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Tag: parasocial relationships

  • On Lady Gaga’s Harley Quinn as An Exemplification of Being a Poverty/Mental Illness Tourist

    On Lady Gaga’s Harley Quinn as An Exemplification of Being a Poverty/Mental Illness Tourist

    While people have chosen to lambast Joker: Folie à Deux for all the wrong reasons (mainly because it doesn’t fit in any way with the fanboy expectation of the DC Universe—much the same fate that befell Marvel’s She-Hulk series), no one appears to be looking at all the very clear trolling Todd Phillips is doing. Not just of the so-called fans, but of a certain kind of person…as embodied by Harley “Lee” Quinzel. And while, obviously, Lady Gaga’s iteration of the character could never have been as iconic as Margot Robbie’s, Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver wield her for purposes beyond merely having Halloween costume cachet (which, by the way, this version of Harley does not).

    To mirror the phoniness of everyone who claims to be a supporter of Joker (Joaquin Phoenix), it seems inevitable that Lee should turn out to be a total poseur as well. Accordingly, she initially tells Arthur at Arkham, “I grew up in the same neighborhood [as you]. Me and my friends used to take that staircase to school every day.” This said when Arthur steals a moment with her after being placed in the same B Ward music class, despite his assignation to the E Ward (a.k.a. where the dangerous and violent are relegated). Because, for whatever reason, one of the usually bullying security guards, Jackie Sullivan (Brendan Gleeson, still bearing an Irish name in character, naturally), decides to get him into the class. (Based on certain information given later, who’s to say that Lee wasn’t the one to make that happen?)

    Having encountered Lee while walking past that class a few weeks prior, Joker is only too eager to attend—especially since Lee flashed him a flirtatious sign by wielding her index finger and thumb as a gun and pantomiming killing herself with it. Talk about love at first sight. Or so she wanted to manipulate him into believing….

    This comes complete with further laying it on thick with her “poor me” backstory so that Joker will feel even more “kindred” with her as she tells him, “My parents didn’t give a fuck about me either. My father beat the shit out of me.” And then died in a car accident. An elaborate sob story, to be sure. Along with her explanation for being at Arkham: “I set fire to my parents’ apartment building.” As a result, “My mother had me committed. She says I’m psychotic.” Per Lee’s version of events, anyway. But even before she expresses contempt for her own matriarch, Arthur, apparently feeling comfortable in her midst, confesses, “Nobody knows, but I also killed my mother.” Lee smiles at him fondly, as though he’s just told her the sweetest thing ever (though, based on some women’s mothers-in-law, the smile isn’t totally out of left field). She then makes him feel even safer about parading his crazy around her by responding, “I should have done that.”

    Although Lee’s secret intention is to make Arthur bring out his “true” self—Joker—the effect she ends up having on him is quite the opposite. For he falsely believes that Lee loves the “real” him, not the man who took leave of his senses for a few days, culminating in the murder of Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro) on live television. To Lee’s dismay, that’s not who he is—because, like many of us, he gave in to a single moment that caused him to snap. A blind rage-sadness that made him do something he wouldn’t have ordinarily done. And now everyone, including Lee, wants him to be that guy. The one Harvey Dent (Harry Lawtey) describes on the news as follows: “His depraved acts of violence are only admired by his followers, not only in our city, but all over the country… And they are still willing to commit acts of violence in his name. Now these people, they believe Arthur Fleck to be some kind of martyr.”

    Soon after Dent’s public declaration, Fleck appears on a TV special with interviewer Paddy Meyers (Steve Coogan). This arranged by his lawyer, Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener), as a means to funnel a bit more goodwill in Arthur’s direction. Indeed, Maryanne seems to be the only one in Arthur’s life who actually wants him to “just be himself.” Paddy, on the other hand, wants to invoke the beast for the sake of his viewership. Even after Arthur firmly tells him of the person that killed five (er, six) people, “That’s not me anymore. That’s not who I am.”

    When Paddy demands what’s changed, Arthur announces that he’s not alone now. Paddy, like most of Gotham, is aware of who he’s referring to, with Lee’s overt displays of affection for Joker making headlines everywhere—especially since she’s out of Arkham and ready to talk to whoever will listen. Of course, she tells Arthur that the reason she’s being “sent home” is because “they’re saying you’re a bad influence on me.” This after the two “escaped” (a.k.a. danced a bit outside the confines of the prison) together when Lee insisted they ditch a screening of The Band Wagon, with Phillips strategically homing in on the scene during which “That’s Entertainment!” is sung.

    Perhaps not aware of just how meta that choice would be, it bears noting that The Band Wagon was initially regarded as nothing more than a box office disappointment before going on to garner the eventual respect it deserved (one can only hope the same might happen for Joker: Folie à Deux). The choice is overt in its pointedness, placing especial emphasis on the lyrics, “Anything that happens in life/Can happen in a show/You can make ‘em laugh/You can make ‘em cry/Anything, anything can go/The clown/With his pants falling down/Or the dance/That’s a dream of romance/Or the scene/Where the villain is mean/That’s entertainment!”

    Making mention of a “clown” isn’t the only thing that applies to Arthur, with his own dream of romance causing him to be blind to the fact that, as Maryanne warns him, “She’s playing you for a fool.” And even though Arthur tells Paddy, “You’re just like Murray, you just, you want sensationalism. You don’t care about—you just wanna talk about my mistakes, you wanna talk about the things I did in the past, not about who I am now, not how I’m different now,” it’s something he could just as well be saying to Lee. After all, she just wants him to be the bad boy that will assist her in securing her own fame. A viable fear of Arthur’s that leads into one of Joker’s musical fantasies of the two doing a duet as Sonny and Cher (except they’re Joker and Harley).

    Soon, Lee starts to get a little too interested in her solo—a rendition of the Bee Gees’ “To Love Somebody”—with the crowd going quiet when Joker stops singing to tell her, “You weren’t even looking at me anymore. You were making it all about yourself. And the song is about loving meeeee!” The two then make nice as Lee agrees, “You’re right, let’s give the people what they want.” Joker assumes this to mean they’ll take it from the top again with their lovey-dovey song and vibes, only for Lee to pull a gun out and shoot him. For that is, in the end, what the people want. Because the Joker they had in mind didn’t live up to the ideal, with Lee, too, feeling exactly the same way after seeing far too much Arthur shine through.

    And, in the end, her only motive for checking herself into Arkham was for the purpose of “seeing” Joker, like some sort of private museum display meant solely for her to enjoy and exploit however she wants. In the end, she doesn’t “see” him at all though. Nor does Arthur really see her. Not for what she is. That unveiling is left to Maryanne, who informs her client, “She didn’t grow up in your neighborhood. She lives on the Upper West Side with her parents [this clearly being a nod to the frequent shade thrown at Gaga’s own real-life background]. Her father is not dead, he’s a doctor. She voluntarily committed herself to the hospital and then just checked herself out when she wanted to.”

    Arthur is still insistent that the lies Lee told him are true, prompting Maryanne to then ask, “Did she mention she went to grad school for psychiatry?” Needless to say, she’s a mental illness tourist—someone who likes to pick and choose certain facets of the DSM and try them on to see if it might make them more interesting. Not to mention a lover of poverty porn (à la Nicola Peltz-Beckham with Lola). Incidentally, Arthur sings a lyric from “Bewitched (Bothered and Bewildered)” that cuts to the core of who Lee is even before he finds out the truth, singing to Paddy, “She’s a fool and don’t I know it/But a fool can have her charms,” then shrugging, “Lost my heart, but what of it?/She is cold, I agree.”

    And it’s true, her coldness knows no bounds by the end of Folie à Deux, when she emotionally gut-punches him right on the very staircase that made him iconic, breaking the news, “We’re not going away Arthur. All we had was the fantasy, and you gave up… There is no Joker, that’s what you said, isn’t it?” In effect, because he doesn’t want to play along with the fantasy that she and everyone else has of him, she’s got to move on. This by way of singing “That’s Entertainment!” to convey that spectacle is all anyone truly wants—from him and in general.

    Arthur begs, “I don’t wanna sing anymore. Shh. Just talk to me.” He tries to cover her mouth while urging, “Just talk, please stop singing.” But she can’t be stopped. “That’s Entertainment!” must be sung in all its glory. Even though Phillips opts to leave out the additionally applicable lyrics, “The world is a stage/The stage is a world/Of entertainment!” and “The dame/Who is known as the flame/Of the king/Of an underworld ring/He’s an ape/Who won’t let her escape.” Funnily enough, that last line speaks to the version of Joker that Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn gets wet for. The one that Lee wants to enjoy, too.

    Only she’s instead saddled with this flaccid incel type who hardly lives up to previous images of Joker played by the likes of Jack Nicholson, Heath Ledger and even Jared Leto (panned as Suicide Squad was, Leto still delivered on being the kind of “sexy” Joker Lee wants). A disappointment that effectively ends Lee’s “tour” of how the other half lives.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Bad Romance: Joker: Folie à Deux Shows That Projection in Relationships Always Results in Dashed Expectations

    Bad Romance: Joker: Folie à Deux Shows That Projection in Relationships Always Results in Dashed Expectations

    In many ways, the real reason the sequel to Joker is called Joker: Folie à Deux has little to do with a shared delusion between Harley Quinn and Arthur “Joker” Fleck, and more to do with Todd Phillips and Scott Silver calling out the delusions that fans have about those they worship. A delusion that can be shared by both parties in the situation only so long as the “revered” obliges the projections being cast onto them (see: Taylor Swift). Once they stop, however, the fans’ “love” for them suddenly disappears, turning often to hate—hence the expression: “there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

    In Harleen “Lee” Quinzel’s (Lady Gaga) case, the love she claims to feel disappears as soon as Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) refuses to be “the guy” (read: Joker). The one she fell “in love” with when she watched him blow Murray Franklin’s (Robert De Niro) brains out on live TV. Or the one who was portrayed in the “really good” (Lee’s words) TV movie about the entire course of events (presumably including dramatized scenes of Fleck’s hyper-shitty early life). So it is that, like fans with celebrities, Lee’s first connection with Arthur is entirely parasocial.

    At first, of course, he’s only too willing to play the part she expects of him, knowing on some level that her attraction is rooted in what she knows of him through the media’s portrayal—which only focuses on his “Joker era.” As such, he’s often reluctant to be “full Arthur” around her, while simultaneously being amazed that she could possibly be interested in him in any capacity—Joker or otherwise. And yet, like many who have been glamored by lovebombing, Joker falls for Lee’s flattery easily, letting her beguile him with the notion that they’re both two broken souls who can “mend” one another. To boot, that he is powerful and can do anything he wants—a feeling that becomes even more adrenaline-boosting when buttressed by notions of “two against the world”-type love. As for Lee, she sees in Joker someone who can be her diabolical savior. The “sexy” solution to all her “psychotic” woes because he accepts them, is unfazed by them. And because his are so much worse.

    Accordingly, it doesn’t take long for the pair to start projecting all of their unhinged ideals and fantasies onto one another—with Joker in particular constantly fantasizing about Lee in various musical settings that often remind one of a sort of “macabre La La Land” (particularly that sequence when they’re dancing with a giant moon behind them). Indeed, in one of many contrasts to the usual telling of Joker and Harley’s story, it is so clearly Joker who is more obsessed and smitten with Harley than the other way around (as Margot Robbie’s version elucidates in Suicide Squad and Birds of Prey). Because, as he tells his interviewer, Paddy Meyers (Steve Coogan), he’s a changed man now thanks to “not [being] alone anymore.” Falling prey to the old adage, “You’re nobody until somebody loves you” (which really should have been a musical number in the movie at some point). Or until you create a sinister alter ego and go on a killing rampage like Joker. Thereby becoming a magnet for freaks and faux freaks alike. Lee, as it turns out, subscribes to the latter category—ostensibly looking to Joker to make her “legitimate” on the disturbed and deranged front. As it transpires though, she’s ultimately more fucked-up than Joker in terms of callousness and plotting. Discarding him with ease once he renounces his Joker identity on live TV.

    Up until that moment, however, she was willing to do whatever it took to be with him based on her false projection, hoping against hope that he’ll take her cues about how he’s “supposed to be.” Case in point, she even insists upon Arthur wearing the Joker makeup she smuggles into his prison cell. So committed is she to upholding this projection of hers. Joker, meanwhile, is still too blinded by his “love” for her (read: his own false projection), dumbly remarking, “You brought makeup.” Lee asserts, “I wanna see the real you.” She then starts to apply the signature Joker colors to his face. This apparently getting her “wet” enough to not be totally repulsed when Arthur asks her, “Can you do it?” before they start to fuck. As in: can she guide him/his penis on how to even “do sex”? The scene is among the grimmest in the movie, with no fantastical/musical elements added to it as a means to mitigate the drab, grotesque “consummation” of their “relationship.” A relationship that is a folie à deux in that each person has their own separate but shared delusion about the other.

    Perhaps one of the most overt examples of this from Lee is her wording of the phrase, “When I first saw Joker—when I saw you on Murray Franklin… for once in my life, I didn’t feel so alone anymore.” That she has to remind herself that the pathetic, maquillage-free person in front of her is “technically” Joker—not Arthur—seems telling of the fact that she’s already noticed a disconnect between the man on the screen and the flesh and blood man in front of her. Who, if she’s being honest, can’t quite measure up to the projection she already saw and then built further up as her own.

    Arthur’s parallel belief in Lee as a kindred spirit (especially since she lies to him and says she’s from the same neighborhood and also had an abusive childhood) is also doomed to be dashed sooner or later. Particularly since his “living in a fantasy world” tendencies start to ramp up as he dreams of the two of them together in various musical scenarios, singing such love songs as “Folie à Deux” (one of the original songs on Harlequin) and “To Love Somebody” (originally sung by the Bee Gees). The lyrics of the former are most telling of each person’s respective projection as Lee lackadaisically sings, “In our minds, we’d be just fine/If it were only us two.” This line indicates that without the inevitable outside influence of others, maybe their delusions about one another could stand a chance and the relationship could still survive…albeit on a bed of lies.

    Lee then adds, “They might say that we’re crazy/But I’m just in love with you.” And yes, it is an adage widely disseminated in various art forms that the word (and act of) “love” is synonymous with “crazy.” To name a few examples, “The things we do for love,” “Love makes you do crazy things,” “Your love’s got me lookin’ so crazy right now,” etc. But the “crazy” in Joker: Folie à Deux is all about the insanity of projection rather than true love itself being the thing that makes a person go “crazy.”

    Then again, isn’t every form of falling in love ultimately a product of projection? People fall in love with the version of someone they build up in their head only to unearth some form of disappointment after they’ve already convinced themselves it’s love. Gone too far down the rabbit hole to turn back. But for Lee, it isn’t too late (as it never is for rich girls) once she realizes that Arthur refuses to be “who he really is.” Or rather, who she and everyone else so desperately wanted him to be: Joker.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Chappell Roan’s Attempt to “Gen Z-ify” Fame By Setting “Healthy Boundaries” (Via the Shame Game)

    Chappell Roan’s Attempt to “Gen Z-ify” Fame By Setting “Healthy Boundaries” (Via the Shame Game)

    While some might think that “Gen Z-ifying” fame refers to how virality through TikTok is the only way to become a “star” (with no staying power) nowadays, the truth is that Chappell Roan just summed up the true meaning of it on her own TikTok account. This by demanding that fans stop being, well, creepy. As though Roan has no concept that the parasocial relationship train can’t stop once it’s left the station. But then, what is one to expect from a novice to the scene? For, even more than being a parent, the phrase “there is no manual for blah blah blah” applies to fame and how one’s life immediately changes after it hits (just ask the “very demure, very mindful” bia). But it seems the aspect of celebrity that famous people consistently wish they could do without is the obsessive nature of fans, which has only grown more dangerous and disturbing in the digital age.

    For Roan, the obsession people have with her has already proven to be too much. And, even though she’s technically been in this business since 2015, when she first signed a deal with Atlantic Records, nothing prepared her for the sudden frenzy for all things Chappell as 2024 rolled around. She already addressed how overwhelming this newfound “icon status” has been for her, namely back in June during a Raleigh concert date, when Roan told the audience, “I just want to be honest with the crowd. I feel a little off today, because I think my career is going really fast and it’s hard to keep up. I’m just being honest, I’m having a hard time today.” Roan has also alluded to her disdain for fans that feel they should have constant access to her in an interview for The Comment Section with Drew Afualo, insisting that when she’s performing or giving an interview, she’s simply “clocked in” like anyone else with a “normal job” (which, again, is not what she has). When she’s offstage, however, Roan explained to Afualo, “Bitch, I’m not at work.” Thus, do not approach her as though she is.

    As for the massive crowds she’s been drawing in everywhere from Bonnaroo to Lollapalooza, in spite of how “ready for it” everyone seems to be for Roan to keep releasing new music, all signs seem to point to her “pumping the brakes” on the whole goddamn thing as a result of being so sketched out by the, let’s say, intensity of certain fans. Thus, she took to TikTok to say, “If you saw a random woman on the street, would you yell at her from the window?” Roan already sets herself up for failure with that question because, for many sober men and drunk people of all creeds, the answer is a resounding yes. She goes on, “Would you harass her in public? Would you go up to a random lady and say, ‘Can I get a photo with you?’ Would you be offended if she says no to your time because she has her own time? Would you stalk her family, would you follow her around? I’m a random bitch, you’re a random bitch.” Again, Roan sets herself up for all the holes in her “argument” for privacy to be easily poked through. Because, no, she is not a random bitch at all. She has achieved that thing that so many people wish they could: fame and acclaim. Ergo, becoming a public figure. A status that automatically changes the game in terms of what can be “done” to you.

    Concluding her tirade against creeps with, “Just think about that for a second. I don’t care that this crazy type of behavior comes along with the job, the career field I’ve chosen. That does not make it okay, that doesn’t make it normal… [a word that shouldn’t really be in an drag queen enthusiast’s vocabulary, but whatever]. I don’t give a fuck if you think it’s selfish of me to say no for a photo, or for your time, or to…for a hug. It’s weird how people think that you know a person just ‘cause you see them online or you listen to the art they make.” Here, too, Roan sets herself up for disaster because a key part of the reason that many fans do listen to this “art” is precisely because they feel like they know the person who made it. See something of themselves in that person and, therefore, feel connected.

    In the past, many musicians have only courted that perception, including the ultimate millennial pop star, Taylor Swift. Indeed, part of Swift’s longevity has been her acumen in cultivating parasocial relationships with fans. It can be argued, in fact, that fame wouldn’t really exist without this dynamic. At least not the kind of fame that constitutes being a global pop superstar. As for Roan continuing to insist that “it’s fucking weird” for people to glom onto a musician in such a way, she might need to be reminded that her entire shtick is centered around “weird” a.k.a. drag looks. And honestly, it’s no weirder than all of us being on some rock spinning around in the middle of space with absolutely no idea how we got here other than some unprovable postulations (including the “God theory”).

    Of course, Roan isn’t the only one who has expressed disdain for fan behavior in recent years. Take, for example, a video that made the rounds after the 2018 Met Gala, when Lana Del Rey (still in her “Bible” costume) was about to oblige a fan that asked for a selfie. When he tried to re-angle the phone she was holding to take the picture, she thrust it back and him and said, “You know what, fuck it” (though it sounded sort of like “fuck off” or “fuck you” as well). It speaks to what Roan said above about not “owing” anyone a photo. That a fan should be grateful to receive any such request fulfillment at all—not further annoy the famous person by trying to control how the selfie looks. By the same token, of course, there’s always the valid argument that fans are literally paying for how famous people live, so shouldn’t they be entitled to such things? And, if Roan wants to make analogies between famous people and regular people, it can be said that regular people’s bosses do pretty much the same thing, constantly infiltrating their lives outside of work because they pay for their existence, as it were.  

    Roan’s disgust with fan (or “stan”) behavior is, what’s more, in direct contrast to the “teachings” millennials have carried on from generations of famous people past. Case in point, during Paris Hilton’s 2020 documentary, This Is Paris, Kim Kardashian commented, “I think the best advice that she ever could’ve given me was just watching her.” Watching her constantly pose with fans whenever they asked for a photo, watching her being bombarded by paparazzi without ever lashing out, watching her personal life get violated in all the most invasive possible ways (Kim was obviously studying the sex tape aspect of that most closely). In the same documentary, Hilton admitted, “Even though it was so hectic and insane and just nonstop…I also loved the attention.” At least she can admit that. Roan, it seems, is struggling to acknowledge that attention is what she wanted for so long, only to be met with the “be careful what you wish for” caveat.

    And yet, in an interview for Q with Tom Power, Roan made a prescient remark, saying, “This industry, like, you really flourish if you don’t protect yourself.” Power clarifies, “You flourish if you don’t protect yourself?” “Mhmm, yes” she replies sagely. “Like if you don’t look after yourself you can have a pretty good, amazing career. You’ve seen that kind of thing happen?” “We’ve all seen that kind of thing happen.” (To be sure, there’s no example more textbook than Britney Spears.) In the same interview, Roan goes on to say that touring is her favorite part of the job, even though one would think that might be the ripest scenario for witnessing the apex of “creep behavior” among fans. But “creepy,” like everything else, means different things to different people. While one fan might believe it’s perfectly normal to throw their mother’s ashes onstage, another might simply want to become “iconic” in their own right by engaging with a certain opening lyric in a viral way. In effect, the shades of creep in fandoms are multi-hued and numerous, and certainly can’t be contained by a mere “read” from an honorary drag queen/Midwest princess.

    To boot, there are some who would still posit that the “dark side of fame” is but a small price to pay for all the benefits that go with it, not least of which is avoiding, more than “normals,” an overpowering sense of insignificance. Hell, look at Kevin Bacon’s recent comment on how terrible it was to not be famous for a day, stating, “Nobody recognized me. People were kind of pushing past me, not being nice. Nobody said, ‘I love you.’ I had to wait in line to, I don’t know, buy a fucking coffee or whatever. I was like, ‘This sucks. I want to go back to being famous.’” Perhaps Roan ought to try out his experiment as well.

    This isn’t an “asking for it” type of logic that men try so often to use on women for how they dress in terms of saying that those who want to be entertainers should know what they’re getting into. That they “asked for it” when they made the Faustian pact. But it is reminding those Gen Z famous ones, like Roan, who expect to set up “healthy boundaries” for such an uncontrollable entity that doing so is impossible without stepping out of the spotlight altogether. Something Josh Hartnett, a fellow Midwest “prince” (from Minnesota), recently addressed in an interview with The Guardian, recalling of his white-hot moment as Hollywood’s most sought-after heartthrob, “People’s attention to me at the time was borderline unhealthy… There were incidents. People showed up at my house. People that were stalking me… a guy showed up at one of my premieres with a gun, claiming to be my father. He ended up in prison. There were lots of things. It was a weird time. And I wasn’t going to be grist for the mill.” That word again: “weird.” As in: celebrity is fucking weird. Which is why some people are built for it, and some people aren’t. In the years (or maybe just months) ahead, the audience will soon find out if Roan is.

    Who knows? Maybe her ire for “fandom” is a passing fancy. After all, she’s not the first famous person to comment on her gross fans. Take, for example, Madonna’s resurfaced 1991 interview in The Washington Post, during which she unabashedly declares, “I don’t mind when people come up to me in a restaurant and go, ‘God, I think you’re great.’ I love that. It’s the obsessive fanatics whose attention seems very hostile. It’s beyond admiration. It’s very crazy…” That might sound “Gen Z” enough to go along with Roan’s sentiments, but M gave away her boomer nature when she added, “It’s always fat people too. They are the most unattractive social outcasts, like really overweight girls or guys with lots of acne that follow me around and pester me. It’s frightening because not only are they bothering me, but they’re horrible to look at too.”

    At the same time, Madonna and Roan have more in common than some might think, not just because of their “slow burn” first albums taking a full year to catch on, but also because Madonna hails from the heart of the Midwest as well. Which is exactly why she also pronounced, “It’s a very boring, humdrum place. I was raised in that world. I know the ignorance that they wallow in—and that they prefer to live in—because it’s easier for them. I’m just trying to pull all their Band-Aids off.” Roan might be trying to do the same with fans who think “creepy behavior” is acceptable/par for the course, but one doubts it will effect the kind of change that vogueing did (i.e., gay-ifying the straights without them realizing it).

    Fame is one thing that can’t be Gen Z-ified, unless it becomes something else altogether. And if it did, that would likely only make it all the more “democratized.” So what’s really the point of wanting to be famous at all if everyone gets treated the same? Like the “random bitch” Roan claims she wants to be treated as.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • The Fan/Performer Dynamic Keeps Getting Decidedly More Employer/Employee

    The Fan/Performer Dynamic Keeps Getting Decidedly More Employer/Employee

    It used to seem so glamorous to be an “entertainer.” Yet even that word has connotations of being like a monkey with cymbals, “programmed” to perform no matter what the conditions or state of will and desire. In the latest instance of pelting something at musicians onstage (following the illustrious Bebe Rexha incident), Cardi B has proven herself to be a rare (but expected) rejector of “taking shit.” Or rather, “taking drink.” One that was splashed in her general direction as she was in the middle of partially lip-syncing “Bodak Yellow” at Drai’s Beachclub in Las Vegas. A town not exactly known for harboring people with the best etiquette (as Adele tried to anticipate). After all, it’s still considered America’s playground. Except that Cardi B wasn’t playing when she reacted to a large splash of someone’s drink getting deliberately thrown in her general direction by tossing a microphone back at that person. Though “tossing” is too soft a word for the pelting wrath she exhibited. 

    To add to the surreal, ironic quality of it all, the lyrics playing as Cardi launched the mic at the woman (yes, it was a woman) who sloshed her drink were, “If I see you and I don’t speak, that means I don’t fuck with you/I’m a boss, you a worker bitch/I make bloody moves.” How eerily apropos. Not just because things got violent, but because of how the fan/entertainer dynamic has been inverted of late. Where once famous people were endlessly confident about their role as the “superior” party, things have shifted to a point where fans feel entitled to demand more from the people they “admire” as they realize that, “technically,” they’re the ones who employ the celebrity. Keep expensive shelter over their head, posh food on their table and designer clothes on their back.

    So just as fans giveth, so can they taketh away. A reality Doja Cat was faced with recently when she went off on fans giving her grief for dating J.Cyrus, an “entertainer” himself, one supposes. His history of sexual misconduct (in addition to some unearthed racist tweets for good measure) have drawn ire from those who wanted Doja Cat to explain herself. In response, she said, “I don’t give a fuck what you think about my personal life, I never have and never will give a fuck what you think about me and my personal life. Goodbye and good riddance miserable hoes haha!” She then went on to degrade her fans by giving such “fiery” “advice” as, “If you call yourself a ‘kitten’ or fucking ‘kittenz’ that means you need to get off your phone and get a job and help your parents with the house.”

    Ah, the old jobist insult. But what sat even less well with her “Kittenz” was the fact that when a fan wrote in the comments section that they just wanted to hear her say she loved them, Doja spat back, “I don’t though cuz I don’t even know yall.” Where’s the lie? And yet, it’s the closest any celebrity has come to outright admitting how pathetic they think their fans are, and really, just need them for the cash. Except that Doja has also insisted she doesn’t actually need them anymore. Not just because she’s already rich now, but because she wants to emphasize that it was she who did the work to get where she is today. And yet, the complicated reality is that, without those legions of fans who paid attention to her from the beginning, she wouldn’t have those mountains of cash to fall back on after speaking her blunt, Liar Liar-level truth to them.

    This serves as the crux of the issue at hand of late for why fans feel an entitlement to celebrities as their “property” (much the same way employers do with their employees, ergo treating them with similar acts of abusive behavior that an employer themselves would never suffer). In a manner that society has never really seen before. And yes, the evolution of the internet commingling with fame and how it interacts with fans is a key part of that. 

    Taylor Swift, who has become a master in the art of cultivating parasocial relationships with her fans, knows something about that, too. And she wants “Swifties” to believe the contrary of what Doja has been touting. That she really cares about them and their well-being. Sure, maybe she does (at least enough to break up with Matty Healy due to the backlash against him). That is, as much as one can care about an endless sea of amorphous faces flashing the cash, so to speak, from the crowd. Her far more amenable attitude has translated into astronomical profits as she continues to parade her Eras Tour. Which, like Beyoncé’s Renaissance Tour, has created entire micro-economies in every town it stops in. Funnily enough, it was a Swiftie who waded into the comments section of Doja’s “I don’t even know yall” moment to explain the fan perspective on things: “And we don’t know you. But we supported you through thick and thin. Mind you you’d be nothing without us. You’d be working at a grocery store making songs on garageband miss high school dropout.” Maybe a bit harsh, but, to be fair, Doja’s willful lack of education shines through on songs like “Get Into It (Yuh).” 

    Cardi B, who is also rarely known for censoring herself or her emotions, seems to be better adept at showcasing the idea that, ultimately, her fans are just consumers (and there’s really nothing too personal about that). Hence, her innumerable product deals ranging from Pepsi to Reebok to…Whip Shots. Thus, it’s harder to mistake that “Cardi” is a brand she wants to sell for the benefit of Belcalis…and her family with Offset. The subject of which has provided narrative fodder for her latest collaboration with him, “Jealousy.” It is in said video that, incidentally, Cardi launches a shoe at Offset as he leaves their apartment in a huff. Don’t say she didn’t warn anyone who trifled with her that she has a knack for aiming unexpected objects when vexed. In fact, before she threw the microphone at her “fan,” she had already gotten into another altercation at Drai’s Beachclub with the DJ who cut her song off early. So admittedly, Cardi can be a little too quick to react with her microphone sometimes. And in the now viral video, you can see how it takes her only a split second to counterattack with that launch of a much more damaging object than liquid. 

    While the likes of Bebe Rexha and Ava Max were too stunned to instantaneously retaliate for the far more damaging abuse they got onstage, Cardi seems to have patently decided: enough. Almost like the barrage of employees during the Great Resignation who were struck with the overdue epiphany that they “didn’t have to take it anymore,” Cardi seems to have come to the same conclusion by actually fighting back against the “boss” who forgot that “workers” hold all the power. Until they need more money…

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Bebe Rexha Hardly Has the Best Fuckin’ Night of Her Life (But It Might Be For Her Career)

    Bebe Rexha Hardly Has the Best Fuckin’ Night of Her Life (But It Might Be For Her Career)

    Although it should go without saying by now, it’s clear that New York continues to be the source of all pain. Just ask “hometown heroine” of said city, Bebe Rexha, as she recovers from an injury incurred while onstage at The Rooftop at Pier 17. The Lower Manhattan performance space is ironically described as “a stunning location for music gigs.” And yes, it certainly “stunned” Rexha on Sunday, June 18th (Father’s Day, incidentally). But not because of the views, so much as the pelting of her face by an audience member’s smartphone. That audience member was twenty-seven-year-old Nicolas Malvagna from New Jersey (unfortunately doing little to improve the already low opinion of Italian-Americans that the U.S. so relishes stereotyping in the worst ways). The irony gets more profound when taking into account that Malvagna works at a luxury dog kennel, where he apparently learned from the best how to be an absolute bitch.

    Though some of the headlines and articles about the incident have described the person who threw the phone at Rexha as “a fan,” it hardly seems to be very “fan-like” behavior to do something so cruel. And, of course, not to judge a book by its cover, but the dude in question hardly looks like he truly gives a shit about the bops Rexha churns out on the regular. The vibe he gives off is more on the spectrum of: “Let me show up to this random concert and see what kind of shit I can stir up.” With regard to those bops Rexha has been turning out for years now, a new slew is presently featured on her latest album, Bebe, for which she’s been touring to promote under the Best F’n Night of My Life moniker. This being a reference to her hit, “I’m Good (Blue),” with David Guetta that samples Eiffel 65’s “Blue (Da Ba Dee).” The revamped track features the lyrics, “I’m good, yeah, I’m feelin’ alright/Baby, I’ma have the best fuckin’ night of my life.” Obviously, she did not have any such kind of night on the 18th. And yet, despite the cruelty she endured for no good reason other than the kennel worker thought “it would be funny” (and sure, there are a great many with that schadenfreude-type sense of humor), one can’t deny that this incident has been a slight boon for her career. Because, unfortunately, for whatever reason, Rexha has never garnered the level of fame that matches her output and ostensible work ethic. On par with Rita Ora in terms of being a consistently “under the radar hitmaker,” Rexha has now inarguably gained more publicity for this assault than she ever has for any of her music. An unfair reality, but a reality nonetheless. Though that doesn’t mean Rexha should exactly be “thanking” Malvagna (even if he might see it that way due to the international headline-making the entire debacle caused).

    What’s more, the smartphone attack has started a somewhat faux intellectual a.k.a. insipid conversation about the ever-“toxic” nature of fandoms and the parasocial dynamics they entail. To this end, Rexha’s contribution to Eminem and Rihanna’s 2013 hit, “Monster,” would address those dynamics via the lyrics, “I wanted the fame but not the cover of Newsweek/Oh well, guess beggars can’t be choosey/Wanted to receive attention for my music/Wanted to be left alone in public, excuse me/For wantin’ my cake, and eat it too, and wantin’ it both ways.” In Malvagna’s case, however, the occurrence comes off as something of an “anti-parasocial” relationship—hating someone so much, you’d throw a phone at them. At the same time, perhaps he wanted to get her attention so badly as a “fan” that he felt “obliged” to do it in the most detrimental way possible (in addition to thinking it would be “funny”).

    This pertains to the so-called trend that’s been going on of late at live shows that involves a “fan” tossing something (phones, Skittles, whatever) at the performer in question so that they might catch the celebrity’s eye (or just outright damage it). It surely must have worked for Malvagna, but at what cost? Now charged with assault in the third degree, for all one knows, Malvagna may have also brought up the overdue need for a post-9/11 sort of security for concert-going, wherein a protective divider is put up between singers and their “fans” to keep the former from being physically harmed in some unexpected way (because no concert promoter wants to deal with trying to confiscate audience members’ phones). Although many musicians actually relish the performing aspect of their profession more than any other (complete with getting “up close and personal” with their devoted listeners), it appears as though the mentally erratic nature of humanity at large (and who can blame them all with a system like this?) is increasingly a hazard to singers everywhere.

    Funnily enough, earlier on in the show, Rexha had brought a fan from El Salvador up onstage to join in for “I’m Gonna Show You Crazy,” one of Rexha’s earliest singles from 2014. The title, of course, would become retroactively uncanny after Malvagna decided to do just that with his disgusting, unhinged behavior.

    Although Rexha revealed her “good sportsmanship” (and sense of humor) about the matter by posting a picture of herself with a bruised eye and three stitches the following day, it’s evident that she’s been understandably shaken by the event. Which itself has set off a chain reaction among fans both threatening to harm the person who did it, and Serbians expressing delight that this was done to an Albanian (this exemplified in the comments on her “I’m good” post such as, “You asked for it—now deal with it. This will likely remain a scar. So next time, sing. And don’t mix politics!,” “You deserve it exactly what you wanted Albanian signs of your performance there you got it” and “That’s what you get when you’re claiming the territories that belong to Greece, Serbia, Montenegro, North Macedonia for the great Albania with that eagle symbol you made with your hands just before you got hit in the head”). Meanwhile, Saint Hoax commented on the photo, “Trust, he will be dealt with” and then proceeded to post a barrage of fan comments pertaining how undeserved it was, how parasocial relationships are “reaching an all-time high” and that this is why celebrities put up walls. That might become more literal in the future at concerts.

    As for the ever-mutating, monstrous inclinations of “fans” as the twenty-first century rages on, Rexha’s brush with death à la Tai Frasier at the Westside Pavilion is now being used as the latest example of what people think they’re “owed” for paying a celebrity’s way in life. Willfully forgetting that they are ultimately nothing more than the “consumer” to the celebrity “producer.” Similar phenomena have occurred in recent months with both Doja Cat and, arguably, Taylor Swift, who appears to have been undeniably influenced by fans’ venomous reactions (including Azealia Banks’ delightfully savage one) to her dating The 1975’s Matty Healy. As for the former, her decision not to take the stage at the Asunciónico festival in Paraguay back in March due to inclement weather led fans to storm the outside of her hotel in protest. This, in turn, prompted Doja to change her Twitter name to “i quit” and then tweet, ““This shit ain’t for me so I’m out. Ya’ll take care.” Her threat to abruptly retire, of course, didn’t pan out (with the singer recently releasing a new single called, appropriately, “Attention”), but it’s indicative of an overarching sense of dissatisfaction with what it means to be a celebrity at this moment in time. Particularly a musician. For, back in the day, audiences not only seemed to have more decorum (even swooning, sex-crazed girls at Elvis or The Beatles concerts), but they, most of important at all, didn’t have access to technological devices that could be rendered lethal when launched on a sick whim.

    In any event, the video footage of Rexha getting pummeled by the flying phone will likely become the stuff of solid meme gold in the future. For that, in the end, is the only “silver lining” that can be seen in any negative event.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgnfKVYaKxo

    Genna Rivieccio

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