| 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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No Soggy Bottoms This Week! |
I have a tried-and-true morning routine. It's less been "honed" over the years than it's been thrust on me by the universe, to the point that it's now a daily reflex. Each morning, I am violently jolted out of a restful, biologically necessary slumber to the grating cacophony of synthetic clangs from a geriatric iPhone that only charges now with one specific charger, if it is positioned at one specific angle, and not so much as breathed on. Accordingly, I suffer a mini cardiac episode from the loud shock of it all. Once that settles, a loud yawn morphs into an involuntary groan: "F---." In an attempt to reach the iPhone and silence the alarm, one, if not all, of a glass of water, bottle of Tums, and book that I've been pretending to read for six-and-a-half months are knocked off the nightstand. May all your days start with such peace and promise. But not on this most recent Friday morning. As a soft, single ray of sunshine beamed through the space between my curtains onto my face, like a warm spotlight operated by the angels, my eyes fluttered open like a Disney princess as I woke naturally. Moved by some spiritual instinct, I delicately got out of bed and glided to my couch with the easy grace of a ballerina.
Before I knew it, my television was on, Netflix was open, and the premiere of the new season of The Great British Baking Show was playing.
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Sometimes you don't know you're in the darkness before it's dawn. You don't know you're living through a nightmare until it's over. You don't know how much you just need a weekly hour of watching a bunch of humble British people making loaves of bread in order to stave off crippling depression and dread until new episodes of The Great British Baking Show are available. Sure, we all get our jolts of joy and surges of serotonin from myriad things, in pop culture or otherwise. But there's something about pure, genuine niceness that really hits the spot, like a perfectly light genoise sponge. The power of GBBS' niceness is such that I couldn't even be cynical—me!—when the premiere opened with a Barbie-themed comedy sketch. "Psh, timely!" I would scoff on any other day. But not on this blessed morning. Not only did I giggle when Paul Hollywood showed up as Ken, I laughed out loud when Prue Leith made her appearance as Weird Barbie. What kind of spell does this show have over me? I've reached the level of Old Person where I watch a lot of TV with the subtitles on, especially when people are speaking in British accents. So you can imagine my amusement when, after hosts Alison Hammond and Noel Fielding welcome viewers to the new season, the captions read "[jubilant string music]" followed by "[birds chirping]." The show would be a parody of loveliness, were it not my bucolic safe-space retreat from everything otherwise awful. There have been roughly 438 seasons of this show (quick Google interlude: OK, there have been 15), and while some have been better than others—and a few have been downright frustrating—the appeal has largely remained the same. Perhaps that's the sense of comfort being sought here: consistency in a world of otherwise unpredictable chaos. The episode's recipe is familiar at first. We meet the contestants, all amateur bakers from across the U.K., all unfathomably humble and jolly, and all sent from God to make me either chuckle or tear up after every single thing they say.
Sumaya joked that the last time she felt this nervous was "either before my A-level results, or when I was in the queue to get tickets to the Taylor Swift concert." (Chuckle.) Nelly, who moved to the U.K. from Slovakia, said GBBS was the first program she watched when she got to England. (Tear.) Mike confessed that his mother told him not to cry when he got to the tent, but that he "cried three times yesterday." (Chuckle and tear.)
| The cast is a lovely mix of Bingo-loving grandmothers (with a guilty pleasure for designer handbags), nurses who enjoy playing bocce with their family, multiple who own chickens and/or ducks, and, satisfying my personal curiosity each season, a record number of gays! They make fun of each other's accents. They get about as many laughs as hosts Alison—perhaps the most irresistibly warm, funny presenter there's ever been of a reality competition—and Noel. And, according to Prue—and confirmed by the bakes in the premiere—may be the most talented group of amateur bakers the show has seen. The episode introduced a few twists that I won't spoil, but may rankle Baking Show purists. There's an elimination surprise that I enjoyed so much that I, again, unsurprisingly, teared up. And a shake-up in how the technical challenge is conducted made me raise an eyebrow.
Mostly, though, I forgot how much I don't just enjoy this show, but maybe even need it. Is that corny? So be it. One man's soggy bottom is another's perfect crumb.
| There Is Nothin' Like a Dame |
To be a master of sauciness—sharp-tongued like a dagger—and also perhaps one of the warmest presences most of us can remember seeing on screen: That is the singular gift of Maggie Smith. The formidable, accomplished actress died Friday in London at age 89. Her acting career began at age 17 and never lulled, picking up two Oscars, four Emmys, a slew of theater awards, and the distinction of Dame Commander of the British Empire for her cultural contributions. |
The last decades of her life and career capitalized on the warm sauciness—like a scalding tea—to some of her greatest successes. Because of the projects' recency, many people will remember her for her roles in Downton Abbey and as Professor McGonagal in the Harry Potter franchise. They'll fondly remember the plane rides spent watching The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and its sequel, which I think we had a global collective experience screening as in-flight movies. She's one of the first actresses to make an impression on me, with the one-two punch of her roles in Hook and Sister Act. (Watch her delivery of "I lied" as Mother Superior, and applaud.) I echo culture writer David Mack's take on X: "What's crazy about Maggie Smith is I vividly remember watching her in hook as a kid and thinking wow that is the OLDEST person i have ever seen. That movie came out in 1991!! She really leaned into this era of her career." No one had a better take on that late-in-life career boon than Smith herself. Watch her in this clip from the glorious documentary Tea With Dames, in which she and Judi Dench marvel over their career longevity, with Smith getting in a loving sting about Dench's demand: "You're always asked first, If I may say so." Saucy. Warm. But one of the lovely things that happens after an actor's death is that people start posting all kinds of remembrances and videos of their favorite performances. I'm so glad, in the case of Smith, to see so many people singling out her Oscar-winning work in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. In the 1969 film, she plays a teacher at a Scottish all-girls school in the 1930s, whose free-spirited passion for education becomes domineering as her romanticism collides with delusion, threatening her position. If you haven't seen the movie, one particular clip has been circulating since the news of Smith's death. It's likely the scene that won her the Oscar. Fifty-five years later, it's still spellbinding. As she explodes at the headmistress who asks her to resign, she is both startlingly unhinged and yet in complete control. Fury bursts from her like a geyser, an outrageous outpouring of emotion harnessed into a stunning display of manipulation.
Watch it here.
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"So often I have watched this - every time I am absolutely riveted," wrote one user on X. "Every cell in her body is this charismatic, dangerous mentor. This film, this performance is still resonant." "Such an amazing speech & delivery: spine-tingling," another user wrote. Summarized another fan: "The very definition of haughty," followed by a crown emoji. That may be a perfect encapsulation of Smith's gifts: the queen of haughtiness. |
Grieving, Yet Happy for Hoda
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My apologies to everyone on the downtown 1 train on Thursday morning—some who looked at me with concern, some with weirded-out judgment—as I silently sobbed while watching a video on my phone. Playing: Hoda Kotb's emotional announcement that she is leaving the Today show.
Watch it here.
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There's no amount of gushing I could do that would be as eloquent as what each one of her colleagues said during the segment, each with tears streaking their cheeks. For me, at a time when morning television seems increasingly irrelevant, I have never been more invested in it as I've been with Hoda anchoring both the Big Show and the 10 o'clock hour with Jenna Bush Hager. The compassion that underwrites the intelligence she brings to the news has been refreshing to me. Her willingness to share details of her own life, acknowledging that we all come to the news with our personal experiences, is so relatable and human. And, it sounds silly, but watching mini-clips posted on Instagram of her conversations about life, family, and friendship with Jenna each day is my version of daily affirmations. In a genre of television that is changing rapidly, this is going to represent a seismic shift. I'll miss her as a viewer, but, as a fan, I'm happy for her and what she's going to do with her life. |
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I remember watching the new documentary Will & Harper at the Sundance Film Festival in January and being stunned by how remarkably funny and profound it was.
The film follows Ferrell on a road trip with one of his best friends from his time at Saturday Night Live, writer Harper Steele, who had recently transitioned. As they drive through the country, encountering different mindsets and levels of acceptance, they reconnect with each other and deliver to audiences a complex portrait of the trans experience in America.
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You can read my review here, and a report from this week's emotional New York City premiere here. Also, read these comments Ferrell—who has received a fair amount of backlash from certain fans for advocating for Harper—recently gave in an interview, which I think are important: "There is hatred out there. It's very real and it's very unsafe for trans people in certain situations. … But I don't know why trans people are meant to be threatening to me as a cis male. I don't know why Harper is threatening to me.
It's so strange to me, because Harper is finally… her,. She's finally who she was always meant to be. Whether or not you can ultimately wrap your head around that, why would you care if somebody's happy? Why is that threatening to you? If the trans community is a threat to you, I think it stems from not being confident or safe with yourself." |
Listen, I try to limit how often I post clips of Kelly Clarkson singing in this newsletter, I swear. But this cover she did of Chappell Roan's "Good Luck, Babe" with Miranda Lambert is just too good not to share. Watch it here. |
More From The Daily Beast's Obsessed |
- Josh Rivera is giving a stunning performance as Aaron Hernandez in American Sports Story. We talked to him about it. Read more.
- The special effects prosthetics team from The Substance tell us how they transformed Demi Moore into a grotesque monster. Read more.
- Johnny Depp is as beloved as ever over in Europe. Here's our on-the-ground report. Read more.
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Colin From Accounts: This is an underrated gem of a comedy series. Watch it now! (Now on Paramount+) We Will Dance Again: Not an easy watch, but a necessary one about the Oct. 7 attacks in Israel. (Now on Paramount+) My Old Ass: I'm obsessed with this title as much as I am with anything else about this movie. (Now in theaters)
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| Megalopolis: An ambitious epic…and epic disaster from Francis Ford Coppola. (Now in theaters) Nobody Wants This: PSA to all networks and streamers to stop giving shows titles that can be used against them! (Now on Netflix)
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