Flowing bottles of champagne, disco tunes in a club, the kiss at midnight, mingling with relatives whilst nibbling on canapés, hearty renditions of Auld Lang Syne, wrapping-up warm to watch some fireworks, the 10-second countdown: we all have our conceptions of the new year.

It’s the chance to wrap up the festive season in style whilst marking the start of another calendar year, with celebrations talking place all over the world.

Personally I’ve never understood all the fuss. The idea of standing outside in the freezing cold to watch a mediocre fireworks display or cramming into a noisy, sweaty club with a bunch of strangers, shouting along to a glorified countdown to simply mark the start of another day baffles me.

Forcing myself to stay awake to watch the London’s New Year’s Eve fireworks on the TV has always felt rather anti-climactic and depressing. I usually end up staring at my Christmas tree, the harsh chimes of Big Ben reminding me that the cosy December celebrations will soon be a distant memory.

In fact, the words ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR!’ make my skin crawl, eyes roll and heart palpitate simultaneously.

I don’t know how many people are able to greet the new year with such positivity. To me January signals the start of blisteringly freezing and miserable weather, endless reminders to be a ‘new you’ and the start of the monotonous work-life grind we feel obliged to commit to.

And if I see another fitness, gym or weight loss advert I am going to scream into the abyss.

That’s why, rather than marking ‘the new year’, I want to mark ‘a year’.

Rather than buying into the sickeningly manipulating mindset that I need to change just because the number one has been added onto 2024, I just want to carry on living, being proud of being able get through one day at a time.

So there will be no ‘new me’ and no resolutions.

Instead of cheering in 2025, you will find me finishing the pack of mince pies and the left over cheeseboard.

Happy New Year!

The post Happy (New) Year! first appeared on The Life of Riley.

It seems hard to believe that 2024 marks 15 years since Glee first graced its way onto television screens, becoming one of the most chaotic shows to perhaps ever be created.

Set in Lima, Ohio, Glee follows the story of the William McKinley High School glee club, (possibly crudely titled), The New Directions and its members as they compete in show choir championships and navigate the tumultuous world of high school whilst dreaming of achieving superstardom.

Initially this may seem like an extremely odd, zany and wacky premise. A musical comedy about a high school glee club made up of outcasts, jocks and cheerleaders, featuring songs ranging from Broadway classics to the latest pop hits whilst also focusing on the wider lives of the teens and adults? Many TV executives may have scoffed at this idea, asking ‘What sort of teenager would be interested in that?’.  In many ways, Glee shouldn’t have worked. Yet it did, proving all the naysayers wrong and becoming a cultural juggernaut.

Riding the coattails of the hugely successful High School Musical, the first season of Glee was able to offer something new and exciting in the TV landscape, perfectly blending the stereotypes of a teen drama with deft satirical humour, all whilst incorporating ludicrously camp musical numbers that somehow manage to be bothcool and cringey at exactly the same time. Perhaps one of the most exciting aspects of the show was the presence and visibility of LGBTQ+ characters on a primetime TV show, helping to smash barriers and perceptions surrounding queerness.

Upon its premiere in 2009 Glee was met with critical acclaim, receiving incredible viewership and exploding in popularity.  It may be hard to process now, especially to those who have never seen the show but it truly was a phenomenon. During its run, the Glee cast charted 207 songs on the Billboard Hot 100, went on a concert across North America and Europe and its most watched episode pulled in just under 27 million viewers in the United States. Perhaps my memory is tainted with nostalgia but there was a time when it seemed as though everyone was talking about the show and listening to its music.

However, along with a decline in quality, the show’s huge popularity eventually faded. It may be a slight understatement to say that the show went off the rails; if Glee was a metaphorical train, it didn’t merely go off the rails but rather hectically dove straight off a bridge. Once the characters that audiences had grown to know and love left high school, the show made the decision to split in two, following the fan favourite characters as they began their lives in the real world whilst also introducing a new set of high school kids, becoming a weird fusion show that never really knew what it wanted to be. Moreover, the music of the show was no longer having the huge impact that it once did, with music selections ranging from desperate attempts to recreate chart hits all the way to obscure Broadway show numbers that didn’t have the razzamatazz of other musical theatre songs that the show became known for revitalising, popularising for a wider audience. Perhaps the most notable decline in quality for Glee was in the storylines it delivered. Whilst starting off as a clever satire of high school politics, it eventually turned into the high school drama it originally made fun of. There were storylines that attempted to broach issues such as teenage pregnancy, underage drinking, eating disorders, suicide and even an episode that tackled the problem of school shootings. Whilst these issues needed to be discussed, due to the show’s 45-minute timeframe, these topics were only quickly highlighted and along with being placed alongside musical numbers and the overall storyline of the series, they were never given the intense focus they deserved. The result was that these heavy-handed issues were quickly brushed under the carpet in a cheap and sometomes degrading manner; each week it felt as though Glee turned into a PSA, trying to solve issues and wrap them all up in the neatly tied bow of entertainment. The show has rightly been criticised for this, as well as some of its downright horrific plot and character choices. The prime example of the horror of Glee comes from the glee club’s teacher Will Schuester, who is the true villain of the show. Over the run of its six seasons Will places blackmails Finn into joining the glee club by planting marijuana in his locker, suspends another member, Marley, for refusing to wear a bikini and sings Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’, and Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines WITH students. (Mr Schuester’s crimes against humankind are so extensive that it could genuinely be turned into a full-on thesis).

Some storylines also reached a level of insanity that makes you question if a hallucinogenic chemical has worked its way into the local water system. Some of the most ridiculous moments include Finn believing that Jesus appears to him through a grilled cheese sandwich and a gas leak in the choir room causing Blaine to imagine that everyone in the school has turned into a puppet. Other crazy storylines feature purple pianos, students trying to put on The Rocky Horror Picture Show, anaesthetic dream musical numbers, a birth sequence timed to a performance of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, a dinosaur themed prom, a talk show called ‘fondue for two’ and themed episodes that pay tribute to icons such as Madonna, Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Fleetwood Mac, Katy Perry as well as an episode that revolves around twerking. The people who guest starred on the show is also mind boggling, featuring the likes of Kristin Chenoweth, Idina Menzel, John Hamm, Josh Groban, Gwyneth Paltrow, Patti LuPone, Whoopi Goldberg, Neil Patrick Harris, Jeff Goldblum and Sarah Jessica Parker.

The show truly is the most chaotic, messy, confusing piece of entertainment that has perhaps ever graced TV screens. Whilst I could dive even further into the problematic elements of the show and make fun of its most mind-numbingly insane moments, many deep dive videos and articles do this far better. Also, despite its abundance of flaws I must confess that…I love Glee.

I have no shame in admitting that I am a GLEEK, through and through. Many who know me have rolled their eyes an immeasurable number of times as I have fangirled over the show, imploring anyone to watch its beauteous sense of chaos as I proudly exclaim that I listen to numerous Glee themed podcasts (yes…I really do).

Whilst it may be easy to make fun of this, I cannot stress how instrumental the show was in my upbringing and in my exploration of queerness as it was just beginning to slowly bloom.

My Mum can perhaps be blamed for causing my obsession with the show. As I had loved High School Musical, when she heard about the positive word of mouth around the show, I remember picking up the first season boxset in ASDA and going home to watch the first few episodes. Disaster struck however when my Mum decided I was still too young to witness some of the more mature themes of the show. So, I waited patiently until I turned 12, the age decreed old enough to watch the show by the British Board of Film Classification, sticking on the first season boxset, the bright yellow packaging of which had begun to fade, committing an act of what I considered to be a quasi-rebellion by watching a show that had previously been denied to me by my parents. From as soon as I put on the first episode, I consumed the remaining available seasons with a feverish excitement, bowled over by the elaborate musical numbers and brilliant characters on screen. I downloaded the music, dancing along to the songs on my iPod, much to the behest of my peers at school, and considered it to be one my favourite shows. Sadly, as the Glee’s popularity faded and criticisms began to appear, my love of the show turned into a guilty pleasure, causing it to be pushed into the deepest depths of my memory.

When lockdown hit in 2020 and Glee arrived onto streaming platforms, I decided to numb my mind by revisiting the show, quickly binging all 121 episodes across its six seasons…and I am so glad that I did.

Firstly, I do want to stress that, despite its flaws, the show is an incredible piece of television. It is wacky, bold, stuffed to the brim with talent and tells some truly engaging stories. It deftly blends the tropes of a high school drama with a dark, macabre sense of satire that broaches many of the issues that we continue to face within society. It does all of this whilst producing some truly outstanding musical numbers. Whether it’s Darren Criss’s swoon worthy acapella rendition of ‘Teenage Dream’, or the jaw dropping mashup of Adele’s ‘Someone Like You’ and ‘Rumour Has It’; the music SLAPS. During its run, Glee featured over 700 musical performances. Regardless of what you may think of the show, this remarkable achievement should not go unrecognised.

It was during my rewatch that I began to retrospectively realise how the show was able to have such a profound impact on me. Behind all of its ridiculous storylines, Glee is ultimately a simple story about a group of underdogs who smash the barriers put in their way and eventually come out on top, proving wrong everyone who underestimated them. Throughout its seasons, the audience witness an eclectic group of insanely talented people realising their dreams, sending the message that anything was possible. It bought together the jocks, cheerleaders and outcasts, showing how everyone can get along no matter our differences. For me, the show was the first time I truly felt as though a sense of difference was celebrated on screen; I was able to see queerness embraced, characters of all shapes and sizes and abilities shining onstage. Ultimately the show sent a message of hope, telling audiences that no matter who you were, what you looked like, who you loved or whatever your background, that you were worthy of love and capable of achieving your dreams.

For my 12-year-old self, still confused about their queerness, feeling alone and sometimes ashamed of how different I felt, this show made me feel accepted. It taught me that I didn’t have to apologise for the who I was and sent me the message that I could love and accept myself just the way that I was.

Even though it is immensely cheesy, when I hear the opening notes of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ (THE GLEE CAST VERSION!), tears begin to flood my eyes and a sense of optimistic hope is always able to pour into my heart. That simple message the song sends always helps me to remember how a show about a silly high school glee club was able to make me feel less alone, to make me proud of who I was.  And for that reason, I’ll never stop believin’.

The post Glee: Why I’ll Never Stop Believin’ (Opinion) first appeared on The Life of Riley.

After the culmination of the Harry Potter and Twilight series and following the success of The Hunger Games in 2012, it seemed that movie studios everywhere were clamouring to produce the next big franchise that could placate the minds of pubescent teens across the world. The early 2010s were full of book to movie adaptations, ranging from The Maze Runner, Ender’s Game, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Fault in Our Stars, The Mortal Instruments, I Am Number Four, The 5^th Wave and countless more that it would take an eternity to list. 

There is many a video essay online that delves into this YA book-to-movie phenomenon that are highly engaging, nostalgic and humorous. Yet I am here to talk about one series that that particularly enraptured my attention: Divergent. 

Based on the popular YA novel of the same name by Veronica Roth, it follows the story of Beatrice Prior, living in a futuristic Chicago where society has divided itself into five factions, based on different traits: Erudite (intelligence), Candor (honesty), Abnegation (selflessness), Amity (kindness) and Dauntless (bravery). 

On one day every year, all sixteen-year-olds take part in a choosing ceremony, deciding which faction they will live in for the remainder of their lives. To help them determine their choices, they undergo an aptitude test. Following her test, Beatrice finds out that she is…(take a bated breath)…DIVERGENT. Those who are Divergent don’t fit into any of the faction systems and are deemed to be a threat to society. Following this revelation, Beatrice decides to leave her old faction behind and join Dauntless, changing her name to Tris and embarking on an intense initiation process where she meets the mysterious and enigmatic man known only as Four. 

However, just as Tris starts to settle into her new faction, she uncovers a sinister plan by forces seeking to declare war on society, putting her and everyone she loves in danger.

What follows is a typical young adult tale filled with action, adventure, romance, and corrupt governments and blah, blah, blah…I’m sure you get the picture. 

Many have criticised Divergent and the YA dystopian genre for its desperate attempts to ride the wave of the success of The Hunger Games, which is often regarded as the superior series, and I don’t disagree. Many teenage book-to-movie adaptations failed to reach the soaring heights of The Hunger Games, often feeling lifeless, dull, just desperate cash grabs by conglomerate movie studios.

However, whilst I loved The Hunger Games, my huge obsession came in the form of Divergent. When I say I was obsessed…I was OBSESSED. 

I avidly read all of the books, buying multiple copies to get the covers that I liked. When I finished the final book, I don’t remember pain quite like it, crying a seemingly never-ending stream of tears. I hung posters in my bedroom, bought the illustrated movie companions, drew pictures, had screensavers on my computer, took tests to see which faction that I belonged in, watched fan edits; I even considered buying a necklace with a quote from the book. When I first went to see the movie, I also managed to pick up an empty popcorn bucket with a poster of the movie emblazoned onto it, not a tin, but a cardboard popcorn bucket, which was placed on the desk in my room for far too many years until all the colours had drained from it into a faded monochrome. I also remember that the part of my summer holiday that I was most excited for that year was the flight, purely because I would be able to watch the movie again. 

As the subsequent movies were released, my enthusiasm for the series began to fade. The second and third movies (forgive the pun) diverged so far from the source material that the characters began to become unrecognisable to me and I found myself laughing at how awful the adaptation had become. The series sadly died a long, drawn-out death, becoming yet another fatality of the teenage dystopian trend that the world had begun to get tired of.

Yet I have never forgotten my love for the series, always cherishing the joy that it gave me in my early teenage years. I was jolted back to that period when I realised earlier this year that 2024 marks the 10-year anniversary of the movie adaptation of Divergent. I found myself compelled to revisit the series, reading the first book and watching the movie to mark the occasion, to figure out what it was exactly that made me fall head over heels for it in the first place. And I am so glad that I did. 

I am not going to pretend that Divergent is an underrated masterpiece, because it isn’t. The plot is somewhat simple in its construction, arguably being a tad threadbare and following many of the typical story beats of a YA novel in which the protagonist has to grapple with the corrupt government in a post-apocalyptic, dystopian society. Whilst the premise and worldbuilding is compelling, by the conclusion of the series a lot of questions are left unanswered, and some plot threads feel rushed in their conclusion. It also has the ‘eye-rollingly’ typical, brooding male love interest with a chiselled jawline who harbours some form of mysterious, dark past. Both the book and the movie are also a tad melodramatic, with some fabulously cheesy lines that simultaneously make me cringe and giggle. The movie also has the common problem of most of the actors being far older than the characters they are playing, which can often make a lot of the teenage actions they make look somewhat silly and immature. It’s arguably just a simple YA novel and movie. It could be branded as ‘The Hunger Games with tattoos.’ 

But I don’t care, revisiting the series has bought me a sense of unabashed joy. 

I devoured the first book with a feverish hunger. Yes, it may not be necessarily revolutionary, but it is immensely readable and accessible. The characters are relatable and interesting, drawing you into the world they are living in. The plot may be simple, but it’s fast paced, keeping you on the edge of your toes.  Just as I did when I first read the book, I found myself staying up until the early hours of the night in order to finish it. 

As book to movie adaptations go, Divergent is among the best, never straying far from the source material, hitting most of the important story points, capturing the essence of the novel whilst also elevating it to the blockbuster heights that it needs to reach. The fear landscape scenes in particular are translated well, if not better, in my opinion than the book. The actors also manage to capture the likeness of the characters despite their older age and whilst not being a groundbreaking movie, its simply well-made and doesn’t treat the audience too idiotically. The soundtrack also SLAPS, who doesn’t love Ellie Goulding sighing swoon fully over sweeping shots of a downtrodden Chicago? 

Let’s just not talk about the other movies…its too painful.

Wrapped up within this excitement, I realised that the reason I resonated so strongly with Divergent was because of its simple message about bravery and standing up for what you believe in. Of course, this is a message found in many YA adaptations.  

The YA genre is often made fun of for the common trope of a strong protagonist overcoming the hostile government that is trying to supress them, with many scorning teens for simply enjoying a simple story of good vs evil. This mockery of the genre has always irked me. Teenage years are filled with a sense of angst, anxiety, confusion and frustration, hovering on a wobbly tightrope where you are expected to act grown up, plan out your life yet are still often treated as a child, having to follow a set of rigid rules that can often feel suffocating.  So, it’s no wonder that stories of teens overcoming an evil group of adults, whilst battling a love triangle, resonate with teens. The YA genre of novels and movies allowed teenagers to escape the grim reality of growing up, to imagine a world in which boundaries could be broken and evil regimes toppled. The fandoms that spawned from the novels and movies also created communities where friendships were forged and creativity flourished in the forms of artwork and fanfiction. 

Revisiting Divergent, I simply realised that it allowed me to have a place to escape to, where I could imagine myself living my own life, having a sense of control when the real world felt so chaotic yet simultaneously restrained. 

I first read Divergent at a point of an immense change in my life. I had just started boarding school, moving away from home for the first time, away from my friends, starting harder schoolwork and grappling with my queer identity whilst being surrounded by a boyish masculinity that was terrifying to me. I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere, too ‘girly’ for the boys and too ‘boyish’ for the girls; I felt alone, confused and isolated. 

Reading Divergent was a shining beacon of hope for me at the time.  It’s celebration of divergence, of refusing to adhere to a rigid faction system, resonated with my queer little heart, telling me that it was okay to be myself, that, like Tris, I will find my place within the world someday.  Whilst this may seem like a simple message, it was everything that I needed to hear. It gave me confidence, courage and hope. Just as Tris gets a tattoo of three ravens to remind her of her family and how far she has come, Divergent worked its way into my heart, acting as a guiding companion in the darkest of times.

My revisit of Divergent has come at the point where I feel a similar sense of confusion, worry and isolation.  As I wrap up my final year at University, I have no idea at what the future may hold and am about to move away from my friends, a place I have also grown to call home. 

So hearing Four tell Tris that

“Becoming fearless isn’t the point, it’s learning how to control your fear and how to be free from it, that’s the point”

(Roth 239)

has had just as much impact on me now as it did 10 years ago

I am reminding myself that whatever is out there may seem scary but that I can learn how to deal with it, and make my way through, even if its one step at a time.

Whilst Divergent isn’t a revolutionary piece of fiction, this revisit has shown how much it still means to me and continue to resonate today. Perhaps we should all connect to our teenage selves again. As isolating a period as it was, as frightening as it felt, I found my way through, there was a resilience within that little old me that powered through, and it’s something I know I still have within me as I embark on my next journey. 

So revisit the good old YA dystopias of the 2010s…you never know what you might find.

Works Cited

Roth, Veronica. Divergent. Harper Collins Children’s Books, 2011.

The post A Retrospective Reflection of Divergent (Opinion) first appeared on The Life of Riley.

What followed was a feverish release of childish excitement as they squealed with joy, taking pictures with the 3D poster stand, with one shouting ‘Yo man, I can’t wait to see this movie, I’m so excited!’ 

At the time, I was baffled, unable to comprehend how these young adults could be excited for a ‘kid’s movie’ but now, looking back, I realised that they were most likely the same age as I was when the original Toy Story was released, the first generation to have grown up with the characters. No wonder they were excited for what, at the time, was billed as the culmination of one of the greatest movie trilogies of all time. It was their chance to say goodbye to characters that had been with them through their whole life, providing them with a sense of solace and comfort. 

After seeing the recently released trailer for Despicable Me 4, I realised the Despicable Me movies hold a similar bearing for me. 

Before anyone freaks out, let me be clear, I am by no means suggesting that the Illumination franchise is as good as the Toy Story movies. I acknowledge that they are wildly uneven in quality and lack the sense of sophistication of the Pixar movies. Yet it’s the same nostalgia that those leather jacket guys had for Toy Story that I have for the story about an evil supervillain, with banana loving, yellow ‘minions’, who learns to become and Dad and has his heart is healed by three young orphans. 

I was eight years old when Despicable Me came out, and I instantly fell in love with it. Practically all kids did at the time; a movie with fart jokes, unicorns, cookie robots, and a plot to steal the moon was sure to win over little minds. It also helped that it rode the wave came of the post Avatar 3D craze, filled with moments where objects flew out of the screen, that my sugar-induced pick ‘n’ mix brain couldn’t get enough of. It was also Illumination’s first and still, in my opinion, best movie, and offered a fresh animation style that differed from the animation giants that had ruled the 2000s: Pixar and DreamWorks. 

When I say the world went mad for the movie, it really went mad for the movie. It wasn’t long before minion mania took over, with the little, yellow maniacs being bedecked onto all sorts of merchandise (I hold a particular fondness for the Minion Haribo and banana flavoured ‘tic-tacs’). It has now spawned two sequels (with an aforementioned fourth movie on the way), as well as two Minion spin-off movies, animated shorts, a countless array of merchandise, video and mobile games and numerous theme park attractions (having ridden ‘Despicable Me: Minion Mayhem’ in Orlando, I can say that this is extremely fun and getting to step into Gru’s house almost made me cry). When you set this conglomerate capitalism aside however, it is simply a charming movie, filled with a sense of whimsical fantastical quasi sci-fi ridiculousness. 

For those of you who are unaware Despicable Me tells the story of Gru, who dreams of becoming the greatest villain of all time by stealing the moon. A fresh new villain named ‘Vector’, who so happens to have stolen the Great Pyramid of Giza, threatens Gru’s dreams, however. So Gru decides to adopt three little girls, Margo, Edith and Agnes, who will inadvertently help him in his villainous ways. It may follow the classic ‘villain turned hero’ trope, yet when it is told as beautifully as this, I can’t help but put this to the side and watch the screen with a sense of unabashed, childish glee. From the slightly cringe, yet iconic 2010s soundtrack, cringe humour and gags, fabulous voice acting from Steve Carrell, Jason Segel and Julie Andrews, and animation that bursts with a sense of liveliness and Eurocentric eccentricity, the film tugs at the inner child. Jason Segel as Vector is wonderfully absurd and ludicrous and deserves a spot in the pantheon of the greatest movie villains of all time. Whilst some may bemoan the presence of the Minions who arguably scream ‘BUY ME’, its hard not to be charmed by their buffoonish charm. 

Behind the mad plot of ‘supervillain’ trying to steal the moon lies a simple message that family can be found in the unlikeness of places, a broken heart can be patched up and that anyone is deserving of love. For me, it’s most guttural power lies from how it speaks incalculably to a sense of childhood loneliness. In a series of flashbacks (across a few of the movies), we see Gru experience forms of rejection, from both his peers and his mother. We see that Gru never felt ‘good’ or ‘worthy enough’ and ever-since has felt that he needs to achieve something spectacular in order to prove his rightful place in society. By virtue of not seeming ‘good’, Gru believes that he can achieve something by being despicable. Yet he realises, with the help of Margo, Edith, Agnes and banana loving minions, that he is good enough, just as he is. 

As someone who often felt a sense of loneliness growing up, the simple message the movie sends that everybody is deserving of love, that it can be found in the unlikeliest of places, still warms the jaded and bitter parts of my childhood and teenage self that I still can’t seem to shake off. Quite simply, it is able to thaw my ‘freeze-rayed’ heart. 

In the days of VHS, people often note that their favourite movies became completely wound down from the number of times that it was re-watched. Despicable Me is that movie for me: I have watched it so many times that I have lost count and on my most recent re-watch with my Mum, she started to become a little fed-up with how many times I was reciting lines. 

It doesn’t matter though, as soon as the opening credits begin with those little yellow freaks, I just disappear. And you better believe that I’ll be in the cinema later this year, waiting to re-live my childhood, all be it for a short while.

The post The Eccentric Whimsy of Despicable Me (Opinion) first appeared on The Life of Riley.

One may suggest that this is great, surely? Why should we complain when we have so many entertainment options? Yet this is where the problem lies; with the production of so much content, a lot of it feels hastily and lazily produced. Whilst watching Marvel’s Secret Invasion last year I found myself questioning if I had just become a soulless automaton, mindlessly yet willingly shovelling bland TV into my brain. I realised I had become numb to what I was watching, convincing myself that the dribble put in front of me wasn’t that bad, trying to assuage the guilt in shelling out for all of the services I have subscribed to. This wasn’t the only case of shows that personally gutted me recently. The past season of Sex Education felt heartbreakingly desperate, and the expansion of RuPaul’s Drag Race has happened so exponentially that it has slowly killed my enjoyment of a franchise that I loved. 

Of course, it should be acknowledged that streaming is equally phenomenal, creating incredible shows, ranging from Stranger Things to Squid Game and allowing stories to be told that may have never been commissioned by terrestrial TV, all whilst giving us unparalleled access to a library of content from history. 

So why do I still feel so overwhelmed? Despite new series my favourite shows dropping recently, such as Queer Eye, For All Mankind and Big Boys, I’ve simply lacked the incentive to start watching, casually putting them off and telling myself I’ll start them at a later date. (Somehow, I still find myself confused at the end of each day as to how I end up watching a video of someone turning a $10 traybake into a ‘luxury wedding cake’ or Glee for the billionth time!) 

I think the problem with this lies in the very structure of streaming. 

Unlike live TV, streaming is available on practically any portable device. This has removed the necessity to be sat in front of the TV at a specific time; we can now consume all of this content at our own pace, according to our own schedules. Whilst extremely convenient, ultimately, it may have killed the ephemerality of live TV. 

There was a time when watching TV was a tangible act. Even with the record button on Sky, the live nature of TV necessitated that we sit down, whether by ourselves or as a collective. You could sit down, knowing that people were watching at exactly the same time as you, facilitating discussion the next day with friends or family. Whether it was David Tennant’s supposed ‘regeneration’ in the fourth series of Doctor Who, One Direction on The X Factor or Nadiya winning The Great British Bake Off, there was something magical in knowing that the entire nation was watching. Now, we have to avoid social media if we don’t want to be spoiled or hastily try to catch up on episodes whilst being crammed on public transport. 

I am being slightly melodramatic. Terrestrial TV still gets people talking, from The Traitors, to Strictly Come Dancing or the final series of Succession. Regardless, I cannot help but feel that it’s not the same. Sometimes, it feels as though TV has become a burden to keep up with, the consumption of 

content seen as a requirement to remain within the cultural zeitgeist rather than as something to truly enjoy and unwind with at the end of the day. So, we shouldn’t forget how powerful sitting down to watch TV can be. Be it with friends, family, or the world there is something within it that has an unparalleled beauty. I just hope it hasn’t been lost forever. 

Having said that, will I still be streaming something tonight? Yes, yes, I will.

The post The Age of Streaming: Has the Magic Gone from TV? (Opinion) first appeared on The Life of Riley.

It seems hard to believe that a show about talking, singing, dancing puppets was such a hit when it premiered in 1976, especially when you consider that the show featured an anthropomorphic frog, mad scientists, singing chickens, a cringey stand-up comedic bear and pigs in space. 

A brief ‘Muppet News Flash’ will perhaps explain their legendary status. 

The current television landscape is awash with shows. We can click through a variety of channels and cycle through a multitude of streaming services, choosing whatever picks our fancy. An entire family can now all watch different TV shows in a single room at the same time, allowing us to seek out the content that specifically appeals to us. 

But in the 1970s…this wasn’t exactly the case. 

With only three television channels in the UK, TV required universal appeal. People sat down together on the sofa to watch what was being broadcast, so successful shows had to cater to absolutely everyone…and that’s exactly what ‘The Muppets’ did. Adopting a variety format, The Muppet Show had something that all ages could find amusement in. Children could relish in the weird and wacky sketches by the likes of ‘Gonzo the Great’ or the Swedish Chef, adults were able to snigger at the proliferation of innuendo and the elderly perhaps felt an affiliation with the OAPs, Stadtler and Waldorf. Each episode even featured a celebrity guest, and who, in their right mind, wouldn’t have enjoyed seeing the likes of Julie Andrews and Elton John cozy up to a bunch of puppets? 

It is this format that has allowed ‘The Muppets’ to have such longevity and remain in the public consciousness in the 40 years since their debut. Whether it’s Kermit the Frog singing about ‘making whoopie’ with Ulrika Jonsson (look it up), performing concerts at the O2 or their frequent posting on social media, their wild and zany antics have seamlessly fit into the changing tides of pop-culture, remaining relevant for both old and new fans. Nothing makes this more evident than the eight feature films and numerous TV series that the franchise has spawned. 

I didn’t grow up watching the original series; my first foray into the ‘Muppetverse’ came when my parents dragged me to the cinema to see 2011’s The Muppets. Some may proclaim ‘How can you be a fan if you didn’t watch the classic series?’. Yet that is what is so great about them, you can watch any of their content and fall in love with the vast array of characters on screen. Personally, this has manifested in a borderline dangerous obsession with Miss Piggy. I simply cannot write this article without paying respect to the true supermodel of our time. 

Miss Piggy is a true feminist icon who embraces body positivity, preaches self-love and karate chops anyone who stands in her way. Her feisty, powerful demeanour has, quite frankly, made her my favourite celebrity of all time. She now adorns my phone case and when she announced her break up with Kermit I don’t think I’ve ever known pain quite like it. 

You may think I am being ridiculous, but to me it’s a testament to the brilliance of ‘The Muppets’. In Elstree Studios, right here in the UK, Jim Henson was able to craft a show that softened hearts around the world, that bought families together through laughter and allowed us to find something profound in the art of puppetry. 

I believe nothing is a more profound example than perhaps their most famous song, ‘The Rainbow Connection’. Kermit the Frog starts the tune atop a log, plucking a banjo before being joined by his friends, where they sing the lines “Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreamers and me”. In the bleak world in which we live, it’s hard not to listen to this message, shed a tear and be filled with hope. The fact that this can be done by a Muppet? Well…I think that’s magical, don’t you?

The post The Timeless Appeal of the Muppets (Opinion) first appeared on The Life of Riley.