The Awards Squad on the Golden Globes and Hollywood on the Edge
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| Dear Wags, Popular culture in 2025 is as twitchy as a junkie in an old Starsky & Hutch episode. Anxiety seethes under every production: a jumpiness, a creep of foreboding that won’t give us a break. Comedies, tragedies, even the gaudiest musicals come shrink-wrapped in dread. Whether it’s Leo DiCaprio tearing through the California desert in a bathrobe or Parker Posey wobbling around Thailand in a caftan, the humor is always gallows humor. Doom is Hollywood’s biggest star. The Studio is hilarious in its paranoiac showbiz nightmare—until you realize it’s not so different from The Bear, or Task, or The Pitt: stories about desperadoes being dragged into the abyss by other desperadoes. Ryan Coogler’s ingenious Sinners equates cultural assimilation with vampirism. Yorgos Lanthimos’s Bugonia imagines a pharmaceutical exec as an invasive species. Josh Safdie’s Marty Supreme—once it might have been a feel-good tale about an unlikely ping-pong champ—plays instead as a frenetic ode to ruthlessness. And then there’s Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne’s Adolescence, about a cherubic teen made monstrous by the manosphere. These bleak insecurities are globalized. Park Chan-wook’s No Other Choice follows an unemployed salaryman murdering his way up a merciless job market. Kleber Mendonça Filho’s The Secret Agent, though set in 1970s Brazil, offers a brutal, funny ... Continue reading this post for free in the Substack app | |
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