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Tag: Cady Heron

  • Mondo Bullshittio #48: Removing the Fire Crotch Line From Mean Girls 2024

    Mondo Bullshittio #48: Removing the Fire Crotch Line From Mean Girls 2024

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    In a series called Mondo Bullshittio, let’s talk about some of the most glaring hypocrisies and faux pas in pop culture…and all that it affects.

    As though to further confirm that Mean Girls has entered into the so-called woke era, the latest development in its digital release ultimately comes as no shock. For the “slight alteration” caters to a particular person’s sensitivities, which is what life after the early twenty-first century has been all about. Pandering, bowing, capitulating, etc. Even to the very celebrities that were once so readily fed to the wolves in the era of “Lindsay Lohan supremacy.” An era that, as many know, was very short-lived once Lohan buckled under the scrutiny of child/teen fame and proceeded to pull a Miley before Miley even did. In fact, it could be argued that Lohan (in addition to Britney Spears) paved the way for women like Miley Cyrus to have their “rebellious” (read: normal reaction to their situation and lifestyle opportunities) “phase” with far less flak. Because, believe it or not, Cyrus was far less shat upon in her “shedding the Hannah Montana persona” days than Lohan or Spears in the mid-00s. 

    Although there were “attempts” on Lohan’s part to make a comeback (something she’s been announcing since she started to fall off after Herbie: Fully Loaded), it seemed no matter what movie she made it was 1) rather bad (even if bad in the gay-loving camp sort of way) and 2) totally mitigated by her latest drug-addled hijinks. In 2006, when the infamous “fire crotch” line that served to sting Lohan (even, when she least expected it, in 2024) came to light, it was caused by the unholy matrimony of the internet and celebrity-obsessed culture. Thus, the existence of a video like the one of Brandon Davis (who no one except Paris and Lindsay remember) calling Lohan a fire crotch could be immortalized in the annals of pop culture. But it was so much more specific than that mere “epithet,” still often used to demean the female ginger. No, Davis got extremely passionate about Lohan’s fire crotch, egged on by Paris Hilton to deliver his epic monologue on the subject while drunkenly sauntering through the streets of Hollywood after going to Hyde Lounge (the height of “seeing and being seen” in 00s LA). In fact, Davis wasn’t even naming names until Hilton goaded, “Who has a fire crotch?”

    And that’s when Davis let it rip: “Lindsay Lohan has got the stinkiest, fuckin’ sweaty orange vagina anyone has ever seen. I haven’t seen it! But it shits out freckles, it’s orange and it fucking smells like diarrhea.” Elsewhere in the tirade, Davis adds, “The truth is, her movie bombed and her pussy is orange. Nobody would fuck her with a ten-foot pole” and, again, “Lindsay Lohan is a fire crotch. And she has freckles coming out of her vagina.” There’s no doubt that Lohan saw the footage of this at some point. Or was at least informed of it. Indeed, 2006 was the year of bandying insults for Paris and Lindsay, with the latter calling her a cunt on camera and then immediately taking it back to say, “Paris is my friend.” In any case, it seemed no coincidence that Lohan dyed her hair a dark shade of brown that year, almost as though to deny her ginger-ness altogether. Though, in the present, she’s obviously decided to fully embrace it by starring in a Netflix movie (yet another one) called Irish Wish (which surely has to be better than Falling For Christmas…a feat that’s not difficult to achieve). Parading that red hair of hers for good “Irish roots” measure. Perhaps if Davis ever sees the movie, he might be severely triggered again. 

    Just as Lohan was by the term “fire crotch” being wielded in Mean Girls 2024 by none other than Coach’s new-fangled/erstwhile Regina George, Megan Thee Stallion (who also offered her services for the lead single from the soundtrack, “Not My Fault”). The line, no doubt written by Tina Fey, comes up after Regina (Renée Rapp) falls with a major thud onstage at the Winter Talent Show (something that, of course, doesn’t happen in the original movie) and a barrage of TikTok videos commenting on the literal and metaphorical fall is unleashed. Among the commenters speaking in favor of Cady (Angourie Rice, taking on Lohan’s part) “saving the performance” is Megan Thee Stallion, who declares, “Okay so, somebody sent me this look and I was like, ‘Hot girls, we are going back to red!’ Y2K fire crotch is back!”

    But, as Lohan has decreed, it apparently isn’t (even though the drama she created about the phrase being used resulted in her making far more headlines than she’s lately been accustomed to). Or at least, that “hurtful” two-word moniker isn’t…even if the look itself (for her) is. In fact, Lohan was very “disappointed” (as Ms. Norbury would say) in the use of that “slur” in the movie, taking her back to a place, emotionally speaking, that she didn’t want to revisit. Not just 2006, but also her cellblock in 2010, for it was also reported that fellow inmates would chant that nickname at her. Per a July 25, 2010 report from Intelligencer, “Lindsay Lohan has reportedly been brought to tears in jail because…inmates have been calling her ‘fire crotch.’” But hey, like the show says, “Orange is the new black.” Or maybe, like “fetch,” Lohan can’t seem to make it happen. But what she could make happen was airing her sentiments about the line out there for everyone to hear (well, everyone who’s still interested in 00s pop culture…so yeah, everyone). Except, instead of releasing a statement herself, she had her “representative” announce, “​​Lindsay was very hurt and disappointed by the reference in the film.” 

    Be that as it may, “hurt feelings” being a reason to stifle an artistic choice or a certain breed of humor is a dangerous habit to form. And yet, it is a habit that has appeared to become a “best practice” in recent years, as we’ve also seen Taylor Swift eliminate the word “fat” from her “Anti-Hero” music video and Beyoncé remove the word “spaz” from her lyrics. All of these things done pretty much instantaneously upon the expression of offense. Designed to blot out the fact that it ever happened (in true Orwellian fashion).

    With the removal of Megan Thee Stallion’s “shady” comment, however, Mean Girls 2024 becomes the complete version of its overly-sanitized self—including changing “fugly slut” to “fugly cow.” Because Lohan forbid we should have any hurt feelings. And yet, even when the steps to “eradicate” the potential for such hurt occurs, most people know full well that we still live in a world of mean girls (and boys). Alas, in “girl world” (run by little boys posing as men), all the fighting continues to be “sneaky.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Gen Z Is to Cady Heron as Millennials Are to Regina George, Or: Does Mean Girls 2024 Make Gen Z the New Queen Bee? Hardly.

    Gen Z Is to Cady Heron as Millennials Are to Regina George, Or: Does Mean Girls 2024 Make Gen Z the New Queen Bee? Hardly.

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    For those who applaud it, any contempt expressed for the latest iteration of Mean Girls is likely to be met with the ageist rebuke of how it’s probably because you’re a millennial (granted, some millennials might be enough of a traitor to their own birth cohort to lap up this schlock). As in: “Sorry you don’t like it, bitch, but it’s Gen Z’s turn now. You’re just jealous.” The thing is, there’s not anything to be jealous of here, for nothing about this film does much to truly challenge or reinvent the status quo of the original. Which, theoretically, should be the entire point of redoing a film. Especially a film that has been so significant to pop culture. And not just millennial pop culture, but pop culture as a whole. Mean Girls, indeed, has contributed an entire vocabulary and manner of speaking to the collective lexicon. Of course, reinventing the wheel might be the expectation if this was a truly new version. Instead, it is merely a translation of the Broadway musical that kicked off in the fall of 2017, right as another cultural phenomenon was taking shape: the #MeToo movement. 

    This alignment with the repackaging of Mean Girls as something that a new generation could latch onto and relate with seemed timely for the heralding of a new era that not only abhorred flagrant sexual abuse against women, but also anything unpleasant whatsoever. It quickly became clear that a lot of things could be branded as “unpleasant.” Even some of the most formerly minute “linguistic nuances.” This would soon end up extending to any form of “slut-shaming” or “body-shaming.” Granted, Fey was already onto slut-shaming being “over” when she tells the junior class in the original movie,  “You all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It just makes it okay for guys to call you sluts and whores.” (They still seem to think it’s okay, by the way.)

    Having had such “foresight,” Fey was also game to update and tweak a lot of other “problematic” things. From something as innocuous as having Karen say that Gretchen gets diarrhea on a Ferris wheel instead of at a Barnes & Noble (clearly, not relevant enough anymore to a generation that gets any reading advice from “BookTok”) to removing dialogue like, “I don’t hate you because you’re fat. You’re fat because I hate you” to doing away entirely with that plotline about Coach Carr (now played by Jon “Don Draper” Hamm) having sexual relationships with underage girls.

    What Fey has always been super comfortable with (as most people have been), however, is ageist humor (she has plenty of anti-Madonna lines to that effect throughout 30 Rock). For example, rather than Gretchen (Bebe Wood) telling her friends that “fetch” is British slang like she does in 2004, she muses that she thinks she saw it in an “old movie,” “maybe Juno.” Because yes, everything and everyone is currently “old” in Gen Z land, though 2007 (the year of Juno’s release) was seventeen years ago, not seventy. This little dig at “old movies” is tantamount to that moment in 2005’s Monster-in-Law when Viola Fields (Jane Fonda) has to interview a pop star (very clearly modeled after Britney Spears) named Tanya Murphy (Stephanie Turner) for her talk show, Public Intimacy. Finding it difficult to relate to Tanya, Viola briefly brightens when the Britney clone says, “I love watching really old movies. They’re my favorite.” Viola nudges, “Really? Which ones?” Tanya then pulls a “Mean Girls 2024 Gretchen” by replying, “Well, um, Grease and Grease II. Um, Benji, I love Benji. Free Willy, um, Legally Blonde…uh The Little Mermaid.” By the time Tanya says Legally Blonde (four years “old” at the time of Monster-in-Law’s release), that’s about as much as Viola can take before she’s set off (though Tanya blatantly showcasing her lack of knowledge about Roe v. Wade is what, at last, prompts Viola’s physical violence). Angourie Rice, who plays a millennial in Senior Year, ought to have said something in defense of Juno, but here she’s playing the inherently ageist Gen Zer she is. Albeit a “geriatric” one who isn’t quite passing for high school student age. Not the way Rachel McAdams did at twenty-five while filming Mean Girls. 

    To that point, Lindsay Lohan was seventeen years old during the production and theater release of Mean Girls, while Angourie Rice was twenty-two (now twenty-three upon the movie’s theater release). Those five years make all the difference in lending a bit more, shall we say, authenticity to being a teenager. Mainly because, duh, Lohan was an actual teenager. And yes, 2004 was inarguably the height of her career success. Which is why she clings on to Mean Girls at every opportunity (complete with the Mean Girls x Wal-Mart commercial). Thus, it was no surprise to see her “cameo” by the end of the film, where she takes on the oh so significant role of Mathlete State Championship moderator, given a few notable lines (e.g., “Honey, I don’t know your life”—something that would have landed better coming from Samantha Jones) but largely serving as a reminder of how much better the original Mean Girls was and that the viewer is currently watching a dual-layered helping of, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

    While the musical angle is meant to at least faintly set the 2024 film edition apart from the original, it’s clear that Tina Fey, from her schizophrenic viewpoint as a Gen Xer, has trouble toeing the line between post-2017 “sensitivity” and maintaining the stinging tone of what was allowed by 2004 standards. Although Gen Z is known for being “bitchy” and speaking in a manner that echoes the internet-speak amalgam of gay men meets AAVE, any attempt at “biting cuntery” is in no way present at the same level it was in 2004’s Mean Girls. And a large part of that isn’t just because “you can’t say shit anymore,” but also because the meanness of the original Regina George is completely washed out and muted. This compounded by the fact that Reneé Rapp is emblematic of a more “body positive” Regina. In other words, she’s more zaftig than the expected Barbie shape of millennial Regina. Perhaps this is why any acerbic comments on Regina’s part about other people’s looks are noticeably lacking. For example, in the original, Regina tells Cady over the phone, in reference to Gretchen (Lacey Chabert), “Cady, she’s not pretty. I mean, that sounds bad, but whatever.” Regina might say the same of the downgraded looks of the Mean Girls cast as a whole… Let’s just say, gone are the days of the polish and glamor once present in teen movies. And yet, there is still nothing “real” about what’s presented here in Mean Girls 2024. Because, again, it struggles too much with the balancing act of trying to be au courant with the fact that it was created during a time when people (read: millennials) could withstand such patent “meanness.”

    In the climate of now, where bullying is all but a criminal offense resulting in severe punishment, Mean Girls no longer fits in the high school narrative of the present. This is something that the aforementioned Senior Year gets right when Stephanie (Rebel Wilson) returns to high school as thirty-seven-year-old and finds that Gen Z seems to care little about the rules of social hierarchy she knew so well as a teenage millennial. And the rules Regina George’s mom likely knew as well. Alas, Mrs. George becomes a pale imitation of Amy Poehler’s rendering, with Busy Philipps trying her best to make the role “frothy,” even when she warns Regina and co. to enjoy their youth because it will never get any better than it is right now for them (something Gen Z clearly believes based on an obsession with people being “old” that has never been seen to this extent before). The absence of her formerly blatant boob job also seems to be an arbitrary “fix” to the previous standards of beauty that were applauded and upheld in the Mean Girls of 2004 (hell, even the “fat girl” who sees Regina has gained some extra padding on her backside is the first to mock her by shouting in front of everyone, “Watch where you’re going, fat ass!”). 

    To boot, the curse of having to “update” things automatically entails the presence of previously unavailable technology. This, of course, takes away from the bombastic effect of Regina scattering photocopies of the Burn Book pages throughout the entire school, instead placing the book in the entry hallway to be “discovered.” And yes, the fact that the Gen Z Plastics would be using a tactile object such as this is given a one-line explanation by Regina when she asks if they made the book during the week their phones were taken away. Again proving how this “translation” doesn’t hold the same weight (no fat-shaming pun intended) or impact as before. 

    More vexingly still, without the indelible voiceovers from Cady, the movie becomes a hollow shell of itself, and not just because it’s now a musical lacking the punch of, at the very least, some particularly memorable lyrics (and no, “Not My Fault” playing in the credits isn’t much of a prime example of that either). And so, those who remember the gold standard of the original movie will have to settle for conjuring up the voiceovers themselves while watching (e.g., “I know it may look like I’d become a bitch, but that was only because I was acting like a bitch” and “I could hear people getting bored with me. But I couldn’t stop. It just kept coming up like word vomit”). But perhaps Fey felt that the “storytelling device” of  Janis ʻImi’ike (Auliʻi Cravalho)—formerly Janis Ian—and Damian Hubbard (Jaquel Spivey)—formerly just Damian—telling it through what is presumed to be a TikTok video (this, like Senior Year, mirroring a trope established by Easy A) would be enough to both “modernize” the movie (along with Cady being raised by a single mom instead of two married parents) and compensate for its current lack of signature voiceovers.

    Some might point out that there’s simply no room for voiceovers in a musical without making the whole thing too clunky. Which brings one to the question of why a musical version instead of a more legitimate reboot had to be made. Well, obviously, the answer is: money. Knowing that the same financial success of the musical would be secured by an effortless transition to film. One that ageistly promises in the trailer: “Not your mother’s Mean Girls.” Apart from the fact that it doesn’t deliver at all on any form of “raunch” that might be entailed by that tagline, as Zing Tsjeng of The Guardian pointed out, “Your mother’s? Tina Fey’s teen comedy was released nineteen years ago. Unless my mother was a child bride, I’m not sure the marketing department thought this one through.” 

    But of course they did. And what they thought was, “Let’s throw millennials under the bus like Regina and focus our money-making endeavors on a fresher audience.” That fresh audience being totally unschooled in the ways in which Mean Girls is a product of its time. And so, is it really supposed to be “woke” to change the indelible “fugly slut” line to “fugly cow”? As though fat-shaming is more acceptable than slut-shaming (which also occurs when Karen [Avantika] is derided by both Regina and Gretchen for having sex with eleven different “partners”—the implication perhaps being that maybe some of them weren’t boys). And obviously, Regina saying, “I know what homeschool is, I’m not retarded” had to go. The phrase “social suicide” is also apparently out (even though Olivia Rodrigo is happy to reference it in “diary of a homeschooled girl”). In general, all “strong” language has been eradicated. Something that becomes particularly notable in the “standoff” scene between Janis and Cady after the former catches her having a party despite saying she would be out of town. In this manifestation of the fight, gone are the harshly-delivered lines, “You’re a mean girl, Cady. You’re a bitch!”

    Despite its thud-landing delivery, the messaging of Mean Girls remains the same. Or, to quote the original Cady (evidently an honorary Gen Zer with this zen anti-bullying stance), “Making fun of Caroline Krafft wouldn’t stop her from beating me in this contest. Calling somebody else fat won’t make you any skinnier, calling someone stupid doesn’t make you any smarter. And ruining Regina George’s life definitely didn’t make me any happier. All you can do in life is try to solve the problem in front of you.” Alas, Fey doesn’t solve the problem of bridging millennial pop culture into what little there is of Gen Z’s. At the end of Mean Girls 2024, the gist of Cady’s third-act message becomes (as said by Janis): “Even if you don’t like someone, chances are they still want to just coexist. So get off their dick.”

    The thing is, Mean Girls 2024 can’t coexist (at least not on the same level) with Mean Girls. It’s almost like Cady Heron trying to be the new Regina George. That is to say, it just doesn’t work, and ends up backfiring spectacularly (though not from a financial standpoint, which is all that ultimately matters to most). Unfortunately, when Cady tells Damian at the end of 2004’s Mean Girls, “Hey, check it out. Junior Plastics” and then gives the voiceover, “And if any freshmen tried to disturb that peace…well, let’s just say we knew how to take care of it [cue the fantasy of the school bus running them over],” she added, “Just kidding.” And she was. Otherwise the so-called junior Plastics of Mean Girls 2024 wouldn’t be here, disturbing the millennial peace.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Grim Fan Fiction Presented by the Mean Girls x Wal-Mart Commercial

    The Grim Fan Fiction Presented by the Mean Girls x Wal-Mart Commercial

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    In 2023, Wal-Mart has so “generously” allowed us to catch a glimpse into the lives of where the mean girls from 2004 are now. Not only that, but this version of 2023 ostensibly exists in an alternate realm where the name Karen (and Karen Smith, no less) isn’t something worthy of calling attention to. Not at any point during the extremely lengthy commercial (almost a full two minutes [an “epic” in the realm of advertising], which means Wal-Mart really shelled out for it). Though there were plenty of other “plot points” that attention was called to in terms of assessing where some of the Mean Girls characters have ended up. And, let’s just say it, the assumptions to be made are rather grim. 

    For a start, Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan) is still hanging out with Gretchen (Lacey Chabert) and Karen (Amanda Seyfried). Are we really to believe that Cady would have remained friends with anyone from The Plastics (particularly since she informs viewers at the end of the movie, “In case you’re wondering, The Plastics broke up”)? And if one person was worth remaining friends with, wouldn’t it have been Regina? If for no other reason than she had a mind of her own. Or, as Damian (Daniel Franzese) said, “She’s the queen bee, the star. Those other two are just her little workers.” Later on in Mean Girls, Cady marvels, “Was I the new queen bee?” It seems that, for the purposes of this Wal-Mart commercial, yes, she is. Even if she’s now a guidance counselor. Arguably one of the bleakest aspects about this flash forward to the mean girls’ future. That, and it seems that Janis Ian (Lizzy Caplan) isn’t friends with her or Damian anymore, having likely moved on to bigger and better things outside of the Chicago area. 

    Perhaps this is why Cady has resorted to a continued friendship with Gretchen and Karen. The latter of whom appears to be doing a “weather report” for no one’s benefit but her own—and yeah, it’s a bit sad that she’s still skulking around the high school to do it. They should have at least shown her doing “weather” for a local channel, and maybe even alluding to the climate change factors that have become unignorable in the years since 2004. Though, somehow, the next scene transition occurs by showing Karen on the big screen of Kevin Gnapoor’s (Rajiv Surendra) living room, even though it would make no sense for Karen to broadcast from North Shore High School if she was a legitimate “weather girl.”

    But that’s not supposed to be the viewer’s focus as the camera whip-pans to Kevin’s son holding a twenty-five-dollar (because of course the price flashes on the screen) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles RC in his hands (with a Hot Wheels and Barbie box in the background, to boot). After all, it’s so important that Generation Alpha understands the importance of material goods, too. That job has already been done on Gen Z, who, although positioned as “climate-conscious” and “embracing of all sexual and ethnic identifications,” ain’t really none of that based on what one actually sees outside of think pieces concerning said birth cohort. Kevin then half-heartedly tells his son, “Don’t let the haters stop you from doing your thang, Kevin Jr.,” as though he has little will left to believe that himself. And clearly, if Janis isn’t in this scene, it means she dumped his ass along with Cady and Damian’s, too. 

    As for Gretchen, she’s apparently been a young mom since roughly 2007 (if we’re to believe her daughter is sixteen, and Mean Girls came out in 2004, when Gretchen would have been sixteen herself). Not only does she have a high school-age daughter named Amber who seems more Regina than Gretchen, she also has two younger kids as well. All of whom are Asian, though there’s no sign of the Asian husband she presumably married as a result of immersing herself in an Asian clique at the end of Mean Girls (this being a hyper-specific detail for the Wal-Mart commercial to include). 

    Cady’s life also appears rather empty based on her purchases of “Apple AirPods and Legos,” though that doesn’t seem to stop one stalker-y student from wanting to imitate that purchase the way Bethany Byrd (Stefanie Drummond) did with Regina George’s Army pants and flip flops. It’s never really made clear if Cady does have kids of her own (hence, the reason for buying Legos?), but it is clear that she has no compunction about displaying a pathetic mug on her desk that reads, “Best Guidance Counselor Ever.” Perhaps this level of patheticness is her karma for calling Ms. Norbury (Tina Fey) a “sad old drug pusher” back when she was a student instead of a “teacher.” And maybe her additional karma for all that high school fuckery was not ending up with Aaron Samuels (Jonathan Bennett), who is nowhere to be found…perhaps because the real-life Aaron Samuels turned out to be gay (which is why he was more willing to appear as that character in Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next” video). 

    Nonetheless, Cady does her best to maintain “plucky” narrations as she remarks, “Even as the guidance counselor, I was still getting schooled.” Yes, by the Gen Z tits who are even more asshole-ish than millennials were (this despite the former’s reputation for “tolerance”). So while Gretchen appears to have an absentee Asian husband as she lives out her tragic lawnmower mom life, Cady is working for a middling wage at the same high school she attended twenty years ago. Maybe the only person with a more depressing fate is Damian, who, for whatever reason, is working the projector for the Winter Talent Show. 

    Possibly the one thing that could be more heinous is if Karen ended up marrying her “first cousin,” Seth Mosakowski, and having inbred, even dumber children with him. In any case, there’s obviously a reason why Regina George is no longer consorting with any of these “losers.” Because, evidently, she didn’t peak in high school as expected…the way all the others appear to have done just that. One would instead like to believe that she and Janis have finally consummated their long overdue lesbian relationship and are proud owners of a kinky sex shop that also sells lacrosse gear (which itself can double as sex toys) somewhere in L.A.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Gen Zers Think Millennials Are Cringe, But Still Want to Emulate Them in the Mean Girls Commercial

    Gen Zers Think Millennials Are Cringe, But Still Want to Emulate Them in the Mean Girls Commercial

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    Apart from being one of the most overt pieces of capitalist propaganda to wield pop culture in recent memory, the Mean Girls x Wal-Mart commercial is a stark reminder not just of Gen Z contempt for millennials, but for their simultaneous desire to emulate them. After all, there’s a fine line between hate and love, as it is said. And, to quote Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan), it’s not millennials’ fault that Gen Z “is like in love with them or something.” At least, if one is to go by the obsession with their era (even when trying to deride it through an over-the-top condemnation of skinny jeans and side parts). 

    Within the absurd universe of 2023-era Mean Girls, Gen Z is somehow the spawn of Gretchen Wieners (Lacey Chabert), while Cady (Lindsay Lohan) and Karen (Amanda Seyfried) don’t seem to have any clear claim on children of their own (unless it’s the other two members of Amber Wieners’ Gen Z clique). And maybe Cady is too busy “nurturing” youths in her role as a guidance counselor anyway to bother with children of her own. Which brings us to a scene designed to make her look out of touch in an “old” way rather than a “cute” one (as she did in 2004 whilst talking to Aaron Samuels [Jonathan Bennett]). Since everything is “cute” when you’re young enough…as society has drummed into our collective minds by now. This occurs when, sitting behind her desk dispensing “guidance” to a duo of mean girls, she once again says, “Grool.”

    The duo looks at her like she’s a “Martian” (as Regina called her) after she utters, apropos of nothing, “Grool.” At least when she said it in the actual movie, it was a conflated response to Aaron declaring of his Halloween party invite, “That flier admits one person only, so…don’t bring some other guy with you.” She started to say “great,” then “cool”—ergo, “Grool.” But how would these Gen Z putas living their far more “glamorous” life be expected to know anything about that “lore.” So naturally, they look up from their phones long enough to respond with disgust, “Huh?” and “What’s ‘grool’?” Cady assures, “It’s nothing.” 

    Almost as “nothing” as Gen Z claims millennials are to them despite constantly turning to Mean Girls as a behavioral bible and/or source of 00s yearning/“aesthetic” inspiration. And in the Wal-Mart commercial, that emulation comes both behaviorally and sartorially as Gretchen’s daughter and her friends wear the same pastels and plaids as the original Plastics did. Even though Cady was sure to tell us at the end of Mean Girls (after Damian [Daniel Franzese] delightedly warns of a freshman trio of girls, “Check it out, Junior Plastics”), “And if any freshmen tried to disturb that peace…well, let’s just say we knew how to take care of it.” Cue Cady imagining a school bus running the trio over and then assuring, “Just kidding.” But, of course, there are surely many millennials by now who have had such violent and hostile fantasies about cartoonishly ageist Gen Z. Particularly since, as we see exhibited by the Gen Z Plastics of the Wal-Mart commercial, they’re essentially grafting what millennials did while simultaneously critiquing them. Mainly for being “old” and for having never experienced the horrors of modern-day smartphone/social media life in their teens the way Gen Z is now. 

    To that point, Gretchen has happily taken on a Mrs. George-esque (Amy Poehler) persona by becoming not like a regular mom, but a cool mom as she sets up the ring light and camera to film Amber and her bitch friends doing limply-executed dances, presumably for TikTok. Amber then snaps at her mother when she says, “This is gonna be so fetch.” Amber’s response? “Stop trying to make fetch happen, Mom. It’s still not gonna happen.” Gretchen looks deeply wounded by this, for surely it’s gotta sting more coming from her daughter than Regina George. Her daughter, mind you, who knows nothing about millennial culture because not only did she not live through it, but everything about it has been diluted and bastardized by TikTok. Including Mean Girls itself. 

    This usually extends to the oft-referenced Winter Talent Show scene, which is recreated here as well (albeit with “smart” flat-heeled boots in lieu of stiletto-heeled ones). Even though Gretchen (and Cady/Karen, for that matter) would have needed to get pregnant right after high school, circa 2007-2009, to have a high school-age daughter. The probability of this seems rather unlikely (unless you’re Lorelai Gilmore), considering her Type A personality and “good” college/“respectable” career path. Even if having kids and marrying a “similar-minded/pedigreed” man was also at the forefront of her mind, that wouldn’t have been until, realistically, at least her mid-twenties. But, for the sake of capitalist propaganda, we must suspend our disbelief as Gretchen (joined by two more children who also appear to be Asian, which means she definitely didn’t marry Jason [Daniel DeSanto]), Cady and Karen watch a “less hot version” of themselves perform the same song and dance that they did “back in the day.” To far greater ennui…even though Gretchen takes over for Mrs. George on the filming front. 

    By the end of the commercial, the movie has been so perverted from its original self that the Burn Book pages plastered all over the school have been transformed into ads for Wal-Mart Black Friday deals instead of salacious pieces of gossip (many of which wouldn’t fly in the Gen Z climate of the present, where jokes about people being fat, or slutty, or statutory rapists would probably be deemed too insensitive).

    And yet, while millennial messaging has been “massaged” to suit a Gen Z demographic in this commercial (not just with the Burn Book being nothing but a “coupon book,” but also Gretchen having her son play with a Barbie), it is still Gen Z trying to be “analog” in the end by engaging with printouts. This being just one of the many ways, throughout the commercial, in which they’ve surrendered to their worst, most “cringe” fear: “being millennial.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Mean Girls x Wal-Mart Commercial: A None Too Subtle Trojan Horse for Capitalism Via Millennial Nostalgia

    Mean Girls x Wal-Mart Commercial: A None Too Subtle Trojan Horse for Capitalism Via Millennial Nostalgia

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    As the “reunion” that everyone’s been waiting for, it was practically inevitable that the Mean Girls “assembly” (high school pun intended) would disappoint. Mainly because, yes, the so-called reunion is a fucking Wal-Mart commercial. That said, it actually seems as though, rather than people being disappointed by it, they’re somehow delighted. Dare one say…“tickled.” But the reason behind that appears to be less about content and more about an increasing fiendishness for nostalgia, especially among millennials. And no, it’s not because they’re, as Gen Z would falsely bill them, “old,” but because it’s glaringly apparent that times in 2004 were far more bearable—fun, even (remember fun?)—than times in 2023. 

    Of course, naysayers and “pro-progressive” types would argue that life was so much worse back then (see: the media manipulation and vilification of women like Britney Spears). That we’ve come “such a long way” (or “such a long way,” as Gretchen Wieners [Lacey Chabert] would utter it) in our perception of things (“thing” being the word that still describes how men see women) and our “tolerance for others” (read: white people in print and media making flaccid attempts at “inclusivity”). But the truth is, psychologically, society has gone further back into the Dark Ages with its mentality—particularly toward women and minorities (who are only viewed as minorities by the white people who only make up about eight percent of the world’s population). So yeah, a throwback to 2004 is bound to feel pretty fucking great right now. Like sweet candy compared to the tasteless gruel (a riff on “grool,” obviously) being served up on a daily basis in this part of the century. 

    What’s more, 2004 was still within a prime era for the U.S. in terms of continuing to hold up capitalism as what George W. Bush would later call “the best system ever devised.” To that end, one would like to believe the Mean Girls x Wal-Mart commercial is a wink-wink nod to the Bush years’ unironic exaltation of capitalism, but no, that’s clearly not the case. In fact, this capitalistic propaganda posing as “Mean Girls nostalgia” at its worst treats the viewers as though they themselves still live in 2004, when it was easier to pretend “deal shopping” for Black Friday isn’t the very thing that’s helped to make 2023 even more of a dystopia compared to 2004. Or that the presence of Missy Elliott (whose song, “Pass That Dutch,” plays repeatedly throughout the original Mean Girls, therefore this commercial) spelling out “D-E-A-L-S”  instead of “K-L-A” (that’s how Coach Carr [Dwayne Hill] spells “chlamydia”) somehow makes the human predilection for consumerism more “kosher.” As does, according to the commercial creators, Gretchen Wieners replacing Regina George (Rachel McAdams) in the silver Lexus convertible. Except it’s now a brandless convertible of a nondescript tone.

    That’s right, since Rachel McAdams announced simply that she “didn’t want to” be part of the little puff piece for capitalism, they got Chabert to fill in for one of McAdams’ key moments from the film. So in lieu of Regina pulling up to the soccer field and shouting, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping,” Gretchen does. And no, it’s not to pick up Cady (Lindsay Lohan) and Karen (Amanda Seyfried), but rather, her own high school-age daughter (which doesn’t quite mathematically track), Amber Wieners. Amber stands on the field with her clique comprised of the next generation mean girls, and is absolutely mortified (could it be because Gen Z is supposed to be more environmentally concerned? No, it’s because, no matter what era you’re in, parents are always humiliating) when Gretchen cries out, “Get in sweetie, we’re going deals shopping!” Even though the back of her car is already piled high with plenty of shit from Wal-Mart. Because what it the American message if not, even to this day: excess! 

    So it is that the Mean Girls x Wal-Mart “partnership” wields nostalgia like a seductive and deadly weapon to keep encouraging the very capitalistic behavior that will be humanity’s undoing. Behavior that millennials once got to relish in the 00s without half as much guilt about it as there is now (and mainly only because of Greta Thunberg). Yet that’s the the thing, isn’ it? There’s still clearly not enough guilt or compunction about it if a commercial like this can exist…and continue to be so gleefully embraced. The same goes for the abominable Menulog commercial starring Latto and Christina Aguilera. Both employ the same method of assaulting the audience with “eye candy” and familiar 00s nostalgia (via Christina Aguilera) to distract from the obvious point: we want you to keep engaging in the same buying patterns as the very generation you and Gen Z are constantly railing against—baby boomers. And in this scenario, it makes all the sense in the world that millennials are also known as echo boomers. Just look at the way Cady, Gretchen and Karen are living. That is to say, in the exact same way as their own parents. 

    The warm reception toward this commercial (and its tainting of the original movie) is, accordingly, a sign of how desperately so many people want to deny the reality of now. One in which the idea of Cady, Gretchen and Karen (though, pointedly, not Regina) continuing to carry out the same toxic consumerist cycle of the generation before them is a comfort rather than a horror show. After all, millennials were supposed to be different—they were supposed to want something more (besides more material goods). And yet, like the yippies of the 1960s who became yuppies in the 1980s (see: Jerry Rubin), millennials, if we’re to go by this commercial, have gladly sold out in the same way to keep the very system that has failed them (perhaps more than anyone) going. 

    It does seem fitting, in this regard that McAdams, the lone Gen Xer of the group (a.k.a. the “eldest” of the quartet at forty-four) opted to opt out. Perhaps old enough to know she doesn’t really want to be part of this schlock under the pretense of it being something “for the fans” when, obviously, it’s for nobody’s benefit other than the capitalist agenda’s, which has been using pop culture for decades upon decades to promote its purpose. This brings us to the fact that a “Mean Girls” commercial has already been recently used to promote a brand: Coach. Yes, back in 2021, Megan Thee Stallion stepped into the role of Regina George (because McAdams so patently doesn’t want to) to help recreate the introduction scene to the leader of The Plastics and, of course, sell some overpriced handbags. 

    Then there was a 2022 Allbirds commercial wherein Lohan, as usual, capitalized on Mean Girls (one of her only viable movies) to sell some shoes by peppering in “subtle” references to the movie. Like how she was a mathlete in high school. She then goes to pick out a pair of pink running shoes and says, “Well, it is Wednesday.” More “hardy-har-har” allusions arrive when she adds, “These don’t just look cute. They’re made with natural materials…always avoid the plastics,” followed by, “Bouncy. Perfect for a queen bee like Lindsay Lohan.” The point being, it’s fairly evident that, for whatever reason, Mean Girls has become a go-to for bolstering consumer faith in capitalism. And again, that’s arguably because 2004 was such a peak time for worshiping it. But what’s past doesn’t have to be present…so long as you’re not seduced by it. Therein lies the catch.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Sour Part Deux: Guts Builds On Olivia Rodrigo’s Favorite Subjects (Fuckboys, Lost Causes and Aesthetic Insecurities)

    Sour Part Deux: Guts Builds On Olivia Rodrigo’s Favorite Subjects (Fuckboys, Lost Causes and Aesthetic Insecurities)

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    When the album artwork for Guts was first released, many were quick to call out the similarities to the color palette and overall “vibe” it shared with Sour. Perhaps this was a more deliberate choice than people realized, what with Olivia Rodrigo herself calling the music of Guts a “natural progression” from the work we heard on Sour. To be sure, it does often feel more like a continuation of Sour than a completely separate entity. Sort of like what happened when Lana Del Rey released the Paradise EP the same year as Born to Die and then created a Paradise Edition of the latter album with all the same tracks from the former tacked on at the end. But twelve songs is too much to do that so here we are with Guts as the “full-on” sophomore record. 

    Talking of Lana Del Rey, it’s evident that Rodrigo spending a bit of time with her earlier this year has had an effect. Even if she wrote a song like “all-american bitch”—a title that smacks of something out of the LDR songbook—before that little Billboard Women in Music moment they shared together. With tinges of the same intonation that was present on “enough for you,” the kickoff to Guts starts out “sweetly” enough… and then, of course, bursts into an upbeat expression of rage that drips with sarcasm as she evokes images of Americana that include, “Coca-Cola bottles that I only use to curl my hair [how Lady Gaga in the “Telephone” video]/I got class and integrity just like a goddamn Kennedy, I swear/With love to spare.” While Del Rey might be notoriously Team Pepsi (thanks to asserting, “My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola), it’s no secret that she’s had her own Kennedy fetish when it comes to describing America and its state of constant underlying decay (see: the “National Anthem” video). Although the song (or at least its title) was inspired, technically, by Joan Didion’s short story, “Slouching Towards Bethlehem,” the overtones of Del Rey are everywhere.

    For the coup de grâce of Del Rey emulation, Rodrigo finishes the song by sardonically mentioning, “I’m pretty when I cry.” This being just one in a series of ways that Rodrigo mocks the enduring expectation that women should live up to impossible dichotomies in their “persona.” Hence, an analogy like, “And I am built like a mother and a total machine.” And then, of course, “I am light as a feather and stiff as a board.” An inconceivable combination that only levitating—ergo, witchcraft—can conjure. And we all know how men feel about witches (hint: they like to burn them). This appearing to be the obvious reason for why Rodrigo would make a reference to The Craft (hopefully the original, and not the one of “her generation”).

    In another part of the song, Rodrigo insists, “Oh, all the time, I’m grateful all the time (all the fucking time).” Although it is theoretically dripping with venom, Rodrigo does mention frequently that she’s so grateful for being able to do what she does. In fact, on the release day of Guts, she posted a handwritten letter stating, “…I feel so grateful. I feel grateful for everyone on my team who believes in me & supports me so unwaveringly.” Even before that, Rodrigo’s mention of gratitude came up in time for the album’s promotion cycle during “73 Questions with Vogue.” When asked by the interviewer, “What values do you hope you’ll still hold on to when you’re thirty-five years old?” she replied, “I hope I still have my gratitude.” Even if that gratitude is occasionally filled with the resentment apparent on “all-american bitch.”

    Proving that there’s a certain schizophrenia to the way women both despise and yet also cling to men, Rodrigo presents the contrasting sentiments of “bad idea right?” as the song after “all-american bitch.” A self-loathing anthem for any girl who has ever gone over to an ex’s (whether of the “serious” or mere “situationship” variety) in the middle of the night thanks to alcohol’s diabolical influence, its pop-punk sound feels plucked directly from an 00s teen movie. This is punctuated by the Petra Collins-directed video that mostly takes place at a house party before Rodrigo foolishly decides to leave on her quest for toxic dick despite claims of, “Yes, I know that he’s my ex/But can’t two people reconnect?/I only see him as a friend” and then quickly admitting, “The biggest lie I ever said.” Though some would argue that the biggest lie she ever said is that “vampire” is not about Taylor Swift. Except, she didn’t say it flat-out, instead dancing around a total “no” with, “I was very surprised when people thought that. I mean, I never want to say who any of my songs are about. I’ve never done that before in my career and probably won’t. I think it’s better to not pigeonhole a song to being about this one thing.” Swift might have once been the same, but eventually, she revealed who “Bad Blood” was about, didn’t she?

    In any case, if “all-american bitch” is a sonic parallel to “enough for you,” then “vampire” is Guts’ parallel to Sour’s “drivers license.” A lush, effusive ballad that also reaches a crescendo of emotionalism toward the middle, whoever the track is “really” about, it’s certain they might be rethinking their vampiric tendencies after hearing it (though probably not, knowing how socios operate). So might any “fame fuckers” in general. A term that Rodrigo was told she shouldn’t use if she wanted to be as “relatable” as she was on Sour (before the “fame monster” took hold). Nonetheless, in her interview with Phoebe Bridgers for, what else, Interview, Rodrigo shrugged, “…fame is more accessible than it has ever been. Everyone is yearning for some sort of internet virality, and there’s so much social climbing and lust for fame in the world that doesn’t have anything to do with living in L.A. or New York. It’s just prevalent in our generation.” One wonders what Joan Didion would have to say about that if she had been Rodrigo’s age in this time.

    The trend in songs “about people” continues with even more specificity on “lacy.” Except that the girl named Lacy in this song is a general embodiment of any proverbial “hot girl” that can inflict feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing in other women. Something the unnamed narrator in Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation knows all about. To that end, there’s never much consideration for the effortlessly hot girl’s own difficulties in being automatically hated for being hot (think: Kelly LeBrock in the Pantene commercial saying, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful). But that’s not who we’re here to sympathize with on this track. Because Rodrigo knows there are far more “ugly” girls out there who will relate as she sings, “Lacy, oh, Lacy, it’s like you’re out to get me/You poison every little thing that I do/Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately/And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you/Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.” 

    To continue drawing the parallels from the songs on Sour to the ones on Guts, “lacy” is the obvious companion to “jealousy jealousy” (as is “pretty isn’t pretty”). And a name like Lacy does suggest a certain frilliness and daintiness. This further corroborated by Rodrigo describing Lacy as having “skin like puff pastry” (though that sounds like it would be kind of gross and cellulite-textured). And yes, the Del Rey influence continues to flicker in and out with keywords like “ribbons” and “daisies” that also show up in this track.

    The pace picks up again on “ballad of a homeschooled girl,” during which Rodrigo returns to her more “rock-infused” tone while giving voice to an underserved sect of humanity when it comes to pop culture offerings that are relatable. Describing the many unique woes of the homeschooled girl, being socially awkward is chief among them. Indeed, Rodrigo has stated that she lived a rather quiet life prior to all this fame and attention hitting her like a ton of bricks. Surely her contemporary and fellow homeschooled girl, Billie Eilish, feels the same. And yet, what both women have actually ended up doing is advocating for home school as a path to musical fame. After all, you have enough time to yourself to “create” and not get caught up in the bullshit of deliberately manufactured social dramas. Some of which a “homeschooled jungle freak”—as Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan) is called in Mean Girls—can end up causing as a result of her social ineptitude whenever she dares to “go outside.” Thus, the chorus, “I broke a glass, I tripped and fell/I told secrets I shouldn’t tell/I stumbled over all my words/I made it weird, I made it worse/Each time I step outside/It’s social suicide/It’s social suicide/Wanna curl up and die/It’s social suicide.” The use of “social suicide,” of course, being a nod to Damian (Daniel Franzese) in the aforementioned Mean Girls (since Rodrigo clearly fancies herself a millennial at heart) telling Cady that joining the Mathletes is social suicide. Something she didn’t pick up on herself as a result of being homeschooled.

    And yet, it was obviously homeschooling that fortified her path to fame (especially while having a set tutor during High School Musical: The Musical). A phenomenon she’s already starting to grapple with, as we hear on “making the bed.” An overt nod to the old adage, “You made your bed, now lie in it,” Rodrigo knows that although she did everything in her power to become famous, she’s now struggling with the unforeseen “disadvantages” of it. Even though just about every pop star before her has sung a song about this very conundrum (from Madonna with “Drowned World/Substitute for Love” to Britney Spears with “Lucky” and “Piece of Me,” and now, to Billie Eilish with “NDA”). Though fewer have spoken of the ways in which “money changes everything” for the worse rather than the better when it comes to making art. Eilish, on her own sophomore record, immediately acknowledges this idea that the pressure of money becoming so involved in how one creates their art can automatically taint the enjoyment of it. So it is that she sings, “Things I once enjoyed/Just keep me employed now.”

    Rodrigo builds on that sentiment similarly via the lyrics, “Another thing I ruined I used to do for fun” and “Every good thing has turned into something I dread.” Alluding to the song that launched her into the spotlight in the first place, Rodrigo also makes heavy-handed driving references in the lines, “And every night, I wake up from this one recurrin’ dream/Where I’m drivin’ through the city, and the brakes go out on me/I can’t stop at the red light, I can’t swerve off the road/I read somewhere it’s ’cause my life feels so out of control.”

    Delivering the chorus with such heart-wrenching sincerity that her plebeian listeners feel like they might almost understand how horrendous fame can be, Rodrigo explains, “Well, sometimes I feel like I don’t wanna be where I am/Gettin’ drunk at a club with my fair-weather friends/Push away all the people who know me the best/But it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed.” Indeed, “making the bed” is another peak Pisces moment for Rodrigo in that she knows how to feel sorry for herself while also being aware that the pain is mostly self-inflicted. She speaks to this reality by adding, “And I’m playin’ the victim so well in my head/But it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed/Me who’s been makin’ the bed/Pull the sheets over my head, yeah.” But at least they’re probably very high thread-count sheets. And yeah, like Ariana once declared, “Whoever said money can’t solve your problems/Must not have had enough money to solve ‘em.” Rodrigo, incidentally, does give a dash of an homage to “7 rings” at the beginning of “making the bed” by saying, “Want it, so I got it.”

    The same can’t be said for whatever boy du jour has abandoned her. For while she may have “gotten” him for the moment, he always ends up slipping through her fingers and generally disappointing her anyway. While also obliterating her already fragile self-esteem for good measure. To that end, the ballad vibe continues with “logical,” a piano-heavy number that thematically channels “1 step forward, 3 steps back,” “enough for you” and “favorite crime.” It also serves as the first in a quartet of songs (followed by “get him back!,” “love is embarrassing” and “the grudge”) with an overt running motif. Always related to some asshole who done her wrong. For, as Rodrigo’s roundabout mentor, Del Rey, noted during a pre-interview at the Billboard Women in Music Awards, much of the “world building” on women’s albums comes from boyfriends. So at least they’re good for something, right?

    Her flourish for simple mathematics (again, “1 step forward, 3 steps back”) is a big part of the song’s chorus as well, prompting her to belt out, “And now you got me thinkin’/Two plus two equals five/And I’m the love of your life/‘Cause if rain don’t pour and sun don’t shine/Then changing you is possible/No, love is never logical.” Said like someone who has only ever known toxic relationships. Which are especially easy to come by at Rodrigo’s age, as all the late twenties men come to her yard (something Eilish has experienced, too). Besides, it’s as Rodrigo says on “vampire”: “Girls your age know better.” In many regards, “logical” does feel like the “addendum” to “vampire,” emphasized by the same words and visuals being used. Namely, “You built a giant castle/With walls so high I couldn’t see/The way it all unraveled/And all the things you did to me/You lied, you lied, you lied, oh.”

    Enter the need to “get him back!” as retribution for all those lies. Alas, in true Rodrigo fashion, the phrase has a double meaning—on the one hand referring to revenge and, on the other, actually getting him back in her life. The panoply of conflicted feelings about whether she loves him or hates him reaches a zenith in the lengthy bridge (delivered, like the chorus, in that child choir-y voice that’s present on songs like “Youth of the Nation”), during which she says, among other negating things, “Wanna kiss his face…with an uppercut” and “I wanna meet his mom…just to tell her her son sucks.” This latter sentiment giving Del Rey on “A&W” when she taunts, “Your mom called/I told her you’re fucking up big time.” Because, clearly, the way a mother raises her son is the largest reflection of why he is the way he is (that is to day, a cad). Cardi B also seems to agree on “Thru Your Phone” when she raps, “I just want to break up all your shit, call your mama phone/Let her know that she raised a bitch/Then dial tone, click.” This, needless to say, can be a quite effective method for “getting him back.”

    As the song that’s slated to be her third single from the record, the video potential for it is ripe for male mockery (and, of course, car keying). What the world always needs more of, considering how self-serious and reckless with others’ emotions men continue to be. This being part of why, well, “love is embarrassing” (even though it’s more like Sky Ferreira said: “everything is embarrassing”). Or, more to the point, “straight love is embarrassing.” Because how could any self-respecting woman allow herself to be duped both so frequently and so spectacularly for the sake of some subpar (supposedly) hetero male?

    The uptempo, Bruce Springsteen-y song paints a picture that’s typical of Rodrigo’s doomed love life as she opens with, “I told my friends you were the one/After I’d known you like a monthAnd then you kissed some girl from high school/And I stayed in bed for like a week/When you said space was what you need.” That last line echoing Rodrigo’s so-called nemesis, Taylor Swift, when she says on one of her own many breakup songs, “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” “We hadn’t seen each other in a month/When you said you needed space/What?” Unlike Swift, however, Rodrigo is more adept at delivering a chirpy-sounding chorus that belies the rage she’s expressing in the lyrics. For example, “‘Causе now it don’t mean a thing/God, love’s fuckin’ embarrassin’/Just watch as I crucify myself/For some weird second-string/Loser who’s not worth mentioning/My God, love’s embarrassing as hell.” Apart from the religious metaphor, Rodrigo also references her “bad idea right?” video with the “loser who’s not worth mentioning” line, for that’s what the ex is listed as in her contacts when he calls her.

    To boot, Rodrigo, for someone who still has so few albums, keeps finding ways to be self-referential. This includes her accusing, “You found a new version of me,” a patent repurposing of the sentiments of “deja vu.” She finishes the song by channeling “late era” Kesha vibes with her outro as she further self-berates, “I’m plannin’ out my wedding with some guy I’m never marryin’/I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up, but I keep comin’ back for more.” Such is the way of the masochistic Pisces. And perhaps most women (regardless of their zodiac sign) in general. 

    Slowing it down again on “the grudge,” Rodrigo takes us back into “traitor” territory (including use of the word “betray”) as she goes off on yet another (or perhaps always the same) asshole who mistreated her. Unraveling all the resentment she’s tried to let go of, but can only keep holding on to (like Saul’s [Bob Odenkirk] brother, Chuck [Michael McKean], on Better Call Saul), Rodrigo bemoans, “And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream/How could anybody do the things you did so easily?” That latter demand appearing constantly in some form or another throughout her canon, whether it’s Sour or Guts. She then admits, “And I say I don’t care, I say that I’m fine/But you know I can’t let it go/I’ve tried, I’ve tried, I’ve tried for so long/It takes strength to forgive, but I don’t feel strong.” Cue Sheryl Crow asking, “Are you strong enough to be my man” (as opposed to weak enough to make others feel just as weak)? The answer being that the amount of weaklings has only intensified since Crow made that query back in 1993.

    Rodrigo then veers back into her other favorite song topic: aesthetic insecurity. With its The Cure-esque interpretation of “upbeat rhythm,” “Pretty Isn’t Pretty” is the Guts edition of “jealousy jealousy” and Rodrigo’s version of TLC’s “Unpretty” and Beyoncé’s “Pretty Hurts.” Addressing the same dilemmas of “jealousy jealousy,” Rodrigo offers a more mature track detailing the psychological ramifications of comparing oneself to other women, usually because of social media. Among the most relatable lyrics to a girl of any age are, “I could change up my body, and change up my face/I could try every lipstick in every shade/But I’d always feel the same/‘Cause pretty isn’t pretty enough anyway.” It’s in this song, too, that she wields the same line about trying to ignore something, which then only causes it to bubble up and explode to the surface all the more. Hence, “You can win the battle/But you’ll never win the war/You fix thе things you hated/And you’d still feel so insecure/And I try to ignorе it, but it’s everythin’ I see.”

    Despite some saying that Rodrigo’s feelings of insecurity are emblematic of an age she’ll grow out of, “teenage dream” is a direct assault on that notion. As the closer for the standard edition of the record (the deluxe one forthcoming), the melancholic “teenage dream” (watch out, Katy Perry) rounds out Guts with tinges of what Rodrigo already explored on “brutal” (complete with use of the phrase “teenage dream”), during which she spews, “And I’m so sick of seventeen/Where’s my fucking teenage dream?/If someone tells me one more time, ‘Enjoy your youth’/I’m gonna cry.” Here, too, she despises the drawbacks of being young, which mainly consists of “not being taken seriously” and having one’s feelings perpetually invalidated. Little does she know, it’s like that for a woman at any age.

    Rodrigo then returns to her paralyzing fear that becoming famous was a huge mistake, inquiring, “Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?” Del Rey delves into that same existential question and then some on “White Dress” when she sings, “I was a waitress wearing a tight dress/Like, look how I do this, look how I got this/It made me feel, made me feel like a god/It kinda makes me feel, like maybe I was better off.” Del Rey also mentions being nineteen in the song, the same age Rodrigo was while recording Guts. It seems to be one of the more underrated “growing pains” ages for women as they transition into something like “adulthood,” but still not quite (#imnotagirlnotyetawoman). Ergo, Rodrigo chanting (as she speaks to the crushing pressures of instant success), “They all say that it gets better/It gets better the more you grow/Yeah, they all say that it gets better/It gets better, but what if I don’t?”

    Of course, it’s difficult to believe things won’t keep getting better for Rodrigo, at least for a little while as she remains “a pretty young thing” (both “to guys” and society at large). It’s only when she breezes past the ingenue phase that she might genuinely have to “apologize” to the masses, “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t always be your teenage dream.” Such is the cruelty of romanticizing and exalting teen girlhood. It sets all teen girls up for becoming nothing more than chaff in the harshly judging eyes of “humanity.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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