There’s a scene in an early episode of Inventing Anna where I realized how wild this show is. It happens when journalist Vivian (Anna Chlumsky) goes to visit scammer Anna Delvey (Julia Garner) in jail to interview her for a story. The crimes of Anna Delvey are all Vivian can think about, and for good reason. Anna, a 25-year-old from Russia, managed to fool dozens of powerful Manhattanites into thinking she was a German heiress with enough trust-fund money to start a multi-tier social club. Through extreme manipulation, Anna not only managed to become an anointed member of New York’s  elite, she was dangerously close to securing an eight-figure loan to finance said social club. Throw in some jet-stealing, hotel bill-dodging, and charging her friend’s credit card $60,000, and you have a scammer of Biblical proportions. 

But none of this is on Anna’s mind when Vivian tries to interview her. She’s cool, calm, collected—seemingly feeling no guilt about her laundry list of white-collar crimes. In fact, she only shows emotion once: while dissing Vivian’s outfit. “What are you wearing?” Anna asks Vivian in disgust. “You look poor.” She then rolls her eyes and dismisses Vivian’s clothes as “broke-ass.” 

It’s a shallow, ridiculous scene that’s meant to be funny. Remember: Anna Delvey is literally sitting in jail right now. New York’s smartest attorneys are coming for her, circling her body like she’s bloody fish in shark-infested waters. Yet all she can think about is how Vivian needs to add Carolina Herrera and Dior to her wardrobe. It’s delusional. It’s preposterous. It’s, as you’ll find out, quintessential Anna. 

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Inventing Anna is really an exploration of one determined woman’s delusion. When Anna racks up bill after bill at five-star hotels, takes over a charted yacht after the patrons leave, and has legitimate meetings with Wall Street bros, you’ll routinely ask yourself, “How is she not freaking out?” After all, this is a woman who literally has no money but is parading around town like she does, collecting friends and lawyers and accountants like she’s a celebrity with deep pockets. How is she not lying awake at night waiting for the other shoe to drop? Waiting for everyone to realize she’s nothing but smoke and mirrors? 

The answer to that is complicated, but what it comes down to is Anna fully believes what she’s selling. In her mind, she is a tastemaker with endless means. She is a high-roller who doesn’t sweat a $5,000 dinner bill. She is, simply put, rich as fuck. And when you strongly believe your own lie, it’s not hard to make others think it’s true. 

There’s also something specifically millennial about Julie’s experience. When she turns 30, she compares her accomplishments with what her mother, grandmother, and other female ancestors had achieved by that age. All had done more, including the one who died in her 20s. There is perhaps less pressure than ever on women to settle down and raise a family by a certain year, but this freedom raises a question: If not that, what are we supposed to do? Julie doesn’t have a sparkling career to show off. She hasn’t made the world a better place. She hasn’t even really traveled. All she did in her 20s was be in her 20s. To paraphrase Lesley Gore, she was young, and she loved to be young.

The question of kids haunts her relationship with an older guy who’s ready to be a dad. As they struggle with whether or not to move forward, I wanted to yell at them, “Just get a dog! You’ll learn some responsibility and it’ll be fun!” But that’s not really the point. They are at “different life stages,” and life stages can’t be rushed (or at least, they shouldn’t be). In her next relationship, there is anxiety over the state of the world. The climate, in particular. Everyone born after a certain point, it seems, missed out on going to record stores and instead carries constant guilt over using too much plastic. Hard to argue with that.

Even more spoilers—ahoy: By the end, the problem of youth has solved itself because life moves on whether you want it to or not. Julie gets pregnant accidentally and visits her ex, who is dying of pancreatic cancer. There they stand, both with something unexpected growing inside them, and they still have love for each other, but it doesn’t matter. She could soon be a mother; he will soon be a corpse. They are still at different life stages. Later, though still in the very, very early stages of the pregnancy, Julie miscarries. We’re not in control. Time does what it wants. Having lost her first grown-up love and her (presumably) first embryo, Julie is a full-on adult. It’s good and it’s sad and it’s both.

A Sally Rooney story for the big screen, The Worst Person in the World is tender, moving, and Boyhood-level real. It’s a slice of life without being overly sentimental. Every moment feels earned; every line of dialogue rings true. But I still don’t get the title. Maybe I will when I’m older.

Elizabeth Logan has written for Vulture, The Awl, Reductress, Above Average, Indiewire, and NoBudge. She is a graduate of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts and the owner of one black cat. You can (and should!) follow her on Twitter @lizzzzzielogan.

Being alive continues to be…a challenge. Too much heartbreak, too much paperwork. We turn to comfort TV for a relatively safe way to cope. Good for us! This is healthier than doing drugs or crimes (probably.) 

Streaming services allow for a kind of self-administered mental morphine drip, through comfort shows. You know classic comfort TV: The Office. Friends. Gilmore Girls. Parks and Recreation. Maybe you rewatch critically-acclaimed comfort comedies like Fleabag, Insecure, 30 Rock, or Ted Lasso. Or maybe you stick to the classics: Seinfeld, The Nanny, Sex and the City, and Golden Girls. But at a certain point, rewatching shows you love is like trying to wring flavor out of the same piece of gum. (See instead: The recommendation below for Michaela Coel’s genius 2015 comedy, Chewing Gum.)

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I’m not here to lecture you about watching less comfort TV. I’m here to try to cajole you into enjoying the comfort TV you watch more. There are so many undiscovered, underrated delights just awaiting you. “You took me by the hand/Made me a man/That one night/You made everything alright.” If you just sang those lyrics from the “Dinner Party” episode of The Office to yourself, you need a change. (See instead: The recommendation below for The Other Two, one of the funniest and most underrated comedies on TV.) 

People can do hard things! Lady Gaga said that. And even though Gaga was speaking about how to exercise one’s moral compass through acts of kindness, I believe this can also be applied to watching a greater variety of TV comedies. Stretch yourself. Expand your horizons, without actually going outside or anything. You can still identify as a Samantha or Team Jess. But like a person who pries herself off the couch after 12 hours to change into a fresh pair of pajamas and get back on the couch, try switching one thing up, and see if it doesn’t feel good. 

Comfort TV comedies to watch if you have…HBO Max

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Starstruck. It’s hard to overstate how enjoyable Starstruck is. I sat down to watch 10 minutes of the first episode and I did not get up until I was almost done with the series. Hot celebrity men should fall for smart, funny, not-famous women more often—such is the plot of the charm-packed Starstruck, created by comedian Rose Matafeo, who also stars. It’s like Notting Hill, except in the 2020s, and Matafeo’s character compares her relationship with a movie star to “one of those weird animal friendship shows where you see a Labrador and a hedgehog who are friends.” It’s superb. 

New York City is the kind of place that induces memories you don’t soon forget. But there’s always been something particularly special about Harlem, the neighborhood in Upper Manhattan that has played home to the likes of Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, James Baldwin, and Maya Angelou. And yet despite its unique charm, few producers have ventured to center the historically Black community as a backdrop for series television. This year that changed with not one, but two streaming series set out to amplify the beauty that is this culturally diverse neighborhood.

The latest—Harlem, from Girls Trip creator Tracy Oliver—premiered last week on Amazon Prime Video and brings laughs, relatable characters, and a story of four Black girlfriends as different as the city itself.

“There’s so much thought that went into the character development, but I knew I definitely wanted to do something where everybody had a clear, distinct point of view on things,” Oliver tells Glamour about the series’ main characters, Camille (Meagan Good), Quinn (Grace Byers), Tye (Jerrie Johnson), and Angie (Shoniqua Shandai). 

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With Tye, a queer app developer, Oliver says she tapped into the lived experiences of friends and the talent in her writer’s room to develop a character she believes has been missing in popular ensemble shows. What came from their stories is a fully developed persona, and an opportunity to tell a bigger story. Camille, who Oliver admits is most like her, grapples with embracing the new versus holding on to the old in both her romantic and professional dealings. Quinn, a Caribbean-American boutique owner, embraces a similar struggle as she tries to carve out a successful space for herself independent of the financial cushion her immigrant parents provide. Angie, a former singer and the wildcard of the group, once had fame but now must confront a disappointing reality that’s seen her go from a lavish townhouse to sleeping on Quinn’s pink velvet couch.

And while Harlem remains a “Black Mecca” for Black city dwellers, its composition has gradually changed over the last several years. Gentrification has pushed a number of families and businesses out, dramatically changing the neighborhood’s landscape. This tug of war between wanting more and staying true to one’s roots lays the foundation for much of Tye in the first season, while simultaneously highlighting an increasingly frustrating reality for those who live in the neighborhood.

And that’s an amazing thing. Single All the Way has all the charm, all the tropes, and all the hot chocolate that any run-of-the-mill holiday rom-com has. There just happens to be a gay couple at the center, an interracial gay couple at that. But the movie never makes a thing out of this, which is important. There are no coming-out scenes, no family trauma porn, no homophobia—this a utopian Christmas movie where the biggest problem is convincing Jennifer Coolidge to not steal all the lines in the children’s holiday pageant. Yes, the problems gay couples (particularly interracial ones) face are real and shouldn’t be ignored—but we also deserve a Christmas fantasy. Single All the Way is that, and it does a good job of showing that gay relationships are just as “normal,” just as sweet, just as yuletide ooey-gooey as straight ones. 

That being said, this movie is also, gloriously, gay as hell. That’s what makes it so fun. The puns included—”don your gay apparel,” “FOMO-sexual”—are cheeky without ever being cringe-y. At one point Kathy Najimy, with the most serious face, says, “Gay? I know gay,” and I’ll be thinking about that for the next 40 years. Jennifer Coolidge dresses up as Glinda the Good Witch for no discernible reason. The late, great West Hollywood gay bar Flaming Saddles is referenced. (The New York City one is still kicking, FYI, and I highly suggest going if you’re in town.) When Nick walked into Peter’s room and noticed Christmas Carole took down all his Britney Spears posters, my heart fluttered. Behold, pop culture has finally blessed us with a Britney Gay. I’ve never felt more seen. 

Slowly but surely the queer holiday movie catalog is building. Last year gave us Happiest Season and The Christmas Setup, and this year Single All the Way joins the party. I can’t wait to watch it every year—gay apparel donned, having full learned the aforementioned “My Only Wish (This Year)” choreo. 

Single All the Way is now streaming on Netflix. 

Christopher Rosa is the entertainment editor at Glamour. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram.

Chicago baker Stacy, her royal doppelgänger, Margaret, and Margaret’s identical cousin, Fiona, all played by Vanessa Hudgens, are back for a third installment of Netflix’s The Princess Switch series—a not great, not terrible take on The Princess and the Pauper with the production values of a Disney Channel Original Movie. And you know what? It’s fine.

The first movie hit its mark and quickly moved on, showcasing a few cute moments and causing massive Twitter chatter. The big innovation of the second movie—Switched Again—was, of course, that Hudgens played a third character. For the third film, titled The Princess Switch 3: Romancing the Star, I suppose they could have added a fourth lookalike. Instead, all three Hudgenses join forces to pull off an Oceans-style heist to retrieve a precious heirloom, the Star of Peace, which is on loan from the Vatican and was stolen by a Generic Evil Collector. Technical shortcomings aside, if you liked the first two Princess Switch movies, you’ll enjoy this one. 

Our main two couples stay together, which I appreciate. No need to invent tension once you’ve found your One True Love, right? The butler from the first two movies is back, as are Reggie and Mindy, Fiona’s sidekicks, and they’re highlights here. 

Stacy and Margaret each wear several cute Christmas outfits, and I have to admit: A candy cane martini, if there is such a thing, sounds delicious. Like many fairy tales, Romancing the Star presents an unbelievable story but takes place in a world I’d happily visit. Schemes! Japes! It’s the kind of country that not only has a functional monarchy but also a legal system that commutes prison sentences into community service served at…what looks like the nunnery from The Sound of Music. Cute!

With Margaret and Stacy both coupled up and happy, the only one who needs to learn a lesson is Fiona, and she’s very much the star—no pun intended—of Romancing the Star. Having been somewhat humbled after being caught attempting a coup in Switched Again, she’s now focused on parties and boys and reconnecting with her former lover slash childhood best friend from boarding school (where she was raised because her rich mom neglected her). Did you catch that convenient backstory and opportunity for closure? I’ll repeat it: We find out that Fiona is the way she is because her role model, her mom, was a narcissist who basically abandoned her. 

But she’s ready to reclaim it, and she does exactly that—boldly and beautifully—by Spencer‘s end. 
“Kristen played a woman who was in trouble, like we all go through,” Larraín tells Glamour. “She played a woman who needed to make a decision that was very hard, and we can all relate to that. I think many of us have or will eventually need to make some difficult decisions in our lives.”

Indeed, there is a universality to which Spencer depicts Princess Diana, arguably the most famous woman to draw a breath. The specifics of her story are almost ancillary to the film’s message. Spencer isn’t interested in regurgitating the biography of Diana; rather, it presents theories and questions about how she navigated a major crossroads in her life. In that respect, it’s a story everyone can find resonant. 

“Diana was someone who affected millions of people, hundreds of millions of people around the world,” Larraín says. “I think we had the chance to do something that I think is quite interesting, just to inhabit her more internal perspective. I think we were able to enter her sort of imagination, her feelings, her emotions. That is our proposal…Diana was a pop icon, a fashion icon, and a mother, as well, and a very sort of normal, regular human in a very unusual context.” 

Spencer particularly emphasizes that last part: Diana the human, and Diana the mother. The film’s most joyous moments are when she’s with her boys, playing games in Sandringham Estate and staying up into the wee hours talking. The looseness and playfulness she exudes with her kids is a stark contrast to the stiff upper lip she employs in public, when photographers are snapping away. It’s a heartbreaking dichotomy—and as a viewer, you’ll find yourself hoping Diana unlocks a way to be her exuberant self all the time. To be a mom first, and the Princess of Wales second. 

Because Diana, at the end of the day, was a mother fighting for not just her life but her children’s, as well. She was fighting for her family to be as normal and as healthy as possible. It’s what all parents want—but Princess Diana was never seen as a parent. She was seen as Princess Diana. Spencer changes that, humanizing her legacy in a way that’s both illuminating and necessary. 

“The fact that her first priority is that she’s a mother and her first priority is the kids should come as no surprise,” Knight says. “Because, why wouldn’t they? She’s a mother. She’s a human being. The fact that that would ever even be questioned suggests how ‘other’ we think of [the royals and famous people]. We think how different they must be. They’re not. This is human instinct. This is what human beings do.” 

Spencer is now in theaters. 

Christopher Rosa is the entertainment editor at Glamour. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram.

Glamour: Was making this film healing for you?

Joe Mateo: Oh, very much so. At first, I hesitated about it being too personal…but there was a turning point that happened…. I got to the point where I needed to talk about the importance of that scene [where the ethereal creature dies] and what it means. It made me look back to that moment where I lost Mary Ann and I was so overwhelmed by emotion. I couldn’t speak anymore, and I was sobbing uncontrollably. I remember putting my hands on my face, covering my face, and just thinking, Oh, no. I don’t want to do this. I’m making everybody feel so uncomfortable. And then I looked up, and everyone was crying with me. After that point I was like, I’m in a safe space. After that moment I opened up, and it was very therapeutic for me, that moment of catharsis.

Why did you set the movie in outer space? 

I had to look back to the genesis of the idea. I lost Mary Ann four and a half years ago from breast cancer, and that night I couldn’t breathe. It was very scary. I didn’t know what panic attacks were. And fortunately for me, I had my daughters around me at that time. I struggled to go back to work for several months, then I kept looking back to that moment where I realized Mary Ann was my air, and my kids saved me. I was inspired by that moment and not the loss, but mostly how my kids helped me through it. I really want to share that message…. And then thinking about where I can set this, it’s just obvious the mini planet without any atmosphere [would work]. 

Have your children seen the film? What did they think of it?

They were the first people who knew about the short. I had to pitch it to them, and during the making of it, we all were quarantined together. So they were very much a part of making it, because I would show them drawings and the progress. I remember them giving me notes. They’re my in-house tech support. Those kids are amazing with technology. 

What about Mary Ann’s loved ones?

They love it. One of her closest cousins, we took her to a screening. She had seen it on Apple TV+, but this was her first time seeing it on the big screen. She was very emotional…. I’m getting messages, too, from a lot of friends and relatives who didn’t even know I was making this film, and they’re very surprised, in a good way. Everyone’s very emotional and just thanking me for doing it and proud of me for sharing this story.

At the end of the film, there’s another crash landing. Who’s in the ship? 

It’s really the symbolism of hope. For me, I found someone specifically I can share my future with. Mary Ann is always going to be a part of me. It’s who I am. She made me a better person. I almost didn’t want to say who that person is in the ship because I want people to personalize it for themselves. Who is in that ship for them? It can be a great future where they use that ship and go off and find other planets and other people they can be with. So yeah. I just left it open.

What’s the biggest lesson you learned about your own life through making this project?

Just really, love. Appreciating people, my family, my loved ones who got me through it. As we went into production, it was amazing because I knew I was surrounded by people I love, with my kids. But as we moved on, as we grew, the circle of people surrounding me got bigger because of our crew who I learned to love. [The movie] made me better. It was very healing for me. It was very therapeutic. I’m a different person than when I started this short. I’m a better person now.

What do you hope people take away from this project? 

The message of hope and healing, at a time when I think we need that the most. 

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

Christopher Rosa is the entertainment editor at Glamour. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram.

Hello, You. Beware, there are spoilers towards the end of this review of You season 3. I’ll mark where you need to turn back.  

As season three of Netflix’s juiciest serial killer drama picks up in the made-for-TV suburb of Madre Linda in Northern California, I couldn’t help but think of the opening credits of Showtime’s Weeds—or, more specifically, its theme song, “Little Boxes,” by Malvina Reynolds.

“Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky,” Reynolds cheerfully sings over a maze of identical luxury homes. “Little boxes on the hillside. Little boxes all the same.” Boy, suburbia is enough to make anyone go insane, Hollywood insists. Especially for a couple of sleep-deprived new parents who just so happen to be serial killers. 

And yet, think of the schools. So this “fake plastic suburban hell” is where city boy Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) puts down roots with his murderous wife, Love Quinn (Victoria Pedretti), and their newborn son, Henry. (Don’t worry, they found the perfect space for Joe’s glass cage. HOA be damned.)

Just like the little houses in the opening of Weeds, Joe’s days are becoming…repetitive. “I’d imagine parenthood would feel like an essay by Nicholson Baker: Tiny moments made magnificent,” Joe intones in his first of many of this season’s internal monologues. “Turns out, parenthood is Groundhog Day as written by Jean-Paul Sartre.” 

Still, amidst Joe’s restlessness, he’s found a new, grounding purpose in life. “Despite living in some Greek myth about pushing a boulder of baby poop up a hill, it’s incredible, the urge to protect.” And for Joe and Love, protecting Henry means a great school district, nosy neighbors, and absolutely no murder.

Pshhh, who are they kidding? That oath flies out the window extremely early into You season three’s 10-episode run. 

This time around, there are three “Yous” stuck in Joe’s head over the course of the season. Of course, there are the women he fixates on: Natalie (Michaela McManus), the bored wife of a tech billionaire (Scott Speedman), and Marienne (Tati Gabrielle), the no-bullshit librarian in the midst of a tumultuous custody battle with her shithead ex. However, while both of them are catnip for the likes of Joe, the most interesting developments gravitate around the most treasured “You” of them all: Henry.

In the first 10 minutes of MAID, an exhausted young mother sits in a fluorescent-lit cubicle practically begging a social worker for help.

Spurred on by a terrifying incident with her alcoholic boyfriend (played by Hollywood nice boy Nick Robinson), Alex (Margaret Qualley) did what too many women can’t bring themselves to do: She packed up her three-year-old daughter and hit the road before Sean could punch more than just a wall.

Unfortunately, this leaves little for the government worker to do for Alex, other than an offer to help file a police report. “And say what?” Alex asks, deflated. “That he didn’t hit me?” Just a few hours apart from her ex, and she already realized escaping may have been easier if he had. 

As it stands, there’s no support for this mother-daughter duo. Alex needs to get a job in order to qualify for subsidized housing, which she can’t get without access to daycare. Unfortunately, the grants available for daycare require proof of employment. “What kind of fuckery is that?” Bureaucracy. By the end of episode one, Alex and Maddy sleep on the floor of a ferry station.

But that’s what’s so important and brilliant about this new Netflix drama based on the best-selling memoir by Stephanie Land. The devastating truth is that while a black eye can be photographed and documented, the scars left behind by emotional abuse are often more difficult for people to see and understand. 

They sure are for Alex’s narcissistic, unstable mother, Paula (played by Qualley’s real-life mother Andie MacDowell), who considers the whole thing a rough patch in her daughter’s relationship with Sean. Same goes for Alex’s somewhat estranged father, Hank (Billy Burke), whose own battle with alcoholism consistently leads him to advocate for his own daughter’s abuser. Worst of all, it’s true for the court, which grants Sean primary custody of Maddy early in the season. Even Alex repeatedly insists she hasn’t been abused.

Yet creator and showrunner Molly Smith Metzler leaves the audiences with absolutely zero doubt. Even with Robinson’s empathetic portrayal of a struggling addict, Sean’s control over Alex’s finances, car, cell phone, and access to Maddy can’t be misunderstood. As Metzler tells me over Zoom, “I dare you to watch MAID and tell me that that’s not domestic violence.”