The mirror up to nature

For anything so o’erdone is from the purpose
of playing, whose end, both at the first and
now, was and is to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to
nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her
own image, and the very age and body of the time
his form and pressure. – Hamlet, III.ii.21-26

The above is spoken by the titular character to the actors who are about to perform the play within the play, The Mousetrap, which Hamlet hopes will provoke a reaction in his king uncle whom Hamlet knows murdered his dad. The know-it-all college kid Hamlet is telling professional actors what their job is and what the essence of performing is: to make a commentary on life’s present situation and make the audience consider their world rather than just laughs and cries and thrills brought upon by those on stage.

The halftime act at a Super Bowl has been an event within an event, a play within a play, going back to 1993. (For why that year was when it became a must-watch, check out this recent episode of Pablo Torre Finds Out and how the sketch show In Living Color is basically responsible for Super Bowl halftime as we now know it.) But even as the show bisecting the biggest sports game of the year has evolved way beyond Up With People, what has always remained for most of the shows since is some empty message of unity, maybe explicit but usually just tacit, as most everyone of every stripe in the den or the garage or the tavern or the host stadium itself is joined in common interest in the spectacle of a decidedly elite musician (and probably accomplished guests appearing). 

Fox in airing Super Bowl LIX on Sunday tried to force such a vibe with a deeply pandering yet substance-devoid piece just before kickoff where Brad Pitt talked to us with the energy of someone fulfilling court-mandated community service about how the game is about what it means to be an American. At first it seemed to be the cleaner sports wing of the Murdoch media sludge empire attempting to smile painfully through the shadow being cast by the President of the TV being there and the whole shadow of a possibly fading democracy thingy the country had to return to on Monday. 

In retrospect, maybe the network and league were trying to inject some plausible deniability against what they knew was coming at halftime.

Kendrick Lamar being announced as the featured halftime performer was a surprise because it did not fit the safety of previous acts, the safety that the NFL demands for anything associated with its brand (except players’ brains). This is a league that pulled its own hamstrings stretching to gesture toward a race that makes up at least 70% of its rosters for a few years until just before the Super Bowl deciding that in the new-old regime a blank statement like “End Racism” is too spicy for the small font in the back of the end zone.

Yet Kendrick Lamar was the pick? Was this like one of those situations where stuffy rich folks never listened to the lyrics and just assumed popularity meant wholesomeness, like Reagan using Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” at campaign events?

Regardless, what the Super Bowl halftime show is changed on Sunday. And it doesn’t get to go back.

While basically everyone the least bit familiar with Lamar was mostly just anticipating how he might further embarrass Drake on the most-watched stage in the world, he not only managed to do that–deliciously satisfying everyone’s lust for a “He’s already dead” public beating that the Pulitzer Prize winner provided–but also made his thirteen minutes matter. Matter for the current climate. Matter for the most powerful person in the audience (who probably wasn’t paying attention), or at least the public’s awareness of that elephant in the room. Matter for his fans who thought this gig was selling out. Matter for anyone preferring some unoriginal homage to the host city. Matter for denying a usual placebo sandwich between the football and commercials. 

“It was a huge moment in hip hop,” Jason Goff on his podcast The Full Go explained regarding those uncomfortable with the performance or who feel entitled to not feeling left out by the focal music act of the year. “This ain’t ‘Nuthin' but a ‘G’ Thang.’ This ain’t ‘In da Club.’ This ain’t ‘I’m the real Slim Shady.’ This ain’t the rap that you like to pal around with your friends to so you can get the n-word off and shotgun a beer or two. No, no, no, no. This is that shit that’s going to get to your soul. This is Nirvana. This is The Beatles. This is that level of artistry, that level of lyricism, and that level of impact culturally.”

Anyone Sunday night compelled to complain about the performance doth protest too much, methinks. The stuttered and prowling choreography, the human flag consisting of Black men–some in red and some in blue–while a man from Compton performed, the layers within the Uncle Sam, the “game” motif, Kendrick’s intro, the whole novel’s worth of symbolism in a quick set list, not playing some expected hits–yeah, it was intended discomfort for some in the audience (and understanding for others). And he did it while even still getting a whole stadium to sing in unison “a minor” for the payoff many had tuned in for. As he glided across the stage after taking Drake leftovers out of the fridge and burning them in the microwave and gave the camera that smile that immediately became a meme, it was like Lamar was also smiling with a knowledge that he'd made history and done something that will be referenced for years to come.

A precedent has been set that all future halftime performers will be measured against. For the fainter of heart in the music world, I hope that deters them from taking the gig. For those with a shred of Lamar’s boldness–not a boldness to shock for shock’s sake or a boldness for mere aesthetic–I look forward to the ways the new evolution of what should become a genre born of but broken away from mere medley of hits will continue to take shape.

There won't likely be a major beef subtext involving a halftime performer. Maybe the sitting President won't be there (but for the next three at least, probably). But any future halftime show that doesn’t go that hard and lacks a message that’s legit meaningful will be a letdown. If we see an equal and opposing reaction in 2026 where the halftime act is overly safe–and the NFL’s anticipatory obedience on end zone messages already suggests that could be the case–everyone involved in it should be shamed. We don’t get to pretend this was a one-off. No more whistling past what’s going to be an expanding graveyard. 

Everyone still gets their snacks and dips and wings, and the football will still be pristinely untouched. But going forward, for the biggest holiday of the national religion, there doesn’t get to be a sermon of shiny happy people in the middle of it all. 

It has to be a mousetrap, a mirror up to America’s nature.