Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.

with Kevin Fallon

Everything we can’t stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.

This week:

Bring back the diva mess.
Fun at the movies again.
The execs have, as usual, lost the plot.
Excuse me, there are how many TV shows?
Will this get you to watch The Bear?

A Gloriously Messy Week for Our Favorite Divas

If I were to describe my ideal night at a club—although “ideal” and “club” are not two words I would ever use in the same sentence—it would involve having pizza thrown at me by Katy Perry. (Frankly, pizza thrown at me by anyone.)

My dream became some lucky revelers’ reality. A video went viral this week of the pop star at a Las Vegas party, where she was hyping the crowd up from behind the DJ booth. “What would really get them going?” it appears she thought to herself. “A beat drop? Some confetti?” No, that wouldn’t do. “I’ve got it: pepperonis in their hair.”

In a sequence as thrilling as the climax of Nope, the video shows a paper plate mounted with a slice spin through the air, much like the movie’s UFO seeking its human targets. Pleased with herself, Perry winds up again, this time chucking the slice out plate-free as the crowd grasps for it like it’s the bouquet toss at a wedding. (Note to self: Stellar wedding idea.) It is the only game of frisbee in which I’d ever willingly participate.

My review of this whole ordeal echoes my colleague Kyndall Cunningham, who flagged it earlier this week: “It’s safe to say that this video has brought me enormous joy.”

What I love about this clip is how quickly it went viral. I’m grateful for the variety of reactions to it: Hilarious! Gross! Classic Katy! But, mostly, we were all just united in enjoying it for all its unexpected absurdity. How often are we jolted out of our summer-in-the-apocalypse doldrums by a video of one of the most famous people in the world tossing pizza into a crowd that is living for it? They’re risking it all for a gluten-dairy-combo tummy ache, just to get their mouths on a falling slice. Better than manna from heaven: It’s junk food from Katy Perry.

Little did I know that Katy Perry’s pizza party would usher in a week of absolute pop-star chaos.

Think about all the headlines, mini-news cycles, viral outrage, memes and jokes, and waves of—brace for an ugly word—discourse there has been this week surrounding our reigning divas. Those of us with an appetite for mess have been eating well.

Beyoncé: Music thief! Taylor Swift: Climate criminal! Katy Perry: Assault with a cheesy weapon!

Our music celebrities are usually under such tight control. Not an errant word allowed to be uttered. Not a step out of place allowed to be made. Not a pepperoni allowed to be airborne.

Especially with Beyoncé and Swift, the militant nature of the micromanagement around them is notorious. Their respective publicists are infamous in media circles for the wizard-like swiftness with which they appear to squash, deny, or clarify any unflattering story.

As fans of both, it’s not pleasant for me to bear witness to their respective uproars this week. But as a [redacted]-year-old who can remember when being a music superstar meant being an absolutely ridiculous person who was constantly making mistakes, I miss when this circus of controversy was normal. I actually think that the reason why these news stories hit so big this week is because we’ve veered so far in the direction of controlled perfection.

The most shocking part of the Beyoncé mini-scandals is that there were Beyoncé mini-scandals at all.

Following the release of Renaissance, her latest album and the single reason there’s serotonin detected anywhere in my system, there was backlash because of an ableist slur that was used in one of her songs, which she then changed. She was accused by the artist Kelis of “theft” after one of the tracks borrowed an interpolation of her song but didn’t credit or compensate her. Beyoncé later removed the interpolation. That brouhaha also led to esteemed songwriter Diane Warren questioning why there were so many writer credits on her songs in the first place—a thought that, once the Beyhive arrived, I am certain Warren regretted ever having.

Outside the confines of an elevator, Beyoncé doesn’t do scandals. Beyoncé controls the story.

These are things that fans would have expected her team to have clocked and accounted for long before they were out in the world to be scrutinized. The ableist language on Renaissance was the same that Lizzo had to address just a month prior. And artists’ compensation and credits is one of the most talked-about issues in the music industry at the moment. On an album so heavy with samples, how was every single thing not accounted for?

There is something, albeit viewed through the lens of a superfan, that I find admirable in how this was all handled. In both instances, Beyoncé’s team immediately addressed the issues. There were no overwrought statements, excuses, defense, or fighting back. Just a brisk, quiet remedy. It’s almost as if she was saying, “We will be focusing on the music, not any other noise surrounding it.”

In other words, the opposite of what Swift did.

When a report came out that claimed the singer was the number one offender of egregious carbon emissions because of private-jet use, I have to say that the memes made me laugh. There were GIFs of planes flying captioned with things like, “Taylor Swift heading to Starbucks across the street.” Daily Mail made me howl with this headline:

And by the time that photo of Swift deplaning a jet with an oversized umbrella over her came out—if I can’t see them, they can’t see me!—I was giddy with laughter. You have to find the humor in it to stave off the rage. Here I am drinking through paper straws like a goddamn idiot while celebrities are treating the hole in the ozone like it’s Hollywood’s hottest club.

Her team’s response—that Swift’s jet is often lent to other people and all of the attributed trips were not for her—is fair, as is the argument that she’s extremely not alone when it comes to A-listers overusing PJs.

With this Holy Trinity of pop divas serving as agents of chaos this week, I quickly scanned to see what the others were up to. Demi Lovato is updating her pronouns to include she/her after a year. Lizzo is eating spicy chicken wings. Rihanna is living her best life ignoring the hell out of all of us, and bless her for that.

Then there’s Lady Gaga, who never disappoints. She, unfortunately, confirmed this week that she will be joining the extremely cursed sequel to Joker, an offense to gays everywhere. Why, Stefani? I guess there can be 100 clowns in a room and 99 of them are telling you not to make this movie. But all it takes is one Joaquin Phoenix—and one week of chaos—to believe that this could ever be a good idea.

The Best and Worst Horror Scene of the Year (Same Scene)

I’ve been lucky enough to see the new A24 horror film Bodies Bodies Bodiestwice with raucous crowds, whose reactions to the film blew the roof off the building. Well, the second time was in a park in Brooklyn in August. It blew the smelly sweat off the people. Or at least tried. (My sweat persevered.)

It’s a wild movie. During a hurricane, a bunch of rich Gen Z elders—if I have to live with the absolute hate speech of “geriatric millennial,” then today’s 23-year-olds have to live with that—gather with their boyfriends and girlfriends to get wasted. They play one of those “who’s the murderer” games (also featured on a recent Only Murders in the Building), except they keep discovering that people are actually dying. It’s also very funny.

There’s one scene that played like gangbusters at both screenings I attended, and both times it made me roar with laughter, cringe, groan, and then giggle again. It’s the best and worst scene of the movie. It is the kernel of what the film accomplishes so well and why it deserves so many accolades, and it is why it will be written off as pandering trash by others. It’s satire, but it’s played straight—because the conversation is both outlandish parody and also a total transcript.

As people are literally dying and blood is everywhere and the risk of being the next to be killed is being waved in their faces via a handgun, the group of friends debates ableist language, who is the most privileged, corrects each other on anti-woke threats, and wages a war of who is the biggest victim. Tucker Carlson just had a back spasm.

It plays hopscotch between absolute brilliance and lazy Saturday Night Live sketch so nimbly that, in the end, it may be the scene that makes the movie work.

At the Brooklyn screening, star Rachel Sennott screamed in an introduction that the film isn’t just scary, it’s horny, which is a vibe we support. To that end, Lee Pace is there, and he is very tall and very handsome. Perhaps the tallest and handsomest a celebrity has ever been. This is also the first time, I hate to say it, that I understand the whole Pete Davidson thing. But the horniness is in the tangled web of hook ups between the girlfriends, and it is captivating. It’s spectacular for a horror movie to be this fun, and for it to be this unabashed and inclusive.

And if you’re not reading the title of this film in the style of Megan Thee Stallion rapping “body-ody-ody…” you're not doing it right.

This Is Total Bullshit

There’s major news this week that affects your streaming services and what you can—and, more pressing—can’t watch. It mostly has to do with the merger of Warner Bros. and Discovery, which impacts HBO Max and Discovery+. It’s also why, if you’re so unfortunate as to be on Twitter, you’ve seen people tweeting things like “If they cancel _____, they’re dead to me.”

As far as HBO Max’s new shows go, they didn’t cancel much. That being said, if you follow someone on Twitter who posted, “If they cancel The Other Two…” then marry them. They have great taste.

You can read about all of this in my colleague Allegra Frank’s fantastic column about it. But I want to draw attention to one graphic that was posted during this wonky Warner Bros. Discovery earnings call that was supposed to explain the difference between HBO Max and Discovery+, two streaming services that are about to combine.

What the hell is this? The two genders: HBO and Discovery. What is it about Hacks, The Flight Attendant, The Other Two, or And Just Like That… that screams “male skew.” Did they mean “gay male skew?” Bifurcating TV content by gender is the most retrograde strategy I can think of, to the point I almost wish ill on this company. Men are from Mars, and women are from Venus and would never subscribe to HBO Max unless Joanna Gaines is there. (She is now!)

This slide, to me, encapsulates how absolutely boneheaded boardrooms are when it comes to this nonsense. What’s your favorite “genredom,” readers? I totally know what the hell that word means and have my own, but you go first.

There Are Too Many Shows!

As shows were being canceled this week—and more shows seemed at risk of ending—I thought about this little bit of information that slipped under the radar.

I use the well-worn figure of more than 500 scripted shows premiering each year often (which is to say, far more exist when you factor in reality TV, docuseries, and sports). If that figure was already baffling and exhausting, this new one is, for me, validating; now I can tell my therapist an actual reason why I don’t sleep.

These things aren’t exactly related—there’s emotion involved—yet they are; it’s funny to watch everyone in hysterics over TV shows possibly ending, when they’re the same people who are complaining about there being too many shows in the first place. (These people are me.)

If you’ve watched The Bear, you’ll know why this photo shoot forced me to stop work in the middle of the day and take a cold shower. If you haven’t watched The Bear, shame on you—and maybe these photos will convince you. Thanks, chef. Chef, thank you.

Bodies Bodies Bodies: Go scream and be slutty! (Fri. in theaters)

I Love My Dad: The wildest movie I’ve seen this year. (Fri. in theaters)

I Am Groot: Let’s all let something adorable into our lives. (Wed. on Disney+)

They/Them: I guess they don’t make gay conversion therapy camps like they used to. (Fri. on Peacock)

Bullet Train: Just look at photos of Brad Pitt’s press tour instead. (Fri. in theaters)

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