There’s an obvious vibe shift happening in Hollywood right now, and I don’t just mean the general burnout of woke identity politics. We’ve all seen the culture swing back and forth over the years, from early 2000s Miss Buttaface misogyny and body-shaming to the overcompensatory woke politics that branded everything racist, sexist, or “problematic.”
With the general consensus being that woke is now over, we live in this bizarre liminal zone of politics and culture. The entertainment industry, media, and government have learned that fringe leftist politics can’t sustain themselves long-term (and in all likelihood, neither can the fringe right), so there’s been a sort of evening-of-the-score energy. With it comes the re-emergence of once-banished words and the return of ideas we couldn’t even entertain a few years ago suddenly becoming standard talking points.
The thing about culture is that it’s always in motion, never static. What looks like a rigid, repressive ideology enforcing cultural homogeneity can look and feel like the way things have always been and will always be, especially because the waxing and waning of cultural cornerstones tend to come and go in ten-year increments.
When you’re coming of age during a particular era of cultural dominance, it starts to color everything you engage with and even the way you perceive reality. You forget that this is just a phase in a much larger oscillating picture—a phase that gets corrected for, eventually. Libs and the standard celebrity mouthpieces are still in shock because they forgot their cultural dominance was on borrowed time, even though not too long ago, the culture that forged them was the polar opposite. We walk around like blind amnesiac mice, forgetting yesterday and refusing to anticipate tomorrow.
Where yesteryear would see celebrities falling over themselves to win the Virtue Signal of the Year award, now the de facto sentiment toward tone policing is apathy.
But here we are, at the precipice of a cultural recalibration that will probably not last forever, but which, on the merits, is much more preferable to the preceding one that anyone right of center had to hold their breath and slog through. One of the ways this cultural shift has shown up is in the subtle choices of celebrities: how liberally they like things on social media that would have gotten them canceled a few years ago, how unashamedly they embrace previously blacklisted social pariahs without fear of guilt by association, and how they speak unfiltered about the “issue of the day.”
Where yesteryear would see celebrities falling over themselves to win the Virtue Signal of the Year award, now the de facto sentiment toward tone policing is apathy. The first real place you can see the pendulum correction land is in their refusal to participate in the old ritualized “struggle sessions” with journalists falsely referred to as “interviews” when they were more like grilling sessions to enforce conformity to the current thing.
Don’t get me wrong—shameless journalists still try their best to use disingenuous tactics to corner celebrities for wrongthink, but it’s just no longer working. By the day, it seems like celebrities are falling like dominoes from the clutches of the cultural hall monitors who kept them in line. Celebrities are now being caught aligning themselves with heterodox people and ideas without feeling compelled to kowtow to the mob or go on ingratiating apology tours. A few notable examples are paving the way for more dissidence.
Keira Knightley Laughs at J.K. Rowling Boycotts
Keira Knightley was recently interviewed by Decider to discuss her upcoming voice role in Audible’s new Harry Potter audio series, where she will be voicing Professor Umbridge. Naturally, instead of asking Knightley about the actual work, the journalist took the opportunity to confront her about you-know-who, knowing the mere invocation of the question would bring in clicks, inspire discourse, and leave Knightley’s career at the whims of her carefully orchestrated answer. What people didn’t expect was Knightley to respond not with an overcompensatory word salad that attempts to avoid offending anyone in the entire world, but with flippant laughter.
“Are you aware that some fans are calling for a boycott, given J.K. Rowling’s ongoing campaign against trans people?” asked the interviewer. “I was not aware of that, no. I’m very sorry,” Knightley scoffed with a chuckle. She continued, “I think we’re all living in a period of time right now; we’re all going to have to figure out how to live together, aren’t we? And we’ve all got very different opinions, so I hope that we can all find respect.”
Predictably, the internet erupted into a storm of discourse—half praising her for her IDGAF attitude, half responding in horror at how little she cares about “the humanity of trans people.” Screenshots of her smirk and comments about her laughter indict her “I’m sorry” as disingenuous. Comment sections fill up with remarks like, “I can’t believe they didn’t media-train her for this answer.”
This reaction is one of a few in the changing tide of public opinion around J.K. Rowling. Even Emma Watson, a target of Rowling’s personal criticism, has downplayed her feud with the author recently, calling for people to respect her humanity. But that’s perhaps a change in opinion that could only follow the courageous studios and industry titans that refused to bend the knee to mounting public pressure and stood by Rowling. Once someone with influence and social capital stands their ground, it becomes easier for everyone else to, and that’s a good thing.
We obviously have no way of knowing which celebrities would have principally stood on business regardless of the changing cultural tides, but promoting a more open culture that’s less hostile to heterodox opinions is an unambiguous good. If you had told me in 2020 that A-list stars would not be giving mainstream interviews where they blatantly laugh off their associations with branded “transphobes” in the near future, I would have asked for two of whatever you’re smoking. But here we are, in this beautiful future; the air is so refreshing when you’re not suffocated.
Jennifer Lawrence Says She Doesn’t Want to Comment on Politics Anymore
Speaking of celebrities and politics, Jennifer Lawrence was once Hollywood’s darling. She was everywhere: on the silver screen, at the Oscars, on talk shows, and she was always quirkily endearing. She was also politically outspoken. To be clear, I’m not here to say celebrities should shut up and stick to their day jobs. Art is deeply political, and everyone’s entitled to their soapbox, no matter how cringeworthy and utopian their worldview might be.
I just reserve the right to laugh at you if those ideals are bad (especially if morally so), and especially when they’re communicated in the most memetically cringe format. Celebrity political opinions are annoying because they’re almost always strikingly out of touch, not because they’re outside of their career scope.
Lawrence’s political ideology was not much more sophisticated than yelling, “Hey Trump, f*** you!” and flipping the middle finger, or sharing hard-hitting predictions like that electing Trump would be the “end of the world.” Nevertheless, Lawrence shifted from apolitical Hollywood blockbuster darling in the early 2010s to gratingly outspoken about politics leading up to Trump’s first election and throughout his first administration. In recent years, though, she seems to have retired her megaphone, and not just because she took a two-and-a-half-year break from Hollywood.
Journalist Lulu Garcia-Navarro of The New York Times took notice and sought insight as to why, after being so politically outspoken in the past, she seems to have changed her tune. A more measured, self-aware Jennifer Lawrence emerges from this interview, but also a more jaded one. Her youthful naïveté and optimism seem to have drained from her eyes, and with it, her hope of having meaningful influence over the country’s voting habits.
Lawrence admits she doesn’t know if she should even speak about politics anymore. While the first Trump administration thoroughly scared her into running around like a chicken with her head cut off, she’s come to realize that celebrities make little difference whatsoever in who people vote for. “So then what am I doing?” she asks. “I’m just sharing my opinion on something that’s just going to add fuel to a fire that’s ripping the country apart. I mean, we are so divided.”
She describes her change of heart as a complicated recalibration meant to protect her craft but also help lower the temperature in such a politically precarious moment in history. “I’m also an artist, and with this temperature and the way that things can turn out, I don’t want to start turning people off to films and to art that can change consciousness or can change the world because they don’t like my political opinions.” She wants to protect her craft so people can still get lost in her work. “If I can’t say something that’s going to speak to some sort of peace or lowering the temperature, some sort of solution, I just don’t want to be a part of the problem. I don’t want to make the problem worse,” she clarifies. It’s a much more adult approach to dealing with the press looking for inflammatory soundbites. She speaks with a genuine tone of concern that our country may be too close to rupture for comfort.
She describes her change of heart as a complicated recalibration meant to protect her craft but also help lower the temperature in such a politically precarious moment in history.
Garcia-Navarro asked her about another recent occasion where Lawrence was asked about Gaza. Though she didn’t mince words, calling the situation “no less than a genocide,” she shifted the onus to answer these questions to elected officials, calling on people to focus on who is responsible and the things they can do, and when they need to show up and vote, rather than artists taking the heat for the individuals who are actually responsible. She sympathized with fellow performers who’ve been chewed up by the outrage machine, saying she feels for actors who are being used as scapegoats for political issues because they’re being asked questions that should really be going to political representatives, and they start falling like pawns on a chessboard, which she laments feels wrong.
It’s good for actors like Lawrence to call out the pressure campaigns that expect celebrities to somehow be experts, spokespeople, and moral authorities on every global and social issue, on top of their actual jobs. It’s not that celebrities can’t or shouldn’t ever use their platforms to advocate for issues important to them, but the expectation that they signed up for the job of part-time politician, world leader, public speaker, or human rights ambassador by virtue of starring in movies or telling fart jokes is deranged. It’s a manifestation of modern culture, where everyone is expected to be an activist.
I appreciate Lawrence’s thoughtful answers here. She eloquently articulates the value of neutrality by communicating why it has a place. Leftists can’t argue with the art-raising-consciousness point, so they’re forced to contend with her argument: If being vocal about my politics has not produced the desired result (in fact, outright inspired the opposite result), and art is a place where political ideals like empathy can be communicated viscerally and where audiences might be more receptive to them in the absence of an uncharitable scolding of their character, then my neutrality is actually a form of activism.
This actively challenges the presumption that silence is violence. Lawrence makes the case that silence creates tolerance for challenging ideas by reducing audiences’ exposure to cognitive dissonance. Returning to an ethos of “put it in the art and trust the audience to meet it where they are” is one that returns agency and respect to viewers. That’s the real crux of the celebrity opinions problem. People don’t want to be lectured, bullied, or pressured; they want to be seen and respected as equals whom you have the duty to convince.
Sydney Sweeney Expertly Navigates Suggestive Interviewer with Exceptional Media Training
If Knightley and Lawrence are helping to set the tone for this new era by dismissing journalistic charlatans with either laughter or thoughtful restraint, Sydney Sweeney is enforcing it through sheer dispositional superiority. In this case, it’s earned. Sweeney’s career has skyrocketed in Hollywood in recent years through discerning career choices, powerhouse performances in prestige TV series, and increasingly serious film roles.
People are always reading into Sweeney’s every personal and professional decision. Between attending country-themed hoedowns with Republican-coded clientele, news outlets reportedly outing her Republican voter registration, and her willing “submission” to the male gaze, she contributes to a caricature liberals view as rolling back the clock on identity-based political “progress.”
The speculation about her politics isn’t occurring in a vacuum. She walks the line of conservative-coded imagery juxtaposed with her feminist-coded roles, her sex-positive rhetoric about female agency, and her proximity to LGBT circles. These coexisting vibes make her syncretic, which is difficult for binary thinkers to metabolize. With this lore building over the years, by the time Sweeney did a totally innocuous commercial advertising American Eagle’s jeans—playing on the pun “Sydney Sweeney has great genes”—the discourse machine was primed to interpret it as a full-blown conservative dog whistle, or worse, a white supremacist dog whistle.
It’s a reading obviously divorced from reality, but it perfectly encapsulates how easy it is for an inflammatory narrative to take root when a celebrity’s optics appear incongruous with the values they’re supposed to hold in the current political climate. The imagery of a white, blonde, blue-eyed young actress who’s regularly salivated over by the much-loathed demographic of young (often white) men while knowingly playing into tropes about the hot, cool girl of the early aughts—like working on cars barefoot while looking effortlessly hot—communicates a certain signal.
To normal people, that signal is, “Hey guys, look, we can just unapologetically like these things again without any sense of detached irony.” To the cynical, it reads as a provocation and devolves into schizophrenic meta commentary far removed from reality. Sweeney, as an influential individual, and American Eagle, as a company, both refusing to apologize, qualify, or explain themselves to the shrieking banshees, provoked the sort of reaction you’d get out of a two-year-old throwing a tantrum after their mom refuses to give them what they want.
So when GQ journalist Katherine Stoeffel interviewed Sweeney at the Chateau Marmont for her first public post–Jeans-Gate appearance, you just knew she’d try to force a reckoning. She opened with flattery, mirroring, and exaggerated warmth—the classic “establish safety before the ambush” routine—before easing into politics through polite, subtly related segues.
She knows that trying to win over the approval of people who are motivated beyond reason to hate you is a losing battle, and she never needed to win them over in the first place.
She insinuated that the recurring theme of domestic violence in Sweeney’s projects and career choices must be an issue close to her heart, suggesting that her new film Christy deals not just with DV but also homophobia, that Euphoria handles sensitive topics with ambiguous morality, and noting that she played 2016 Russiagate whistleblower Reality Winner in the 2023 film Reality.
This serves both as a clever segue into what she really wants to talk about, the American Eagle ad, and an insinuation: Your career is deeply political, yet you seem to avoid being publicly political, perhaps out of cowardice or personal benefit. Sweeney never once cowers from the subjects or shrinks back from the shock of approaching any of these topics, despite the fact that she’s driven the internet, tabloids, and even fellow celebrities crazy with her existence and unbothered silence.
“I will always speak out about something that is important to me, and for me to speak out, I use art,” she explains. “I think through my characters and my movies, it’s a way for me to be able to do my part that I can and spread awareness in different ways through my characters. That’s how I’ve always learned how to communicate.”
This is a perfect answer: She communicates that she isn’t apathetic about issues. Her preferred mode of expression is just through her art, and she refuses to moralize outside the art itself. It sets the tone for her unshakable sense of self and disinterest in approval-seeking.
Stoeffel, in a disingenuous tone, says, “I think a lot of people feel like it’s better for art if artists can keep themselves a little bit separate from politics.” Sweeney fires back in a noticeably deeper tone, signaling to tread carefully: “Yeah, I’ve never talked about my personal life.”
Sensing that shift, Stoeffel softens by circling around to Sydney’s general career, asking whether her sense of her own fame has shifted this year, not expecting Sweeney to respond with a deadpan, “No.” She expands by explaining that she surrounds herself with a strong group of people who have been in her life since she was little, that they’re the ones who keep her grounded and take her out of what she calls the “Hollywood bubble” and remind her what the real world is.
“That’s where I exist. The idea of fame—it doesn’t apply to my personal life. I’m just Syd.”
Stoeffel finds this hard to believe, looking for clarification that surely she feels the difference in the volume at times. Sweeney pre-rebuts the significance of the “dog whistle ad” that Stoeffel is bound to confront her about by immediately diminishing the significance of online mobs, characterizing it as insignificant noise she can just opt out of by turning off her phone and focusing on work. After dancing around the vague questions about politics for far too long, they address it head-on.
Outrage cycles can’t survive without your participation.
Sweeney expertly demonstrates what an invaluable investment solid media training is, especially when combined with a backbone and savvy adaptability. Sweeney remains totally in control, never budging and constantly undermining the significance of this “issue” that the interviewer desperately wishes had any power over her. She continually clarifies that she doesn’t pay attention to or care about the noise; she’s too busy living her awesome life in the real world, working on an incredibly successful TV show for 16-hour days.
She says she doesn’t bring her phone to set; she just goes to work, goes home, goes to sleep, and doesn’t see a lot of it. Given how plugged in she is, I highly doubt this is true, but answering this way allows her to maintain frame. At the same time, she remains firm that she doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, that she knows who she is, and no random conjured-up narrative will change that.
When asked if she was surprised about the reaction, she first minimizes the validity of the outrage by responding matter-of-factly with, “I did a jean ad,” before admitting the reaction was definitely a surprise, and then reverting back to amusing celebrity media-speak: “I love jeans! All I wear are jeans! I’m literally in jeans and a T-shirt like every day of my life.” This was the funniest part of the interview for me; responding to an absurd question with an absurd answer in a way that elicits the feeling you’re talking to an AI that’s giving you a set of prerecorded answers.
In other words, Sweeney keeps her wall up and understands she’s under no obligation to grovel or explain herself. Celebrities used to master the art of maintaining mystique, refusing to give away the secrets of their inner world. “How do I look so good? Pilates!” People get frustrated by the lack of communication, but that’s just doing celebrity the old way: You don’t have access to me; you don’t control what information I permit you to have.
She continues to do this. What do I think about Trump boasting about my ad on Truth Social? “It was surreal.” Vague, neutral language that gives nothing away, including her energy.
Stoeffel tries to lay on the emotional manipulation thicker: “But the risk is that there’s a chance somebody might get some idea about what you think and about certain issues and feel like, ‘I don’t want to see Christy because of that.’ Do you worry about that?”
Again, Sweeney responds with a concise, monotone, “No.” And, “If somebody is closed off because of something they read online to a powerful story like Christy, then I hope something else can open their eyes to being open to art and being open to learning, and I’m not going to be affected by that.” Essentially, the Mad Men “I feel bad for you,” “I don’t think about you at all” meme.
Stoeffel is out of subtle, slimy tactics and just asks outright in what became the most viral clip of the interview: “Is there anything you want to say about the ad itself—that ‘Sydney Sweeney has great genes’?” Sweeney remains firm: “No. The ad spoke for itself.”
Stoeffel, becoming frustrated, counters by asking her to address the substantive criticism that maybe in this political climate, white people shouldn’t joke about genetic superiority.
Sweeney responds in a disaffected, classy tone, “I think that when I have an issue that I want to speak about, people will hear.” If this whole acting thing doesn’t work out, she would make a great politician. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you win the optics war. Minimize, deflect, stay focused, and remain unaffected. Outrage cycles can’t survive without your participation.
Sweeney emerged from that interview not just unscathed, but an unmistakable victor, inspiring a new meme format that communicates viscerally the Virgin over-emoting, desperate to trick you into giving a soundbite, and the Stacy look of contempt in the face of these ridiculous questions.
Sweeney has a secret: She knows that trying to win over the approval of people who are motivated beyond reason to hate you is a losing battle, and she never needed to win them over in the first place. So she’s not trying to. She’s not taking the bait. She held her ground with a quiet, icy confidence, like someone who actually knows who she is and isn’t going to contort herself to validate a reporter’s paranoias.
The End of Ritualized Regret
Thanks to a sea of cascading effects, but crucially, the celebrities who do their part in being the change we wish to see in the culture, the era of the celebrity struggle session is officially over. No more apology tours, 14-point disclaimers, or begging to be spared from cancellation.
Audiences are sick of being lectured, celebrities are sick of participating, and journalists can’t enforce compliance like they used to. They’re demonstrating how you can make a positive contribution to social behavior without needing exceptional ability, just a strong internal compass and nerves of steel.
