The unobstructed genius of Emma Seligman

I heard echoes of Shiva Baby when it was released — I was too occupied with irrelevant things to realize the disturbance in the force. I encountered the future stars of Bottoms, in Rachel Sennott (Bodies Bodies Bodies) and Ayo Edibiri (The Bear) out in the wild, and slowly, word got around that there was a gay ass movie about a fight club coming from the woman who made Shiva Baby.

This woman, this woman — who was she? Slowly, the trailers seeped in, and the reviews drifted from across the pond. This was about to be all my circle of the internet could talk about for months, clearly. It was star-making, it was a sleeper hit, it was from the woman who made “Shiva Baby”.

Emma Seligman. Hero of our time.

I wish I could tell you my experience was pure — that my first interaction with this woman was through her work, through watching Bottoms, and having an epiphany about cinema (which did eventually happen).

Unfortunately, it was much, much, thirstier than that.

As Bottoms rolled out in the US, there were interviews and photoshoots with both the cast and the Director, and I’m sorry, that was my first interaction, via Ayo Edibiri’s Instagram — fawning over pictures of this gorgeous woman who was apparently making these amazing, intelligent films, and I was a heathen for once again being so. fucking. late.

So, Shiva Baby gets a matinee screening at the PCC. I run to the cinema.

What ensues is, with no exaggeration, some of the most life-affirming filmmaking I’ve ever been witness to.

Addicted, and beyond elated that it’s getting a UK release, once I return to the UK from LA, I rush to the cinema to watch Bottoms.

Again, I lose my mind. Every element, from the performances to the visual language, the color, and the jokes, the innate understanding of both our generation’s aspirations and our actual reality, as portrayed through heightened reality? Life-affirming.

I felt real, for once. I didn’t feel I had to be anyone else, for once, after leaving the cinema. Like, I walked out feeling like (and, I could cry about it) — I had just been legitimized. Which sounds insane, because anyone who ever feels that way about Cinema is often so used to it, they don’t even know what that feeling is, or that they’re feeling it.

Legitimized - not “empowered”, as in overcoming a struggle. Not “represented”, as in a visual representation. No. Legitimized. As in, I am me, as I am, and I am normal, the way I think is normal, and even if it isn’t, it’s shared, it’s allowed, and I’m cool, and my world is a world worth living in.

Who the fuck is even doing this right now except ✨her?

When I say unobstructed genius, I mean that she has not been stopped, she will not be stopped, and we must make every effort to ensure the path stays clear so she is never stopped. It heartens me to know I can finally watch films from people in my generation, on the big screen, that actually represent us — enough handing the pen and camera to 40 or 50-year-olds, to guess about us, to hold contempt for us, to misunderstand us, make us the butt of the joke, or try to preach to us about how cancel culture is bad actually and you Gen Z’s have no clue about the real world.

Enough giving the funding to the Zillenial dudebro who’s been stuck behind his camera since he was 10, and frequents the Incel forums, and thinks guns are thematically resonant bc dicks, and wants to be Spielberg (be yourself! Spielberg was!) — I can finally sit back, relax, and be represented, for once in my tiring, wearying life, and know that this woman is out there, making movies with icons, being a storyteller with purpose and levity, making things I can sink into like a warm bath and switch my fucking brain off for ONCE.

reigning champion, give her all the things.

I think this is the feeling of truly being entertained.

Give her every resource, every support, and every freedom you can. Emma Seligman is here to save ✨Cinema, and in the process, save me.

Stay safe, keep ya mask on, Free Palestine,

UMNIA

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