Borkowski Weekly Media Trends

Boris’s Scotland visit is brilliant…for the SNP

The ‘visit’ is a staple tool of performative political PR. Presence demonstrates that our leaders care, however little they do after they arrive. Similarly, absence is tantamount to a lack of care however much supportive action is happening remotely. This tension sustains a weird, self-perpetuating ritual.

But are some issues too big to be salved by a ‘visit’? Scotland has been in perpetual constitutional crisis since 2013 and this year’s Holyrood election could be the latest to shake the foundations of the union.

Polling points to a powerful SNP majority and support for Scottish independence has consistently outweighed that for the union for months. The combination is a strong mandate for another referendum.

Enter Boris, or whatever’s left of him, who has been persuaded march the 9th Legion beyond Hadrian’s Wall and into Caledonia to ‘save the union’.

Chances of success? The SNP is as embattled as it has been in the past decade. On one flank, disgraced former leader Alex Salmond is lobbing missiles like a chubby poltergeist, and on the other a row over transgender rights has seen young members quit in droves.

And the Scottish electorate is sophisticated and vengeful; just look at the number of seats swinging SNP-Tory and back in recent elections.

This context may have given Boris & Co. the false impression that now is the time to strike. But in our tribal culture, political divisions have calcified and metastasized and even these crises may not be enough to destabilise the SNP.

Far more likely, Boris’s presence will act as a reminder of the factors that drove Scotland to this brink; Brexit, the bungled pandemic response (Boris is perceived to have done much worse than Nicola), Tory austerity, and the general condescension of the English towards the Scots. Get Irvine Welsh and Frankie Boyle (nationalists both) in a room to invent an English Tory bogeyman that symbolises these ills and more, and they could not create a more perfect lightning rod for Scottish nationalist sentiment than Boris Johnson.

At the nadir of SNP unity, and if he’s able to remain lowkey and gaffe-free, Boris’s best-case scenario is probably nil net impact on the polls. But it’s unlikely that even a bloody stalemate will do him any more good than staying put and quietly stoking the SNP’s scandals.

 

Subway’s Tuna Meltdown

If you’ve ever had the misfortune of eating a tuna sandwich from Subway, you probably weren’t eating fresh tuna; in fact, you were eating something that was ‘made from anything BUT tuna’.

Subway have been sued after a recent discovery has found their tuna sub doesn’t even contain fish, following an independent investigation by two Californian residents.

This isn’t the first time Subway have faced widespread criticism over their food (remember when Ireland's Supreme Court found that Subway's bread contained too much sugar to be called bread), and Subway aren’t the only ones – pretty much all of the global brands have some kind of notorious moment in fast-food history.

Sadly, the Teflon fast-food industry will survive the crisis with its reputation unscathed. Fast-food eaters know they are inhaling unhealthy food. When you’ve subconsciously been told that you are ‘Eating Fresh’, this revelation isn’t going to stop you from ordering your weekly Subway. Fast-food brands are impenetrable – if ‘SuperSize Me’ couldn’t kill off McDonald’s, then surely people will keep eating their fish-less Tuna Sub—but the PR just might be bad enough to force Subway to up its nutritional game. 

 

Couture debut draws mixed reactions

Fendi’s latest womenswear collection was a bit… weird. What’s weirder, are the polar-opposite responses to it to be found in the mainstream press and social media. 

The mainstream press loved it. Harper’s Bazaar declared it ‘stunning’. Vogue called it ‘deeply personal’. (They also explained all the references—in case you missed the allusion to the Bloomsbury Group.)

The show marked the Fendi debut of British designer Kim Jones, who has been rightfully celebrated for his work with Dior’s menswear. Jones succeeded the late Karl Lagerfeld as artistic director, joining Silvia Venturini Fendi, the only member of the family still working at the Italian fashion house, early this year to carry the brand forward into the twenty-first century.

And for his debut couture show, they pulled out all the stops. Kate Moss walked alongside her daughter Lila Grace, Naomi Campbell rounded it out in a silver cape, and, for some reason, Demi Moore was there. 

Despite this star-studded cast, many on social media were not impressed. Opinionated fashion influencers @diet_prada didn’t exactly lacerate the collection; instead, they pointed out some repetitive elements and allowed their followers to hate on it in the comment section. (A frequent observation likened Kate Moss’s dark-grey satin dress to a quinceañera outfit.)

Others had more pointed concerns: including a question of whether another white man should have succeeded Karl Lagerfeld, whether men can design for women without objectifying them, and how the models were able safely to travel to Paris despite pandemic restrictions.

Recently, it seems traditional media commentary is often out of step with the hot takes circulating on social media. What can explain this divergence? Are the Vogues, Elles, and Vanity Fairs of the world out of touch with the people who consume fashion? Or does social media simply provoke a more unforgiving (and vocal) audience?

As we discussed this question amongst ourselves, one Trends writer presented a more ominous possibility, taking a cue from Vogue’s ‘5 Things to Know’ piece. It is possible that writers for wide-circulation magazines see themselves as explainers. They imagine themselves on the side of the producers of culture, not its consumers. They thus see fit to educate the mob, and sometimes, they find themselves defending the indefensible.

 

Hammer to Fall?

In the latest scandal to rock Hollywood, screenshots, leaked last week, showed violent sexual messages allegedly sent from Golden-Globe winning actor Armie Hammer to various women. Initial outrage at the messages mostly focussed on the fact that Hammer is married with two children...until more screenshots emerged, featuring fantasies about rape and cannibalism.

Numerous women came forward with screenshots and anecdotes about their alleged relations with Hammer – all of it pitch perfect fodder for gossipers. The messages were all outrageously explicit, made even more salacious by Hammer’s unfaithfulness and, obviously, by his fame. Whilst he was quick to call the claims ‘bullshit’, his lawyer has since said of the messages ‘any interactions with any partner of his, were completely consensual in that they were fully discussed, agreed upon, and mutually participatory’. Hammer has now pulled out of filming three major projects.

In a post-MeToo world, where Hollywood exists as a kind of 2.0 - one that is acquainted with the concepts of accountability and equal rights, if not quite fully integrated with them - what does this mean for Hammer?

This is undoubtedly a tale of a man taking advantage of his power but, unlike many MeToo stories, this case goes beyond comparably simple questions of consent and sexism, to debates about what we, as a society, deem acceptable behaviour within the realms of kink and fetish, addiction and delusion.

Hammer is unlikely to face any legal battles here. Instead, he will have to accept his status as a laughingstock, forever branded as a cannibal, as a freak.

But, whilst Hammer’s reputation will continue to plummet until he is no longer relevant, others will capitalise on the opportunity. In an impeccably timed twist of events, today the news broke that the director of Call Me By Your Name, Luca Guadagnino, and Hammer’s former co-star, Timothée Chalamet, are reunited for a new project: a cannibal love story.

Borkowski Weekly Media Trends

A new era for social media

One of the many reasons that the end of Donald Trump’s presidency inspired optimism was the notion that his political demise might signal that we have passed the peak of the toxic polarisation which has poisoned our discourse in recent years.

Trump’s Whitehouse exit is a symbolic restoration of the fundamental relationship between actions and consequences, especially when it comes to hate speech and disinformation on public platforms.

And there were encouraging signs that his (in the end) ignominious defenestration would serve as a stern warning to the extremists he emboldened and platformed, and whose views he unleashed on the mainstream with abandon, that the blank cheque Trump wrote them had just bounced.

Parler, a key conduit for the piecemeal implementation of the Capitol insurrection, was de-platformed by the tech giants and seemed doomed. But now it’s back and fears are growing that an even uglier ‘new strain’ of Trumpism will emerge.

Parler is symbolic in demonstrating the danger that, rejected by the mainstream, Trumpist extremism will, concentrated by a collective persecution complex- mutate, intensify, and proliferate in the shadows. The ‘free speech’ social media network, spurned by Google and Apple, has partnered with a shadowy Russian firm in search of a reprieve. Meanwhile a Guardian article today reported an influx of traffic to other extremism-friendly platforms such as Gab and Telegram, as well as even more dangerous rhetoric than even Trump would resort to (such as direct antisemitism) becoming more prominent within MAGA hotbeds such as 8Chan.

The noxious polarisation Trump let loose may have peaked with his exit, but the downwards curve towards a healthy public discourse will be gradual.

 

TikTok’s impact on popular music

Glastonbury has been cancelled, again. As we continue to see COVID-19 decimate live entertainment, most artists are feeling the impact of this pandemic, as gigs were their biggest revenue source, thus forcing artists to adapt as their audience (us) are stuck at home.

Despite these struggles, there is always opportunity. On the contrary, TikTok has seen users skyrocket – taking the form of countless trends, encapsulated by a musical number.

Whether it’s Megan Thee Stallion, Doja Cat, or Jason Derulo, artists are seeing their popularity soar, thanks to TikTok.

Manufacturing hits for TikTok – like memes – is a difficult game. Most spawn organically, with very few mastering the art of making something viral.

One artists who you will likely find on every TikTok related Spotify playlist, Ashnikko, recently released a mixtape, packed with songs that include catchy refrains, ad-libs and sounds – often over- sexualised – that seem to transfer perfectly to TikTok.

It is very difficult to tell whether she is consciously targeting TikTok, but it is working.

Looking at Google Trends data, between March-June 2020, her popularity / relevancy dipped to her lowest since her initial breakout in November 2019. Since then, it has been climbing after releasing her single Daisy, which trended on TikTok.

She is not the only artist who appears to be gearing her sound to TikTok. We are keeping our eyes on the likes of Benee and Roddy Ricch targeting Gen Zers’ favourite app.

We will likely see TikTok develop its own genre, in a similar way Soundcloud Rappers propelled ‘mumble rap’ to the mainstream – but to a much larger scale, particularly when TikTok is outperforming every other social media apps.

 

The impact of meme culture

We’ve arrived at a time where every major political event seems bound to result in the generation of thousands of memes. According to the internet, the star of the show at Wednesday’s US Presidential Inauguration was Bernie Sanders, who attended the ceremony in a sensible jacket and huge woollen mittens. Onlookers praised his practicality and seeming unbotheredness. The image of him sat, legs crossed, and arms crossed, on a tiny, lone chair, was soon memed to within an inch of its life. Bernie in Beyonce videos, Bernie next to Anna Wintour at fashion week. Or, indeed, drag-n-drop Bernie wherever you like.

Memes of political events have been around for years, of course. But it is only in these past months, as society spends more time than ever online, that we’ve seen such vast levels of social and political commentary take place and, with that, such accelerated levels of meme production. Remember when Ed Miliband ate a bacon sandwich in May 2014? The subsequent meme remained alive and well for the entire year up to its damning reuse on the front cover of The Sun, the day before the 2015 election.

Today, it’s hard to imagine a public joke standing the test of time like that. Within hours of the Bernie Sanders gracing the inauguration, the internet was alight, sharing every reaction possible to this one image, merging it with other memes of the day, like Melania Trump’s dress, before fizzling out again.

That’s not to say this online commentary isn’t important. Although this moment in the eye of the storm was short-lived for Bernie, the collective fondness of feeling that the production and proliferation of this meme created will undoubtedly have had an enduring impact on his public image.

We cannot underestimate the power of meme culture to impact, and even generate, public mood. Ed Miliband’s notorious sandwich was weaponised to make him look incompetent, and it worked. But meanwhile Boris Johnson has done the very opposite, capitalising on his image as bumbling baffoon to kid the public that he is harmless. Political figures must be savvy if they are to stay on the right side of the internet. But it is worth the effort: fortunes can change quickly, but good (and bad) humour can linger.

 

Paris>London?!

One Borkowski trends writer has only just started watching Call My Agent (perhaps late to the game) and is struck by the success of recent Netflix series set in Paris. Not just in Paris, but in a kind of chi-chi, slightly abusive, yet undeniably glamorous world of Paris’s boutique agencies. On the surface, they are dissimilar. Many have called out the clichés and cartoonish fashions of Emily in Paris, while Dix pour cent’s realism—both in terms of its Frenchness and in its depiction of the day-to-day tribulations of those paid to wrangle celebrities—has been critically heralded for its authenticity. Taking a step back, we wonder whether this move to Paris (didn’t it used to be all about the City?) reflects a larger shift between Europe’s capitals.

While London, it seems, has been relegated to the category of historical drama (evidently Bridgerton’s regency-era fancy Mayfair holds more interest for the modern viewer than the present-day city), Paris has been picking up the slack. For those who have been watching the ground shift under London’s international pre-eminence (both cultural and corporate) in the wake of Brexit, this cannot be an innocent trend. In 2016, Macron said he would ‘roll out the red carpet’ for London’s bankers if the U.K. voted for Brexit. And a few, including Goldman Sachs, have taken him up on it. Could all this interest in Paris’s chic boutiques and long lunches be reflecting—or driving—a greater interest in the French capital? Is Netflix putting its money on a mass exodus of the yuppie class to the city of love? It is possible those of us savouring Call My Agent are craving for a continental identity—it’s also possible that, during lockdown, we all just want to be somewhere else.

Borkowski Weekly Media Trends

TikTok Revivies Forgotten Genre
 
In other 2021 news, the sea shanty is back. (I never expected to write that. But who could have ever predicted half of the things TikTok would dredge up from the collective unconscious?). It began when Glaswegian musician Nathan Evans shared his rousing version of an old New Zealand whaling tune, ‘Soon May the Wellerman Come’ and has since been ‘duetted’ hundreds of times.

Here’s the trend…

This man’s reaction captures ours as well. In just 44 seconds, he depicts our collective response to TikTok’s vortex of absurdism: initial confusion, followed by tentative assent, then full-on choral singing. Like TikToks, sea shanties navigate that span between the lone voice and the bravura chorus, making them an ideal form to mirror Tiktoks’ virality. Like TikToks, sea shanties compel us to join in, regardless of their content.
This is not the first modern revival of shanty tunes, the alt-indie band The Decemberists toyed with the shanty’s anachronistic aesthetics in the early 2000s, and they have been preserved in their most macabre and smutty forms in rugby clubs across the common-wealth.

It is perhaps precisely this versatility that has inclined one commentator to declare it the ideal form of masculinity for 2021. Tender yet tough, bawdy yet vulnerable, sea shanty lyrics, this critic claims, reveal the fragile core behind the preening bravado of the Donald Trumps and the Armie Hammers who occupy the media spotlight.

Perhaps—but it is also possible that something simpler is happening on ShantyTok. Of all musical forms, shanties are perhaps most unable to shed their historical dress. They are outré, worn, and embedded in a historical moment that feels inaccessible to those of us who are unfamiliar with sea-routes, piracy (the non-internet kind), and mainsails. They are thus the perfect candidate for the type of humour that Gen Z embraces, and which TikTok does so well.

 
Sex And The City 2.0
 
The news of a Sex and The City reboot was announced this week to much fan-fare. Many were skeptical of a SATC without ¼ of the main characters, Samantha, who brings much of the drama (namely, the sex) to the show. Where Carrie is insecure and selfish, Charlotte is conservative and Miranda is unlucky, Samantha is completely empowered and consistently open-minded. As Vogue puts it, she ‘gamely ignores Charlotte’s slut-shaming’ and instead ‘racks up 42 partners of different genders and races’ over the course of the series. Meanwhile, Carrie spends six years having sex with her bra on’. As one Tweet went: 'Sex And The City without Samantha is just And The City.'

A SATC without Samantha would have deprived it of the small amount of diversity there was, and so her absence brings to mind the second raging debate: Sex and The City’s (lack of) wokeness. For years critics have rushed to point out that SATC’s problems. True, if it was made today the jokes would feel dated and the plotlines problematic. But that’s the thing: it wasn’t. As The Telegraph wrote, ‘SATC was a consumerist, hedonist fantasy’, ‘never a feminist road map’. Hadley Freeman’s tweet endorsing SATC’s frivolousness was divisive but caused us to reflect on what we demand from the shows we watch. Ultimately, in a world of reality-TV and Bridgerton, it feels rich for any of us to belatedly demand political seriousness from a show as entertaining as SATC.

Though we mustn’t forget that SATC was provocative and boundary pushing in many ways, helping to define the way generations of viewers to spoke about sex. The original series held a particular magic, specific to its time. It will be a job make a reboot that recaptures that charm without feeling dated or attempts to be newly outrageous without looking try-hard. 
 

Was Coffeegate a hoax?
 
You know we are living in a dystopian nightmare when two women meeting up for a coffee makes national news, stoking widespread debate, and lasting for a week.
 
When Jessica Allen and Eliza Moore met up to have a walk at a reservoir five miles from their home, they were met by the full force of Derbyshire Police and fined £200 for breaking lockdown.
 
The Police cancelled the fines and apologised to the women, identifying that there is “no clear limit as to how far people can travel to exercise”.
 
All very suspicious! *Places tin foil hat on head* Could this be a set up?
 
Mundane story captivating millions causing tribal debates shouldn’t necessarily raise any eyebrows, but it does seem a little odd how something so dubious makes mainstream national news. Even the picture looks staged!
 
Realistically, Derbyshire Police are likely too stretched to organise something this ‘elaborate’ but abiding to government standards on Covid-19, with rules and regulations flipflopping all over the place must be challenging. If on the off chance this is a stunt, bravo!

Borkowski Weekly Media Trends

A Laughing Matter?
 
This week’s events at the US Capitol brought about a familiar scene to the world of late-night comedy. Instead of their usual puns, late-night hosts served up sombre monologues, similar to ones they have opted for in the past after a day of particularly grim news. These go further, though, totally eschewing jokes in favour of a comforting voice. Arguably Stephen Colbert is the only one who can pull it off—his monologue seems sincere, whereas Seth Myers, Jimmys Fallon and Kimmel, and James Corden all appear to be going through the motions.
 
The American hosts’ refusal to joke is the culmination of a trend we’ve long been watching in the world of comedy: the growing sense that our times just aren’t funny. This, coupled with the point that the real world is darker than the extremest satire (eloquently made here by Chris Morris) has led to a new type of comedy act. These acts play on the gear-shifts between traditionally written jokes and improvised moments of despair.
 
Some viewers will continue to draw comfort from the intimacy of the late-night format. Others will want a new humour that is alert to the times but doesn’t feel politically impotent. The irony and self-deprecation of ‘liberal humour’ (arguably perfected by 30 Rock) feels like it has reached its limit-point. Rather than take the position that humour itself just is progressive, some are looking to places like Tik Tok for a more lively and unstable form of humour that has more bite. The traditional formats should take notes.
 
 
Playing the Long Game
 
Before the world’s attention was completely commandeered by the USA’s scramble to douse its largest recent dumpster fire, members of the English-language media managed to winkle out an entirely different story this week; a children’s television show that follows the misadventures of John Dillermand, a man with a supernaturally long penis.

As is their wont, the fourth estate tried to make the show’s existence a ‘taste-and-offence’ debate, but the creators have skilfully designed their product to circumnavigate any such hand-wringing.

Firstly, there’s the cultural defence that Scandinavian countries are simply more liberal than the likes of the UK and USA, and as such have a functional and altogether healthier relationship with our private bodily organs. John Dillermand is then (literally) both an embodiment and an extension of that principle.

They have also artfully desexualised the penis itself. It’s really more of a prehensile tail that happens to be on the front of John’s body and often acts of its own accord, or perhaps a conjoined twin in the form of a mischievous snake.

Finally, the show is…well…good. The humour is best described as Pingu-style slapstick and tells the story of a man whose most distinguishing feature often lands him in trouble - but whose life is almost always left richer by his attempts to make amends- with pathos and artistry.

These caveats have nullified nearly every half-hearted sniff of media moral panic about a cartoon willy (the same week democracy stared at the abyss). When you remove the debate, what remains is free publicity, and maybe even English syndication. For the producers of John Dillermand, this week was just the tip.
 
 
Crypto: Selling Out?
 
Cryptocurrency news has hit mainstream headlines this week after its total market cap surpassed a $1 trillion valuation, with Bitcoin reaching $40,000 for just one coin, another significant milestone.

These landmarks may sound trivial, particularly to crypto-sceptics, but don’t turn a blind eye, as it appears institutional investment forces are now paying close attention – driving up valuations further still. After all, not many things are worth $1 trillion dollars.

However, this is a highly speculative market, and the bull run has been partially driven by crypto enthusiasts. A quick google trend search (below) shows a significant increase in interest in ‘Bitcoin’ that mirrors the Bitcoin price graph itself, notwithstanding the possibility that this ‘boom’ isn’t entirely organise, and of more nefarious actors at play, manipulating the market…
 
As time rolls on, it appears cryptocurrencies are moving into mainstream institutional plans. Whether it’s PayPal allowing Bitcoin and crypto on their platform or Coinbase (the world’s largest exchange) going public, it feels slightly more grown up, with fewer frenzied internet ‘experts’ spewing arbitrary price predications, though they still exist in their millions.

Whether or not these valuations continue to rise or we are witnessing the boom before the bust, Crypto’s steady movement towards the mainstream suggests that 2021 is going to be a significant year for the industry.

From the ashes of Kimye: a new star rise

Kim Kardashian and Kanye West, or Kimye, the couple who have reigned supreme over Celeb-land for the past decade, announced their divorce this week. In was shocking for some (after all, for Kim’s last birthday Kanye bought her a full-size hologram of her late father, surely a sign of true love). But others had sensed this brewing for some time. As one Twitter user pointed out: marriages have broken down over far less than a misguided, and failed, Presidential bid.
 
No one, however, predicted what happened next: Rumours, started by notoriously attention-hungry TikToker Ava Louise, that Kanye had cheated on Kim with YouTube legend and make-up guru Jeffree Star. The rumours, whilst complete rubbish, were ingenious in their ability to swiftly ignite the internet’s imagination.
 
Jeffree Star reacted expertly, posting a flirty Instagram captioned ‘I’m ready for Sunday Service 🕊’, before finally, three days later, poo-pooing the story. The wait was perfect: just long enough to maximise intrigue, but short enough to remain noble (and avoid risking serious action from Kanye’s camp).
 
Perhaps, before 2020, this story would’ve been too clearly false to make it to the big-time. It says something about ever-accelerating speed at which gossip spreads today, yes, but perhaps even more so it shows our hunger for some light relief, no matter how absurd.