There’s nothing particularly regenerative about all this, of course. What we’re seeing is, by and large, people who have been in the public eye for a long time going about their business in a way that’s designed to generate news. But perhaps our appetite for its weird edge is reflective of exhaustion with unremarkable relatability and outrage culture more broadly. After the dull, Chris Pratt-ification of pop culture, it tracks that we’d start craving mess and ambivalence again. We need charisma, mythology, narrative. After many cold-hearted years of girlbossery as self-care and the extreme vigilance of the pandemic, perhaps 2022 will bring about the most needed revival of all: falling recklessly, ill-advisedly in love in a way that will likely be a shambles but make for a really great story. When everything could go to shit on a dime, reject modernity, embrace chaos.
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