poor Things is an exercise in discomfort and enlightenment, each working in tandem and against each other. Is it inspirational to see a woman explore her sexuality with no concern other than her fulfilling her own needs, whether that be pleasure or, later in the film, money and power? Or are we delighting in what could be argued as a form of statuatory rape, clapping for Bella and even laughing at her erotic awakening, as this girl with a toddler-like brain and behavior has oh-so-much sex? That the film is both highly entertaining and incredibly shrewd further complicates these questions; sure, much of the film is very fun, but, for the sheer abundance of it, none of the sex is actually sexy. So, yeah, this is a Weird Movie. In my opinion, a fantastic one…but weird. Certainly, it's more out there than what we'd generally consider an "Oscar movie": historical biopics, the inspirational story of overcoming trauma, or a major movie star wearing a wig and some prosthetics. That pundits have tipped Poor Things as a major contender for Best Picture, Best Actress, and Best Supporting Actor is quite surprising to me. But then again, maybe it shouldn't be. We may focus on our frustrations on how shoddy, feel-good dramas like Green Book are what appeal to voters because, again, we love to complain. But the Academy's recent track record in the Best Picture category bucks against what we stereotypically consider an "Oscar film." Everything Everywhere All at Once and Parasite are high-concept films with non-white perspectives that voters notoriously rebuff. The Shape of Water was about a woman who really wanted to fuck a sea monster. Moonlight is so small, tender, and specific (and, again, non-white!). Even CODA is, while crowd-pleasing, essentially a teen coming-of-age story—hardly indicative of the Boomer-courting stuffiness we associate with these award shows. This season, it's not just Poor Things that's subverting expectations. Todd Haynes' May December is loosely based on the Mary Kay Letourneau scandal, where a 36-year-old teacher had sex with and eventually married her seventh-grade student—and it's competing at the Golden Globes as a comedy! Andrew Haigh's All of Us Strangers is a gay romantic drama by way of ghost story that's been sweeping nominations with indie awards organizations, to the point that it's being tipped to break into the Oscar race. Reviews for Blitz Bazawule's The Color Purple aren't out yet, but there are big swings in that movie. Heck, Barbie is a major contender. This is a really sobering moment for me. It may be time to stop complaining. |
I need to share something. It's a secret I've kept for many, many years. But there's something that's happening in society that's compelled me to come forward with my story, so here it goes: When I was in college, I studied abroad in London. The reason I chose London out of all the options offered at my school was because I really loved the movie Love Actually. I don't remember what cockamamie tale (aka LIE!) I invented to fill out the "tell us why you'd like to experience this city" part of the application, but the real reason was "to skip through the snowy streets in a cropped white sweater like Keira Knightley, because that looked quite nice in the film." Why do I share this deeply embarrassing fact about myself? Because I have had enough. Each year, Love Actually resurfaces over the holiday season. It plays constantly on cable. Memes are shared online. Scenes are parodied in sketch shows. The cast reunites. And the grouchiest people in the world rant about it being a bad movie, attempting to steal the joy from the rest of us who know the truth: The movie is great, and they need to shut up. Is it corny? Yes. Is it schmaltzy? Blessedly so. Are there plot holes and things that might be rendered problematic by today's standards? Big fat whoop. |
The movie is wistful, romantic, melancholy, devastating, and naively hopeful. That's what Christmas means to me: Liam Neeson healing through his son's pursuit of first love; Emma Thompson wiping tears with the palm of her hand as Joni Mitchell plays; Hugh Grant doing a dance; and someone, anyone singing "All I Want for Christmas Is You."
World-class actors are doing fantastic acting in this movie. Every holiday emotion is touched on. At one emotional moment, a Kelly Clarkson ballad plays. And should the point be overlooked, the sweater game is monumentous. Did I find love during my semester in London? Sadly, no. But I doubled down on my appreciation for this film. On its 20th anniversary this Christmas (and at Christmas, you tell the truth), let me say about Love Actually: To me, you are perfect.
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Beautiful Holiday Silliness |
If it wasn't obvious from the Love Actually manifesto, I have, over the years, become a Christmas gay. I'm a bit surprised by this. I used to be a cynical Grinch. Now, I cry at holiday-set car commercials and spend entire paychecks on Christmas concerts. It's still a week or so until my annual pilgrimage to see Mariah Carey perform her show in New York, but I did already get to experience my new favorite holiday tradition: The Jinkx and Dela Holiday Show. I would say that I hope more people would catch on to this hilarious, utterly silly—ingeniously so—annual tour put on RuPaul's Drag Race alums Jinkx Monsoon and BenDeLaCreme, but the massive Kings Theatre in Brooklyn, where they performed last week, was essentially sold out. Those with taste seem to know! |
The Jinkx and Dela Holiday Show is a meta musical about the labor involved in putting on a new, fresh, and funny production each year, and the fear of running out of ideas. At this year's show, Dela performed a Little Drummer Boy-themed parody of Kylie Minogue's "Padam"—"Pa-rum, pa-rum, pa-rump-a-pum-pum"—and there was an entire Fosse number modeled after "Big Spender" about holiday sales at Big Box stores. Suffice it to say: The ridiculous, brilliant ideas are still coming. |
Norman Lear Was the Best of Us |
In 2016, I did the first of several interviews I'd end up doing with Norman Lear over the years. The fearless TV creator, who died this week at age 101, was a cultural shepherd, guiding us away from our bigotry and toward not an idealized version of ourselves, but to the version we could be if we actually acknowledged and attempted to work through our divisions. |
It should be no surprise to anyone familiar with his work—from All in the Family and Maude to One Day at a Time—that he was a spitfire every time we talked. Still, I was bowled over the first time I spoke to him. It was just after the 2016 election, and people were wondering if part of Donald Trump's victory was because people viewed him as a modern-day Archie Bunker. I was nervous to ask about it. "I think Donald Trump is the middle finger of the American right hand," he said. What did the middle finger mean? "That means 'fuck you,'" he clarified. "'Fuck you, leadership.'" "I think Donald Trump is shrewd in a way Archie never was," he continued. "Archie Bunker was far wiser of heart. Sure, the thoughts he held were antediluvian. But Donald Trump is a thorough fool, having nothing to do with the shrewdness that has allowed him to cheat and steal the way he has for his own good. Underneath that, he is a fool." He was the best of us. Read more here. |
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I don't want to put too much pressure on it, but I do think the cast of this TV show could save us all. |
More From The Daily Beast's Obsessed |
If you've been slightly (OK, majorly) unnerved by The Curse each week, read every word from this interview with co-creator and star Benny Safdie about the show's origins. Read more. The genius of May December may all boil down to a refrigerator that may or may not have enough hot dogs. Read more. Nicolas Cage may be doing some of the best work of his career. So why is he considering quitting film acting? He tells us why. Read more. |
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Poor Things: Emma Stone is so good in this, you'll be "furiously jumping" with applause. (That joke will make sense when you've seen the film.) (Now in theaters) Mr. Monk's Last Case: A Monk Movie: This is a safe space to admit how much we all loved Monk when it was airing. (Now on Peacock) The Boy and the Heron: A Miyazaki masterpiece. (Now in theaters)
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| Leave the World Behind: If Julia Roberts can't rescue an apocalypse movie, who can? (Now on Netflix) Born in Synanon: One of the more infuriating docuseries about a cult in recent memory. (Tues. on Paramount+)
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