Sabrina Carpenter’s latest single “Manchild” might just be one of the most brilliant pop songs of the 2020s. Beyond its catchy beat and sassy lyrics, the track doubles as sharp social commentary, and its music video unfolds as a pastiche of classic film moments that enrich the song’s narrative.

In this deep dive, I’ll apply my personal CRAP Framework – Criticism, Rhetoric, Aesthetics, Philosophy – to break down how “Manchild” works on multiple levels. Our goal is to explore Carpenter’s commentary on gender dynamics and toxic masculinity, dissect key lyrics, and examine how the song’s visual and thematic choices elevate it from a catchy tune to a cultural statement. Strap in for a ride through humor, heartbreak, and a whole lot of cinematic nonsense – all in one pop anthem.

Criticism: A Playful Takedown of the “Man-Child” Culture

At its core, “Manchild” is a scathing yet humorous critique of male immaturity – the kind of grown man who still behaves like a spoiled child. Carpenter pulls no punches in calling out an ex-boyfriend for being, well, a “man-child.” Lyrically, the song “humorously critiques an immature ex-boyfriend over upbeat melodies.” From the title alone, it’s clear we’re in the territory of social commentary: Sabrina is spotlighting a broader phenomenon where men fail to grow up, leaving their partners to pick up the slack.

What makes this critique land so effectively is its playful, tongue-in-cheek delivery. Rather than a bitter rant, Carpenter serves her criticism with a side of wit and an upbeat disco-pop sound that sugarcoats the bite. The track has been described as a country-tinged pop/synth-pop song with a “feel-good disco energy,” blending genres in a fun way. This contrast amplifies the satire – the music is breezy and danceable even as she drops truth bombs about male ineptitude. As reviewers noted, Carpenter “hurls insults over sweet and upbeat melodies” and delivers “withering couplets” aimed at a “pathetic ex-boyfriend” . The result is a song that feels like a sunny summer bop on the surface but carries a definite “I see through your nonsense” message at its core.

Importantly, though, Sabrina’s critique doesn’t target just one person. Fans initially speculated the song was a dig at a specific ex (some pointed to her rumored fling with actor Barry Keoghan, given timing and hints) . But Carpenter never names names in the song or in her announcements. In fact, when launching “Manchild,” she cheekily dedicated it “to you” – an unnamed you – and even thanked “men for testing me!!🐷” . The pig emoji and tongue-in-cheek gratitude signal that this is a broader roast of bad male behavior, not a targeted diss track. 

As People magazine put it, Sabrina “let her fans in on the meaning” and explained she wrote it on a random fun day, calling the song “the embodiment of a loving eye roll.” That phrase is perfect: her critique comes from a place of exasperated affection – a loving eye roll that says “Really, guys? Get it together.”

Indeed, “Manchild” reads as social commentary on toxic masculinity and gender dynamics in modern dating. The song’s scenario is familiar to many women: a relationship where the man consistently falls short in basic maturity, and the woman is left feeling like a babysitter or mom rather than an equal partner. By lampooning this dynamic, Carpenter is essentially calling out how society often enables men to remain “children” – whether it’s coddling sons or excusing grown men from emotional labor. One writer observed that Carpenter’s fun quips actually “advance a substantive critique of how our culture trains men to behave” , highlighting that many men are raised with an entitlement to be cared for, rather than learning to care for themselves or others. The song’s critique is razor-sharp: it’s not just “ugh, my ex was the worst”; it’s “isn’t it pathetic how many men act like this and think it’s okay?” Carpenter refuses to accept “what passes as acceptable behavior for men under patriarchy,” using humor to underscore a serious point.

To underscore the critical message, Carpenter even flips the script on herself in the song, showing self-awareness. Amid the jabs at her ex, she acknowledges her own pattern in choosing these types of men. In one verse she admits, “Oh, I like my boys playing hard to get / And I like my men all incompetent / And I swear they choose me, I’m not choosing them.” Here she’s giving herself a bit of tough love – recognizing that she’s been attracted to red-flag traits and perhaps too forgiving of incompetence. It’s a brief moment of criticism inward, where Sabrina essentially says, “I see my role in this pattern.” This elevates the commentary: she’s not simply blaming “all men” or playing victim; she’s dissecting the dysfunctional dance both sides engage in. As one People magazine article noted, she “isn’t shy to dish it out to exes, but she also gently calls out her own relationship patterns.” In the realm of social critique, this balance of roasting and reflection makes “Manchild” feel honest and relatable. It’s as if Carpenter is standing alongside her predominantly young female audience, collectively rolling eyes at the man-children of the world, while also shrugging “yeah, I fell for him – lesson learned!”

So, under the Criticism lens, “Manchild” shines as social satire. It’s a pop anthem that says what many women have thought: grow up, or get out. By blending pointed commentary with playful humor, Sabrina Carpenter delivers a critique of toxic boyishness that is both cathartic and catchy. Few pop songs manage to call out cultural gender issues this bluntly while still topping the charts – and “Manchild” did just that, even debuting at #1 in multiple countries. Clearly, Carpenter’s loving eye-roll resonated across the globe.

Rhetoric: Wit, Wordplay, and Musical Irony in the Lyrics

If the pen is mightier than the sword, Sabrina’s lyrics in “Manchild” are a glitter-coated dagger – sharp and shining. Carpenter has crafted a masterclass in pop lyricism here: the words are cheeky and quotable, packed with double entendre and stinging one-liners, yet delivered in such a sweet melodic package that you almost miss how savage they are on first listen.

Right from the opening lines, Sabrina sets a sarcastic tone. She fires off a zinger that has already become a fan-favorite quote: “Why so sexy if so dumb?” In a single rhetorical question, she sums up the exasperation of dealing with an attractive guy who has the IQ (and EQ) of a rock. It’s a perfect burn – concise, funny, and relatable to anyone who’s dated a “hot dummy.” Another biting line follows: “I like my men all incompetent,” she sings with faux confidence. Of course, it’s pure irony. But by phrasing it as if it’s her preference, she heightens the sarcasm: nobody truly wants an incompetent partner, so the absurdity drives the point home. These kinds of lyrics showcase Carpenter’s rhetorical skill: she uses irony and rhetorical questions to make the listener laugh and cringe at the same time. It’s equal parts comedy and critique, and it absolutely works.

Carpenter’s use of exaggeration and contrast is another key rhetorical device. She paints the man-child in outrageously unflattering terms – “stupid,” “slow,” “useless” – to the point of almost caricature. In the chorus, she belts out a playful lament: “Manchild, why you always come a-runnin’ to me? / F— my life, won’t you let an innocent woman be?” By calling herself “an innocent woman” besieged by this overgrown boy, she mock-dramatizes the situation, making it humorously theatrical. 

The phrase “FML” (F— my life) mid-chorus is a comically blunt expression of her frustration, something many young people say with an eyeroll when exasperated. It’s informal and meme-able, which makes the song feel conversational and current. And the way she sings “manchild” with a catchy, melodic lilt almost sounds affectionate – she’s practically cooing the insult. This juxtaposition of harsh words and a sugary delivery is rhetorical genius: the sweetness of her tone and the dancey music act as the spoonful of sugar that helps the bitterness go down. It also adds to the comedic irony – she’s essentially telling the guy off, but in the form of a bubbly pop hook you can’t stop humming.

Another noteworthy element is how Sabrina uses specificity and little twists of phrase to elevate the insults. For example, in one verse she quips: “Stupid / Or is it slow? Maybe it’s useless / But there’s a cuter word for it, I know.” Here she’s toying with synonyms for his lack of intelligence/usefulness – running through stupid, slow, useless – then slyly noting there’s a “cuter word” for it. She doesn’t say the word, leaving it to our imagination (Is she implying “manchild” is the cuter word? Or a more sarcastic euphemism like “special”?). By not finishing the thought explicitly, she invites the listener into the joke. It’s wink-wink nudge-nudge lyricism, as if she’s saying “you know what I mean, right?” This rhetorical tactic makes the audience feel in on the punchline.

Crucially, Carpenter doesn’t just point fingers at the guy’s flaws – she also uses rhetorical self-reflection. The line “I swear they choose me, I’m not choosing them” flips the perspective for a moment to her own agency (or perceived lack thereof) in these failed relationships. It’s a clever way of saying: “Look, I keep ending up with these man-children, but it’s not like I want to – somehow they land on me!” This touch of self-deprecating humor makes her a trustworthy narrator. No high horse preaching here; she’s laughing at herself too, which is rhetorically disarming. She’s inviting other women to laugh at the pattern with her – “we’ve all been there, dating the same doofus in different bodies.” No wonder so many listeners commented things like “we’re all dating the same guy,” highlighting the universality of this experience .

Even the title “Manchild” itself is a rhetorical choice worth noting. The term “manchild” has been a popular colloquialism to describe an adult man who behaves like a child – emotionally immature, irresponsible, incapable of basic adulting. By using that as the hook, Sabrina taps into a concept many immediately recognize. It’s a loaded word that instantly frames the song’s satirical tone. Throughout the track, she repeatedly sings “manchild” almost like a pet name in the chorus. This repetition hammers the point home humorously – it’s labeling him in the way one might call out “Baby!” in a love song, except here it’s “Manchild!” in an exasperated tone. Rhetorically, that’s both funny and memetic: you can easily imagine people using “manchild” as a retort or hashtag, thanks to this song. (In fact, TikTok clips went viral with users quoting “why so sexy if so dumb??!?” as they vented about exes .)

Finally, let’s talk about the musical rhetoric – the way the sound of the song reinforces the message. Carpenter co-wrote and co-produced “Manchild” with Jack Antonoff, and they smartly gave it a bright, upbeat feel reminiscent of a summer road-trip song . This choice is rhetorical irony at work. The up-tempo, feel-good melody acts as a Trojan horse for her cutting lyrics. If you only half-listen, you might think it’s a flirty love song (with its breezy guitars, maybe a hint of country twang and disco groove). But once you catch the words, you realize it’s an evisceration.

This contrast is intentional, of course – Sabrina said “it feels like a never ending road trip in the summer”, urging fans to “stick your head out the car window and scream it all summer long.” In other words, she wanted an anthemic vibe so that singing along to these brutal lyrics feels liberating and fun. The rhetorical effect is brilliant: by the time you’re shouting “half your brain just ain’t there!” at the top of your lungs, you’re fully participating in the catharsis and maybe not even feeling angry anymore – just empowered and amused. It’s the embodiment of smiling while delivering a smackdown, which might be one of the most effective ways to get a point across.

In sum, the rhetoric of “Manchild” – from its witty words to its ironic sound – makes the song as persuasive as it is entertaining. Sabrina Carpenter uses humor and catchy pop craft to slip a feminist message into your brain, and you’ll thank her for it as you dance. By balancing snark with self-awareness, she ensures the song comes off as an inclusive rallying cry (rather than just a mean rant). It’s a lyrical masterstroke where every joke and jab is meticulously placed, proving that pop music can be both smart and accessible at the same time.

Aesthetics: Music Meets Movie Magic – A Classic Film Pastiche

“Manchild” doesn’t only shine through its lyrics and message – it’s also a treat for the ears and eyes. On the musical front, the song’s aesthetic is a nostalgic yet modern blend, and visually, its music video is a full-on classic film pastiche that deepens the narrative. Let’s unpack the aesthetics in both sound and imagery, and how they complement the song’s themes.

Sonically, Carpenter and producer Jack Antonoff concocted a track that feels retro and fresh all at once. The genre is hard to pin down in one word – it’s rooted in glossy pop, but laced with country influences and a splash of synth-pop, riding on a “feel-good disco” groove . Imagine a 1970s Dolly Parton anthem meeting 2020s synth-pop sass, and you’re close to the vibe. There’s even a banjo listed in the instrumentation (courtesy of Antonoff) , which you might not expect in a song with a danceable beat – but it works, giving a plucky country wink beneath the synth sheen. 

This genre-mixing isn’t just for fun; it mirrors the song’s message in an interesting way. The slight country flavor nods to old-school “stand by your man” vibes, except Sabrina is cheekily roasting her man instead. The disco-pop elements make it chic and fun, perhaps subtly referencing the era of empowerment anthems. The aesthetic is empowering: it’s the kind of song you’d blast in a convertible with the top down, wind in your hair, not a care in the world that some immature ex is in the rearview. Carpenter intentionally wanted that road-trip, windows-down feel for the song, and boy, did she nail it. The production is warm, rich, and uplifting – you hear hand claps, funky basslines, shimmering synths – all contributing to a sunny “I’m over it” atmosphere.

If the music sets the stage, the music video raises the curtain on a whole cinematic spectacle. Directed by Vania Heymann and Gal Muggia, the video for “Manchild” is structured like a fast-cut movie trailer, stitching together scene after scene of wild, romantic, and absurd scenarios . Carpenter essentially cast herself as the heroine of a dozen classic movies at once – all with the common thread of dealing with ridiculous men. The result is a video that feels like a trailer for a chaotic romantic comedy (or several of them mashed together). It’s jam-packed with costume changes, genre shifts, and easter eggs that movie buffs will adore. But this isn’t reference-dropping for its own sake; each homage deepens the song’s narrative of exasperation with man-children, by placing Sabrina in the shoes of various iconic leading ladies who also had to wrangle hapless men. Let’s break down some of the most notable references and aesthetic choices from the video, and how they reinforce the song’s story:

• The Hitchhiking Heroine (Thelma & Louise meets Dolly Parton): The video opens with Sabrina on the side of a dusty highway, thumb out, wearing “her highest heels and Daisiest Dukes.” This scene immediately evokes classic Americana road-trip films – think Thelma & Louise or any number of Westerns – but with a twist. Sabrina isn’t a victim; she looks confident and unfazed, embodying a kind of glam cowgirl persona. In fact, there’s a strong Dolly Parton influence here. Carpenter is a huge Dolly fan and even remixed “Please, Please, Please” with her. Throughout the video she channels Dolly’s young, glitzy cowgirl energy – big blonde hair, cinched outfits, playful attitude. That mix of western gunslinger vibes (yes, Sabrina even brandishes a shotgun in one scene) with campy country glamour sets an aesthetic tone: it’s badass and winkingly feminine. The fast-paced editing like a movie trailer makes it feel like we’re watching highlights of an epic saga starring Sabrina as the resilient woman who’s “seen it all.”
  
• Penny Lane from Almost Famous: In one segment, Sabrina appears in a groovy faux-fur coat with curly, boho blonde locks, instantly calling to mind Penny Lane from the film Almost Famous. This is a brilliant reference on multiple levels. In Almost Famous, Penny Lane (played by Kate Hudson) is a free-spirited Band-Aid who “deals with the ultimate man-child” – the self-absorbed rock star Russell Hammond. By visually quoting Penny Lane, Sabrina aligns herself with that iconic character who loved a man who wouldn’t grow up. It subtly suggests, “I’ve been that girl taking care of an immature rockstar-type.” The aesthetic – 1970s rock & roll vibes – also complements the song’s retro musical tinge. Sabrina essentially becomes Penny Lane for a moment, as if to say: the story of women dealing with man-children in love is a tale as old as rock music. It’s a nostalgic, wistful image, but knowing Sabrina, she’s about to wise up faster than Penny did.
  
• Legally Blonde’s “I’m Taking the Dog!”: Perhaps the funniest blink-and-you’ll-miss-it homage is a scene where Sabrina runs away from a trailer park clutching a small puppy, with an angry, tacky-dressed man yelling behind her. This is a direct nod to an iconic moment in Legally Blonde. In that film, Elle Woods helps her friend Paulette reclaim her dog from an awful ex, and Paulette triumphantly shouts, “I’m taking the dog, dumbass!” as they drive off. Sabrina’s version has her literally snatching a pup and fleeing, echoing that scene. The details are spot on – from the rusted trailer and cheesy angry guy to Sabrina’s determined sprint – you can almost hear Jennifer Coolidge’s Paulette in your head. This reference injects a dose of triumphant girl-power comedy: it’s the woman getting one over the lame ex. Aesthetically, it’s played for laughs, but narratively it fits the theme – sometimes you just gotta rescue the metaphorical (or literal) dog and run away from the man-child. It shows Sabrina as the savior of innocence (the puppy) from a toxic situation. And let’s not overlook the symbolism: dogs are “man’s best friend,” and hilariously, Sabrina’s upcoming album is titled Man’s Best Friend. So, here she is in the video stealing the dog back from the man, as if reclaiming that loyalty and love for herself. It’s cheeky visual storytelling at its best.
  
• Carrie Bradshaw’s Meltdown: Sabrina’s fandom clearly runs deep, because she even references TV’s famous dating heroine, Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City. In one scene, Sabrina is shown sitting in a car at a drive-through, looking utterly disgusted while sipping a drink through a straw. Her hair is in luxurious NYC curls, very Carrie-coded, and her expression screams “I’ve had it with this clown.” This mirrors an SATC scene where a frazzled Carrie, fed up with man-troubles, desperately orders “a cheeseburger, large fries, and a Cosmopolitan” in a moment of comic frustration . By channeling Carrie, Sabrina taps into another layer of cultural resonance: the cosmopolitan, career woman who cannot with the immature men she’s dating. Sabrina’s city-girl outfit, the neon glow of a fast-food joint at night, her exasperated face – all these elements capture that “late-night, last-straw” vibe so many urban rom-coms have. It’s equal parts glamorous and comedic. The message reinforced: even the most stylish, put-together woman (like Carrie, like Sabrina) can be driven to a junk-food-and-tears moment by a dude who just won’t grow up. It’s a unifying image of fed-up femininity.
  
• Other Wild Visual Gags: The video doesn’t stop there. It piles on campy, over-the-top scenarios like a fever dream of film tropes. Sabrina is seen soaking in a hot tub with literal pigs (hello, metaphor: men are pigs, anyone?) . She holds a cigarette with a fork – a random, absurd sight that feels Tarantino-esque in its quirky style (imagine a character so extra they can’t even hold a cigarette normally; it’s cinematic nonsense in the best way). She clings to the back of a truck on roller skates, flies off a cliff in a convertible (a clear nod to Thelma & Louise’s famous ending), and even encounters an orca whale on her journey (perhaps a spoof of Free Willy or just a non sequitur to signify she’s in over her head). The men she meets are a “diverse crop” indeed – some drive a motorized recliner chair, some a Jet Ski on wheels, some a motorcycle with a grocery cart attached. These ridiculous vehicles represent how each new guy is a new kind of crazy ride. Visually, it’s pure comedy and creativity – every frame bursting with “what the heck?” energy. But symbolically, it tracks: Sabrina goes from one wacky situation to another, each vehicle offering its own new form of disaster. As one clever fan commented, “each car is a relationship – chaotic, makes no sense, sometimes full of danger – and jumping out of one car into another is Sabrina jumping into a new, uncertain (but almost predictably wild) relationship.” In other words, the video’s constant motion and changing set pieces mirror the song’s story of going through one immature relationship after another.
  

So then, how do all these aesthetic choices deepen the narrative of the track? Brilliantly, they place Sabrina’s personal tale in the context of a shared cultural experience. By referencing famous films and characters, the video documents the saga of dealing with man-children spans generations and genres. From 70s rock groupies, to 2000s rom-com heroines, to country queens and beyond – women everywhere have dealt with these lovable idiots. It creates a sort of cinematic sisterhood. You, watching the video, might laugh in recognition when you catch a reference and think, “Ha! I remember that scene – and I remember that feeling.” It amplifies the relatability. Additionally, the classic film pastiche turns Sabrina from pop singer into full-fledged storyteller and actress, reinforcing the idea that she’s in control of this narrative now. She’s not the damsel in distress in these scenes; she’s the star rewriting them. Each homage has her ultimately walking away or rolling her eyes rather than pining helplessly. This visuals-as-pastiche approach is also just a feast for fans – it invites repeated viewings to spot all the easter eggs and clever details (almost like a scavenger hunt through rom-com history).

Aesthetically, the video is also a testament to Carpenter’s versatility and vision. She clearly had a blast with costumes – from a glitzy red Jessica Rabbit-esque dress (perhaps an allusion to vamps who ensnare foolish men), to a retro Daisy Duke ensemble that reminds us she’s a fan of vintage style. The saturated colors, the humorous props, the mix of glamour and grit (one minute she’s sipping wine through a straw like a diva, the next she’s covered in dirt falling off a cliff) all create a vivid, larger-than-life aesthetic. It’s camp in the best sense – overstated, self-aware, and thematically resonant. By the end of the video, you feel like you’ve watched Sabrina Carpenter live out a hundred lives of romance and come out laughing every time.

In conclusion, the Aesthetics of “Manchild” – both in sound and vision – serve the song’s narrative beautifully. The music’s blend of disco-pop sunshine and country sass sets the empowering, don’t-give-a-damn tone, while the video’s classic film pastiche reinforces the idea that Sabrina’s story is every woman’s story. It’s stylistically rich and purposeful. Carpenter proved she’s not just a singer but a creative auteur of her pop era, curating looks and scenes that make her point even louder. If “Manchild” is a loving eye-roll in song, the video is that eye-roll turned into an entire movie montage. And we are more than happy to buy a ticket for the show.

Philosophy: Gender Dynamics, Growing Up, and the “Loving Eye Roll”

Beneath the catchy music and cinematic humor of “Manchild” lies a set of deeper questions and themes. In applying the Philosophy lens, we explore what the song and its success say about our culture’s views on gender dynamics, maturity, and relationships. What philosophies or social truths is Sabrina Carpenter tapping into? And why does this “loving eye roll” at male behavior feel so timely and significant?

At the heart of “Manchild” is a feminist ethos wrapped in a playful package. The song implicitly asks: What does it mean to be an adult man in today’s world, and why do so many fall short of that mark in relationships? Sabrina’s answer, delivered with sarcasm, is essentially: Some of you guys are failing to grow up, and women are tired of carrying the burden. This aligns with a wider cultural conversation about toxic masculinity – not in the extreme sense of overt abuse, but in the everyday sense of men not taking responsibility for their emotional and domestic lives. 

The “man-child” archetype is practically a trope now (the lazy husband who can’t do laundry, the boyfriend who expects you to schedule his appointments, etc.), and Carpenter’s song resonates because it calls it out in a universally understood way. As Women.com summarized, the song’s message is “a woman lamenting a toxic ex, who drained her with his incompetence, lies, and selfishness.” That paints a picture of emotional labor – the woman giving and organizing and forgiving, the man taking and flaking. It’s a dynamic many recognize, and it begs the question: why are women expected to tolerate this? Philosophically, “Manchild” sides with those who say, we shouldn’t. It’s almost a pop music embodiment of the phrase “not my job to raise a man.”

One interesting aspect of Carpenter’s approach is the tone of that critique – it’s not angry so much as exasperated and disappointed. This hints at a kind of philosophical fatalism (or heterofatalism, as some theorists call it) about heterosexual relationships. The term “heterofatalism” has been used to describe the performative sigh of straight women who feel “ugh, men are hopeless, but what can you do?” Sabrina’s “loving eye roll” fits this: she’s not advocating to swear off men entirely; she’s just venting about how absurd it is that this is what dating straight men often entails. 

In his academic commentary, writer Dan DiPiero noted that Sabrina’s work reflects something akin to ideas from Jane Ward’s The Tragedy of Heterosexuality, which observes “straight women’s endless and ineffective efforts to repair straight men” and the disappointment that follows. Lines in “Manchild” like “Never heard of self-care, half your brain just ain’t there” and the implied dig at his mother coddling him, directly point to this phenomenon – men who won’t help themselves and women who end up doing the “emotional heavy lifting for men who have no close friends and who won’t go to therapy” . Sabrina captures that in simple pop language, but it connects to a larger critique: our society (patriarchy, if you will) often produces men who aren’t taught emotional intelligence or self-sufficiency, and it’s women who suffer for it in private life.

However, Carpenter doesn’t present this as a static tragedy – she responds with empowerment and humor, which is philosophically significant. There’s an undercurrent of agency and refusal in “Manchild.” The song’s very existence is an act of reclaiming power: Sabrina is taking the narrative of a failed hetero relationship and turning it into a triumphant jam, essentially saying “I refuse to quietly put up with this; I’m going to sing about it and make everyone dance while I do.” 

This echoes a shift in modern pop culture where women aren’t just mourning heartbreak, they’re calling out the behaviors that caused it. As DiPiero put it, Sabrina’s stance is not “man-eater” (I use men and toss them) but “Manchild” (I refuse to accept subpar behavior from men) . That’s a declaration of higher standards and a rejection of the status quo. It suggests a belief that heterosexual relationships can be better – but only if men step up, and until then, women have every right to laugh at them and move on.

Another philosophical layer is how Sabrina addresses responsibility and choice. In the lyrics we discussed, she half-jokingly absolves herself by saying these men “choose me, I’m not choosing them.” Yet in the next breath, she implicitly acknowledges she did choose them by recognizing the pattern. There’s a tug-of-war here between seeing oneself as a victim of circumstances versus an active participant in one’s fate. By the end of the song (and explicitly in interviews and posts), Carpenter shows she’s taken accountability – she’s writing the song as a way to close the chapter and change the pattern. She notes the song will “score the mental montage of [her] confusing and fun young adult years”, as if now she can move on with that lesson learned. 

This reflective aspect is a philosophical message to listeners: it’s okay to laugh at the past and learn from it, to give yourself grace for having been “young and confused” but also do better going forward. The fact that “Manchild” comes through [with] confidence and attitude after [her character] realizing he was indeed just like the others – only this time, she’s finally over it” underlines that growth. The song is a send-off to immaturity – both his and, in a way, her own (in tolerating it).

One could also view “Manchild” through the lens of social philosophy regarding power. There’s a subtle yet pointed critique that not only are these immature men annoying in personal life, but they often still hold power in society. Sabrina jokes about an ex who’s “stupid, slow, useless”, yet in the real world such men can skate by on privilege or have women around them picking up the slack. DiPiero even interpreted “Manchild” as twisting a knife into politics, saying “men are multifariously broken… and broken men run this country.” That might not be the overt message of the song, but it’s an intriguing extrapolation: if so many men remain man-children, what does that say about male leadership everywhere? 

Sabrina might not be explicitly singing about politicians or CEOs, but the general critique of male incompetence certainly can echo that frustration in a broader sense. At the very least, “Manchild” taps into a collective weariness of patriarchal patterns – the idea of incompetent men still thinking they’re in charge (one lyric hint: she quips “half your brain just ain’t there,” yet such a half-brained guy still presumed to lead and take her love until she wise up).

Philosophically, the use of humor as a tool in “Manchild” is also noteworthy. It aligns with a tradition of using satire to cope with and undermine power imbalances. By laughing at the man-child, Sabrina diminishes his power over her. Comedy becomes catharsis and subtle rebellion. It’s reminiscent of how court jesters could speak truth to kings under the guise of jokes. Here, Carpenter speaks truth about gender dynamics under the guise of a pop joke. This is a conscious choice – she described writing the song as “so fun” and found that it became something she can look back on to make sense of a confusing time . That suggests a philosophy of processing pain through creativity and laughter. Rather than wallow in angst, turn it into art and get the last laugh (and a #1 hit to boot).

Lastly, consider the philosophy of intertextuality present in the music video’s classic film references. By invoking characters like Penny Lane, Elle Woods, and Carrie Bradshaw, Sabrina places herself in a continuum of women who have confronted the follies of men. It’s sort of a dialogue with previous cultural works: she’s saying “I grew up watching these stories, now here’s my iteration.” There’s a sense of solidarity across fictional and real women. Each reference carries lessons – e.g., Elle Woods teaches self-respect, Thelma & Louise teach solidarity and escape, Carrie Bradshaw teaches… well, sometimes you just need a cocktail and a cry. Sabrina absorbs all that and emerges in her video essentially driving off into the sunset (or off a metaphorical cliff) rather than sticking around with the loser. 

The philosophical undercurrent is that of liberation. The final act of Thelma & Louise was tragic yet freeing – in Sabrina’s comedic music video world, her “cliff” moment is played for laughs but still symbolizes breaking free of the cycle. As the earlier Women.com article noted, in “Please Please Please” (her earlier song) Sabrina was worried her lover would be like the rest, and in “Manchild” she finds out he was – but now she’s finally over it. That arc – from fear to realization to freedom – is a small philosophical journey of its own, one that many people (especially young women) can relate to as they navigate their first serious relationships.

In summary, the Philosophy of “Manchild” can be distilled to a few key tenets:

• Demand Better: Women shouldn’t have to settle for man-children; calling them out is a step toward expecting more equitable emotional labor in relationships.
  
• Laugh Instead of Cry: Humor transforms personal frustration into empowerment, and shared laughter (through an anthem like this) builds community around a common plight.
  
• Learn and Let Go: It’s okay to realize you’ve been dating the wrong people, to notice your own patterns, and to decide “no more.” There’s growth in that, and maybe even gratitude (“thank you men for testing me”, as Sabrina joked – implying those experiences made her stronger and gave her material to write an awesome song).
  
• Female Solidarity: The journey through dealing with man-children isn’t one you walk alone – countless heroines real and fictional have been there, and we can find wisdom (or at least amusing examples) in their stories. Sabrina adding her voice to that canon is a subtly feminist act of solidarity.
  

Ultimately, Sabrina Carpenter’s “Manchild” might have started as a fun idea on a random Tuesday (as she said, it was “the best random Tuesday of my life” writing it ), but it blossomed into a pop culture moment with surprising depth. Through Criticism, Rhetoric, Aesthetics, and Philosophy, we see the song is more than a catchy diss – it’s a commentary on growing up (or failing to), a rallying cry for those fed up with unequal relationships, and a celebration of taking back one’s power with a smile.

In the grand scheme, will “Manchild” go down as one of the defining pop songs of the 21st century?  It just might. It captures a zeitgeist feeling with wit and flair. It’s immensely entertaining while saying something true about the world we live in. Perhaps most brilliantly, it’s a song that can make you laugh, dance, and think all at once – a triple threat rare in today’s pop music. Sabrina Carpenter turned the trials of dating an immature guy into a triumphant, cinematic summer anthem that has us all singing along, head out the car window, screaming with joy that finally someone said it. That, in my opinion, is pure pop philosophy in action – and it deserves a standing ovation.

Sources:

• Carpenter, Sabrina. Manchild – Man’s Best Friend (Island Records, 2025).
  
• Saunders, Angel. “Sabrina Carpenter Explains the Real Inspiration Behind ‘Manchild’…” People, June 5, 2025. [Carpenter’s quotes on writing the song and its meaning]
  
• Reinstein, Julia. “Put Sabrina Carpenter in a Quentin Tarantino Movie Now.” The Cut, June 6, 2025. [Music video synopsis and lyric highlights]
  
• Bonsall, Ally. “Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘Manchild’ Music Video Proves She’s A Leading Lady.” Reel Talk & Reviews, Jun 9, 2025. [Film references in the music video explained]
  
• Roe, Bernadette. “Sabrina Carpenter’s ‘Manchild’ Is Putting Every Woman’s Red Flag Ex On Notice.” Women.com, June 6, 2025. [Analysis of song’s message, relatable themes, and video symbolism]
  
• DiPiero, Dan. “Manchild: Sabrina Carpenter’s Critique of Masculinity.” dandipiero.com blog, Jun 12, 2025. [In-depth cultural analysis connecting “Manchild” to feminist theory]