Lifestyle
9 movie scenes I couldn't stop thinking about in 2024
Some scenes just stay with you. Clockwise from left, I Saw the TV Glow, My Old Ass, Trap, Tuesday.
A24/Screenshot by NPR; Marni Grossman/Amazon Content Services; Warner Bros. Pictures; A24
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A24/Screenshot by NPR; Marni Grossman/Amazon Content Services; Warner Bros. Pictures; A24
As a critic, I’m sometimes asked about my note-taking habits: Do you take a lot of notes? (Almost always; my memory can get fuzzy fast.) How do you do this in a dark theater? (Absolutely no phone screens! I scribble furiously with a pen and paper and hope for the best.) What do you usually take notes about?
To that last question, it truly varies, but I can say that I’m consistently being pulled in by words, spoken and unspoken. The profound, the funny, the relatable, the subtext-laden; the lines that reveal some kind of truth about the world on screen and thus the world we’re existing in now. When I think of some of my most memorable film-going experiences of 2024 – a great year for movies! – these are some of the moments and performances that have moved me, and stuck even many months later.
“I’m a little sick of the fluff.” — Girls State
Emily Worthmore, one of the candidates for governor at Girls State, poses with friends.
Apple TV+
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Apple TV+
Gendered inequities become glaringly obvious very quickly in Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine’s fascinating documentary about the long-running high school program known as Girls State. Like many before them, the ambitious civic-minded teens profiled here set out to build their own government from the ground up. But the film was shot in 2022, the first time the Missouri chapter hosted both the girls and boys programs on the same campus at the same time, and the girls spend much of their time observing how much attention is paid to the enforcement of dress codes and how little is given to discussing more substantial and urgent political issues. (Meanwhile, there’s ample evidence the boys’ ambitions are taken far more seriously. Among their advantages: being “sworn in” to “office” by the state governor.)
In one scene some of the girls commiserate over their disappointment with the tenor of the program, with one of them calling it out as distracting “fluff.” The moment speaks to the obstacles that still persist for women in politics and is a sobering depiction of young hopefuls getting an early taste of political disillusionment.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about before. I’m sorry about that before.” — I Saw the TV Glow
Owen (Justice Smith) panics at a child’s birthday party at the end of I Saw the TV Glow.
A24/Screenshot by NPR
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A24/Screenshot by NPR
The final lines of Jane Schoenbrun’s challenging and mesmerizing transgender allegory are a wallop of a denouement, proffering both sadness and hope. The sadness comes from everything we’ve learned about the meek protagonist Owen (Justice Smith) to this point – how, out of paralyzing fear, they’ve made a deliberate choice to deny their true self, and live a depressing and unfulfilling life. Now working at the kind of job that can only be described as the stuff of nightmares – a Chuck E. Cheese-like amusement center – the crushing weight of their denial finally hits, and sends them into a panic attack in the middle of a child’s birthday celebration.
But Schoenbrun leaves room for hope when Owen collects themselves in the bathroom and in a visually stunning sequence, realizes that who they are is still very much a part of them no matter how much they try to ignore it. They crack a slight smile that suggests some relief and then return to work, ambling past patrons and colleagues while mumbling apologies for their outburst. In a way Owen is still shrinking themselves, apologizing for being who they are. And yet: There’s a sense there’s finally been an existential breakthrough, and perhaps a less painful way forward.
“What the f***? Did you honestly think you were going to be married and have multiple kids and your dream job by the time you were 40?…Oh, you did. OK.” — My Old Ass
In My Old Ass, Maisy Stella plays soon-to-be college freshman Elliott — and Aubrey Plaza plays 39-year-old Elliott, a PhD student.
Marni Grossman/Amazon Content Services
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Marni Grossman/Amazon Content Services
The beauty of Megan Park’s coming-of-age dramedy is that it never attempts to explain how 18-year-old Elliott (Maisy Stella) comes to encounter her 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza), beyond a hallucinogenic mushroom trip the first time she appears. The obvious and more pressing question then is, What does my future hold? When older Elliott delivers the sobering news to younger Elliott – that life rarely plays out exactly as planned – the reality of many millennials and Gen Zers the world over is succinctly and wittily acknowledged. Own a house? Work a fulfilling job that also pays at least a living wage? LOL.
Park’s film mercifully doesn’t dwell on such cynicism, but it is all the better for those little nuggets of pointed commentary peppered throughout, blending a healthy dose of lived wisdom with the energy of youthful optimism.
“I love you so much more than me, and this is your life. And from now on, we’re gonna do what’s best for you.” — Tuesday
Lola Petticrew plays the titular character in Tuesday, a teenager with a terminal illness. Julia Louis-Dreyfus plays her mother, Zora.
A24
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A24
Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ Zora is unquestionably relatable — what person wouldn’t do everything in their power to ward off a loved one’s impending death, especially their child’s? But ultimately, Zora’s impulses are more harmful than good for her terminally ill daughter Tuesday (Lola Petticrew), who’s already come to terms with her own fate. It takes several extreme attempts at “killing” Death, imagined here as a majestically baritone macaw voiced by Arinzé Kene, before Zora understands she must set aside her own fears of what’s to come and live in the present.
When that epiphany arrives, their mother-daughter relationship begins to heal; Tuesday no longer has to worry about how her mother will fare once she’s gone, and Zora can cherish and appreciate what little time they have left together.
“Why didn’t they call me by my real name? Don’t they know it?” — Dahomey
A wooden statue of King Ghezo, who led Dahomey in the 19th century, is given a voice of its own in Dahomey.
MUBI/Screenshot from YouTube
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MUBI/Screenshot from YouTube
Twenty-six pillaged artifacts from the Kingdom of Dahomey were returned by France to the Republic of Benin in 2021. One of those objects, No. 26, is given a literal voice in Mati Diop’s stunning documentary, composed from a mix of male and female voices blended to create what she describes as “genderless vocal texture in deep, metallic frequencies.” As Diop’s camera captures the meticulous process of preparing them for transportation, that voice poetically ponders what it means to go back to a home you no longer recognize, through lines written by Haitian author and poet Makenzy Orcel. It’s a poignant reminder that even well-intentioned correctives to historical blights are insufficient in making up for what’s often lost — memories, names, and above all, a sense of self.
“You have a kind of — a forthrightness, you have a kind of aggressive quality. It sounds like a criticism; I don’t mean it as one. I’ve just always worried — I’ve just always wondered how that would work with a man. I’ve wondered if it might be easier for you to be with a woman.” — Janet Planet
11-year-old Lacy (Zoe Ziegler) and her mom, Janet (Julianne Nicholson), in Janet Planet.
A24
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A24
One night, inquisitive tween Lacy (Zoe Ziegler) asks her mom Janet (Julianne Nicholson) if she’d be “disappointed” if she dated a girl when she’s older. Janet, an acupuncturist and total hippie, admits she’d be neither disappointed nor shocked if that came to pass. The clarity of the observation about her daughter reveals that Janet sees a quality in Lacy that doesn’t exist within herself, namely that “forthrightness,” a lack of interest in tamping down any part of who she is.
This plays out throughout writer and director Annie Baker’s quiet drama, as Janet slips in and out of relationships with men who are no good for her, and as Lacy looks on skeptically. But the mother-daughter divide is made most honestly plain in this scene, which is both tender and (metaphorically) loud in the way it speaks to how women are traditionally conditioned to act and think about themselves. There’s care in Nicholson’s delivery, along with a tinge of regret.
“I need you, because I hate myself.” — The Substance
Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) attempts to revive her younger counterpart, Sue (Margaret Qualley).
MUBI/Screenshot by NPR
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MUBI/Screenshot by NPR
There is nothing subtle about this movie, but in a sparse script overflowing with bluntly obvious points about the horrors of sexism and misogyny, this line is the most apt thesis statement. What makes Coralie Fargeat’s astounding, seismic body horror so unique is that the external forces – men, the patriarchy writ large — are on the periphery. Instead, Fargeat is preoccupied with what those forces stir within Elisabeth (Demi Moore), a TV aerobics star resorting to the most desperate of measures to regain her youth, and Sue (Margaret Qualley), the other, younger half she gruesomely expels from her body with the aid of “the substance.”
As Elisabeth’s experiment goes awry, she begins to regret what she’s done and attempts to kill Sue, but can’t bring herself to go through with it. Now haggard and pitiful, Elisabeth says the not-quiet-at-all part even louder: “… I hate myself.” The film is a testament to how corrosive that hate can be.
“I’m taking such good care of my little white boys.” — Challengers
Tashi (Zendaya) and Patrick (Josh O’Connor), her ex-boyfriend.
Amazon MGM Studios
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Amazon MGM Studios
There’s so much narrative possibility packed into this throwaway line, spoken by tennis star-turned-coach Tashi (Zendaya). She’s a ruthless striver wedged in the middle of a homoerotic love triangle because she married Art (Mike Faist) after first having dated his best friend Patrick (Josh O’Connor). Does she love either of them as much, if not more, than she loves the thrill of a little green ball connecting with a swinging racket in a game of “good tennis”? Doubtful. But she’s dedicated her life to making sure Art does what she wasn’t able to accomplish on her own after a career-ending injury, and she’ll be damned if she’ll let Patrick humiliate him on the court.
Zendaya, of course, is a Black woman playing an athlete in a predominantly white and occasionally racist sport. Director Luca Guadagnino and screenwriter Justin Kuritzkes mostly ignore this reality, arguably to a fault; the movie’s avoidance of Tashi’s perspective in this regard keeps it from having any true thematic heft. But what little it does give us is in the form of this brief acknowledgment from Tashi that she’s hitched herself to these two pathetic “little white boys” who’ve squandered all their privilege and talent right before her eyes.
“Reminding everyone, visual markers. Surveillance footage from area of where victims were found recorded men of various builds: A redheaded male; two African-American males, above-average height; a male with white hair in his 60s; a white male in his 30s with a tattoo of a rabbit or animal on his right arm. A white male with a scar on his lower jaw.” — Trap
Josh Hartnett as Cooper and Ariel Donoghue as Riley in Trap.
Warner Bros. Pictures
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Warner Bros. Pictures
Look, I never said this was a list of the best movies of 2024. M. Night Shyamalan’s nepo-baby project starring Josh Hartnett as a hot and doting dad who’s also a serial killer is truly one of the dumbest, most nonsensical things to come out of Hollywood in recent memory. But it’s fun as hell, and the commitment to such a ridiculous premise is weirdly audacious: The F.B.I., led by a serial killer “profiler” played by Haley Mills, has trapped thousands of people at a pop star’s concert to catch a guy who could be literally anyone. (That pop star is played by Shyamalan’s daughter Saleka.)
What does this killer look like? Who knows! Except if you’ve seen this movie and made it through to the end, you eventually realize that everyone hunting this guy down should’ve absolutely known. It makes no sense. The plot holes are abundant. This is cinema.
Lifestyle
L.A. Affairs: It’s hot when a man drives to me. But would this new guy make the trek from the Valley?
I met Dan on Hinge.
He lives in Woodland Hills, and I live in Venice. In Los Angeles, this is considered a long-distance relationship. In another city it might be nothing. Here, it’s a factor.
But I believe that with the right person, you can make anything work, so I stay open. I’m a native New Yorker, and if I were living in Brooklyn and a guy lived on the Upper West Side, that would be a 45-minute subway ride, which is truly nothing in New York. So with that same logic, I try to have flexibility with men in L.A.
When we started planning our first date, Dan suggested three options: a hike on mushrooms, a wine tasting or a walk on the beach.
A hike on mushrooms is something I’d only do with someone I already trust, not someone I just met online. I don’t do first-date hikes because I don’t like feeling trapped if the guy’s a dud. So I chose the wine tasting.
Then I learned the wine tasting was in West Hills.
On a Friday night, driving there from Venice would be insane. So I said I didn’t want to meet there because of the traffic. He suggested Malibu. That was also not ideal on a Friday.
I was getting annoyed — this was a pink flag because in my dating world, the guy is supposed to come to the woman’s neighborhood in the early days. I’ve gone out with plenty of men from the Valley who effortlessly suggested they come to me. It’s not rare or impossible.
I suggested he come to the Westside. I didn’t specifically say Venice, and in hindsight, I probably should have. He landed on Brentwood, which was manageable for both of us. On our first date, we met at an Irish pub on Wilshire Boulevard. He was cuter and more interesting than I had expected, and with the Guinness flowing, we had fun.
When I got home, he texted me: “Well, I like you 🙂 Less the tik tok and the lack of rock music in your life, but it’s not a deal breaker — there are other qualities 🙂 What are your thoughts?”
I noticed the slight negativity but was mostly dazzled that a man texted immediately after the date to say he liked me. In the modern dating economy, this felt rare.
The next day, both of our evening plans fell through, so we made a last-minute date. The wine tasting he originally suggested still sounded like fun, and although it meant me driving to the Valley, I was up for it now that we’d met.
We sipped flights at Malibu Wines & Beer Garden in its airy, romantic courtyard and played a flirty version of Truth or Dare. Halfway through, he dared me to kiss him.
We ended with sushi on Ventura Boulevard and a short make-out session in his car. He invited me to Thanksgiving at his uncle’s, which felt too soon, but also sweet.
After the second date, he texted and said he had his kids that week and was also hosting an event on Thursday, so his only day to meet was Wednesday. I said great.
On Tuesday night, he checked if we were still on, and I said yes.
Then he texted: “I’m flexible on time but not on location. I have a big event on Thursday, hopefully you can come to me again.”
My stomach tightened. This again?
So I texted back: “I drove to you last time, which was a bit of an exception for me especially in the early days, but the wine tasting location sounded special. Usually guys come to my area. How about we switch it up this time?”
He replied: “I appreciate the effort! Because of my event, I’d rather be close to a computer just if needed … Here is what i offer:
— I’ll come to your area anytime next week/end
— Lunch/dinner on me
I want to continue where we stopped last time 😉 No pressure of course, but let’s snuggle”
I responded: “Ok let’s meet next week. Snuggles sound nice … let’s see what happens …”
Then he wrote: “So I won’t see you tomorrow?”
I replied: “Unless you wanna come to me and bring your laptop along, let’s rain check until you have more flexibility.”
He said: “Dang, you are hard. I’ll let you know tomorrow around midday if it’s ok.”
And then — surprise — he decided to come.
He drove to Venice for a 5 p.m. date. He said his ETA was 5 p.m., and it ended up being 5:25 p.m., typical 405 Freeway.
When he showed up, he was in a cranky mood. On our way to KazuNori in Marina del Rey, I thanked him for picking me up and told him I think it’s hot when the guy comes to the girl.
“You’re just saying that because you want me to come to you more,” he said, not playfully, but aggressively.
That was basically the end for me. But there I was, in his car, heading to dinner. So I stayed pleasant and tried to make the best of it.
I shared that in the early stages of dating, I find it’s good etiquette for the guy to come to the woman’s neighborhood. He immediately disagreed and started ranting about how dating rules are ridiculous and how they swing in women’s favor. He resented paying for dates and declared he wasn’t looking to “sponsor a woman’s life.”
“If women want equality and equal rights,” he said, “then it should apply all across the board, including dating, and the man shouldn’t have to pay.”
I said women don’t actually have equal rights because we get paid less than men and often receive lower salaries than men in the same position.
I tried to change the subject and reset the mood, but he insisted we keep hashing it out.
I tried to explain masculine/feminine dynamics: providing and protecting, giving and receiving.
“What does the man get out of this arrangement?” he asked.
It was like watching someone’s personality warp into Mr. Hyde. Then he brought up another point: He’s a single dad of two kids, so he gets tired; and because I don’t have kids, that should factor into who drives where.
At this point, I was barely engaging and focused on eating my hand rolls, and I couldn’t wait to get home.
The check came, and I happily split it, wanting nothing further from him.
In the car back to my place, he remarked: “It’s obvious we’re never gonna see each other again.”
Obvious, but did it need to be stated?
Then he showed me a Spotify playlist he’d made for me of his favorite electronic music, because he knows I like EDM.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s how I show interest. Through things like this, not who drives to who,” he replied.
When I got out of the car, we wished each other luck, and I headed inside and shut the door.
Two hours later, he sent me the playlist. I’ve yet to listen to it.
It wasn’t the distance that ruined it. It was the resentment. I’m not looking for a man who feels burdened by the effort. I’m looking for a man who sees the value of courting a woman in the first place.
The author is a writer, comedian and former psychologist who lives in Venice. She is the creator of the new vertical series “Manfari.” She’s on Instagram: @solange_neue and @manfari.show.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
Lonnie Bunch III is the 14th Secretary of the Smithsonian. He’s pictured above in September 2017.
J. Scott Applewhite/AP
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J. Scott Applewhite/AP
In a memo addressed to staffers sent Tuesday, the secretary of the Smithsonian, Lonnie G. Bunch III, defended the institution after the White House issued a 162-page report that characterizes the National Museum of American History as a place which has become “subject to institutional capture by a radical, activist ideology that is fundamentally opposed to telling the noble, honest story of the great country we know and love.”
In his email, which NPR has obtained, Bunch wrote in part: “While there will always be room for improvement, this report is not a fair characterization of the work and totality of the National Museum of American History. At the Smithsonian, our work is driven by scholarship, accuracy and an uncompromising commitment to tell the fullness of America’s story. As public servants and the keepers of this institution, we are charged with helping a nation find understanding, hope and clarity and as part of that duty, we are dedicated to excellence, reflection and growth.”
He continued: “We remain focused on what grounds us: a steadfast commitment to scholarship, nonpartisanship, independence, accuracy and integrity. For nearly 180 years, the Smithsonian has worked alongside partners across government — from the White House to Congress to our governing Board of Regents — guided by our enduring mission to increase and diffuse knowledge. That purpose remains: to pursue knowledge with rigor and to serve the American public with clarity and care.”
The White House report was issued on July 4 by the Domestic Policy Council under the title “Saving America’s Story: How Ideological Capture at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History Erases Our Heritage.”
The council faults the National Museum of American History on a multitude of fronts, saying it underemphasized the Founding Fathers and early colonial and Revolutionary history; was not sufficiently celebratory of the country’s 250th anniversary; and that it engaged in “anti-white,” “illegal alien” and transgender activism.
It also accuses the museum of trying to “indoctrinate” teachers and students through its exhibitions, programming and teaching resources.
In the report, the council also specifically criticizes museum director Anthea Hartig, who has led the National Museum of American History since 2019 and is concurrently the president of the Organization of American Historians, calling her “an activist advancing an ideological agenda contradictory to the museum’s founding purpose of fostering patriotism.”
The Trump administration has made the Smithsonian museums one of its primary targets in its efforts to reshape cultural narratives to align with its viewpoints. In August 2025, the White House requested a “comprehensive internal review” of eight Smithsonian museums, including the National Museum of American History, following an executive order issued by President Trump in March 2025 in which he called for the removal of “improper ideology” from the Smithsonian’s offerings.
According to the Smithsonian’s charter, all of its 21 museums, 14 education and research centers, and the National Zoo are meant to be run independently of the federal government. The Smithsonian is overseen by Bunch and a board of regents, which includes Vice President Vance, Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts and other members appointed by Congress.
In an interview with NBC’s Meet the Press on Sunday, Bunch spoke about the Smithsonian’s 250th anniversary special exhibition at the Smithsonian Castle, which is called “American Aspirations.”
He told NBC: “It’s really important for people to understand that America is much an ideal as it is a place, that it’s a series of aspirations that have really shaped who this country is. And so for me, what is so powerful is to say, ‘Let us honor the words of Thomas Jefferson and the founders, but let us use those to challenge us to be better.’”
Jennifer Vanasco edited this story.
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