Sorry Dana , but I’m with Jess on Paris . The contrasts contained in the moment of her speech, to be really eloquent about it, freaked me the eff out. Here’s a young girl, a daughter, having a genuine, raw moment of grief and she’s surrounded by a bunch of… actors. Her authenticity was matched in pitch only by the performativeness in the people surrounding her, these totally dysfunctional family members putting on a show of solidarity, projecting protectiveness with their shoulders, but wholly aware they were making a YouTube moment with their minds. Janet Jackson done up like Jackie O, specifically, made me feel like I was watching some David Lynch dream sequence likely to give me nightmares.
While watching the funeral it also occurred to me that the saga of Michael Jackson’s death has followed the exact same arc as his life: What began as wholesome, heartfelt, feel-good celebration of talent and music has transformed at break neck speed into a twisted, creepy kind of mass denial about the dark side of celebrity. This whole thing has gone pear shaped, fast.
TODAY IN SLATE
Smash and Grab
I Am 25. I Don’t Work at Facebook. My Doctors Want Me to Freeze My Eggs.
Republicans Want the Government to Listen to the American Public on Ebola. That’s a Horrible Idea.
The Most Ingenious Teaching Device Ever Invented
Tom Hanks Has a Short Story in the New Yorker. It’s Not Good.
Marvel’s Civil War Is a Far-Right Paranoid Fantasy
It’s also a mess. Can the movies do better?