In Too Much, Lena Dunham’s Netflix romcom, protagonist Jess has a toxic ex called Zev. Via flashback, we witness Zev dismiss her emotional needs, demand she get rid of her dog and – worst of all – pour scorn on her cultural preferences: Vanderpump Rules, the “Real Housewomen of North Carolina”, Miley Cyrus songs. When Jess enthusiastically sings along to the ballad Angels Like You, Zev admonishes her: “It’s not real music, it’s manufactured bullshit – come on, you’re too smart to fall for that.” Jess briefly defends Cyrus, before retreating. “Don’t make me feel stupid for loving things!” she implores tearily.
Zev is a bad guy and a cultural snob. He’s a bad guy partly because he’s a cultural snob. He’s also a relic. We live in a world where contempt for culture based on its level of sophistication or intellectual value is considered deeply passé, if not borderline evil. The derogatory labels – guilty pleasure, idiotbox, dumbed-down entertainment, disposable pop, trash TV – are no longer in circulation. Culture of every stripe is worthwhile: superhero movies prompt near academic levels of discourse; Taylor Swift is the subject of multiple university classes; and reality shows double as state of the nation treatises (The Traitors echoes British democracy’s dysfunctions, wrote Ian Dunt in the i; the brutal competition of Love Island USA is an allegory for the mercilessness of American life, according to the New Yorker). Throwing insults – vapid, stupid, pointless, brain cell-depleting – is now like spitting into a mirror: it says more about you than the song/show/movie you are criticising.
