Soul mates on YOU and Forever.
Lifetime’s “You” starts on a queasy note, with a cliff dive straight into the head of a stalker. Peering through the aisles of the bookstore he manages, Joe Goldberg ogles a pretty customer, taking in, via voice-over, her jingling bracelets (“You like a little attention,” he says) and her classy book choice (“Desperate Characters,” by Paula Fox). They flirt. When she leaves, he harvests her name from her credit card, dissects her Instagram, Google Maps her address—and, eventually, like a sleazy paparazzo, peeks through her windows.
To be fair, Guinevere Beck (Elizabeth Lail), the poetry student who’s the object of Joe’s obsession, has no curtains on those windows—and she walks around in a towel, a lot. She has no password on her computer, either. “It’s like you’ve never seen a horror movie” Joe says to himself, alarmed, lurking on the stoop across the street. “Or the news.” From his perspective, he’s just doing due diligence, making sure that she’s really “the one.” Joe, who is played by Penn Badgley, from “Gossip Girl,” with a sinister pep, is quite explicitly the villain in a thriller—specifically, a woman-in-peril drama on Lifetime—yet he has somehow convinced himself that he’s the hero of a romantic comedy: the “nice guy,” cast, maybe, as a young Tom Hanks, except armed with a mallet. And, these days, doesn’t everyone Google his dates?
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der October 8, 2018-Ausgabe von The New Yorker.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der October 8, 2018-Ausgabe von The New Yorker.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
Bereits Abonnent? Anmelden
The Ascent - Can Kamala Harris defy her doubters—and end the Trump era?
When Joe Biden called Kamala Harris on the morning of Sunday, July 21st, she was in the kitchen at the Vice-President's residence, a turreted mansion on a hill in Northwest Washington. Harris was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie from her alma mater, Howard University. Her husband, Doug Emhoff, was in Los Angeles, but the house was bustling with relatives. She had just finished making bacon and pancakes for two grandnieces before sitting down with them to work on a jigsaw puzzle.
TWERKERS' COMP
Earlier this year, the Cannes Film Festival observed a heroic first: the director who won the Palme d'Or, the event's highest honor, dedicated the prize to \"all sex workers, past, present, and future.\"
AMERICAN ATTITUDE
The docuseries Mr. McMahon” explores the underbelly of the WWE.
ORIGIN STORY
Ta-Nehisi Coates and the temptations of narrative.
THE IMPRESARIO
Alvin Ailey’ crusade to build a home for himself and other Black dancers.
MY CAMP
Human nature, yes. Nature nature, no. I know nothing about it.
PRISON DIARIES
The Russian opposition leader’ account of his last years and his admonition to his country and the world.
PECKING ORDER
Language is said to make us human. What if birds talk, too?
COWBOY-DANCE FUTURE WORLD
It t is the year 2248. We live in what some would call a perfect world.
The K-Pop King - Chairman Bang is bringing his formula for creating idols to the U.S.
Scooter Braun was in a tailspin. It was February, 2021, and the music manager, who had made his name launching the careers of Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande, was nearing forty and facing a brutal divorce. An equally nasty battle with Taylor Swift, over his ownership of her song catalogue, had sullied his public image. Rumors circulated that the future of Braun’s company, Ithaca Holdings, was in doubt. Amid this tumult, he was surprised to receive an invitation to speak with someone who had long fascinated him: the South Korean producer Bang Si-hyuk—known to admirers as Hitman Bang.
