Look, I don’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, the people decided that Jeff Goldblum was worthy of viral remixes, enormous shirtless statues and sensual oil paintings. He of the oddly clipped delivery, the casual aside, the perfect pecs—he is no longer an actor, the world has now voted. He is irony’s figurehead.
If I’ve witnessed anything on the internet in the past 20 years, it’s how easily we can elevate someone only to knock them down. Sometimes it’s simple overexposure, sometimes it’s “problematic” revelations, but sometimes it’s just that the joke has run its course and the subject material is out of gas. That’s where we sit with Jeff Goldblum now.
Look, I’d ordinarily say that I could revel in Jeff Goldblum infinitely. He sings jazz cabaret! He genuinely seems like a good guy! He has an approach to method acting that appears to be based on, I dunno, his past life as a cereal box!
But folks, we are approaching a saturation point. We are in danger of turning Jeff Goldblum into that most fragile of cultural creatures: the human meme.
