i ate a hot dog at the theater! but i digress…

made me reflect very morosely on the microscope of fame and the weight of imperialism and what a death sentence aspiring to embody beauty is. exhausting to see our central character drawn only as a tragic victim for 90% of her screen time, something alleviated only by becoming an object of desire to her handmaid who sees her too through a pane of glass. how is this movie and its expectation we’ll be drawn like moths to a flame to see Diana Spencer’s outfits recreated and high waist jeans and perfectly feathered hair and binging and mental breakdowns distinct from the obsession and forces that killed her? it feels all a part of the same monstrous machine. the castles built on wealth accumulated by the insistence that god has chosen you to live opulently and subordinate your country across centuries already feel oppressive without a camera fixed a foot away from kristen stewart’s face for two hours. maybe all this dread this movie made me feel was part of it. i really don’t know.

i understand the love for kristen stewart but have difficulty extracting admiration for her acting from her beauty and cult of personality, which i guess in some ways makes her perfect to play Diana. i felt the same way watching her myriad micro choices and head tilts and ticks as i felt watch ben platt play evan hansen. not quite human, something weird in between.