things i will not shut up about
brat girl summer save me....save me brat girl summer......
Haven’t you heard? It’s brat girl summer. I’m not being sad this summer!!! I’m not being anxious!!!! About the state of American democracy (or, rather, what’s left of it) or the fact we’re all being cooked alive (“blasting past internationally agreed targets and causing catastrophic consequences for humanity and the planet,” according to a new report by the Guardian) or what the fuck is going to happen to my career or all the other things I have to be very afraid of and upset about. I am going to have a brain off brat girl summer if it kills me.
I’m not going to subject you all to any sad shit this summer. There will be no melancholic, meditative “girl shut the fuck up” essays to be found! Obviously, that leaves me in a state of “uh, so, haha, where else are you getting material, then? what’s this gonna be? you’ve got like one beat, babe” so while I figure that out…Here are some things I have not been able to shut up about for the past month.
Janet Planet
It’s the summer of 1991 in Western Massachusetts. The heat is sticky, the days are long and listless, and the air is saturated with the sounds of birds and cicadas. Lacy—11 years old, shy, curious, and still deeply attached to her single mother, Janet—has come home early from camp. “I thought no one liked me,” she tells Janet, “but I was wrong.”
Playwright Annie Baker’s directorial debut, Janet Planet, tells the story of Lacy, Janet, and the interlopers in their world that summer. It’s a film that will likely be characterized as quiet, though it’s anything but. Baker’s work on stage is known for the pauses and extended periods of silence, and she brings that characteristic across to a new medium with stunning effect. Janet Planet isn’t just beautifully shot and, often, cleverly framed; it also somehow captures the true essence of time, and how it moves: in childhood, in the waning days of summer, in the bridge between childhood and adolescence, in the process of disenchantment. The result is an exquisite coming of age film, a modern classic that is complex and thought-provoking, heart-wrenching and deeply funny. Julianne Nicholson gives an all time great performance as the charismatic and enigmatic Janet, and if Zoe Zigler’s performance—one that is even more astonishing once you learn she is not a professional child actor, and had never acted at all before she sent in a self tape because it seemed like fun, but is just a homeschooled horse girl from Virginia—doesn’t make a case for the return of the Juvenile Oscar category, I don’t know what will.
It’s rare that I find a film so affecting I not only can’t stop thinking about it, but go see it again in theaters within days. (Really, I would have seen it a second time the next day, but I had to practice some self control.) It’s a shame it hasn’t gotten a bigger marketing push or theatrical rollout from A24—particularly given the sleeper success of last summer’s Past Lives, another debut from a renowned playwright that very much feels vibe-adjacent—and will likely not stay in theaters for very long. If it is playing near you, go see it immediately. I know I’m going to see it again at least one more time; it’s a film I can’t shake, and one I want to spend more time within.
BRAT - Charli xcx
Okay, swerve! We’re going from soft, delicate, quiet introspection to BRASH POP WITH A BAD ATTITUDE!!!!! Here is where I will admit that I am a visitor to the Charliverse. Like, sure, I am acquainted with the big hits, but, for the most part, I simply did not have the energy to really, truly vibe with her brand of hyperpop until now. Call me a poser! I don’t care! I’ve jumped on the BRAT bandwagon and I’m gonna ride this train to the last stop and back. It’s BRAT summer, baby, and the season’s only just started.
BRAT arrives like a line of coke to the bloodstream (a feeling I do not know personally, I’ll admit, lol) in a tired era of bland and banal pop: multimillionaires pretending they’re just one of us, that they hate being famous, actually (or, that they’ve gone to therapy and now they have a healthy relationship with fame and would like to tell you all about it); and otherwise nuanced and angsty songwriters peddling—my distaste for which I wrote about last summer—positivity. BRAT goes against the grain: rejection of the “we girls have to all stick together and love each other!” narrative; the conflict of no longer being the youngest one in the room, and knowing you’re growing up even though you don’t feel like a grown up; a meditation on generational trauma that has become a viral TikTok dance…………Most of which are explored in uptempo BPM bangers for the party girls, not the clean girls. The feeling BRAT exudes is one of I’m wanna do a shitload of coke and dance all night long at some disgusting warehouse in Bushwick—two things I literally have never done in my life despite many invitations to do so that led to me getting nicknamed “little lamb” because I know I would hate that SO much—and then at 4 a.m. cry-yell on the sidewalk at my friends about how I’m mad at one of them, actually, and then make up when that friend tells me about the shit they’re going through that i didn’t know about and that’s why they’ve been weird and then we all cry because we were brave girls who were vulnerable, and also because we’re like “fuck, it’s 4 a.m. we’re in our 30s what are we doing right now are we still allowed to have fun like this so dumb also omg if we got pregnant right now we would be teen mothers but wait should we freeze our eggs—” and it’s really much more fun than that sounds, but if you’ve already listened, you probably get what I mean.
Anyway, my brain is just a repeating loop of Lorde’s vulnerable, intense, and exhilarating verse on the “girl, so confusing” remix.
Problemista
What’s that? Another shout from the rooftops for an A24 film I think should have been given the insane marketing push as, idk, Civil War???? You bet!
Julio Torres’s directorial debut—about an aspiring toy designer, Alejandro, a broke 20-something New Yorker who, forced to find a new sponsor for his work visa when he is suddenly laid off, becomes an assistant to a chaotic, erratic art critic hellbent on putting on a show of her late husband’s comically stupid paintings—seemed to be plagued with bad luck. Its release was first delayed due to last summer’s SAG and WGA strikes, then it was given a brief, limited rollout in the notoriously dumping ground that is March. In a fair world, Problemista would have been given a push in December, and Tilda Swinton would have racked up scores of nominations for her insane, clownish, (complimentary) yet simultaneously grounded performance of Alejandro’s impossible boss. Lucky for us, though, it is now finally streaming on HBO Max (I will continue to deadname the platform until I die), and it’s one of the most original, freshest comedies of the past several years.
I came to Problemista with eager anticipation for an absurdist comedy, but what I was more impressed by was its unexpected warmth. It’s very, very, very funny, to be sure, but what makes the film sing is the fact that no character is really, truly presented as a villain or in total mockery. Every time Alejandro utters a genuinely empathetic little “oh no!” in response to a character telling him something truly deranged, it’s clear that Torres—and his character—actually cares about each individual. Sometimes you can’t help loving someone you cringe at, someone who you know is a little out there, someone you know is an acquired taste that some others really do not like, and yet. Sublime! A must see!
Thelma
If I could somehow like transfer my life force into June Squibb and sacrifice myself so she can live forever, I would in an instant. She’s just so wonderful in Thelma, a movie I loved so much I can’t even talk about it. I laughed, I cried, I missed my grandma! Let’s make it the blockbuster of the summer!!!
The Roches - The Roches
The theme of this newsletter could probably be: Inside me there are two wolves. I’m not new to this album at all; I’ve loved The Roches (including their sort of goofy 80s pop) for years. I think I perhaps have, as long as I’ve lived, wished for myself and my sisters to be in a girl band, but one was completely uninterested and the other is—and hopefully she accepts this about herself by now so I’m not being mean when I say this—hopelessly tone deaf. Also none of us can really actually play an instrument well enough, but it’s the fantasy for me. The Roches let’s me live in that fantasy a little. And though their self-titled is typically early to mid fall album for me, influenced by the impeccable “Hammond Song” needle drop in the Janet Planet trailer, I have been spinning this one on repeat and tapping into fantasyland brain, this time longing for a summer in the woods. Or, at least, just outside the city. It makes me want to go on a long drive on a backroad with the windows down and the wind in my hair; get up early and go to the farmer’s market in long, gauzy cotton dresses; sit outside when the sun goes down and the air cools with an iced tea, a book, and a citronella candle burning beside me; take a nap in a hammock; go for a walk on a trail where I can hear water running somewhere in the distance; start a garden. Humiliating to admit I essentially want to LARP trad life, but alas. I’m human and therefore fallible.
Hacks, season 3
Look, I’m a little late on this reco because the season ended like a month ago, but I was kind of busy, and, also, rest assured, I was not late watching it and have already viewed the entire thing a second time. “Are you watching Hacks???” and “fucking watch Hacks already” and “Hacks the greatest show on television” and “episode 8 of hacks best tv episode to exist!!!!!” and “would do anything to work on this show in any shape or form like i’d take out their trash but i’d still think ‘i am way outta my league here’” are just a few samples of text messages I have sent about this perfect comedy in the past two months, and I am not being hyperbolic in any of them.
Hacks IS one of—if not the—best show on television right now, not only in terms of “I enjoy this show and find pleasure spending my time watching it” but…structure! Craft! Character building! The exact right cocktail ration of earnest, serious drama to clever and brilliant comedy to gut-busting gags! (There is one particular seemingly throwaway joke early in the season that they come back to later on in a very “I cannot believe they did this, oh my god, they’re lunatics and I love it” manner.) If I watch the show so many times, it’s not just because each episode is so rich I feel like I need to watch each one at least twice to fully appreciate it, but because, in envy of just how well-made it is, I truly want to study it.
Season 3 of Hacks not only continues to feature Jean Smart at the top of her game, or delightfully silly performances from Meg Stalter and Paul W. Downs, or growing dramatic range from the ever-funny Hannah Einbinder. It ups its game, building a world with stakes that feel real, and twists that don’t feel like twists because they are so incredibly truthful and plausible. And, most importantly, it does my favorite thing in that it never tries to make its characters likable. Hacks understand that people sometimes behave badly, and, more, knows the frightening trend of audiences’ desire for morally laudable character journeys isn’t truthful. People can grow and change, sure, but they cannot fundamentally change who they are; growth is, nearly always, two steps forward and one step back. Perfect show, no notes!
Kamala memes
I have to laugh or else I will have a full blown panic attack about how fucked we are, so. “You think you just fell out of a coconut tree? You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you.”
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COVID
I haven’t shut up about this in the bad way not the “go out and get this!!!!” way. After four years, my streak is finally over. I got covid, I think, from the screening of Stop Making Sense at Kings Theatre, where the viral load was probably just too high for my little KN95, which is actually very funny because on one hand I’m like “you know what, worth it” and on the other I’m like “jesus christ can’t I have this one thing!!!!!???” Anyway, girls, we’re in another summer surge and this latest variant is even easier to catch than before, because this is, once again, still very much a pandemic and not by any means an endemic.
Did I have mostly very mild symptoms? Yeah, sure. I mean, the worst I ever felt was tired and stuffy and a little headachey. Did I feel back to normal within a few days? Yeah. But did I get Paxlovid rebound and test positive for 14 consecutive days? YES, I DID, AND THAT PART SUCKED. I HAD TO STAY INSIDE (okay, I did walk to CVS to pick up my paxlovid because they couldn’t deliver it, and I did go on like 3 short masked walks to literally just get vitamin d but that’s it) FOR 14 DAYS! IN JUNE, MY FAVORITE MONTH IN NEW YORK! IN THE MIDDLE OF A BRUTAL HEATWAVE WHERE I COULD NOT GO TO THE MOVIES TO HANG OUT IN THE JACKED AC AND SIP A DERANGED COKE FREESTYLE MACHINE CONCOCTION AND INSTEAD HAD TO SUBMIT MYSELF TO BEING CON EDISON’S BITCH! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THAT SUCKED!?!!?!??! Like, sorry, but I don’t listen to the CDC (Center for Defending Capitalism) anymore and in no way was I going to be like “okay, 24 hours have passed, I’m good to return to the world and my activities while this virus is still very much raging inside me that could cause longterm irreparable damage if I don’t rest even though I feel good on the outside.” So, I cannot believe I have to say this AGAIN in this newsletter but: fucking wear a mask. Like, I’m so serious. Don’t get me started on how wild it is that so few people have continued to mask on public transportation systems, notoriously disgusting tin cans whose limited airflow I cannot imagine ever rawdogging again in my life. Even more confounding is how few people remember how practical—pleasant, at times, even!—masking in New York City summers can be. It’s kind of nice, actually, to limit the onslaught of a cornucopia of the most vile stenches known to mankind, starting with but not limited to the scent of all the people who think they’re really doing something by wearing natural deodorant. (I hate to say this but…the chemicals were invented for a reason.) Anyway, wear a mask if you don’t want to waste a moment of your brief and wild and precious summer inside. Or maybe you do. But others might not!!! So mask for them!!!
Cyberbullying the governor
congestion pricing good, kathy hochul bad, mta broke and crumbling. we’re supposed to be the greatest city in the world! do better!!!!!!
Camino midnight blueberry gummies
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i wrote a book about elaine may that just came out and if u buy it i’ll give u a little forehead kiss :’)
okay that's it that's the end thanks sorry love u bye