There is nothing quite like going to a see a summer blockbuster. The experience takes me back to the times I would walk to the downtown theater with my dad in elementary school or as a preteen meeting up with a gaggle of my classmates. The summer movie-going experience is unexplainably special; the air feels just right outside and somehow the popcorn tastes better than ever. The summer blockbuster is always a film that excites us like little children. The summer blockbuster is spectacular— spectacularly beautiful, spectacularly scary, spectacularly thrilling. Our heartwarming memories of the summer blockbuster make the genre a staple of the moviegoing experience within our culture. That’s why I was delighted when I sat down in the theater Saturday to a summer blockbuster whose protagonists were four females.

Ghostbusters was, unlike so many recent reboots of its kind, tasteful and honorary of the original. Sure, the assembly of the Ghostbusters team (and most of the plot) was rushed but we were able to just accept it and enjoy the fun. The 2016 Ghostbusters revamped the components of the original with scarier ghosts and a more turbulent conflict. These additions were vibrant, echoing the true spirit of the original 1980’s comedy. The choice to cast an all-female Ghostbusters team was calculated in this aspect. Certainly there are popular comedic actors that could band together a new, lovable Ghostbusters. But the female cast re-envisions the original quirkiness of the film, delivering a Ghostbusters that the public can root for.

The filmmakers of the new Ghostbusters intended for the 2016 characters to reflect the fan-favorite original archetypes. They accomplished this, with an ernest professor, a smart-mouthed leader, a whacky engineer and a lively African-American character. However the females of the cast were able to energize their roles beyond expectation. Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy both conveyed their devotion to the paranormal all the while delivering the perfect dry humor. Kate McKinnon went above and beyond with her role as she blended scientific, sadistic and sexy all in one. Leslie Jones, who was the unofficial star of the film in my opinion, has such an honesty about her you laugh before she even speaks. The female cast elevated the film to a brilliant new perspective. But the success of Ghostbusters comes out on top with something most important: a message.

The inclusion of women in the summer blockbuster genre pushes the boundaries of females in film. Roles for women have progressed leaps and bounds over the decades of filmmaking. At this time we recognize that women have a place in film. But their place has been, well, their place. Characters for actresses are too often limited to their male counterparts, leaving females to share or support a narrative rather than create one. That is what makes Ghostbusters so special. The deliberate gender-bending in the film encourages audiences to see the female characters take charge and create a story for themselves. The summer blockbuster film is a genre notoriously liked by all audiences, leading the film to a cultural stage. The thrill of a story steered by four women shows that our culture is ready for more undisputed female characters. We are beginning to believe that women can drive our beloved epic storylines.

The girl-powered summer blockbuster doesn’t stop at Ghostbusters. Blake Lively took on a nearly one-woman show in The Shallows. The film follows her character Nancy after a shark attack on a remote beach. Her character struggles physically and mentally throughout the film and ultimately reflects the human will to survive. This heavy role could have just as easily been taken on by a male actor, but Lively somehow gave her character’s circumstance more grit. A subplot of the film involved Nancy’s distanced family-life and dwindling nursing career. Somehow I don’t see a male character internalizing his own personal life while bleeding out in the ocean. The choice to have The Shallows led by a female draws the audience in deeper with a more poignant view of the character.

The highly anticipated Suicide Squad is premiering in a few weeks and all eyes are on Margot Robbie. Her role as Harley Quinn has become the unaccredited face of the film, perhaps upstaging Jared Leto’s high-profile portrayal of the Joker. Even though the film assembles an all-star cast, it is those sequin spandex and dip-dyed pigtails of Robbie’s that have been barraging Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. Consider this: the shoot-em-up, villainous epic targeted at male audiences is represented by a female.

Scrolling through Facebook recently, I came across a friend (of a friend of a friend) who conveyed how discouraging it was that feminists were demanding more female representation in films. This person was convinced that the roles of women as wives, mothers and love interests was fine, after all… what else would they be? What we believe to be true begins with representation. Of course many women are wives and mothers. But in Hollywood, where fish can swim across the ocean and find their families, ghosts and ghouls can swarm New York City, sharks can hold personal vendettas and the government can approve of criminal warfare, women can be anything. And we are beginning to believe they can be their own heroes.

Yesterday I attended an informational session about an internship opportunity abroad. The man orating the meeting was primarily there to urge us all to apply to the selection process for the prestigious internship. But in the hour that I spent in the meeting, I felt I only endured a few moments of information.

“You’ll never be professional if you pull out the one thing you can’t live without…” The man snagged a student’s iPhone from the table top and gave it an imperious wave overhead.

“The opportunity we present to you is an honor. You’ll ruin your chances by fangirling and taking Snapchats in my office.”

I left the session a little fuzzy after hearing the “M” word tossed at me a handful of times. Typically someone knows when they are being talked down to, but my realization happened a few hours later when I mulled over the man’s careless word choice.

The “M” word I’m referring to here is millennial. I haven’t shied away from the use of the word on this blog– in fact I largely and very clearly incorporate the millennial perspective into all my discussions. “Millennial” is not a dirty word. A generational title will never be censored or banned from dinner table language. But now more than ever I hear a pointed tone in its usage. “Millennial” may not be a swear word, but in many cases, it is used in derogation.

Snowflakes. Social Justice Warriors. Seeking Handouts. All synonymous to older generations with millennials. Even outside of ultra-conservative circles, I still feel a pressing judgement from Gen-X adults who are quick to label handfuls of young people. The inconsistencies between youth and adult mind frames have existed ever since people had parents. But extending beyond misunderstandings, the harsh labeling of the millennial generation takes on its own narrative. The state of “millennial” is deeply political– it’s an identity that bars us to a strange social structure.

Often the reputation of the millennial proceeds itself. As someone who is breaking out of their teen years, young womanhood proves itself as relentless and challenging as it was hyped to be. However, the added layer of “millennial” seems to compartmentalize my maturing even further. Automatically millennials are assumed to be misguided by technology and cultural change. I constantly feel that in school, family life and the working world I must convince others that I have broken from a mold I can’t even describe.

On the other hand, there are millennials who are sorely convinced they are unlike their generation. I have come across dozens of millennials who “hate millennials” and claim we are the worst generation. These individuals often praise what used to be and shame the conventions of today. Typically speaking, these individuals can be spotted getting congratulated by their traditionalist family members when voicing their opinion.

The voices of the anti-millennials are, in a word, discouraging. But to the tune of a delightful irony, their voices are perpetuated through millennial conventions like Facebook, Youtube and other social media. I scroll past anti-millennial sentiments dozens of times a day. While these young people explain (often extensively) why millennial culture is harmful, they are partaking in a larger millennial dialogue.

Values are not lost. Work ethic is not obsolete. Moral individuals exist. Believe me. The anti-millennial sentiment considers itself subversive and grounded. But in reality, it is just noise. Contrived individualism does not earn anyone cookies. Denying an entire generation of legitimacy does not make you special, it makes you bothered. And bothered individuals do not produce positive change. Passionate and driven individuals do. The world we live in today is a product of progressivism from the many plains of society. Equality, tolerance and unconventionality should not drive other generations to negativity.

All things considered, being a millennial is confusing on all platforms. Once we conquer older generations’ disdain, thriving amongst ourselves becomes a new challenge. The internet, and the culture that it harvests, consistently takes on a life of its own. Adhering to brand new social courtesies is a practice to be learned. “PC culture” is a qualm among older generations.  Admittedly, being raised one way and living another is conflicting. Monitoring yourself for the sake of culture can lead to some self doubt. It’s okay to recognize that.

Some of the best millennial advice I ever received is this: no one is born an activist. I don’t have a legal responsibility to speak on the behalf of all races, genders, sexualities, religions, ethnicities, nationalities, disabilities, socio-economic statuses and backgrounds in-between. I can, however, take it upon myself to respect all identities. Searching for injustice and problematic subject matter in all content makes for a pessimistic demeanor. When in doubt, removing oneself from intense cultural conversation is a good mental break from the ongoing generational experience. Never take yourself– or your millennial identity– too seriously.

After all, we’re millennials. We make killer careers out of makeup tutorials and Ebay accounts. Today, anyone can be anything. Understanding this ideal at its base level puts us at an advantage to embrace one another. Basic human respect is free and easy. Unconventionality is a paramount quality of the millennial generation. Rather than denying our differences, we capitalize on them. We stand and unite by them. Approximately 3 million of us march across the nation to defend them.

The point of this life is to live it fully and the way you want. This is something, if not the one thing, this generation has figured out.

When I learned the return of Wonder Woman would be staged in 1984, I groaned. My hopes for Wonder Woman as a soon to be franchise are far too high to be given a sequel that panders to the 80’s nostalgia trend bombarding films and streaming services today. I thought certainly Diana’s superhuman compassion and warrior abilities could be employed to more worthy eras, perhaps continuing the first film’s fictionalized accounts of World War I then expanding on more Nazi injustices in the sequel. 1984… what’s so special about 1984?

The 80’s the media remembers is a vivacious one, an era that– again– speaks to a nostalgic time saturated in the excitement of neon, MTV and DeLoreans. But the decade’s realization and expression of identity politics truly lends its reputation to something much larger than icons of the time. Any great era in history has greater stories untold from its people; voices too often lost in the buzz and popularity of time itself. Injustices come in many shapes and sizes, and in this case, Wonder Woman might come back to theaters to teach us about a tragedy most colorful.

Chris Pine and Gal Gadot Set #WW84#WonderWoman1984pic.twitter.com/GF79NmcrbX

— DC Films 🌊⚡ (@DCEUnited) June 13, 2018

And I went by the Wonder Woman 2 set so today is getting better by the hour! (“Classic” cars for WW 1984) pic.twitter.com/Q5iqcClPVG

— winds-wanderer (@windswandering) June 13, 2018

Candid shots from WW84‘s sunny, outdoor film sets in Washington D.C. indeed reveal retro wardrobe and set dressing. It seems as though Gal Gadot’s pantsuit and cars of the era confirm the film’s vintage element. But tucked in plain sight of set photos lies also a major hint as to what (or who) Diana may be combatting this time around.

I am excited about the cute set photos from “Wonder Woman 1984,” but I gotta be that bitch and mention that the Silence = Death Collective didn’t begin designing the iconic poster displayed here until 1985. For the record, this is a helpful and productive tweet. #WW84pic.twitter.com/J5MMW2vHiG

— Dan Fishback (@dangerfishback) June 13, 2018

Displayed on a window in what looks to be an interaction sequence between Gal Gadot and Chris Pine’s characters is the iconic SILENCE = DEATH death poster, which famously represented LGBTQ+ resistance and solidarity during the AIDS crisis.

The placement and display of this poster seems deliberate, especially since its historical accuracy is a few years off. If the Wonder Woman filmmakers were so keen on including such a major symbol of the AIDS crisis, fans are guessing that Wonder Woman will be taking a stand against social injustice in her upcoming sequel.

This prediction immediately makes Wonder Woman 1984 a potential political power play.  The AIDS crisis in America, for those that are unaware, was a decade-long epidemic that claimed the lives of countless in the LGBTQ+ community. The climate of the 1980’s permitted mainstream culture to fear and ignore those affected by HIV. This piece of history ultimately belongs to the LGBTQ+ community as their unity has evolved largely from members’ experiences with the AIDS crisis.

I was unaware of how large a gay icon Wonder Woman is. In the comics world, both DC and Marvel amass a plethora of LGBTQ+ supporters and fans. For many, comics have been explorations of queer characters similar to the reader. Though Diana is romantically involved with Steve in the Warner Bros. film, her character has arched in LGBTQ+ directions in different comic manifestations. The Hollywood world was introduced to Wonder Woman as a superhero of grace and girl-power, but it is worth noting that Diana is also an ally.

A sequel that follows Wonder Woman (somehow) combatting the AIDS crisis would be seriously influential– for a few reasons. Having Diana act on her allyship would be confirmation for the LGBTQ+ readers who have relied on Wonder Woman in print for so long. Wonder Woman’s identity as a warrior for justice and compassion would then extend to the fight for equality, broadening the scope of Diana’s empathy and worldview.

Moreover, AIDS crisis discussion in WW84 would be a gesture of grand surrender on the studio’s part, endorsing the notion that mainstream culture, media and politics were on the wrong side of history during the epidemic. If the Wonder Woman sequel were to approach AIDS victims the same way it did those affected by World War I in the original film, it would be the first time a major superhero blockbuster framed the reality of the crisis: a tragedy in the LGBTQ+ community.

The inclusion of the SILENCE=DEATH symbolism to the set of WW84 bears great significance in the lore of Wonder Woman. The pink triangle posters were popularized by gay activists in later 1980’s to promote openness in the community and tenacity in fighting against oppressors of LGBTQ+ AIDS victims. The symbol itself traces back to the Nazi ideology of World War II, in which homosexual prisoners in concentration camps were forced to identify themselves with pink triangle patches (Act Up NY). For Wonder Woman to stand in front of this poster of resistance, she recognizes the past she fought against and how the same evil manifests into her present.

Because Diana went full demigod on Nazi ideology in the first film, it would be an LGBTQ+ victory for Wonder Woman to extend a hand to those who needed it most in 1984.

This past week, network programming waved goodbye to the 15-year-old Spike TV network and officially welcomed the re-branded Paramount Network. Other than a new association with a major film company, the quiet premiere of Paramount Network doesn’t initially forecast any waves made against the primetime giants. The new network does, however, show exciting promise– hinting at something a little more eclectic, inclusive and female.

The original Spike TV brand was characteristically dude. Claiming to be the first ever “network for men”, the channel broadcasted UFC and WWE events, competitive reality series like Bar Rescue, raunchy adult animated sitcoms and habitual re-runs of Cops. Spike TV even launched their illustrious Guys Choice Awards, the first ever of its kind to celebrate masculinity and hot chicks. Ya know, guy stuff.

Recent social dialogue bred some disdain for Spike’s one-dimensional brand. Viacom, the media conglomerate in charge of Spike TV, most likely recognized their initial appeal was not only growing stale, but becoming less lucrative. Viacom sister networks were also struggling with certain programs outside of Spike TV. More dramatic and directional scripted series appeared out of place on channels like MTV and TVLand– and certainly did not belong on the macho platform of Spike TV.

The new and improved Paramount Network is meant to identify more closely with the highly regarded Paramount Pictures, guaranteeing many initial positive changes. As the official switch has been made and the marketing campaign is now well underway, a surprising (but delightful) target audience has risen: the female twenty-something.

Paramount Network’s most marketed premiere this spring is the television adaption of Heathers. Indeed, the mean girls before Mean Girls classic is getting the series treatment– with some unrecognizable variations.

As the school administrator said in the trailer– fat kids can be popular. The Heathers of 2018 create an explosive world of satirical social dialogue, permitting the LGBTQ, the teens of color and the plus-size to have the upper-hand. Where the 1988 Heathers contorted teen suicide for its own zany commentary, Paramount Network offers the same style of tongue-in-cheek black comedy to tackle social politics present today. Issues, it should be considered, that are very much at the hands of young women. Presently, females in early adulthood are faced with navigating a culture of social agenda; a millennial experience that is subsequently becoming reflected in scripted series like Heathers.

Any cult-classic movie buff would be excited to know that an original Heather, Shannen Doherty, has a guest slot on the new series. I believe this casting choice to be a strategic one; a move that exercises Paramount’s ability to sprinkle star power over its television endeavors. The Hollywood appeal seems to be the hook for Paramount Network’s second upcoming original series, American Woman.

Originally slated for TVLand, American Woman found a sweet spot with a shifted premiere date on the Paramount Network. The series is not only produced by, but inspired by the life of Beverly Hills Housewife Kyle Richards. If you are also a devoted RHOBH fan, the fruition of American Woman was a long process, but inevitably one we could not wait for. The routine Housewife drama that unfolds between Kyle Richards and her famous siblings stems from their tumultuous Beverly Hills childhood. Often referencing the legends of her past, Richards set out to create a series that embodied her luxe and loopy upbringing.

Helping bring Richard’s comedic memoir to life, none other than 90’s babes Alicia Silverstone AND Mena Survari. While I am tickled pink with the star-studded cast of American Woman, I had to be sold on the production. Much to my satisfaction, American Woman appears to be as effortless as it is endearing. There is a necessity for female-driven experiential fiction– namely stories that explain female formative years. Kyle Richards has shared her experience in crafting character Bonnie Nolan, inspired by her mother, intending to depict the dimensions of maternal and female strength, including the sweet rough patches along the way. Honesty and heart mixed with fanciful 1970’s quirkiness will ultimately make American Woman a dramedy suited comfortably for young women.

Though the two aforementioned series obviously are female-friendly, Paramount Network’s Waco is an exciting endeavor on the channel for different reasons.

True crime is undeniably the wave these days. From The People vs. O.J. to Gianni Versace all the way to the latest, bizarro season of American Horror Story— people can’t seem to get enough of semi-biopic crime retellings. Paramount Network did well to hop aboard the trend and produce its own true crime miniseries Waco, chronicling the federal stand-off between ATF officers and cult leader David Koresh.

With stunning production quality reminiscent of ABC’s American Crime, Waco already holds its own as a limited drama series. The new network’s presentation of Waco among its airer, more fictional scripted series is a bold one, but it sends a message.

Young women today are not static in their interests. Programs on VH1 and MTV age out quickly because the majority of their female demographic is accounting for a more compelling viewership elsewhere. Females in their 20’s are more passionate and readily informed than ever; their patronage to television programming should be to networks that supports their diversity of interest. Housing a conglomeration of true crime drama, heartfelt sitcom and irreverent anthology all on one Paramount Network may be a start to capturing the female twenty-something’s attention.

And if you are apprehensive about the rebranding, don’t worry. Lip Sync Battle isn’t going anywhere.

The following article contains You (2018) spoilers.

You, the unexpected smash erotic-thriller hit on Netflix, is fabulous. Who would have thought that Lifetime could produce a series palatable for those under 50? The basis of the series is expectedly of the juicy, sinister Lifetime variety. Yet, the series that follows a charming psychopath is peppered with moments likened to that of Younger or HBO’s Girls. Seriously, amidst the NYC brunch dates and melodramatic Instagram posts it is easy for a viewer to forget that the protagonist is an obsessed, murderous stalker.

You’s genius is that we are rooting for Joe. Unlike the objective view we have seen in Fatal Attraction (or, God Forbid, it’s 2009 re-imagination Obsessed featuring Beyoncé), we hear– and eventually come to terms– with Joe’s rationale. In a Dexter sort of way, we want Joe to get away with as much as possible. His cool demeanor invites viewers to entertain his psychosis and we have fun watching the anti-hero unravel.

So let’s talk about Beck. Guinevere Beck is, after all, the object of Joe’s obsession. At moments it confused me, as I’m sure it did you, why he put such unrelenting effort into stalking someone… like Beck. From sanity’s perspective, the payoff of such crime and conniving should be absolutely worth it, no? Joe should be piling a high body count for a woman so divine she surmounts the risk of his actions tenfold.

While Beck is outwardly enticing, the more we get to know her, the more we can agree she is hard to side with, hard to empathize with and even hard to like. Her perfect hair, body and apartment only stretch so thin; she is whiny, self-absorbed and, as she feared in many episodes, pretty unremarkable. It appears Beck is not worth much risk at all, because we come to find that Beck is seriously flawed. And it’s okay to dislike her for that reason, but it is surely important to understand why your allegiance lies with Joe (HINT: it’s intentional).

Once again, You is a carefully crafted peek into the reasoning of a stalker. Because Joe steers our ship, we ride along with him at the helm and accept his narration as the reliable perspective. Accredited to his bookish charm and cucumber-cool attitude, Joe lets us in on the secrets of his obsession to an end in which we see him as a mastermind. Aside from the killing, spying, stealing and delusions of grandeur, Joe isn’t so bad.

Beck, on the other hand, is– in so many words– full of beans. Her self importance sheaths her arrogance and her arrogance churns a very special variety of oblivion. You definitely isn’t There’s Something About Mary: Beck Edition because Beck isn’t perfect; our dream girl in this scenario is hard to stand by.

It is here where You presents us with an all-too-common mind set.

Why is Beck so ungrateful? Beck is a cheater– how could she do that to him? She only wants Joe when he doesn’t want her! Beck is so selfish. 

Beck is just the worst.

As the series spills out Beck’s emotional baggage, we are shown how exceedingly easy it is to reason with and support male predators. You shows us that the route of victim blaming is an easy walk. Because, time and again, I had to remind myself that Joe Goldberg is a an obsessed stalker. Not a bad boyfriend, an actual predator. Beck’s shortcomings as a girlfriend in no way compare to, or justify, being preyed on.

Throughout the series, it came to my attention that Beck must really hate herself. Her deep insecurity arises socially, romantically and sexually. Her actions as a character are messy and objectionable; her insecurity as a female character ultimately manifests itself as weakness. Audiences do not like weakness.

This makes her an easy target for both Joe and our dismissal of her experience. In the glimpses of her past, we come to understand that she has been through a lot: addiction in the family, body image issues and sexual harassment. There is a reason these peeks into her perspective are so limited; simply put, it is easier to shove blame on women when they are in danger. Apartment broken into? Lock your doors. Being stalked? Don’t be so open. Controlling, manipulative boyfriend? Respect yourself more than you do and leave him. Psychotic lover murders everyone close to you? Keep better company.

Don’t be the worst.

The urban legend, cautionary tale aspect of You definitely draws in viewers first. A sexy TV chiller will never go out of style. But this underlying argument in You is topical; we are living in an era where female’s experiences with predatory males are coming to the forefront. As the details unravel and the females’ flaws and missteps are uncovered, can we still recognize their abuse?

Can we stand behind women like Beck?

If I was in Beck’s personal circle, I would need to shake her by the shoulders a time or two. Interacting with female friends who flounder in their own sorrow is hard to be around and, also as an audience member, hard to watch. Would I sit at the table read for Beck’s mopey poetry? Probably not. But it is gravely important to be able to differentiate the ugly layers of a woman from her indefensible mistreatment.

Season one’s mega-cliffhanger promises a You season two that may delve further into Joe’s mental illness. It also may provide an alternate female perspective, one that quite literally survived Joe Goldberg. I’m excited to get to know Candace and see how she comes back swinging. Beck, unfortunately, like so many women who have lost the battle to predators, will never get that chance.

Taylor Swift’s critically acclaimed Folklore was widely hailed as a masterpiece following its release this summer. The subject matter of the pop star’s indie venture was a notable departure from the tabloid-fodder songs of her past that detailed her dealings with famous boyfriends. Taylor herself said Folklore was an escapist fiction piece. The album dove into the experiences and feelings of characters, not the narrator herself.

Folklore‘s sister record Evermore, once more suprise-released by Swift this month, follows suit with more dialed down, sophisticated production. The tone of Evermore is again whimsical and folktalish, making it the perfect companion piece to the chapters Swift shared back in July.

Whereas Folklore‘s stories dart in many directions with different subjects, albeit successfully, Evermore presents a more succinct collection of tales– stories that broadly appear to explore one theme in particular: marriage.

Taylor’s past albums have certainly dug deep into relationships before. Some of her best work was inspired by painful breakups, spinning the melodrama of failed romance into radio hits that stick like grits. But the juicy A-list bits about Swift’s life are absent from Folklore and Evermore as she takes on the perspective of the every day woman. Again speaking in the third person, several tracks on Evermore use the unique voice of a wife.

Though rumors continue to swirl that Taylor is allegedly secretly married to her current beau Joe Alwyn, it’s safe to assume the songs about marriage on Evermore are largely fictional. Though Swift has all but reached veteran status in love and heartbreak, dating and marriage are truly worlds apart in terms of experience. Where the two may overlap in terms of romance, companionship or drama, marriage hinges far more on shared responsibility and devotion. Marriage is a partnership meant to last a lifetime, even if life slows, pains or at worst, becomes stale.

Be those themes difficult to capture in song, Taylor does just that in “Tolerate It,” a cry from a wife who fails to be truly seen by her husband. While this trope may be universally familiar in troubled marriages, the delivery from Swift is sensitive and empathetic, as with many of the emotional songs on the companion albums.

Lighter track on Evermore “Ivy” speaks from the perspective of a married woman knee deep in an affair. The speaker describes blossoming in their forbidden romance, as they had once been given the cold shoulder by love. Swift has outright confirmed many of the tales from songs on the two records interconnect in her creative storytelling canon. With this in mind, the speaker on “Ivy” may be the same wife from “Tolerate It,” whose marriage bends and breaks with the sands of time. Love songs “”Tis the Damn Season,” “Willow” and “Cowboy like Me” may then be the precursors to a hardened marriage; the falling-in-love part of the story before two fully become one in a subdivision with insurance payments and a family dog.

Another musical standout album from 2020 was The Chick’s comeback album Gaslighter. Unlike Swift’s recent works, Gaslighter is totally autobiographical, covering the divorce between lead vocalist Natalie Maines and ex-husband Adrian Pasdar. As detailed in the album, Maines’ battle to win her life back from a toxic partnership was devastating, involving mistresses, legal battles and the heartbreak of her children. Gaslighter is not a break-up album, it is a divorce album. Love lost may be painful, but the end of a marriage marks a greater turning point in ones life; to make it to the other side of a broken promise.

Both Gaslighter and Evermore share in acoustic honesty, be their subject matter discernibly fact versus fiction. Taylor and The Chicks had previously collaborated on Swift’s 2019 album Lover with the quiet “Soon You’ll Get Better.” The track served as a humble standout from other maximalist pop songs on the album, shedding concern for being a hit and bringing forth vulnerability in discussing Taylor’s mother’s cancer diagnosis. Calling on The Chicks for back-up on the song showed many Swift’s capability to step back into more country and folk inspired fare.

Parallels between The Chicks and Swift were also drawn between the 90’s hit “Goodbye Earl” and Evermore‘s “No Body, No Crime,” featuring indie-pop sister group HAIM. The career highlight for Swift is a narrative song not dissimilar to an Investigation Discovery night special; recounting one woman’s revenge on her best friend’s cheating husband. “No Body” is a callback to “Goodbye Earl” with an effortlessly cool and moody reimagining.

“No Body” is easily the best on Evermore and is slated to be the next album single, releasing next month (music! video! please!). Swift also leans into regularity in the track, singing about weekly meetups at Olive Garden and damning joint bank account statements. “No Body” is the nod to the marriages that end up on the news; the marriages no one expects to endure when they say ‘I do.’ The true-life “Goodbye Earl” or “No Body, No Crime” stories always involve the every day husband and wife and a regular marriage that tailspins into scandal.

The discussion of marriage on Evermore is a wide spectrum, starting with sweet, unguarded romance and ending with murder mystery. The latter is an extreme for most, but nonetheless a folktale in modern culture that sits in the brains of married people. Husbands and wives do crazy things when they enter a commitment that is binding, complex and deeply personal.

Overall, Taylor Swift’s maturity grows on Folklore and particularly Evermore as she steps back from her personal view and takes on experiences of the many. Love, marriage and divorce may be what we all know well but have trouble finding the words to tell our story. Evermore is a good place to look.

The arrival of everyone’s favorite spooky season may be the harbinger of something more frightening than the ghouls, goblins and ghosts afoot this month: seasonal depression.

For many, the crisp autumn air may be a refreshing change of pace from a scorching summer. The crunch of leaves and carved pumpkins on front steps often bring back fond memories from my childhood, when I was eager to celebrate Halloween all October long. Yet as the annual cycle winds down and cools off, many can turn to memories that aren’t as sweet. The season of the macabre certainly doesn’t promote warm fuzzies in the way its succeeding holiday season does. Some of our favorite modes of celebrating the fall occasion, horror movies, explore what might otherwise be taboo in the every day: death, violence, terror.

As the horror genre matures and sophisticates, I, an avid fan, have noticed some of the best scary films delve deeper than that which goes bump in the night. The films that have truly left me breathless, heart and thoughts racing, tackle the horror of the human experience.

Back in college, my senior thesis project investigated the question: can fear be pleasurable? The short answer, backed by professional research, is yes. The genre wouldn’t be such a ticket-generator if that weren’t the case. Blockbuster horror films allow us to tap into primal instincts of fight or flight in the comfort of a theater or living room. The sight of Reagan MacNeil’s head spinning in The Exorcist or little Georgie Denbrough getting slurped into a storm drain in It is both shocking and exciting to the mind. Allowing ourselves some time to experience these thrills and chills via the screen offers up the chance to check in with a healthy range of emotions. Killer clowns and pea-soup spewing demons are objectively frightening and it is well we react as if they are.

I believe filmmakers up the ante when the horror on screen is more reflective of its audience. Generally speaking, I do not encounter creatures, monsters, or unhinged masked murderers in my day-to-day. But as the warm days of the year seep into a quieter, more wistful string of time, themes of isolation, depression and dread are likely to terrify me by incorporating their familiarity.

The most recent, successful example of a horror project best exploring this is the masterful The Haunting of Hill House (2018). More than a haunted mansion tale, the Netflix series is a family tragedy with a ghostly backdrop. When I first watched the series in one sitting two years ago, I found myself amazed at the sheer brilliance of the script, binding together grief and trauma with haunting visuals. Without offering spoilers (although I’m not sure what has taken you this long to watch this instant classic), Hill House left me asking myself: what if what I feared in the night when I was little was just what haunts me today as an adult?

The wide-range of mental health challenges a person can face are at their least, inhibiting, and at most, fatal. A more recent media spotlight on mental illness has pinpointed and began to normalize what was once believed to be “crazy.” Depression, anxiety, addiction, mania; it’s all not so atypical. The roots of illness, the trauma from loss, abuse, violence, and the broken in-betweens, are the real horror story.

I believe more effective horror is made when we look these issues head-on through the lens of fiction. Turning to other works for example, the popular cult horror films Hereditary (2018) and Midsommar (2019) from the mind of Ari Aster both feature inciting incidents of family tragedy. The two works, known for their shocking, often grotesque horror imagery, bank on the characters’ nightmarish dealings with grief. With the added bells and whistles of the genre, the dark side of the mind becomes palpable with fear among viewers.

Hulu’s new anthology series Monsterland plays to this idea, I noticed upon its release at the beginning of the month. The 50-minute stand-alone episodes don’t leave much time for nuances of mental illness as the aforementioned films and series, but each story certainly involves characters of abject circumstance. No matter the sub-genre or form of boogeyman, it seems as though terror preys on most vulnerable characters in a special way; the addicted, the abused, the suicidal.

Taking with me these considerations about high-brow horror, this weekend I eagerly watched the long-awaited The Haunting of Bly Manor. A worthy follow-up to its predecessor Hill House, Bly is very much a gothic love story. Its nine episodes carried the same cadence as a campfire tale, casting a spell of warmth about the anguished grounds of Bly Manor. Like Hill House, Bly is deeply sad. But where the Crain family members lose themselves after their stay at Hill House, the new characters end up at Bly Manor because they have already lost too much. Once again the series’ elevated script revealed to me the human experience, even romantic love, can bear its own haunting.

Halloween arrives on the heels of World Mental Health Day, a day in which many divulge, be it on social media or through personal interaction, the suffering they endure in the shadows. So too do we enjoy what we shouldn’t behind closed doors. That’s why I indulge in a violent or jarring horror film periodically; it allows for a harmless environment to explore the dread or fear or madness I can’t in public. The macabre can entertain us, challenge us, and at times, deliver a poignant message if we are listening.

Under the surface we are all stressed and tired, particularly as a strange and unpredictable virus continues to hold the world in its talons, but when the time is right, we should take the annual opportunity to celebrate what disturbs us.