“The 
Land 
of 
Steady 

Habits” opens with a mundane 
yet vaguely terrifying and 
seemingly 
endless 
supply 

of bath towels. And kitchen 
supplies. 
And 
toothbrush 

holders. All things that should 
mark a quintessential, white-
picket-fence life in suburbia. 
Instead, 
there’s 
barely 
a 

shadow of this lifestyle and, 
in its place, are the scattered 
remains of a financial shark’s 
attempt to go rogue. Though 
interesting in theory, “The 
Land of Steady Habits” never 
reaches a climax and remains 
a flat telling of rich white 
people and their problems.

In 
short, 
Netflix’s 
new 

family 
drama 
tackles 
the 

idea that the grass is always 
greener on the other side. Ben 
Mendelsohn (“Ready Player 
One”) has the air of a man 
who was, in his youth, a catch. 
This vibe perfectly matches 
that of his character, Anders, 
who gave up his family and job 
only to realize that not having 
a steady income can have a 
serious impact on a life rooted 
in an affluent Connecticut 
town. 

The most appealing part 

of this movie is the lack of 
in-your-face drama: Anders 
has already left his outwardly 
ideal 
life 
and 
the 
small 

community has adjusted to 
the split of one of its more 
prominent couples. The drama 
that does occur is tinged with 
the subtle tension of a rich 
white suburb that, rather than 

talking about their problems, 
ignores them with alcohol 
and drugs. The screaming 
matches that do occur are 
after someone pops a Xanax 
or one glass of red wine too 
many. The cutthroat nature 
of suburban parents whose 
reputation is at stake fosters 
the kind of crisis that makes 
“The Land of Steady Habits” 
such a compelling, and almost 
laughable, movie to watch. 

While the movie has its 

fair share of surface-level 

drama that’s expected when 
teenagers are doing drugs 
and parents are too involved 
with their own lives to care, 
“The Land of Steady Habits” 
also follows the tumultuous 
experience of being a parent. 
From listening to my parents 
talk about their peers to 
hearing 
new 
ones 
discuss 

the ever-evolving pressures, 
parenthood 
seems 
like 
a 

balancing act that no one has 
mastered. Worry too much and 
your kid might become distant 
and rebellious, care too little 
and the exact same thing can 
happen. The redemption arc 
that 
follows 
after 
Anders 

has a drug-induced epiphany 
about his relationship with his 
son Preston (Thomas Mann, 
“Me and Earl and the Dying 

Girl”) sends a compassionate 
message, that no matter how 
much we mess up there’s 
always going to be some way 
to fix the issue and get back 
the important things in your 
life. 

“Steady 
Habits” 
further 

pushes 
this 
message 
with 

all 
the 
parallels 
between 

Mendelsohn 
and 
Mann’s 

characters. Both Anders and 
Preston have stalled in their 
life, with Anders still hung 
up on his ex-wife and Preston 
living with his mother at 27 
with barely any job prospects. 
They both fool around in their 
lives: Preston with gambling 
and Anders with women, and 
when they realize their lives 
haven’t met their expectations 
both turn to alcohol. It takes 
the death of the endearing 
Charlie 
Ashford 
(Charlie 

Tahan, “I Am Legend”) to 
jar both of them from their 
stupors 
and 
propel 
them 

forward in their lives. Charlie, 
dead before his life even 
started, is what Preston could 
have been had his parents 
cared a little less and forces 
Anders to really consider how 
much he loves his wife and 
son and what he needs to do to 
regain their favor. 

Though supposedly living 

in a land of steady habits, 
it’s obvious that whatever 
these people are, they aren’t 
steady and it really shouldn’t 
be any other way. The movie 
ends with the cliché but 
inspiring message that there’s 
still 
time 
for 
redemption, 

whether you’re 27 getting 
off your parents’ couch or 
60-something and starting a 
new life with a pet turtle. 

How do we define an icon in 2018?

On 
July 
24, 
Gay 
Times 

Magazine tweeted out its Aug. 
2018 cover featuring singer and 
songwriter Lizzo.

“Baby, how you feelin’? GOOD 

AS HELL!” The tweet read. “Get 
to know the iconic singer whose 
body positivity, certified bangers 
and general IDGAF attitude 
have made her a true ally for the 
LGBTQ community.”

The replies came rushing in, 

most of them positive with a 
few notable exceptions. One, in 
particular, caught the musician’s 
eye.

“Ok, 
but 
calling 
Iconic 

someone 
who 
has 
56,000 

followers isn’t a little to much,” 
wrote 
user 
@LivingForMad. 

“Are we going to call now Iconic 
and legends everyone, that’s will 
mean nothing. And I really don’t 
have to know everyone.” [Sic.]

Lizzo was quick to retaliate. 

“MY WORTH = MY ART,” she 
shot back. “Not a number on an 
app.”

The exchange stuck with me 

for 
months 
to 

come, leaving me 
with 
questions 

that 
I 
never 

realized I wanted 
to ask. In true 
Carrie Bradshaw 
fashion, I couldn’t 
help but wonder: 
During the age 
of doing it for 
the ‘gram, what 
distinguishes an 
influencer 
from 

an icon?

Creative 

industries 
have 

always 
valued 

clout. It keeps them relevant, 
even to those who may not feel 
truly invested in entertainment 
or culture. The emergence of 
social media has given rise to a 

new means of quantifying one’s 
reputability: Today, the size of 
an artist’s following is examined 
with perhaps more scrutiny than 
the work they produce.

Few 
in 
the 

fashion industry 
better personify 
this shift than 
Virgil 
Abloh. 

Abloh, 
who 

counts 
Kanye 

West 
and 
Kid 

Cudi as friends 
and 
boasts 

2.7 
million 

Instagram 
followers, 
had 

no formal design 
experience 
before launching 
streetwear label 
Off-White 
in 

2012. Six years later, he was 
named the chief creative officer 
of Louis Vuitton menswear, a 
decision some industry experts 
have attributed to his heady 

Internet presence rather than 
the integrity of his work.

Though 
Abloh 
has 
only 

sent one collection down the 
runway so far, the brand’s parent 
company, Moët Hennessy Louis 
Vuitton (LVMH), has been quick 
to flaunt its shiny new “visionary” 
as the driving force behind its 
recent growth. According to The 
Fashion Law, LVMH’s first half 
report notes “the remarkable 
growth 
at 
Louis 
Vuitton” 

thanks to “the arrival of Virgil 

TESS GARCIA
Daily Style Editor

NETFLIX

ATLANTIC RECORDS

‘Land of Steady Habits’ 
fails as suburban critique

EMMA CHANG

For the Daily

“The Land 
of Steady 
Habits”

Netflix

Abloh, as Menswear Artistic 
Director, whose debut fashion 
show was widely commented 
on across social media, and was 
exceptionally 
well 
received.” 

The inclusion of the social 
media tidbit is definitive proof 
that 
LVMH 
views 
Abloh’s 

Internet following as an asset 
offering tangible returns. Yet 
the question remains: Does the 
devotion of millions of young 
hypebeasts 
equate 
to 
truly 

sustainable “success,” however 
we may choose to define that?

Should we choose to view 

success 
in 
financial 
terms, 

there are clear benefits to 
amassing a sizable following 
online — that is, if you’re 
comfortable 
commodifying 

your own existence. Take Kylie 
Jenner, who can charge up to $1 
million for an Instagram post 
advertising a product. No matter 
how you slice it, that’s one hell of 
a profit for little to no intensive 
labor.

But is the promotion of 

SugarBear Hair Vitamins what 
she’ll be remembered for? Or 
is there something going on 
beneath the surface, after the 
#PaidAds and follower counts 
are stripped away, that will 
permit Jenner to make a lasting 
impact on pop culture as we 
know it?

To some extent, mainstream 

media has always perpetuated 
the notion that “icon” status is a 
prize to be won via some tabloid-
driven 
popularity 
contest. 

However, not everyone places 
real value on that assessment. 
Many 
of 
the 
world’s 
most 

powerful 
tastemakers 
haven 

chosen to turn their back to 
others’ 
evaluations 
of 
their 

influence. After all, none of them 
asked for a world with social 
media in it — why should they 
feel obligated to embrace the 
tropes of the Instagram age? 
Just look at Lizzo, the songstress 
introduced sex-positive lyricism 
to the mainstream with far 
less followers than the average 
Instagram 
model, 
or 
Adam 

Selman, the mastermind behind 
the game-changing chainmail 
gown Rihanna wore to the 2014 
CFDA Awards; some of his posts 
don’t even hit a thousand likes 
(gasp!). Many of our culture’s 
most 
defining 
moments 
are 

created by those who couldn’t 
care less who watches them 
what they do. If anything, an 
artist’s decision to throw social 
norms to the wind makes them 
even more iconic.

Here’s 
what 
I 
think: 
A 

following can help an icon spread 
their message. That increased 
reach can allow them to touch 
more lives than ever, reaffirming 
the value of their work. But 
followers don’t make someone 
iconic. As Lizzo so candidly 
reminded us, it’s about what we 
do with real people in real life, 
not numbers on a tiny app on the 
tiny screen of a tiny phone in our 
(physically or metaphorically 
tiny) hand.

So 
yes, 
@LivingForMad. 

Lizzo is an icon, no matter how 
many followers she does or does 
not have. Not to beat the pun to 
death, but she has every right to 
feel good as hell about that.

During the age 
of doing it for 
the ‘gram, what 
distinguishes an 
influencer from 

an icon?

STYLE NOTEBOOK

FILM REVIEW

6A — Friday, September 21, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

