Dear Gossips,
I mentioned last week that I was worried about my binge bone, like maybe it had stopped working because I have so many shows paused through two or three episodes. Well. Not a problem anymore. All it took was a mandatory weekend of rest and Elite on Netflix. I started on Friday night and finished by Saturday afternoon, and then I started yelling at everyone else in my life to get on it so we could obsess together.
F-cking Netflix and their magical algorithm. It’s not just that they’re making sh-t that you want to watch, it’s also that they’re releasing the sh-t they make that you want to watch WHEN you want to watch it. I don’t think I would have been as into Elite if it was, say, May or June. But this is October. Most of us of a certain generation, raised on a certain pop culture education, still have that one-month-into-school muscle memory. I call it my 90210 muscle memory. Which is my touchpoint to Elite and not some of the other teen shows it’s been compared to, although Elite draws from the formula that all of those other series leaned into. As Lu says in one of the early episodes, new blood changes an ecosystem – the Walshes, the Humphreys, Ryan Atwood. There are often siblings involved. One of the hot guys always has daddy issues, often criminal daddy issues. Sometimes the daddy ends up faking his death by explosion and entering the Witness Protection Program. All of it is ridiculous. And delicious. The first season of Elite is as delicious as any of its beloved predecessors. And I now intend to spend any free time I have writing fan-fiction about Omar and Ander.
OMG, stop. Between the cast of Elite and all the shipping that’s happening and our complicated relationship with Kathleen Zellner on Part 2 of Making a Murderer, aka Kathleen Zellner shows the sh-t out of her work, I’m having a hard time leaving my TV. Which has always been how I remember this time of year.
Yours in gossip,
Lainey
