Everything we canât stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.
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with Kevin Fallon
Everything we canât stop loving, hating, and thinking about this week in pop culture.
This Week:
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Where has all the comedy gone?
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The Kardashian era komes to a klose.
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Still reeling from this cast bio.
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Important update on buttholes.
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Awardzzz!
Remember When We Used to Laugh?
Each morning a blaring sound scares me out of a biologically necessitated convalescence, an act of trauma that lifts me into the air in a fit of gloom and aggravation. Like a pallid ghost, I float miserably from the bed to the couch, the terrain that I have haunted in this fashion every day for going on seven months now. From there I work silently until it is time to do it all again.
This existence used to be not necessarily more joyous, but certainly brighter. If I close my eyes and concentrate really hard, I remember that I did, in fact, used to laugh.
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I may be exaggerating the hardship, and Iâm certainly grateful that, all things considered, there havenât been actual hardships for me to endure at a time when [trials and tragedies]( are [actual government handouts](. But if I could indulgently center things for a brief discussion on the world of entertainment, there is something significant that seems to have happened as this pandemic has trudged on: Things stopped being funny. Or, at least, there stopped being funny things.
Iâve been grateful that thereâs been so much great content to distract and entertain us these last months, as new streaming services [sprouted like weeds]( and existing networks hustled to deliver [some of their best programming]( to now-captive audiences.
I May Destroy You, P-Valley, Mrs. America, Insecure, Weâre Here, Bad Education, Normal People, Dead to Me, Search Party, The Great, Expecting Amy, Lovecraft Country⦠Itâs already too many series for a Top 10 list, and thatâs only factoring in shows that premiered during the shutdown. But at a time when weâve needed cheering up the most, where has the levity been?
I was struck by this earlier this week when, after a particularly trying day in which depression seemed to fall out of the sky and crush me like a piano cut loose from a crane, I tried to cheer up by cueing up the two shows that have made me laugh the most recently: [The Real Housewives of Potomac]( and [Amy Schumer Learns to Cook](.
Both series are prize-worthy triumphs of comedic editing, showcasing their starsâ natural, sharp senses of humor...and both happen to be reality TV shows.
In fact, those belly laughs and canât-help-but-guffaw moments seem to have come overwhelmingly from reality shows lately, at a time that couldnât be more desperate for genuine comedy to counteract the joy vacuum that is existence right now. The absurdity of Selling Sunset. The one-liners of Real Housewives. Hell, even the campiness, icky as it was, of Tiger King.
Theyâve all arrived at a time after shows like Modern Family and Schittâs Creek aired their final episodes. Saturday Night Liveâs at-home outings went off air early on in the shutdown. Late-night shows sobered up to reflect the severity of the news they were commenting on. Comedy specials from the likes of Dave Chappelle and Hannah Gadsby were sensational, but no laugh riots.
Blatant attempts at comedy fell flat. Steve Carell reunited with the creator of The Office for Netflixâs Space Force, and it was bafflingly bad. Even Larry Davidâs whole Curb Your Enthusiasm thing had an unpleasant whiff to it this go-round.
The fall TV season is about to start in earnest. Shows like Ratched, The Comey Rule, Fargo, The Third Day, We Are Who We Are, Tehran, Utopia, and Wilderness of Error are sure to garner major attention. But outside of [PEN15](, which trades in heartbreak as much as humor, thereâs not much coming down the pike that could be considered a good old-fashioned, LOL pick-me-up.
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Iâve covered so many cycles of the âstate of comedyâ conversation over the years that Iâd sooner suffer the emotional seppuku of watching the last sequence of the Six Feet Under finale on loop until this pandemic is over than kickstart that conversation again.
Since Iâve had this job, the family sitcom has died, the multicam sitcom has died, the female-led sitcom has died, the cynical sitcom has died, the auteurâs sitcom has died, the ha-ha funny sitcom has died, the dramedy has died, and each one has come back to life with the chorus of hallelujahs sang from a flurry of breathless thinkpieces.
I donât think any sort of comedy is dead right now. The tonal subtleties of âcomediesâ like Insecure, PEN15, I May Destroy You, Search Party, and The Greatâjust to name series off the top of my headâsuggests a blissful golden age for the genre.
Itâs just striking to me that at a time shrouded in so much darkness, the aggressive joke-per-minute efforts of a Veep-like show, for example, havenât found their way to air, specifically because the environment is begging for it. (A recent bingeing of the hilarious and super-smart What We Do in the Shadows did accomplish that, however, and I would highly recommend anyone do the same.)
Times are hard. Iâm suffering misery burnout. My kingdom for a laugh!
The Kardashians Have Been Caught Up With
What happens when the TV show that, for more than a decade, was proclaimed the death of culture, art, and civilized society as we know it...actually ends itself?
Keeping Up With the Kardashians [will end its run]( in 2021 after 14 years, 20 seasons, and the most insufferable discourse about television that Iâve had the displeasure of covering. Is there anything more annoying than the people who have criticized this show?
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Congrats, professor, on your evenings spent brushing the lint off your tweed jacket while the rest of us not only entertained ourselves, but watched as this series and its family of stars changed reality TV, the entertainment industry, and our culture fundamentally. Complaining about their impact is as buffoonish as denying it. The truth is the ways and the speed with which they altered the landscape wasâbrace yourself for an insufferable turn of phrase!âlegitimately [hard to keep up with](.
Weâll have a year to write and read our think pieces about their legacy. To cynically rank the most embarrassing moments of the show. To wax poetic on how the series birthed a new age of docuseries that normalized the injection of scripted narrative into cinema verite, and sutured together social media and digital influence with on-screen branding. That, with how Caitlyn Jenner altered the worldâs perception of the trans community fundamentally, and, with the titular women, demandedâwhether we liked it or notâincessant discourse and evolution on exploitation, sexualization, agency, feminism, family, and power.
They say the devil works hard but Kris Jenner works harder. Thereâs no denying the shrewdness of announcing the showâs end at this turning point in the genre. Is reality TV dead, or is it stronger than ever? Itâs certainly different. Even as her show approaches irrelevance, Jenner is redirecting the conversation to why it matters. Her mind.
The Kardashians revolutionized the idea of a reality star as an accepted member of the Hollywood A-list, spawning a harrowing army of copycats craven for even a modicum of that success and recognition. Does that launching pad exist anymore?
It does in an earnest fashion, sprinkling 15 minutes each to the breakout athletes from Cheer, or the heartbroken Bachelorette of the moment. Notoriety will never go out of fashion, as Tiger Kingâs Carole Baskin is teaching us. But in the age of TikTok and influencer houses, can that impact and level of attention be attained through a Kardashians-like series anymore? You could say that the Kardashians both created and outgrew their own Hollywood path.
Thereâs still time to consider the 72-day marriage, the Khloe-and-Lamar arc, the Kanye West of it all, and what the hell is wrong with me that Iâm still attracted to Scott Disick. As for now, Iâd just like to memorialize this iconic Kardashian moment, which I either send in GIF form or as a quote at least once a day. Itâs a mantra really.
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No matter what demons Iâm battling, petty gripes I may have, or [earrings I may have lost]( in the pristine blue sea off the private deck of an overwater bungalow in Bora Bora, âKim, thereâs people that are dying.â
An Instant Real Housewives Icon
I think I speak for many Bravo fans when I say I was, if not completely confused, then at least highly curious when it was announced that the first new Real Housewives franchise city in five years would be The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City.
In any season of the show, no matter where it takes place, there is an honorary additional cast member and that cast member is BOOZE, BITCHES! That the new season, which will premiere in November, would be set in a city known for its Mormon presenceâand their no-alcohol policyâwas certainly a different choice.
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That said, the more we learn about this new franchise the more our fears seem to have been unfounded. Exhibit a) this wild trailer, that [you can view here](. And exhibit b) [this biography]( of cast member Mary Cosby, which I implore you to read every word of, and then go back and read again three more times because, yes, you did have to make sure that you actually read it right.
âWith a penchant for God, couture and only the finest champagne, Mary Cosby is a Pentecostal First Lady who inherited her familyâs empire of churches, restaurants and more. The caveat in her taking over the family business was that she marry her late grandmotherâs second husband, Robert Cosby Sr. They have since been married for 20 years and have one teenage son together. Small but mighty and always dressed to the nines, her unconventional past has made her guarded and she quickly finds herself on shaky ground with some of the ladies.â
They Found the Buttholes
So thereâs this long story about the movie Cats and buttholes.
During production on the cinematic travestyâs visual effects, uncertainty over how anatomically realistic the CGI cats should appear somehow birthed a version of the filmâs scenes in which the characters were singing to Andrew Lloyd Weber tunes while flashing actual anuses at the camera.
As a source who worked on the film bravely relayed to my colleague Laura Bradley [earlier this year](, âWe went to call our supervisor, and weâre like, âThereâs a fucking asshole in there! Thereâs buttholes!â It wasnât prominent but you saw it⦠And you [were] just like, âWhat the hell is that?... Thereâs a fucking butthole in there.ââ
Thus confirmed the legendary existence of the Cats âButthole Cut.â I guess the story wasnât that long...
This is vital information this week, however, because a Twitter user who, unfortunately for her, has incredibly keen eyes was watching Cats and discovered that, while the Butthole Cut may or may not exist, the effects team failed to remove every single âstarfishâ from every frame.
So, uh, behold the Cats buttholes.
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I Give Out Awards Now
This weekend the Society of LGBTQ Entertainment Critics is airing its first televised Dorian Awards show recognizing the best in TV, including appearances from Hugh Jackman, Regina King, Dan Levy, Laverne Cox, and...me! (?) Iâll be a talking head discussing this yearâs nominees, winners, and erstwhile GAY THINGS on TV. You can read more about our little ramshackle first award show, in which I got tipsy off Prosecco at 2 pm on a Saturday and spoke weepily about Schittâs Creekâs depiction of love, and [how to watch here](.
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We Are Who We Are: Youths in Italy! Gorgeous! Fascinating! Terrifying!
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The Great Pottery Throw Down: I know nothing about this, but the title suggests that doesnât matter.
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The Third Day: Mysterious Jude Law, a genre I am passionate about.
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Dancing With the Stars: I mean, yes, Iâll be watching it. But that doesnât mean you should!
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