Do you ever find yourself in one of those dreaded conversations with friends who you’re close but not quite close enough to get into an unnecessarily heated argument over your favorite movie or show with, instead leading you to spend the entire duration of the interaction smiling fixedly at the table with the words must not go off on a crazy person rant screaming in your mind? No? Well, then that’s awkward. But if you are like me — absolutely anal about your favorite pieces of media, and even more so about those that just aren’t worth the hype — sharing your opinion is practically compulsory, but also not always suited to the social setting. That is why I’ve compiled my five most unpopular opinions about pop culture that I’ve always been too scared to voice out loud (usually for fear of the boiling red hotness of the take being simply too much for my poor, tasteless friends to handle). So, buckle in if you fear strong opinions, because I’m not holding back now!
1: Mamma Mia: Hero We Go Again! is better than the original
Mamma Mia (2008) has gained a strong cult status since its initial release, so I’m aware that this take is tantamount to heresy. While it obviously can’t exist without the original movie, with smoother integrations of the songs with the narrative, sharper direction, and the spectacle upped to the thousandth degree, Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again! perfects the formula of the original, taking everything that was good about it and making it bigger and better. To me, numbers like “Why Did it Have to Be Me,” “When I Kissed the Teacher,” “Waterloo,” and the end credits “Super Trouper” blow the original’s soundtrack out of the water. Donna is arguably the best character from the first movie, so having her take on a central role and getting to see the Dynamos in all their Abba-esque glory really makes this sequel shine. Her chemistry with each of the dads is so incredibly fun to watch, the dance numbers are so clean and energetic, and the story itself feels smarter and more meaningful. The emotional core remains the bond between Sophie and Donna, but the sequel gives that relationship so much more depth by paralleling the two narratives of young Donna and present-day Sophie against each other, culminating in the gut-wrenching finale of “My Love, My Life” that is still probably the most I’ve ever blubbered in a movie theater. Maybe I’m just in love with Lily James, but I genuinely do think the sequel proves it has all the glitz and glamor of its predecessor without losing any of the heart, taking the strong points of the original to new and perfected heights . . . plus, it has Cher, so that automatically catapults it to first place status.
2: Stranger Things season 3 is the worst season
I know this season is many people’s favorite, usually because of the Scoops Troop, Steve’s character development, and the Eleven and Max friendship — which I get, I really do! But in my opinion, it is the weakest of all the seasons from a narrative standpoint. Lacking the surprises and thrills of the much more airtight seasons before it, this season flounders at balancing its many storylines, failing to bring them together with the same satisfying cohesion as its predecessors and resulting in many characters slipping through the cracks of the massive cast. To me, season one will always be the superior season — it’s the show at its simplest, but also its strongest. The writing is so much more crisp, creative, and deftly-crafted, it has peak 80s vibes, the humor and horror are perfectly balanced, and it boasts so many of the series’ most iconic moments. There’s just enough mystery without revealing everything about the Upside Down, enabling the season to be more fresh and exciting. Season 3, by comparison, feels cheesy and derivative, and the introduction of the Russia plotline feels so weird and out of line with the aesthetic of the first two seasons. It also evidences the show’s consistent and irritating trend of feeling that it constantly has to up the stakes in order to keep the audience engaged, with the gang now taking on a ridiculous mega Mind Flayer that’s so imposing it’s almost cartoonish. The show works best when it’s on a small scale and keeps things simple, as this is when the characters are really able to shine through and drive the story. Also, so many parts of this season feel like they were made purely out of anticipation of them inspiring a Halloween costume, or like it was “designing” iconic moments that they knew the viewers would eat up and make viral. It just feels inauthentic and plastic to me, like the mega mall it predominantly takes place in.
3: Steve should have died in Avengers: Endgame
Overall, I think Avengers: Endgame was an incredibly epic sendoff to the original Avengers team. However, I don’t think they stuck the landing on the conclusion of every character’s arc. I understand the poetics of having the man who started the initial MCU journey be the one to end it, but, in my opinion, it would have made so much more sense if Steve had sacrificed himself instead of Tony. Now, do not mistake me here — Steve Rogers is one of my absolute favorite Marvel characters, and I would literally do anything for him. But his whole character centers around sacrifice and such an intense devotion to helping others that he almost can’t live without being of service in some way. We see this even before he becomes Captain America, when, with zero hesitation, he throws himself on top of a bomb during his army training (which ended up being a test). Steve’s whole thing is that he is a man out of time, unable to move forward and find his place in the future he’s thrust into, hence why he dissolves himself into his Avengers work. The fact that, in order to give him the ending he deserved, they had to send him back in time to redo his whole life feels like a cop-out to me. It would have been much more consistent with his character and satisfying to his arc if he had made that ultimate sacrifice that he always wanted to make. Whereas Steve had nothing going for him in the future (again, to the point that he literally had to be sent back into the past to have a satisfying ending), Tony had made a family for himself, finally finding the domestic and familial stability he always lacked in life. His achievement of that life felt like the thing his character had been building towards for so long — a moment where he finally gets to just live a quiet, healthy, content life. So the fact that they ripped that away from him as soon as he got it was just so cruel. Tony had a reason to live and we had a reason to root for him, whereas in my opinion, Steve’s story ending with Endgame would have made much more sense with his character.
5: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo is overrated
I’m so sorry to the diehard fans, but the obsession over this book has never made sense to me, mainly because it is plain and simply not a good book. The only thing I like about it is the old Hollywood aesthetic, which I do think Reid did a good job of crafting. But the writing itself is just . . . not good. It reads like a Wattpad story, filled with cliches and with every chapter ending on corny cliffhangers. Evelyn herself is also just an extremely frustrating character to be in the headspace of, and she honestly treats Celia terribly throughout the whole book. I’m so tired of all the sapphic representation we ever get being period dramas or toxic relationships, and this book accomplishes the amazing feat of doing both! We so rarely see positive, healthy examples of sapphic love in media, with stories always featuring tragic endings, toxic pairings, or period dramas that portray sapphic love as antiquated and out-of-time. I want more wlw stories that center queer futurity and joy, and I just feel like Evelyn Hugo isn’t the great sapphic representation everyone makes it out to be, with the added sin of just being poorly written.
4: Little Women (1994) is better than Little Women (2019)
This one is going to be kind of long because I’ve been sitting on it for a while, and I think it is probably my most controversial take of all. Look . . . I am very aware that I attend a historically women’s college and that many people here worship the 2019 Little Women like the Bible. We all love Greta Gerwig, and I’m well aware that her adaptation of Little Women is beloved by many. But the 1994 version that came before it is not only so criminally overlooked, but also far superior. Although I love the individual actors in Gerwig’s take, I don’t think that they were suited for their roles (I love Florence Pugh as much as the next person, but even she can’t pull off playing a thirteen-year-old as a 22-year-old woman). I particularly dislike the film’s revision of Amy and the way that it tries to make her more like Jo. What I love about Alcott’s original story is how distinctly different each of the March sisters are in both their personalities and desires, representing the gamut of womanhood. Amy is very much the vain, materialistic one who likes high society and the idea of marrying rich, and she not only desires but fits into the glitz of that world. Her monologue about marriage being an “economic proposition,” while brilliant out of context, feels inauthentic to her character and like it would have been far better suited to Jo. It frustrates me that the film felt the need to make Amy’s character more progressive and “Jo-like” when there is, actually, nothing wrong with Amy wanting to marry. Again, what’s so great about the original is the diversity of the femininity it portrays; Jo who resists the societal pressure to marry, and Amy who is content to follow that pre-planned path, with Alcott ultimately passing judgment on neither. I’m aware that most of my criticism stems from the portrayal of Amy, but I swear I love Florence Pugh; they just did Amy so wrong in this movie! As for my other critiques, the jarring ping-pong between past and present also feels clunky to me, and I think it would have better served the plot if they had just stuck to the linear storyline. The splitting up of the narratives makes the sisters and their stories feel more divided from each other, the underlying connection and bond between them more tenuous, rather than their narratives feeling interwoven. Also, the period inaccuracies of the costumes! The film is filled with anachronisms and creative liberties that feel unnecessary to me, at the expense of an accurate portrayal of the period. The dialogue feels unnatural and awkward, and I don’t know if it is just because everyone in the movie is such an A-list actor, but every time I watch it, I struggle so much to suspend my disbelief that Laura Dern or Emma Watson are supposed to be from the 1800s — they just have faces that look like they’ve seen an iPhone, I can’t explain it. That’s not to say the film is all bad — Alexandre Desplat’s score is fantastic, and I think they did do many scenes right. I really enjoyed the Jo and Laurie dance/initial meeting, and I think the proposal scene was pretty good too. Jo’s monologue is also fantastic. But, overall, the 1994 version is just so much more faithful to Alcott’s characters, has stronger performances with more suitably cast actors, a greater sense of historical authenticity, and just generally captures the spirit of Alcott’s book so much better.