This is The Friday Post, Hung Up’s weekly roundup of celebrity mess and miscellanea. If you like this kind of thing, why not subscribe?
I just will not shut up about Haim, unfortunately. I’m sorry: these white girls really put all six of their Birkenstocks-and-socks into their new music. They are really in their canvas tote bag. Women in Music Part III was my favorite album of 2020. It’s such a moody, languid album for these weird times: feeling sad but feeling horny, feeling down but getting up, wanting more and less of everything at the same time.
My first favorite song on the album was “All That Ever Mattered” — I mean “first” as in, this was the first song that I couldn’t get enough of. It’s the best kind of pop love song, without corny lovey-dovey observations. It’s all declaration, all feeling. My next favorite song on the album was “I’ve Been Down.” I've been running around town / Feeling up and down / Taped up the windows at the house / But I ain't dead yet! That last bit was so lovely to me, so delicately hopeful: it’s a song about extending yourself grace, and that grace comes in the form of asking someone you love to just hang out with you, deal with you, care for you. My next favorite song was “3 AM,” which, honestly, I don’t need to litter the internet with more words about.
Very late into me being obsessed with WIMPIII, I started loving “Gasoline.” The ambivalence in this song is so potent: some relationships feel exhausting but lovely. Some people you want to savor but can’t wait to cut loose. (It feels right, then, that this song makes me think of my favorite episode of Sex and The City, “Easy Come, Easy Go.” It’s the episode with Samantha’s blowjob monologue, and the episode where Carrie cheats on Aidan with Big.)
Haim released two remixes Thursday night: “3 AM” featuring Thundercat, and “Gasoline” featuring Cats star Taylor Swift. I did not think “Gasoline” could be improved upon. I am happy to announce that for the first time in recorded history I was wrong! Taylor Swift screaming “I get sad! You know I get sad” was everything I needed at the end of a long, stressful week.
Kim and Kanye are Konsciously Uncoupling
Per TMZ, Kim filed for divorce Friday afternoon. Her lawyer, Laura Wasser, posted this Instagram:
Absolutely iconic, I can only hope one day Laura Wasser will do the same for me. Devoted Hung Up readers will know that I expect Kanye to accept the role of Hollywood’s Most Divorced Man.
I am now thinking of my second favorite KKW tweet, which gave me a day of fun:
They were married for seven years.
Nicholas Hoult, Sweetie, I’m So Sorry
Conversations With Friends, the superior Sally Rooney novel based on the emails alone, is being adapted into a miniseries for Hulu and the BBC. Jemima Kirke is objectively perfect casting, and I like Sasha Lane a lot. Alison Oliver is a newcomer, and I don’t have any opinions about her. But Joe Alwyn …………. Joe Alwyn!
I am on the right side of history on the issue of Joe Alwyn: he is hot. He is not hot in a way that photographs well, not hot in a way that necessarily translates to on-camera charisma, but he is hot in a way that when you are standing right in front of him, you think to yourself, “Oh.” And maybe your next thought is: “This is what Taylor Swift is singing all those songs about.”
The Favourite kind of gets at Alywn’s gifts and appeal, except for the fact that he is absolutely and in every way outshone by his more talented tethered Nicholas Hoult. Watch Hoult’s work in that movie: it is a completely sly and delightful performance, one of my favorites of that year. A lesser actor would suck all the oxygen out of the room, trying to compete with the Colman-Weisz-Stone trio. Instead, he plays with them, lets them punk him, and the movie is better for it. Of all the British men that look essentially alike — Sam Claflin, Dan Stevens, someone else whose name I can’t remember — Nicholas Hoult is the best. And he’s part of the holy Skins trinity.
If only he’d stop making those lame Drake Doremus Closer cosplay movies!
Julia Roberts, turn your comments on!
I scrolled past a lot of Valentine’s Day posts last weekend that were fine-to-lame. This one, courtesy of Julia Roberts, ruled:
The only unfortunate thing about this Martin Scorsese essay is that he wrote it for H*rpers. And the only other unfortunate thing about the Martin Scorsese essay is that he did not address the glasses discourse, which is, again, important.
I can do all things through Monica’s manicure, which strengthens me!
I am choosing to ignore the fact that Olivia Wilde has decided to claim a man publicly on Rihanna’s internet: This was Shia LaBeouf shade.
I profiled Dionne Warwick for this week’s Billboard!
This is not important at all, but: one source for this story was her niece, the social media strategist Brittani Warrick, and also author of this incredible tweet:
Yes, I asked her about this. And yes, it makes sense to me!
The Bless His Heart Beat
Thank you, Nancy Meyers.
That’s all this week. Thank you for reading The Friday Post! Have a good weekend, and here’s a list of mutual aid groups in Texas I’m supporting this week. If you feel like giving, or just sharing: