“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