Beyoncé: The Last Great American Institution
What's bigger than the Super Bowl? B-E-Y-I-N-C-E! YA!
As the fantasy of American Exceptionalism continues to unravel, Beyoncé remains the nation’s most dependable institution.
Her Christmas Day halftime performance, streamed live on Netflix, once again proved why she is the undisputed queen of high-stakes performances on the world’s biggest stages—a living legend capable of uniting the fractured remains of the monoculture, even if just for thirteen meticulously choreographed minutes.
The show she dubbed the "Beyoncé Bowl" was a testament to her unparalleled ability to craft and execute a grand vision. In an era where celebrity culture teeters on the brink, Beyoncé understands that what audiences crave most is to feel something. She delivered a shot of adrenaline to our deadened senses—a reminder of why live events still matter.
The performance, centered on her Cowboy Carter album, glided through a setlist including "16 Carriages," "Blackbiird," "Ya Ya," "Levii's Jeans," "My House," "Riiverdance," "Jolene," and "Texas Hold 'Em."
She leaned into her Texas roots, using historical and cultural references, such as flowery carriages that evoked 19th-century Emancipation Day celebrations.
The performers’ all-white ensembles with sashes evoked suffragettes and rodeo queens, a duality that spoke to claims of citizenship and womanhood.
Watch how skillfully Beyoncé navigates the treacherous waters of American iconography. While we see red and white stripes and stars on a blue background, we never see a fully raised American flag. That tension between embrace and critique lies at the heart of Cowboy Carter. For Black Americans, the US is "a pretty house we never settled in." She's working through it messily.
We should be long past imagining Beyoncé as a political dissident. She's an exceptionally talented, exceptionally wealthy artist who loves symbols, even when they're imperfect or contradictory. Yet it's worth noting that her comfort with American imagery reflects her triumphs. The pageantry repulses many who haven't prospered as she has.
The Cowboy Carter album isn't a polemic, but that's not really the point. It's much easier—and more accurate—to consume Beyoncé as a singular, rare actor with an astonishing skillset and unmatched ability to articulate her creative vision.
For twenty-five years, she’s played a longer game—one where spectacle and substance aren't opposing forces but necessary partners in the pursuit of pop cultural dominion.
To be clear, Beyoncé is a business, man. This performance marked the second Netflix collaboration after her reported $60M deal in 2019. Her strength as a live event artist makes her a network's dream at precisely the moment when streaming services are rediscovering the power of appointment viewing.
While Netflix built its empire on binge-watching, they turned to her for that lightning-in-a-bottle moment only live television can deliver.
A key component of her dependability is her penchant for repetition. The Beyoncé Bowl mixed songs we've never heard live with familiar motifs. She has been the top student of Black cultural production for decades, but recently, she's transitioned into its most-talked-about professor. Her performance of "My House" with the Texas Southern University Ocean of Soul marching band harkened to 2018's Homecoming, reinforcing her own mythology through self-reference.
Beyoncé occupies a special position in American culture — a legacy artist who continues to shape contemporary conversations. Her entry into country music exemplifies this dual influence. The "Blackbiird" performance, featuring Brittany Spencer, Tanner Adell, Reyna Roberts, and Tierra Kennedy, wasn't merely a collaboration but a deliberate passing of the torch, creating space for Black women artists in an insular genre.
Conversely, Shaboozey and Post Malone outperformed Beyoncé on the charts this year, and their appearances at NRG Stadium still felt deferential. They, too, were lucky to be in Queen Bey’s presence to sing their parts and get out of the way.
Beyoncé's institutional strength comes from her ability to evolve while maintaining cultural resonance.
Blue Ivy’s appearances in choreography were equally compelling. Blue is good, but she’s not a prodigy. Her presence coaxes an emergent lightness out of her mother.
There’s a new playful vibe to Beyoncé’s public presentation. As Blue and Bey lock arms for a do-si-do we see clearly how Beyoncé now prioritizes creating memories with her child over absolute perfection. These touches add depth to her reputation as a precisionist—someone who adjusts her position during dance routines to ensure she's always at the 50-yard line.
There are rumors that Beyoncé views this trilogy of albums as a capstone to her career. If so, that explains why it felt like a Beyoncé revue, a celebration of her artistic journey. This performance adds to a legacy that includes the 2013 Super Bowl halftime show, her 2014 MTV Video Vanguard performance, and her return to the Super Bowl for a surprise appearance with Bruno Mars and Coldplay in 2016. Yes, she has a remarkable team with Andrew Makadsi at the helm, but this is, in fact, Bey's House. That's why she still cuts through in a cluttered mediascape.
What's bigger than the Super Bowl? The Beyoncé Bowl, apparently. In an era of institutional collapse, Beyoncé offers something rare: consistency, excellence, and vision pursued with relentless intention (not just ambition). She delivers three things without fail: Polish, References, and Scale.
At 43, Beyoncé Knowles Carter reified her place as the most exciting and careful performer currently working by transforming a football field into a canvas to explore American identity, personal mythology, and pure entertainment excellence. The quality of her televised live performances offers a masterful blueprint for maintaining influence in an age of endless distraction.
One day I will be able to write like you! This was beautiful, a delight to read ❤️❤️
the way you encapsulated her artistic merit - amazing read