“The Big Bang Theory” aired on CBS for 

over 12 years, accumulating around 11,700 
minutes of runtime or 195 hours. That’s the 
equivalent of over eight full days of straight 
footage. Even if you didn’t sleep for a week, you 
could not finish the entirety of “The Big Bang 
Theory.” 

The series ran on CBS starting in 2007. The 

sitcom revolved around a group of four geeky 
friends and their inability to assimilate into 
“normal” society. Though highly educated, the 
male cast of the Big Bang Theory is portrayed 
as stereotypical nerds and hopeless with 
women. Throughout the entire run of the 
show, Kaley Cuoco is a series regular. She is 
notable on the show for being the only “normal 
person,” the viewers’ way into the nerdy and 
geeky world of the boys. While there are 
various problematic elements of her character 
and the show’s humor, she had an otherwise 
successful and critically unnotable career.

However, 
“The 
Big 
Bang 
Theory” 

concluded in 2019, with most of the cast 
jumping ship to pursue other interests. Once 
freed from CBS’s “Big Bang” purgatory, Cuoco 
got involved in various new projects. She 
started her own production company in 2017 
called Yes, Norman Productions. Since then, 
Cuoco has starred in and developed multiple 
new and dynamic projects.

In the past year, I have twice encountered 

Cuoco entirely by accident. “The Flight 
Attendant” was released by HBO in 2020 
and won Cuoco a new level of critical acclaim. 
Cuoco works both in front of and behind the 
camera. She is an executive producer behind 
the screen while, onscreen, she plays the 
troubled, boozy protagonist Cassie who gets 
caught up in a larger corporate-spy plot. 

In the show, her character wakes up next 

to her brutally murdered one-night stand in 
Bangkok. The man has his throat completely 
slit open, and party girl Cassie is completely 
unprepared for the sight. Recalling Amanda 
Knox, an American charged with a crime 

abroad who was wrongfully sentenced to 
26 years in an Italian prison, Cassie makes 
the executive decision to clean up the crime 
scene and any evidence of her staying the 
night. Picking up broken glass, Cassie fumbles 
around the apartment, trying to keep her 
hysteria in check.

Cuoco, so often portraying a street-smart, 

“normal” girl in “The Big Bang Theory,” gets 
to stretch her emotions. In a single scene, she 
transforms from a confident, irresponsible 
party girl to scared, traumatized and panicked. 
Cuoco makes this transition convincingly and 
maintains the viewer’s sympathies. 

Most American audiences have seen a 

bevy of crime-solving shows. From “Bones” 
to “CSI,” American audiences know what 
not to do at a crime scene. Cassie breaks all 
the rules. She leaves her fingerprints on the 
murder weapon after picking it up, she trails 
blood across the floor and she answers the 
door to shoo away a maid. However, despite all 
Cassie’s obvious blunders, it’s hard for her not 
to remain a sympathetic character. 

The truest test of Cuoco’s acting ability is 

not her ability to sashay down a hotel lobby, but 
rather her ability to remain relatable during a 
crisis. Watching Cuoco cleaning up a crime 
scene is heart-pounding. She channels the 
right amount of panicked and overwhelmed 
without seeming too tacky or over-acted. She 
calls her network and family, trying to get 
advice without implicating anyone she loves 
in the mess she woke up in. At that moment, 
with the information the show provides, the 
most logical course of action is Cassie’s chosen 
path. Cuoco and the script are able to make a 
convincing case for Cassie’s reactions. Thanks 
to this careful framing, instead of yelling 
at the television, I remained surprisingly 
sympathetic toward Cassie. 

“The Flight Attendant” has enjoyed rave 

reviews since it first aired in November 2020. 
The show, Cuoco and the cast were nominated 
for the Golden Globes this past month. In a 
recent Variety article, Cuoco said that “The 
Flight Attendant” was “the highlight of (her) 
entire career.”

But the real highlight of Cuoco’s career is 

what she did with superhero cartoons.

It’s not often that I completely forget where 

I know an actress or voice from. I pride myself 
on being able to recognize voices and faces 
on screen. When watching animated movies 
and shows, though unable to identify the 
voice actors, I know voices from previous 
characters. Sometimes my ability to discern 
and identify voices ruins the immersion but I 
can shake it off.

Twice Kaley Cuoco has eluded me. The first 

time was in “The Flight Attendant.” The second 
time was in HBO’s “Harley Quinn.” Another 
offering from Cuoco’s production company, 
“Harley Quinn” effectively terraformed the 
comic book media landscape by introducing the 
commercial possibility of feminist, irreverent 
television for comic book fans. Harley Quinn, 
voiced by Cuoco, has her vices: a bad ex (the 
Joker) and something to prove. 

The character is narcissistic and selfish but 

unapologetically so. She is confident in her 
femininity and unafraid of violence. In a way, 
Harley Quinn of the “Harley Quinn” TV show 
is a conceptual predecessor to Cassie in “The 
Flight Attendant.”

Portrayals of Harley Quinn in the DC 

comic book universe can be a mixed bag. 
Sometimes Harley is a seductress, more 
archetype than character. Other times, 
Harley is inscrutable, both victim and 
perpetrator, with motivations unknowable 
to Batman’s cohort. It’s not uncommon for 
Harley to be used as a plot device. Even 
recent comics centering around Harley 
begin with an unsteady understanding 

of who the character is. Comics cannot 
reconcile Harley as a “wild,” sexually 
active, abused woman and simultaneously 
extremely educated. Any portrayal of 
Harley as a multifaceted woman and an 
individual is undercut by the comic book’s 
persistent sexualization of her.

However, in the “Harley Quinn” TV show, 

viewers can understand Harley as a complex 
woman. She is no longer inscrutable with 
vaguely referenced motivations and is 
not simply an insane Joker lackey; she is a 
woman who has made her own choices and 
is learning to live with herself. The show 
picks up right after the Joker and Harley 
have broken up for the last time. Harley is 

distraught and she throws a fit, unable to be 
comforted by her close friend Poison Ivy.

Similar to Cassie, Harley is not a great 

person. Both women have made many 
mistakes and hurt people close to them, 
repeatedly engaging in compulsive, harmful 
behavior. But even in crisis, both women 
remain real and sympathetic. Harley’s 
struggle to define herself apart from her 
disastrous relationship with the Joker feels 
natural. What else characterizes one’s mid-
20s if not messy, modern relationships and 
having to grapple with enormous emotions 
that feel too large for our bodies? Harley 
makes mistake after mistake but she’s 
undergoing a learning process. She is fallible 
and sympathetic.

In creating an unapologetically loud and 

vulgar female-lead superhero cartoon show, 
“Harley Quinn” breaks the male-fantasy 
comic book tropes in half. From the canon 
of the DC Universe, “Harley Quinn” pieces 
together a modern narrative that bridges 
continuity gaps and isn’t afraid to laugh 
at the source material’s idiosyncrasies. 
The show is similar to “The Lego Batman 
Movie” in that it acutely understands 
Batman’s role in popular culture. Comic 
book writers tend to take Batman incredibly 
seriously. They see the billionaire in tights 
as 
regimented 
and 
silently 
tortured. 

“Harley Quinn” understands Batman as a 
workaholic. The show is LGBTQ+ inclusive 
and absolutely hilarious to watch. Under 
Cuoco’s leadership, it proves DC comics’ 
audience is composed of more than the 
“stereotypical geek” characters in “Big Bang 
Theory.” Geeky girls and so-called “normal” 
girls alike consume superhero narratives. I 
often pass it along to my non-DC comic fan 
friends as their first foray into comic book 
media.

From sit-com to 2D animation, Cuoco 

has a lot to offer. More so than merely being 
a versatile actress, Cuoco shakes up the 
industry. “The Big Bang Theory” made Cuoco 
a household name, but “The Flight Attendant” 
and “Harley Quinn” show is Cuoco’s legacy 
thus far.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
8 — Wednesday, March 17, 2021 

John Mayer has worn many different 

labels over the last 20 years — popstar, guitar 
virtuoso, songwriter, comedian, talk show 
host, 
heartthrob, 
douchebag, 
pompous, 

misogynist, abuser. These labels create an 
ever-present maelstrom around Mayer, a war 
between those who hate him and those who 
love him.

When Mayer made a TikTok account last 

week, the response he received was less than 
enthusiastic. The maelstrom raged in his 
comments: Taylor Swift fans had discovered 
his account. They were quick to remember 
Swift’s song “Dear John,” where she wrote 
about their relationship in a less than flattering 
light. 

“John don’t you think 19 was too young?” — 

16.2k likes; “the original indie boy gaslighter” 
— 8.5k likes; “hello mr old man victim 
complex” — 51k likes; “funny how taylor’s 
one song about you is better than your entire 
discography” — 2.6k likes.

By Mayer’s third and fourth post, his fans 

fought back in the comments: 

“People really don’t understand this dude is 

one of the most talented guitar players of our 
time” — 25.7k likes; “Y’all actin like John isnt a 
musical legend” — 6.8k likes; “at the end of the 
day he’s still one of the best songwriters of the 
last 100 years” — 2.8k likes

This war of opinions over John Mayer is not 

unique to TikTok. Look up his name on Google 
or Twitter and you’ll see a hodgepodge of 
articles and tweets saying one thing or another 

about Mayer. (My personal favorite was the 
headline “Is John Mayer a douchebag?” It’s the 
question mark for me.) I encountered shades of 
this split opinion when it was announced that 
I was writing this article to some other editors 
on The Daily, with more than one person 
expressing their genuine dislike for Mayer. 

The debate around Mayer mainly boils 

down to two groups: those who condemn 
Mayer for his actions, and those who celebrate 
him for his musical achievements. Yet, within 
these two groups, the line between person and 
musician is often blurred.

It is common to hear someone who doesn’t 

like John Mayer for, well, being John Mayer, 
also say that his music is bad. Exhibit A can be 
seen in the above TikTok comment, “funny 
how taylor’s one song about you is better than 
your entire discography.” And yes, I get that 
these are TikTok comments with about 10 
layers of irony on top of them, but I think it’s 
reasonable to say that there is some reflection 
of real thought and belief behind them. That, 
although the comment was likely just written 
as a joke, there is an underlying belief that 
because Mayer is allegedly a bad person, he’s 
also a bad musical artist.

Among guitarists, there are those who still 

view Mayer as just someone who writes pop 
songs. They see him as someone who’s basic, 
someone who isn’t a true guitarist because he 
appeals to a large audience. You’ll often find 
that those who say this are also quick to bring 
up Mayer’s past relationships and what has 
been written about them as proof that not only 
is he “just a popstar,” but he’s also the typical 
popstar. The type of popstar who goes around 
LA partying. They use this assumption of who 

he is as evidence that he makes basic, bland 
music. Because that’s what popstars do, right?

For people who like Mayer, saccharine 

levels of adulation can exist. To call him one of 
the best songwriters of the last 100 years is, of 
course, a bit hyperbolic. On his subreddit, one 
user said that they watched his new TikTok 
video “15 times” because it was “so funny.” 
I mean take a look at that video I just linked. 
It was moderately amusing, but to watch 
it 15 times? Really? Many of his hardcore 
supporters refer to him affectionately as just 
“John” and they’re eager to point out that not 
only is he a fantastic guitarist, but he’s also a 
great person for reason X, Y and Z.

When I started writing this article I found 

myself falling into a bit of the same trap.

I wanted to write about Mayer as a 

musician. How when he started playing guitar 
as a teenager, he became so obsessed with it 
that his parents took him to see a psychiatrist 
twice. How he went to Berklee College of 
Music, dropped out after a year and within 
four years was signed to a major record label.

I wanted to write about his range as a 

musician. How he’s touched everything 
from pop to blues to folk to country. How he’s 
performed and collaborated with all-time great 
guitarists B.B. King and Eric Clapton, among 
others. How Eric Clapton, the second-best 

guitarist of all time according to Rolling Stone, 
said “I don’t think he even knows how good he 
is.”

I wanted to write about how, while Mayer’s 

most well known for his pop records, he 
currently tours with Dead & Company, a spin-
off of the Grateful Dead. Dead & Company are 
anything but pop. Their concerts are basically 
long, improvisational jam sessions filled with 
solos for every member on stage. Each song 
they play is different every night. If touring 
with Dead & Company as the lead guitarist 
isn’t an indication of being a great musician, 
I’m not sure what is.

I wanted to write about John Mayer as a 

songwriter. In an age where if you go into the 
Top 50 on Spotify, it seems like almost every 
song has about 25 different writers. But every 
single Mayer song has one name next to it: 
John Mayer. 

The albums and songs he’s written have 

so much range and variety that he’s easily 
my most listened to artist, because he can 
fit practically any mood. I can listen to a face 
melting solo from the bluesy “Slow Dancing in 
a Burning Room,” cry to “Wheel” or dance to 
“New Light.” When I’m playing music for my 
Kansas-raised parents, “Roll it on Home,” a 
song with country twang, is one of their most 
requested songs. It feels as though whatever 
type of music Mayer tries to make, he masters.

Then I wanted to write about John Mayer 

the person. I wanted to make a case that, you 
know what, Mayer had changed. He was this 
and now he’s this. 

On Jan. 31, 2010, Taylor Swift won a 

Grammy Award for Album of the Year with 
her sophomore album, Fearless, the most 
awarded country album in history. 

On Feb. 15, 2016, Taylor Swift won a 

Grammy Award for Album of the Year for her 
fifth album, 1989, making her the first female 
artist in history to win the highly coveted 
award twice. 

On March 14, 2021, Taylor Swift will be the 

favorite to win a Grammy Award for Album of 
the Year for her eighth album, folklore, which 
would make her the first female artist in 
history to win this award three times and the 
first artist to win Album of the Year for albums 
of three different genres — country, pop and 
alternative. If nothing else could convince 
you that Taylor Swift has range — epitomizes 
range, really — that should. 

Taking a walk down memory lane and her 

timeline of albums only furthers the point.

Even when Taylor Swift was solely 

a country singer, she still had range, 
transitioning between being hopelessly in 
love on her debut single “Tim McGraw” to 
scathing and unforgiving in “Picture to Burn” 
— and those are just on her self-titled debut 

album. Following that, she broke countless 
records and made history many times over 
with the variety of songs, sounds and themes 
that is Fearless. From her wistful “Romeo and 
Juliet”-themed song “Love Story” (one of her 
most well-known songs among fans and non-
fans alike) to the heartbreaking track “White 
Horse” to the iconic “You Belong With Me,” 
Swift exemplified range. 

With Speak Now, she continued to prove 

that she was not just a one-note country singer, 
offering sad songs for her fans to relate to 
(“Dear John” and “Never Grow Up”) along 
with head-banging bops, like “Haunted” and 
“Sparks Fly.”

And then you reach her fourth album Red, 

which, in many ways, can’t be categorized. 
Charts and streaming services label it as her 
fourth country album, but Red is truly a genre 
of its own. Centering around the titular color, 
Swift managed to encapsulate every feeling 
and thought that you could ever associate with 
red: petty anger (“We Are Never Ever Getting 
Back Together”), painful, scarring sadness 
(“All Too Well”), incandescent joy (“22”) and 
so much more. While many critics scoff at 
Red’s lack of sonic cohesion, that’s exactly the 
point. The songs aren’t supposed to sound the 
same because the color red never means the 
same thing twice. 

When you enter Swift’s pop eras, her 

musical range grows. Though 1989 was her 
first obviously pop album, she created it like 
she’d been writing pop muswic her whole 
life. And then, following her “disappearance” 
in 2016, she returned with an album that 
was the antithesis to 1989: reputation. The 
popstar-princess colors of 1989 turned into 
blacks, golds and greens as she said “Look 
What You Made Me Do” and became the 
snake that others accused her of being. 
Somehow, following that, she made another 
180 with pastel-tinged Lover, that had a love 
song for every kind of love there is. 1989 and 
reputation are opposites, without a doubt, and 
yet reputation and Lover are equally distinct 
… but 1989 and Lover sound as different from 
each other as two albums ever could. Does that 
spell out range to you? 

And then you reach today: folklore and 

evermore, two sister albums that are similar 
in how they turn inward and feature thematic 
messages but differ so vastly from one another. 
Where folklore is grayscale sadness, depth and 
lessons learned, evermore is the earth-toned 
soundtrack to fictional story after story. 

Only Taylor Swift could change her 

whole persona (and Instagram feed) as she 
switches from black-and-white newsprint 
to bubblegum pastels to woodsy grays and 
browns, 
transitioning 
between 
sounds, 

albums and stories, so effortlessly.

Even as she changes her sound, her 

outfits and her musical genres, she remains 
true to herself always, as evidenced by her 
songwriting and story-telling abilities that 
have never once faltered from Taylor Swift 
to evermore. Her music and sound may have 
range — pivoting from one thing to another as 
she grew up, learned lessons and found herself 
— but her lyrics never waver. They only grow 
stronger. 

Sometimes I wonder where she’ll go next. 

In some ways, it feels like she’s done all there 

is to do when it comes to music. Every Taylor 
Swift album/era feels like a complete reversal 
of what she previously did, and how many 
more times can a person do that? She never 
seems to run out of themes to embody or songs 
to create. But knowing Taylor Swift, her 10th 
studio album (not including her rerecordings) 
is going to be just as different, just as new, as all 
of her past endeavors. 

To say that Taylor Swift has range is, 

frankly, an understatement. In actuality, she is 
range. She personifies it. She owns it.

John Mayer: A man of many colors

Musical range: Taylor’s version

Read more at 
MichiganDaily.com

PETER HUMMER

Daily Community Culture Beat Editor

SABRIYA IMAMI
Daily Film Beat Editor

Design by Tejal Mahajan

Design by Ahmad Kady

Kaley Cuoco breaks the patriarchy

ELIZABETH YOON
Book Review Beat Editor

Design by Erin Ruark

