Like any college student addled by the aftermath of finals, I spent my winter break testing the boundaries of a reasonably healthy screen time. If you, too, joined me in perpetual brain-rotting and watched one too many TikTok edits, the name Hudson Williams may ring a bell. 

After indulging in “Heated Rivalry” and finding out exactly why everyone was “going to the cottage,” the sheer magnitude of Williams’ fame — or rather, the rate at which it was expanding — became inescapable. 

Salacious sex scenes aside, the 24-year-old actor finds himself subject to scrutiny as he’s propelled into the limelight and at the epicenter of internet pop culture discourse. With something as fickle as fame, one’s social media presence is just as much an asset as it is a liability. 

By a stroke of cruel misfortune — or as an inevitable rite of passage, depending on who you ask — fans of Williams unearthed what they believed to be his Letterboxd account, with its reviews ranging from laudatory to scathing. For the uninitiated, Letterboxd is a social platform where users can log and review films, which has become dominated by quippy one-liners and over pretentious cinephiles.  

With screenshots circulating across social media, the account in question featured an oddly articulated review of Stanley Kubrick’s “Lolita” (1962) alongside criticisms of Pedro Pascal’s performance in “Materialists” (2025). 

While the sheer bluntness of some of the reviews was to be expected, given the nature of the social platform, they placed a metaphorical target on Williams’ back as people took issue with their contentiousness. 

Some users took the opportunity to criticize Williams’ own acting as a means of invalidating the credibility of his reviews altogether. Others chimed in by sharing their similarly provocative Letterboxd reviews, though less as an act of solidarity and more as spectacle. 

However, Williams isn’t the first actor to find themself spotlighted for resurfaced Letterboxd reviews: Ayo Edebiri garnered attention for her reviews in January 2024, with many fawning over her witty, candid comments that captured the essence of the platform’s largely Generation Z and Millennial user base. 

But as Edebiri began to take on bigger projects and her career skyrocketed, these reviews became increasingly scarce, until she eventually went inactive on the platform and deleted her account entirely. 

This taming of her image — through cleaning her digital footprint — became undeniable in early February of 2024, around the time she hosted “Saturday Night Live” with Jennifer Lopez as her musical guest. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on followers of Edebiri, who were quick to point out how, in the past, she’d spoken less than positively about the multi-hypenate. 

For someone who had once been praised for her candidness, it was beginning to bite her in the back. This backlash showed how easily stardom could take you from hounding on your greatest enemy to presenting them on a TV slot. 

It’s a growing phenomenon among rising stars that Tina Fey even highlighted during an episode of the “Las Culturistas” podcast: “Learn from Ayo, podcasts are forever,” Fey joked wryly. “Authenticity is dangerous and expensive.” 

Though said in jest, Fey’s comment alludes to a growing anxiety among prospective creatives in the film industry. After a certain degree of fame, public criticism becomes incompatible with a clean, marketable image.

And here’s the kicker with the entire Hudson-Williams-Letterboxd-Gate: after more digging, users concluded that the Letterboxd account did not belong to Williams at all, but rather a close friend of his.

But the damage was already done; the actor wasn’t absolved from his cinema sins or brought down from the crucifix his critics had nailed him to. Many of the conversations happening online proposed having private accounts to prevent controversies regarding resurfaced comments from happening, but this thinking defeats the purpose of public forums to begin with. 

Platforms like Letterboxd are crucial in keeping the medium of cinema alive by serving as spaces of analysis, yet up-and-coming creatives are forced to be hyper-aware of their digital footprints, at the expense of sincerity. This hesitation to be completely honest in one’s reviews, due to fear of future repercussions, undermines the artform entirely by tolerating mediocrity. 

In an era where digital footprints can be wielded like playing cards and a past tweet can damage one’s career, the death of such commentary isn’t the fault of the reluctant critic, but rather society’s increasing inability to handle judgment without putting up walls of defense. The dwindling receptiveness to feedback, especially on public-facing platforms, has reframed anything short of praise as harmful. 

Censorship, even when self-imposed, enables a dull, uninspired culture that is inoffensive to a fault. Reviews aren’t simply for the artist, either; they are a means of digesting media with intent. A discerning audience is vital in creating a culture that can breathe on its own — without being told why it should enjoy something — and recognize its own deficiencies. 

For a generation that claims to be so open to reform, we must first reflect on our own sensitivity to critique and make room for honesty once again.