Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind

 Eternal Sunshine

Ariana Grande

GENRE: Pop/R&B

Rating: 7.5

Don't cry over spilled tea, love is an open door.

 As Ariana Grande sashayed into the grand finale of her 20s—an era defined by triumphs, tribulations, and Twitter meltdowns—it would’ve been understandable if she opted to kick back and let the memories of her meteoric rise do the heavy lifting. With enough high-octane bops, headline-grabbing romances, and cosmic reckonings to fill a Netflix mini-series, her twenties were the kind of decade most people only survive by binge-eating carbs in sweatpants. But Grande, ever the overachiever, decided to turn the chaos into an album—because when your Saturn return hits, you don’t just vibe; you reflect. Enter eternal sunshine, a concept-ish album that trades messy tabloids for artful catharsis, cycling through heartbreak, growth, and the occasional shade-laden one-liner.

Since dropping 2020’s Positions, Grande ticked off major life events at breakneck speed. She married quietly, divorced loudly, landed a plum role in the Wicked movie adaptation, and ignited tabloid frenzy by cozying up to Ethan Slater—Broadway’s Spongebob Squarepants—because why settle for basic when you can go full meme? All of this set the stage for eternal sunshine, a slightly scattered but deeply heartfelt record that oscillates between “thank u, next”-level empowerment and existential spiral.

Taking its cue from the 2004 film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind—where ex-lovers can zap their worst memories with techy magic—Grande leans into the messiness of post-breakup life, reminding us that heartache doesn’t just vanish with a clever hook. On the opener, “intro (end of the world),” she dives headfirst into rapid-fire existentialism: “How can I tell if I’m in the right relationship?/Aren’t you really supposed to know that shit?” She follows this up with “bye,” a disco-laced breakup anthem, only to unravel the high with gut-punching introspection on the next tracks. Grande isn’t just cutting ties; she’s deconstructing the knots.

The album might not be as surgically precise as Adele’s 30, but it delivers plenty of surprises. Grande seems to relish dunking on public scrutiny, turning it into art. “Yes, and?” is a venomous clapback at the parasocial peanut gallery, while “don’t wanna break up again” hilariously downgrades her marriage to a “situationship.” And then there’s the mic-drop couplet on “true story”: “Your business is yours and mine is mine/Why do you care so much whose **** I ride?” With lines like these, she manages to channel Mariah’s vocal flair while throwing in a dash of Fiona Apple’s bite and surreal humor.

Amid the chaos of production delays (thanks, SAG strike), Grande rounded up her usual suspects—Max Martin, Shintaro Yasuda, and Ilya Salmanzadeh—though the absence of Tayla Parx and Victoria Monét is noticeable. The album toggles between dreamy R&B and some riskier, occasionally awkward experiments. “The boy is mine,” her answer to Y2K-era pop, is a sparkling triumph, while the alt-rock lull of “imperfect for you” barely musters enough energy to qualify as a song. Still, even when the production falters, Grande’s voice remains the star, as she reins in the vocal gymnastics of Positions for a more restrained, emotive delivery. On the title track, her aching tone recalls Imogen Heap, bringing bruised strength to lines that could otherwise feel cliché.

That said, not every lyric lands. Grande occasionally stumbles into Hallmark territory (“I’ll play the villain if you need me to”) or tries too hard to cram words into lines (“codependency” rhymed with “therapy”? Really?). Without her usual songwriting dream team, the edges feel less polished, but there’s something fascinating about her pivot to subtlety. In a recent interview, Grande underscored the importance of separating “Ariana the person” from “Ariana the pop star,” and eternal sunshine feels like the soundtrack to that transition—a quieter, self-protective chapter for a woman who’s lived several lifetimes’ worth of drama before hitting 30.

Ultimately, eternal sunshine is less a flawless concept album and more a beautifully imperfect diary entry—a snapshot of a pop icon figuring out life while the world watches, judges, and speculates wildly. Grande may be done with the loud belting and whistle notes (for now), but her voice still carries the kind of weight that makes you stop, listen, and maybe cry a little in your car. Because if there’s one thing Ari knows how to do, it’s turn the messiness of life into music worth hitting “repeat” on.