Public Consumption 2.3.25
in which I unleash my January backlog
January, am I right? The month that lasted a lifetime, the weeks that dragged the United States into the greedy hands of fascism. It’s easy to doomscroll, to sit, staring at the ceiling. To feel overwhelmed and overworked and underprepared to fight back. But that’s what they want, and that’s what we must actively subvert. And so, while I drifted into a pool of depression and disassociation, at least I did so with a smatter of self-awareness. Here were my January escape methods, and here’s to finding ways to fight the administration and all it stands for.
The Diplomat (Netflix) — I did not expect to have such strong feelings about this show, but to say I’m obsessed is an understatement. It’s almost like if the West Wing was about the American diplomat to Great Britain, but with less Aaron Sorkin and more thoughtful exploration of human nature. The cast is STACKED (Kerri Russel, Rufus Sewell doing a shockingly good American accent, Allison Janney, David Gyasi, Ali Ahn, Ato Essandoh, Rory Kinnear and a cameo from the fabulous T’Nia Miller), and not once while watching did I ever pick up my phone to mindlessly scroll.
At the end of season two, I stood up, shouted at the television, and then called my Dad (who recommended it) to yell about how good it was. Watch it, and then call me so we can talk.A Real Pain (Hulu) — Every time I look at Kieran Culkin I still see Roman Roy, but he gave a stunning performance in this poignant film written and directed by Jesse Eisenberg (please help that poor man shed the ghost of Mark Zuckerberg from his resume now that Zuck’s gone full fascist) about two mismatched cousins on a pilgrimage to Poland to see the homeland of their grandmother. While Culkin was a standout, Eisenberg’s performance and his screenplay is absolutely stunning. It’s quietly intense and a strong study of humanity and relationships. My jaw was tensed the entire time I watched, but in a loving way.
Rouge, by Mona Awad (S&S) — Every time I open a Mona Awad book, I feel like I’m running after the high I got from ready Bunny for the first time. Nothing ever quite hits the same way. This rumination on grief and the beauty industry feels like a hazy, inexact sketch of the mythos at the heart of The Substance (see below). Unfortunately for me, it fell short.
The Sex Lives of College Girls S3 (Max) -- All I can say is, I miss Reneé Rapp. This season was plodding, confusing, and mischaracterized. There was no emotional growth, the characters were inconsistent with their iteration in previous seasons, the pacing was choppy, and for some reason Gracie Lawrence was scream-singing at every opportunity. If they make a season four, I’m not sure I can be bothered to watch.
Severance S1 (Apple TV) - We did a hyper-binge of the brilliant season one in preparation for season two (which I’m loving so far but reserve the right to not comment on yet—despite my author brain I don’t want to spiral out into theories and sometimes simply want to watch good storytelling unfurl). While I’ve heard a few people say that it’s difficult to get into the first few episodes, I find the fundamental question at the heart of the show so deeply fascinating—what makes a human being? and perhaps more fundamentally (& on the nose in our current climate), do workers have the right to be a person under capitalism? Also, you just have to get over Adam Scott’s face. No, I don’t know why it looks like that, it just does.
This show is such a collection of character work, each decision pointed, intense, and often confusing (positive). Every choice is so deeply intentional and steeped in meaning that you almost fear it will become too odious and opaque, but personally, I feel like this invokes the wtf cultural phenomenon that was the early seasons of LOST—only this time, with writers and a creative team to make a genuinely satisfying series.The Substance (Mubi) — I’m not usually squeamish, but I watched half of this film from behind my hands. Demi Moore is extraordinary as an aging star watching opportunities ripped away and handed to younger girls. So when she has the chance to change her circumstances, she takes it. And consequences ensue. This is not one for the faint of heart or the squeamish, but the message is sound and the vision is exacting. The gore never felt gratuitous. Incredible, disgusting, extremely worthwhile.
Revenge (Mubi) — (TW: sexual assault) Because to watch The Substance we got a free 7 day trial of the Mubi app, we also watched filmmaker Coralie Fargeat’s debut film, a thriller where a woman assaulted and left for dead in the desert goes on a spree to exact revenge on her attackers. This movie hit a similar cerebral place as Woman of the Hour, whose final scene I believe I opined on in this newsletter a few months back. This film of few words strips back the guardrails and offers a raw, unflinching reality of violence against women, the easy, almost casual way it can be exacted by men who believe they are owed attention and affection. Difficult to watch, but an ultimately satisfying revenge arc.
Surface (Apple TV) — This is a strong example of how a show can have an intriguing premise and awful execution. A woman loses her memory after falling from a ferry, and tries to remember if she was pushed, or if she jumped. Yet sitting through even a second of this show was like smacking myself with a hammer. It was clearly crafted for people paying half-attention, and made it so that in the end, despite a generally diverse cast the only vaguely redeemable character was the white guy in finance1. Our morally gray heroine was more of a puce, and I promptly forgot everything about after the final credits. It’s a shame, because Gugu Mbatha-Raw is such a good actress, and yet outside of San Junipero and The Morning Show, I’ve not been a fan of the roles she’s taken on. Still, it was renewed for a season two, and it’s not impossible that I’ll watch out of sheer curiosity of how it can get any worse.
Eileen, by Ottessa Moshfegh (Penguin Press) - Ottessa Moshfegh is one of those authors who surprises me with every one of her novels. It’s almost incredible that Lapnova and My Year of Rest and Relaxation were written by the same person. Yet I found the subject of her debut deeply unsympathetic, ironic, considering that’s the primary complaint usually pinned against the main character of MYORAR who I found to be a riot. Stark, desperate, and dirty, are the words I’d use to describe this book, none of which sparks a particularly enthusiastic response, generally. I’ll probably skip the film as well. It’s an odd one to adapt, in my opinion.
Juror #2 (Max) — Clint Eastwood waxes unpoetically about the legal system (which, I should have expected from the whole chair at the RNC thing). Chock full of whiteness, apologetic and plodding deference to a corrupt judicial system, and ultimately, not even an interesting twist at the end. Clint Eastwood’s daughter plays a small role, and boy howdy can you tell that was nepotism casting.
Yes, this show was created by a white woman.