All This Giggling and Carrying On

The Friday Post.

New: Chats about Succession and Dead Ringers and the Rihanna-Martin Scorsese photo in the Substack app.

Glen Powell (L) and Sydney Sweeney at the Sony Pictures Entertainment presentation during CinemaCon. (Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)

It’s late at night and Robert Redford — and I mean 1970s Robert Redford, like Robert Redford when he had so much pretty privilege he didn’t even know he had pretty privilege — saunters through a dimly lit parking garage. In the dark you can’t see how big it is, how far it goes. Only one or two cars occupy each row. In the distance, maybe there’s the sound of something dripping. Slam! Was that someone entering? Or leaving? Out of the corner of his eye, Redford sees a small flame, the lit end of a cigarette. A figure emerges from the shadows: an informant! Deep throat! The figure mumbles information that no one could know, information that undoes the very fabric of America’s democracy: “Sydney Sweeney and Glen Powell are doing it.”