This is a preview of our pop culture newsletter The Daily Beast’s Obsessed, written by editor Kevin Fallon. To receive the full newsletter in your inbox each week, sign up for it here.
This week:
- Rihanna is risen.
- Ben Affleck speaks for the people.
- We all need Harrison Ford’s energy.
- 1,040 pages of perfection.
- The new Holy Trinity.
The Ben Affleck Memes Never Get Old
As someone who never wants to be anywhere, at any time, I feel a camaraderie with Ben Affleck. Myself and the Oscar-winning movie star who is married to Jennifer Lopez and has children with perfect human Jennifer Garner: We are the same.
When Affleck was spotted at Sunday’s Grammy Awards looking absolutely miserable, it was screengrabbed and compared to past times where he looked like he’d rather stick needles in his eye than pretend to engage with your shit right now. I can relate.
The thing is, if you watched the Grammys, not one person in that audience was enjoying themselves. It was utterly bizarre. The night kicked off with Bad Bunny performing the definition of a “get off your ass and dance!” set. Yet when the camera panned to the other musicians in the audience, they all were sitting down with blank stares, as if they were in some sort of hostage situation. (Give her credit where it’s due: Taylor Swift tried her mightiest to turn the night into the modicum of fun it should have been.)
Sometimes, you have to meet people where they are. For Affleck, that means understanding how going to the biggest night in music is as unappealing as being dragged to an elementary schooler’s band concert. We may run in different social circles, but, Ben, I get it. Stevie Wonder might as well have been playing “Hot Cross Buns” on the recorder.
Here’s the thing: I don’t like when celebrities pretend that they’re always happy. They’re busy-ass people. No one lets them sleep. Their time is constantly being commanded by an army of publicists named Lauren or Ashley. Who could keep track of all of them? They think they have one free night, and suddenly they have to wear a tuxedo and deal with a camera eight inches from their face, capturing their every reaction to Sam Smith wearing a hat with devil horns. Sounds exhausting!
Give me all the grumpy faces. Affleck’s Dunkin Donuts memes are the closest thing we have to a modern-day “Mona Lisa;” they are perfect art. The screengrabs from the Grammys are a close second.
Harrison Ford Speaks to Me
In a new interview, Harrison Ford is candid about the rumors that he’s a curmudgeon. From everything that I’ve read, and in all the (rare) talk show interviews I’ve seen him do, he seems like a normal, fun guy that just doesn’t have the patience for ridiculous shit. It just so happens that his industry thrives on ridiculous shit, which is probably how he earned his reputation.
In any case, he gave a clarifying quote to The Hollywood Reporter this week, and I want to hang it on my wall (alongside my framed photo of Ben Affleck’s grumpy face): “I don’t have a social anxiety disorder. I have an abhorrence of boring situations.” Sir! Yes! I am enlightened. I feel seen. Is this how Moses felt when God was like, “Here’s some commandments, I guess?”
Several readers have pointed out that this is the same energy as when Kim Cattrall said in an interview with The Guardian, “I don’t want to be in a situation for even an hour where I’m not enjoying myself.” We don’t talk often enough about a) how shady The Guardian was for making that quote the literal headline of its interview with Cattrall and b) how it is perfect life advice.
So much of self-care these days is about doing things and opening yourself up to possibilities. No thank you! I’m closing myself up. I’m staying home. I am walking away from your boring ass, and I am going to find a situation in which I am enjoying myself. It will likely involve potato chips, Bravo, and not having to pretend to care about whatever you’re talking about.
Barbra Streisand Is About to Have Me Reading Again
There is a YouTube video of Diane Keaton, Goldie Hawn, and Bette Midler presenting an award at the Oscars, in which they argue over the proper way to pronounce Barbra Streisand’s last name. Because of the [redacted] times I have watched this video, I am so cripplingly insecure over what is actually the right way to pronounce it that I refuse to say her name out loud. That is a devastating position to be in as a gay person!
Thankfully, just as Lea Michele has 265 days to learn to read (perfect self-deprecating TikTok; no notes), I have just as long to learn how to pronounce Streisand. Because, trust that when the star’s just-announced memoir, My Name Is Barbra, comes out on Nov. 7, I will be interjecting every single conversation I have with my thoughts on the book. There are a reported 1,040 pages in the book. That means 1,040 opportunities for conversation starters.
Charlie’s Angels Reboot?
I can’t explain why, but this exact combination of people means the world to me. Here’s a photo of Lindsay Lohan, Julia Stiles, and Quinta Brunson at the Christian Siriano New York Fashion Week show, and if every casting director isn’t hanging this on a vision board, then Hollywood truly is broken.
What to watch this week:
Star Trek: Picard: The new season reunites Patrick Stewart with his old castmates; sometimes nostalgia really is nice. (Thurs. on Paramount+)
Titanic 3D: A little-known movie is heading back to theaters, in 3D this time. (Now in theaters)
Super Bowl Halftime Show: I heard Rihanna is performing. (Sun. on Fox)
What to skip this week:
Your Place or Mine: We should all feel betrayed by how bad this rom-com is. (Now on Netflix)
Sharper: Julianne Moore deserves better. (Now in theaters)
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