Two years ago, I embarked on a crusade: I
removed every social media application from
my phone save for Snapchat and YouTube. I
got rid of TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, Face-
book, Pinterest — all in an effort to improve my
mental health and mitigate my growing phone
addiction. During the pandemic, I would cycli-
cally download and delete these apps, a bit like
a toxic relationship. Of course, I still have full
access to some sites like Instagram, Twitter
and Tumblr on my laptop, so I haven’t totally
removed myself from the proverbial grid.
The interactions I was still having with social
media, either on my computer or on my occasion-
al “cheat days,” were still negatively affecting my
mental health. I continued to fall prey to the com-
parison and isolation that pervade social media,
and after some time of quietly dealing with these
repercussions, my crusade was clocked by a real-
ization. My issues weren’t coming from the social
media sites themselves, but from the content I
was seeing on them. My Instagram and TikTok
feeds were a personal hellhole of unachievable
beauty standards, upsetting news, even more
upsetting memes and users flaunting lifestyles I
could only hope to afford.
All of this is to say that Instagram, Tumblr
and TikTok are not inherently bad or bad for
you, but their algorithms, or how these apps
decided what content I would and wouldn’t
see, were bad. Or, more accurately, I had trained
the algorithm badly. So my crusade changed. I
was no longer removing these apps from my life
altogether. Rather, I began asking myself, how
do I make social media serve me? What I dis-
covered through various guides and videos was
that it is entirely possible to train my algorithm
to show me content that improves my time
online — bands and shows that I like, people
that represent me and actually good memes.
So after almost a year and a half of experiment-
ing, I can proudly present four steps on how to
change your social media algorithm, and what
this change can do for you.
1. Budget your likes, follows and comments
We’ll start easy with the foundational step of
this process — not every single post that comes
across your feed or messages deserves your
digital currency. I know, I know, it’s tempting
to like every Instagram post or YouTube video
that you click on, whether out of habit or a sense
of obligation, but this is one of the most damag-
ing things you can do in the quest for the perfect
algorithm. For example, I couldn’t understand
why I kept seeing deep-fried TikToks (which
I, respectfully, hate) on my For You Page, until
I realized that it was because my roommate
kept sending me them and I kept liking them.
So I stopped liking and interacting with them
entirely. You can’t always stop people from
sending you posts you may not love on social
media, but you can mitigate how much you
interact with that content. By freely giving likes
and follows to anything and everything, your
algorithm is more likely to continue showing
you that same anything and everything, rather
than curating itself thoughtfully and positively.
2. Interact with things you’re passionate
about
My Instagram Explore page used to be a
messy hodgepodge of anything I paid atten-
tion to beyond a click or a view — hence bud-
geting those likes and shares! Memes or news,
models or cooking, you name it. It was there,
and so was I. So, just as I began to turn away
from giving a like to anything I opened, I start-
ed furiously liking only the content I really
loved. Any Florence + The Machine post on
my Instagram Explore page? Like. A “Down-
ton Abbey” scene on my TikTok For You page?
Comment. Whatever the equivalents are for
you, start interacting with them when you see
them on your feed! The more you do that, the
more your social media algorithm will figure
out what topics you’re actually interested in
and start making your feed something you
actually want to view and interact with.
3. Follow people who represent you
Social media, for the longest time, fed into
my own lack of self-confidence. Everywhere
I turned I was met with Victoria’s Secret
models and Paris runways and that began to
destroy me. I don’t say that to slander these
women — I say it to highlight the difficulty of
growing up as an imperfect young woman in
a social media landscape obsessed with being
perfect. Still, I was the one interacting with
impossible beauty standards, so one day I
purged my social media of people who didn’t
represent me. I turned to following and lik-
ing mid-sized women, writers, body positiv-
ity activists, musicians and anyone who I saw
myself in. Maybe for you, this means following
more people of color, individuals with disabili-
ties or members of the LGBTQ+ community.
Soon, though, your feed could saturated with
people and accounts that reflect you and
inspire you to be the best achievable version of
yourself possible. There’s a way to escape that
unachievable version of beauty and happiness,
and all it takes is a reorientation of who you
allow to grace your social media.
4. Stop hate-following
Why do you still follow that girl from high
school whose life choices you simply reject?
Seriously, why? Don’t tell me, I know the
answer because I did it too — and still do, if I’m
totally honest.
I am Sisyphus and hate-following is my boul-
der.
Why do we do it? Why keep following people
whose Snapchat stories leave you red in the face
and with a sour taste in your mouth? For the
drama, mostly. Getting angry over what some-
one posts is like a hit of adrenaline, but despite
that fleeting high, it is unhealthy. We are left
with an overload of negativity invading our
mental health that can have tangible effects on
our real life, such as increased anger or obses-
sion with others’ lives.
How do you think I feel after watching that-
girl-from-high-school’s Instagram story? Not
any better about myself, I can tell you that.
Unfollow the people you know you can’t stand
— I’ll do it if you do — and, if you still crave a bit
of drama, vent to a roommate or watch “River-
dale.” That’s what I do.
***
It’s no secret that social media can have
negative effects on mental health — we’ve
known this for a long time. Social media sites
are “designed to be addictive and are associat-
ed with anxiety, depression, and even physical
ailments,” and can instigate jealousy toward
others or a crippling sense of FOMO — “Fear
of Missing Out” for those of you who missed
the memo. It is difficult to express, personally,
how growing up in the social media age was
damaging to my perception of self and the out-
side world, and I know I’m not alone in feeling
this.
However, half this battle is what we con-
sume on social media, not just the consump-
tion itself. I understand that, and because it
would be foolish of me to suggest that we all
delete all of our social media all at once, I want
others to understand this as well. Today we are
all so deeply invested in our online presence,
and considering we spent over two hours on
social media every day in 2020, I don’t see this
investment losing traction. If we’re going to
continue to live in the virtual landscape, why
shouldn’t we make it as comfortable and safe
as possible? It takes time and honestly a lot of
concentrated effort to create a welcoming and
positive digital environment for oneself, but
that time and effort are more than worth it in
the long run.
“Eternals” was always bound to be
weird.
First and foremost, the Eternals
are the brainchild of Jack Kirby, the
oft-neglected creative engine of Mar-
vel, renowned and cherished for his
creativity and wacky artistry. For ref-
erence, the visual designs of “Doctor
Strange” and “Thor: Ragnarok” are
heavy with the fruits of his labor.
It’s also got a truly gonzo, behe-
moth cast that throws together a
dozen names from disparate corners
of the acting world, including the likes
of Angelina Jolie (“Come Away”) and
Kumail Nanjiani (“The Lovebirds”)
— that’s right, Angelina and Kumail,
co-stars.
Perhaps most bafflingly, it’s helmed
by director Chloé Zhao. Yes, the
Zhao who just won Best Picture for
“Nomadland,” a quiet indie film about
the woes of a transient working class
in post-recession rural America.
“Eternals” was always bound to be
weird, most of all for a Marvel movie.
And woefully, wonderfully, it is. There’s
on-location shooting, with natural light-
ing and limited green screen! There’s
absolutely no character from any other
Marvel movie present! And … there’s
sex! Chaste, tame, downright boring
sex, but sexy sex times all the same!
The film is of biblical, operatic scale
— opening with a title crawl, the film
throws out colored and capitalized
words to describe a Marvelized cre-
ation myth that will be the first of many
moments of exposition. The Eternals, a
race of immortal, preternaturally beau-
tiful space gods, are sent to Earth by the
Celestials, another race of space gods
(these ones giant and not at all attrac-
tive), to safeguard humanity from the
predatory Deviants — stringy space
beasts that look like wolves and lizards
and wolf-lizards and have the grimy,
prismatic sheen of oil on water.
Their one rule: Only punch some-
thing if it’s a Deviant. Otherwise, sit
back and watch as humanity devel-
ops across the millennia. The fall of
Tenochtitlan? Not their problem. The
dropping of nuclear bombs on Japan?
Not the mission. Thanos snapping his
fingers and murdering literally half of
everything? That’s chump change —
trust in the Celestials.
After thousands of years, a Devi-
ant finally arrives in London and tries
to bite off the head of Gemma Chan
(“Let Them All Talk”). Bam — the
film begins, time to get the band back
together.
“Eternals” is a janiform crea-
ture: Each strength is matched by
an imperfect foil, producing a film
composed of conjoined blessings and
curses left and right.
For one, there is a whole lot of talk-
ing. Zhao’s strength is quiet character
dramas, and this sensitivity and focus
on the tender and the personal is abso-
lutely present in “Eternals.” Charac-
ters quip and squabble and break up
and make up, communicating with
each other clearly and without reser-
vation. Sometimes this ventures into
the cardinal sin of a visual medium
— telling rather than showing, a crime
Zhao rarely commits in her filmogra-
phy. “Eternals” exposits like no other,
frequently punctuating the film with
awkward flashbacks that themselves
are mostly the characters standing in
a circle hashing it out, grinding the
pace to a yawning halt.
It doesn’t help that the characters
are thinly-drawn and weirdly poor
acting abounds. With 10 Eternals and
a few other supporting players, there
is precious little screen-time to go
around. Chan, who receives the lion’s
share of minutes in her role as Sersi, a
people-lover with powers of transmu-
tation, struggles to emote in more than
one way. Richard Madden (“1917”)
does well as a brooding Superman
clone but lacks any and all chemistry
with Chan, with whom his Ikaris is
supposed to be hopelessly in love. Don
Lee (“Start-Up”) is fun to watch as
Gilgamesh, a bruiser who fantastically
bitch-slaps monsters with galore, but
often fumbles the delivery of his lines.
Lia McHugh (“Songbird”) barks her
dialogue as ever-adolescent illusion-
ist Sprite. Jolie as the mentally ill war
goddess Thena; a gloriously buff Nan-
jiani as Kingo, a Bollywood movie star
with finger guns; Lauren Ridloff (“The
Sound of Metal”) as a super-speedy
Makkari; Barry Keoghan (“The Green
Knight”) as the jerkishly moralistic
mind-controller Druig; Brian Tyree
Henry (“The Woman in the Window”)
as Phastos, a really good engineer that
can make magic blueprints; and Salma
Hayek (“The Roads Not Taken”) as
Ajak, the healer and motherly matri-
arch of the team — are all charming
and wonderful in their own ways, but
have pitifully little to do.
If you got tired reading through
that exhaustive gallery, well — yeah.
This lethargizing focus on feelings
means that, despite most characters
being more or less one-note, the film is
completely character-driven — it’s all
about people forming convictions and
acting accordingly, never beholden
to the plot. Everyone has a personal
ethos, and it’s a delight watching them
realize them in ways that run counter
to what one has come to expect from
Marvel fare.
“Eternals” still has some of the usual
stakes and tropes of a Marvel movie —
the world is ending (oh no!) and char-
acters are wont to shout nonsense like
forming a “uni-mind” and trying to
stave off the “mad weary” (which is
actually spelled “mahd wy’ry,” because
of course it is). The CGI baddies are
bland and boring and perhaps the big-
gest disappointment of the film, mak-
ing little sense and acting in baffling,
ultimately impotent ways.
Where “Eternals” begins to shine
as maybe something special is in the
locus of conflict. It’s not really about
beating up some bad guy. These
threats exist, but the dilemma isn’t
external, it’s entirely internal — not
a question of will our heroes save the
day, but should our heroes save the
day, how should they save the day. It’s
ponderous, contemplative — what’s
worth more, one life now or ten lives
later? Which is nobler, loyalty to a
cause or loyalty to those you love?
In some ways, “Eternals” is self-
reflexive of the superhero genre as a
whole. The Eternals grapple with the
questions the audience often has look-
ing in — why do super-powered folk
primarily use their gifts to punch stuff?
Can’t they — shouldn’t they — do more?
The irony is not lost when Nanjiani’s
Kingo, who endeavors to filmically
document the Eternals’ adventures,
shouts, “We need action scenes,” as he
blasts monsters in the face with lethal
and admittedly thrilling precision.
“Eternals,” is a thorny, philosophi-
cally rich, audacious sci-fi epic. Its
greatest irony is that it’s overlong while
all the while feeling unfinished — if
only there were a little more develop-
ment here, a few more minutes there.
But within that ill-constructed chas-
sis is a bounty. Under Zhao’s direction,
it’s beautifully shot, the visual effects
are beautifully rendered and by some
miracle, it sidesteps the cacophony
of Chrises and populates itself with
faces and bodies that reflect the world
we live in. It struggles under its own
weight, but it does not crash. Flawed
but meaty and, above all, interesting —
a singular entry in the MCU.
The fact of the matter is that comic
book movies and blockbusters at large
are the most dominant genre on the
planet, with a death knell nowhere in
sight. “Eternals” takes big, ambitious
swings. They may not land quite right,
but if more blockbusters go the route
of “Eternals,” cinema will be all the
better for it.
Content warning: abuse, sexual
assault
The first time I saw University of Mich-
igan alum Andrew Lippa’s “The Wild
Party” was when I was a freshman in high
school. It was a time when I loved literally
every single musical I listened to on Spo-
tify, but still, this production excited me.
It was my first time going to a theatre that
wasn’t housed in my school or dedicated to
national tours.
It felt like I was watching “real” theatre.
I loved every moment of it. I remember the
show so vividly. It explored how abuse and
addiction affect each other, and how adult
themes can be explored in theatre. As I left
the theatre, it felt like I was stepping into
adulthood, as being able to watch a story
of abuse without being talked down to felt
validating as a young person.
I don’t feel like that anymore. “Wild
Party” isn’t a story that validates me. I didn’t
realize that until weeks after sitting in the
Mendelssohn Theatre on Oct. 16, watching
University Production’s “The Wild Party.”
This is a critique of the story, of the
characters and nothing else. I have noth-
ing short of praise for the actors and tech-
nicians working on “Wild Party.” Their
work made the production vibrate with a
pandemic’s worth of energy waiting to be
released.
This is a critique of Andrew Lippa, a
U-M alum, and his lack of awareness and
inability to update a problematic script.
The story of “Wild Party” was not con-
ceived by Lippa. Adapted from the long-
form poem of the same name by Joseph
Moncure March, “Wild Party” represents
the superfluous freedom of living in the
1920s. (How free were the ’20s when only
white men were allowed to vote?)
The musical carries a lack of aware-
ness in the way it represents its protago-
nist, Queenie. Queenie is a woman who
has lived as a vaudeville dancer, enjoying
herself through sex. That is the length of
Queenie’s textual personality. Instead,
the script focuses on the way she looks,
describing her with lyrics such as “her
face was a tinted mask of snow,” “her legs
were built to drive men mad” and even
“she liked her lovers violent.” Lippa estab-
lishes Queenie as a figurehead of sexual
promiscuity. Yet, nothing else of Queenie’s
personality or history is explored besides
her sexuality. Instead, Lippa limits what
Queenie can be as a protagonist, letting the
focus fall to Queenie’s abuser: Burrs.
We never hear about the complexity
of their relationship besides understand-
ing that it is abusive. How am I supposed
to understand Queenie as a woman when
we are robbed of her individual story as
it exists outside of her relationship with
men? Queenie as a character has so much
more internally to explore rather than the
relationships she has with her partner
Burrs and new lover Mr. Black.
Still, we watch these two men speak for
her. She is sexually assaulted in the first 10
minutes of the show, only for the script to
use the event as a catalyst for a wild party.
Queenie uses the party as a way to escape
the trauma she experienced, but the script
avoids the assault in favor of focusing on
the love triangle between Queenie, Burrs
and Mr. Black instead.
How much agency can a character have
in deciding to throw a party? Not enough
to make up for two and a half hours of men
talking over her. Calling her a “child,” a
“whore,” a “slut,” a “bitch,” all culminat-
ing in her supposedly “poor and virginal”
nature, a paradox Lippa is unable to speak
appropriately on.
Why does virginity need to be a plot
point in Queenie’s story?
Why does a chorus need to sing over a
depiction of assault?
Why are theatres outside of Broadway
so opposed to the idea of updating scripts?
Why do licensing agencies, schools, direc-
tors, producers, everyone that controls
theatre hate the idea of changing words
that have rotted with time?
Why did the University production not
change its language for the show? Why rely
on a misogynistic script? Why leave the d
slur? Why have Mr. Black murder Burrs
instead of Queenie? Why? Why does a man
have to save the day? Why, why, why?
These
are
rhetorical
questions;
they don’t need an answer because the
answer is clear to everyone except Lippa.
I feel guilty having watched this musi-
cal twice, enabling Lippa to profit off of
a script that does so much harm and so
little good.
I loved “Wild Party” in high school
because it allowed me to see explicit
themes in theatre for the first time. Now,
I don’t need to see abuse for the sake of
feeling validated at my age. I’ve come to
understand that explicit themes that war-
rant trigger warnings must be offered
alongside artistic justification.
Shrouded in layers of misogyny, “Wild
Party’s” truth comes from the perspec-
tive of a privileged white man. This is not
satire. I find “Wild Party” to be an escapist
pipe dream for Lippa to indulge his deeply
harmful desires.
Somewhere along the line, Lippa lost
Queenie as a protagonist, shifting her to
be a fixture to validate the male-centric
themes that make the musical easier to
write but so much worse to watch. “Wild
Party” needs to be better. And so does
Lippa.
How did we come to this?
A review of ‘Wild Party
MADDIE AGNE
Daily Arts Writer
MATTHEW EGGERS
Daily Arts Writer
Design by Lindsay Farb
‘Eternals’: A beautiful, rare Marvel flick, equally awkward and audacious
JACOB LUSK
Daily Arts Writer
This image is from the official trailer for “Eternals,” distributed by Walt Disney Studios
Motion Pictures.
Arts
Wednesday, November 17, 2021 — 3
Social Media 101: How (and why) to fix your algorithm
Design by Kristina Miesel
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