Reviews – The Stanford Daily https://stanforddaily.com Breaking news from the Farm since 1892 Fri, 15 Mar 2024 08:19:56 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.3 https://stanforddaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/cropped-DailyIcon-CardinalRed.png?w=32 Reviews – The Stanford Daily https://stanforddaily.com 32 32 204779320 ‘The Wolves’ lets each character score their own goal https://stanforddaily.com/2024/03/15/the-wolves-captivates-beyond-field/ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/03/15/the-wolves-captivates-beyond-field/#respond Fri, 15 Mar 2024 08:19:39 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1244903 Campus production "The Wolves" balanced serious issues with comedic relief through the touching story of a girls' soccer team, Ramzan writes.

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The TAPS Main Stage production of “The Wolves,” directed by Ph.D. candidate Marina Johnson, “kicked” around nuanced themes of identity, vulnerability and adolescent aspirations and showcased the concept that every player has their own unique shot in the game of life. 

“The Wolves” is a dynamic play that captures the lives of a high school girls’ soccer team (known as The Wolves) as they navigate the complexities of teamwork and the challenges of growing up. I attended the second of three performances on March 8 at the Harry J. Elam, Jr. Theater, and was astounded by the stunning set, dramatic lighting and intricate character work presented by each actor.

Upon entering the theater, the audience was met with an undeniably “real” feeling set — a stage designed as a grassy field adorned with sneakers, backpacks, benches and water bottles. The performance began in medias res, with the actors enthusiastically running onto the stage in overlapping high energy conversations. The topical lighthearted banter was highly comedic and landed well among audience members.

I was impressed by the immersive atmosphere created by the actors, who performed exercises like crunches, jumping jacks and stretches in synchrony while conversing onstage. The energetic choreography of soccer drills created a palpable sense of camaraderie among the teammates, drawing the audience into the world of the play with captivating intensity.

What struck me most about this play was its raw authenticity and the depth of its characters. A unique aspect of this performance was that there were no principal or leading actors; every character in the ensemble had their own individual bits and storylines that intertwined seamlessly, with no one character particularly outshining the other. Each member of the team is distinct, with their own struggles, dreams and insecurities, yet united by their shared passion for the sport of soccer.

#46, played by Deniz Yagmur Urey ‘24, provided a standout performance as a homeschooled misfit, viewed as an outsider by the team for her uncommon life practices. Her subtle yet charismatic line delivery was hilarious (notably, her response to the team mistakenly referring to the style of her home, a yurt, as a “yogurt”), and watching her find her place within the social hierarchy of the team over the course of the production was gratifying.

One of the play’s greatest strengths lies in its ability to tackle complex themes with sensitivity and tasteful coverage. The play ingeniously addresses a range of social fault lines, such as teenage “cliques,” gossiping and young death. From concerns with body image and identity to love and loss, “The Wolves” fearlessly confronts the realities that shape the lives of young women today in an immensely resonant and thought-provoking manner. 

As the play develops, for instance, an overall diminishment in the team’s health and morale is evident. A girl who had been struggling with an eating disorder, #2 (Sophia Wang ‘26) has a nosebleed onstage and #7 (Eryn Perkins ‘25) gets injured and is forced to use crutches for the remainder of the play. 

The declining physical health of the team parallels a decline in their social health, as the girls begin to have serious disagreements involving their personal lives, drama over #7’s boyfriend, and the girls’ opinions about one another. The fracturing of the team was portrayed with immense rawness and realism, and was mirrored in the play’s set design itself. 

In a particularly climatic scene, the back wall of the stage separates into two halves, seamlessly opening toward opposite ends of the room filled with beaming lights and intense fog. This jaw-dropping moment of suspense ended with a member of the team walking into the abyss of light, demanding the attention of everyone in the audience. This moment, as we come to learn, signifies the accidental death of one of the girls, and introduces sharp developments of grief among the teammates.

The ensembled cast delivered a stellar performance, bringing to life the multifaceted dynamics of teenagehood with remarkable nuance and sincerity. This production demanded and demonstrated a strong command of physicality, displayed in intense scenes of kicking soccer balls and running while simultaneously spewing quick witted banter with not a single actor missing cues, fumbling lines or sacrificing emotional connection at the sake of keeping up athletically. 

For many plays that are dense in textual dialogue, it can often be difficult for audiences to entirely follow specificity in discourse. Though “The Wolves” piece was chock-full of quick banter and intricate conversation, the commitment to storytelling and emotional clarity made this piece a joy to follow throughout its 90-minute runtime. 

Highly energetic music, stunning visuals and intense exercises in between scene changes provided great intricacy. Although the scenes individually were relatively long, they never dwelled on a singular topic, avoiding staleness and allowing the beats of the scene to flow seamlessly. 

From the spirited banter during warm-ups to the poignant moments of vulnerability, the actors captured the essence of adolescence, eliciting laughter, empathy and introspection from the audience. Each actor fully and authentically embodied their characters in dynamic ways, and there wasn’t a dull moment in this performance. The immense hard work and dedication of everyone involved in “The Wolves” was certainly evident, and made for a thoroughly compelling piece.

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‘Yakuman Chance’: Girl talk at its finest https://stanforddaily.com/2024/03/14/yakuman-chance-girl-talk/ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/03/14/yakuman-chance-girl-talk/#respond Thu, 14 Mar 2024 07:29:15 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1244750 Sharing the stories of four friends coming together to play mahjong and catch up, "Yakuman Chance," an original play by Jayda Alvarez, gave viewers an intimate look into the intricacies, honesty and complications of female friendships.

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Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

Content warning: this story contains references to suicide. If you or someone you know is at risk, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255. Additional resources are available here.

Jayda Alvarez ’24’s original play “Yakuman Chance” ran in the Nitery Theater from Feb. 29 to March 2, sponsored by the Stanford Theater Project. The play artfully wove together the dynamic nature of female friendships with weird, sometimes absurd humor and refreshing honesty.

For the duration of the 90-minute play, four actors gathered around a table — four young women, friends since high school, reuniting after a couple years apart to play a game of mahjong before they are blown apart again to their respective corners of the world. 

Actors would periodically move on and off the stage, but such actions were temporary: all movement was centered around the wooden table squared neatly in the middle of the stage. The characters were brought together by a physical location as they converged in the center of the stage, the physical convergence of the four different paths they led.

The singular set, designed by Richard John ’27, and small location did not detract from the play’s power; rather, it enhanced it. The theater felt cozy, and the distance between characters and audience members was marginal. It was a physical blurring of the line between the reality we live in and the reality Alvarez created.

Sitting in the front row of the theater, I could notice little details, like the stitching on a character’s bag, the grooves on the wooden chairs and the sound of the mahjong tiles as they clinked. The difference between what I saw and what the characters were experiencing grew smaller.

Lighting designer Ness Arikan ’26 expertly managed spotlights to draw attention to particular moments and highlight expert costume details, which were designed by Jeannette Chen ’23 M.A. ’24. The choice of two long braids for Piper — a childish, bubbly character — expertly contrasted with the lace blouse and brightly-colored bow donned by Brianna, a more mature yet easily excitable character. 

Sebastian Blue Hochman ’26, Yakuman Chance’s sound designer and composer, added to the ambiance with a mixture of live music and pre-recorded audio files. Hochman switched between the acoustic and electric guitars with ease, paralleling the thematic movement of the show. 

What struck me most about “Yakuman Chance” was the chemistry between the four actors. I was reminded of myself and my three friends from high school catching up during winter break over a game of Dora Candyland. 

Although our questions didn’t quite compare to Piper asking her friends “do you orgasm when you pee?” the scenes set up by “Yakuman Chance” made me feel just about as home as I do every time I start four-way FaceTime calls, watch my friends pile into my “clown car” or walk into class to see half of a sesame seed bagel left by my friend. I felt like each character was allowed to be their silly, authentic selves without holding anything back in a way that mirrored a real friend group.

“Yakuman Chance” also handled more serious issues with grace. Brianna shared the frustration and hurt she felt as she discovered her infertility due to PCOS. Her tone made her emotions clear as she lamented the loss of her dream to have kids and exasperatedly said it felt like she was no longer “enough of a woman.” The emotional impact of this scene hit much harder because her friends had teased her earlier on in the play for wanting to have a kid so young. 

Brianna’s experiences with PCOS were contrasted with her friend Christina’s, whose diagnosis was revealed in a nonchalant way by Piper in passing.

Two other members of the “gab circle,” Olivia and Piper, exchanged pointed remarks about the other’s privilege, whether due to their race or ability to attend college, throughout the show. Near the middle of the show, their quips escalated into an argument, with Piper accusing Olivia of idolizing others’ experiences as people of color and Olivia pointing out Piper’s privilege from being white-passing. 

In realistic fashion, they later made up only after prompting from the other two. This conversation highlighted the imperfect nature of friendships, made up of people who, though imperfect, seek to learn from their mistakes. 

There were moments of “Yakuman Chance” that emotionally wrecked me, specifically the one where Olivia confessed her previous suicidal thoughts. She revealed to her friends that when things got “real hard,” she’d make a list of things to stay alive for. Every time, the top three things would be “you, you and you,” she said, pointing to each one of her friends gathered around the table – the fourth being the long-running game of mahjong they’d play together. 

In response, the girls gathered together in a tight, heartfelt group hug with Olivia at the center as if the other three were protecting her after she was so emotionally vulnerable, and, as I noticed the tears in Olivia’s eyes, I became aware of the ones in mine.

The play’s conversations were just as organic and real as those in my own life, and Alvarez’s director’s note made it clear why. She described her unconventional directing process, with the first few rehearsals being devoted to playing mahjong and having conversations, much like the characters of the play do. 

“In our playing and talking, I witnessed the development of a sororal bond,” Alvarez wrote. “It dawned on me that we weren’t rehearsing the play, we were doing the play.” 

“Yakuman Chance” was the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon. It was a wonderful blend of lighthearted humor mixed in with more somber topics, and I found myself blinking back tears more than once, both from uncontrollable laughter and upwellings of sadness.

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Harmonic hauntings: ‘Ghost Quartet’ captivates CoHo https://stanforddaily.com/2024/02/27/ghost-quartet-captivates-coho/ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/02/27/ghost-quartet-captivates-coho/#respond Wed, 28 Feb 2024 05:45:00 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1243597 Theater Lab's production of "Ghost Quartet" wove together different stories, themes and contexts, Kearns writes.

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Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

Theater Lab performed an intriguing rendition of Dave Malloy’s “Ghost Quartet” last weekend at CoHo, marked by unconventional storytelling and musical depth. The show, which featured four interwoven narratives spanning seven centuries, delivered a complex tapestry of “love, death and whiskey” that, at times, proved challenging to follow.

The show eschewed the familiar narrative framework in favor of a more fragmented, cyclical approach to storytelling. From the mystical tales of Scheherazade and Dunyazad in 14th-century Persia to the tragic sibling rivalry between Rose Red and Pearl White in 17th-century Germany and Japan, “Ghost Quartet” threaded different plotlines together in fascinating ways. The story extended to the modern day and culminated in a 21st-century New York City subway tragedy, illustrating the cyclical nature of the show’s themes. 

Throughout each tale, themes of ambition, revenge and the quest for love intertwined, demonstrating the timeless and universal nature of these human experiences.

The lack of a traditional storytelling arc in “Ghost Quartet” added a layer of complexity that, while artistically bold, occasionally made it challenging to discern a coherent overarching plot or to fully invest in the characters’ journeys. The transitions between tales felt abrupt at times, leaving little room for the narrative or emotional development typically facilitated by a more linear progression.

Despite the show’s convoluted plot threads, the four actors showcased their range and versatility as they transitioned between various characters and epochs. 

Both an actor and director, Sam Howell Petersen ’24 shone through their portrayals, bringing to life characters like Scheherazade, Pearl White, Soldier and Lady Usher with remarkable physicality and vocal skill. Their performance was not just acts, but evocative embodiments, marking the production with memorable depth and dynamism. Petersen’s ability to convincingly inhabit multiple roles underscored the intricate storytelling and thematic richness of the piece.

Peter Li’s ’25 contributions were also multifaceted, showcasing both his musical talent as a pianist and his capacity to bring humor and a distinct personality to his performances as Monk, Astronomer and Driver. His ability to blend comedy with musical skill added a unique layer to the show, making his performance memorable and engaging.

Among the song cycle, “Any Kind of Dead Person” and “The Astronomer” emerged as my personal favorites, as I resonated deeply with their evocative melodies and poignant lyrics. However, the show’s diverse musical landscape meant that not every song managed to strike the same chord, with certain pieces overshadowing others in their appeal. Some songs felt inconsequential to the central plot of the show and lasted longer than I felt was necessary.  

The finale, “The Wind & Rain,” transformed the theater into an interactive space, creating an unforgettable communal experience. The boundary between performers and spectators blurred as percussion instruments were distributed among the audience and participants were invited to play alongside the musicians. This immersive element not only captivated the audience, but also beautifully echoed the show’s themes of connection and the cyclical nature of storytelling, culminating in a collaborative and resonant conclusion.

Regardless of the occasional obscurity of its plot, “Ghost Quartet” was a testament to the power of music and imagination, woven together in a tapestry as intricate and mysterious as the narratives it sought to tell.

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A spoonful of magic: Stanford Light Opera revives ‘Mary Poppins’ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/02/26/stanford-light-operas-mary-poppins/ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/02/26/stanford-light-operas-mary-poppins/#respond Tue, 27 Feb 2024 05:57:16 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1243518 Charlotte Kearns writes about the magic, musicality and merriment in "Mary Poppins," produced by Stanford Light Opera Company.

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Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

The Stanford Light Opera Company’s production of “Mary Poppins” delighted audiences with a fresh and vibrant take on the beloved classic at Dinkelspiel Auditorium this weekend. 

The Light Opera Company, a student-led theater organization, presented three enchanting performances amid its annual showcase. The show, based on the P. L. Travers’ book series and Disney movie adaptions, tells the story of a whimsical nanny’s transformative impact on the Banks family, through extraordinary adventures and lessons.

Running for three hours, the show is a commitment, but it is one that pays off due to its continuous entertainment value.

Under the adept direction of Liam Fay M.S. ’25, the production struck a balance between honoring the original material and injecting humorous moments that resonated with contemporary audiences. Fay’s directorial note emphasized that theater is meant to be fun, a sentiment that this production embodies from start to finish. 

The musical numbers were the production’s heart and soul. “Step in Time” was an electrifying tap number that showcased the cast’s synchronicity and stamina. Equally exciting was the inventive choreography in “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” which brought whimsy and playfulness to the stage as dancers spelled out the compound word. 

Despite missing the flying Mary Poppins moment that is a staple of most Mary Poppins’ productions, the show dazzled its audience with several sleight-of-hand tricks that kept the story’s magic alive.

The scene where Mary Poppins pulled out oversized items from her seemingly small carpet bag elicited gasps and applause. The clever staging of a kite flying gracefully across the stage brought a delightful outdoor freedom and joy into the auditorium, while showcasing the creative ingenuity behind the production. 

Sarah Lewis ’24, in the titular role, embodied the magical nanny with grace and charisma — every moment she was on stage was enchanting. Her sweet voice filled the theater, inspiring everyone to tap their feet to popular songs from the musical, like “A Spoonful of Sugar” and “Let’s Go Fly a Kite.”

Her counterpart Bert, played by Henry Cargill ’26, also provided a standout performance. Cargill’s authentic Cockney accent and commendable dance prowess added a dynamic layer to the production. Lewis and Cargill’s chemistry and joy onstage was contagious.  

Sanjana Khurana ’26 was also notable in her role as Winifred Banks, bringing depth and warmth to the maternal character. The clarity and emotional range in Khurana’s phenomenal vocal performance also captivated the audience.

Members of the ensemble also deserve high praise for seamless transitions between roles: from spoons to toys to chimney sweeps. This versatile group of performers adeptly navigated the choreography and scene changes, ensuring a smooth and cohesive narrative flow that tied long show together.

The production’s lighthearted yet polished execution, coupled with standout vocal performances, created an engaging experience. The scenic design and lighting, particularly during “Step in Time,” created a visual spectacle that complemented the performances. This production of “Mary Poppins” was not merely a show, but an immersive journey into a world where whimsy and childlike wonder reign supreme.

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Cardinal Canvas: Mourning home in Muriente’s ‘Celaje’ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/02/22/cardinal-canvas-murientes-celaje/ https://stanforddaily.com/2024/02/22/cardinal-canvas-murientes-celaje/#respond Thu, 22 Feb 2024 09:11:15 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1243042 Columnist Adam Golomb reflects upon Muriente’s “Celaje,” a video art piece at Cantor that mourns the loss of Costa Rican culture and prosperity to colonialism and Hurricane Maria.

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In “Cardinal Canvas,” Adam Golomb spotlights art on and around the University, exploring and reviewing artwork that students may otherwise miss.

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and contains subjective opinions, thoughts and critiques.

“This is a film about impermanence,” Sofía Gallisá Muriente declares halfway into her forty-one minute video artwork “Celaje (Cloudscape).”

Throughout the film, Muriente invites her audience to an elegy for her homeland of Puerto Rico and the devastation caused by Hurricane Maria in 2017, which killed nearly 3,000 Puerto Ricans.

In somber reflection of Puerto Rico’s once-held beauty contrasted with its current state, the piece questions how one learns to grieve their home and reclaim their cultural legacy.

“Inevitably, the day comes, be it decades, centuries or millenniums later, when all that is left of the rock is some grains of sand,” the subtitles read while Muriente’s late grandmother speaks in Spanish. On the screen: black and white waves crashing, enacting the slow process of erosion alongside the cliffside. 

Muriente ruminates on nature’s relentless course; the footage, purposely distorted and degraded, representing the ravaging of her land. The scene is mesmerizing in its scale as every tiny rock along the beach is swallowed by the vast ocean. 

“Testing, testing, uno, dos, tres, uno, dos, tres,” a male voice recites while old home videos play. Lowly saturated scenes of women cooking and laughing at a barbecue paint a picture of the happiness and beauty of Puerto Rico. A little boy runs around with the flag, giddy. 

Muriente gives the audience a peek into the wonders of her heritage so we can understand what we’re mourning. Watching this, I smiled to myself at the pride Muriente clearly has for her home, but behind that smile was an anxiety, an anticipation of catastrophe. 

“Something is happening, the lightbulb is failing,” the same man suddenly says, with urgency and fear. The music, previously simple background noise behind the old footage, starts overlapping on itself and escalates into a loud crescendo. 

Then, a cut to black. Silence. Emerging from this, a scene of a funeral as a coffin with the Puerto Rican flag is lowered into the ground, a family inaudibly saying their goodbyes. 

“Celaje” depicts the deep sadness of losing one’s love, one’s home. The sense of unpreparedness Muriente crafts is overwhelming, and gives the piece’s audience the experience of watching one’s site of life implode rather than gradually fade away. I can’t help but question which is worse: an abrupt departure or creeping disintegration. Muriente herself doesn’t decide, but masterfully presents the reality of the first. I ache with her.

“Without debt, there is no paradise,” the subtitles read on scenes of abandoned buildings pre-hurricane. Muriente then dives into Puerto Rico’s history as a colony, drawing parallels between its violent past and the present harm caused by Hurricane Maria. “Celaje” depicts the literal looming presence of imperialism in Puerto Rico throughout the film, panning up to a “General Motors,” “Ford” or “Sinclair” logo during scenes of everyday life. 

Muriente compares history to natural disasters; both have consumed buildings and lives, the material evidence of her culture. She depicts colonialism and the hurricane alike as destroyers of heritage and creators of ruins.

“The blank film I had been keeping in my freezer started rotting when the hurricane took the power out,” Murriente discloses. The screen shows the jungle during the darkest of nights, impossible to navigate. “Celaje” brings the audience into a similarly frightening unknown of disaster – the death of one’s home.

In her potent examination of devastation and mourning, Muriente explores a land of collapse and the dissolution of history. The film poses the following question: What does one do when the tools of documentation literally rot? 

Again, Muriente allows her audience to decide for itself, but I view “Celaje” as her way of rectifying these casualties of memory. I see “Celaje” as a declaration of history and heritage. Muriente’s answer to the above question: Start documenting again, with love and care.

Muriente’s “Celaje” is simply beautiful. Disorienting at times, deeply moving and compellingly thought-provoking, I implore everyone to run to the Cantor to see this piece before May 19.

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From boba to bingsu: Best Asian desserts of the Bay https://stanforddaily.com/2023/10/05/from-boba-to-bingsu-best-asian-desserts-of-the-bay/ https://stanforddaily.com/2023/10/05/from-boba-to-bingsu-best-asian-desserts-of-the-bay/#respond Thu, 05 Oct 2023 08:12:09 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1231013 Looking for the best Asian dessert spot near campus? Here are seven shops that you need to check out next.

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Amid the sweltering fall quarter heat, we are all looking for fun, new and refreshing dessert spots to cool down at. Maybe it is a different soft serve place from your usual. Maybe you are in the mood to try something totally different. Whatever your craving is for, below is a list of the seven best Asian dessert spots around the Bay Area, organized by increasing distance from the Stanford campus.

Wanpo Tea Shop

From boba to bingsu: Best Asian desserts of the Bay
The Wanpo milk tea. (Photo: MADDIE PARK/The Stanford Daily)

Key features:

  • 2.6 miles away — Stanford Shopping Center
  • $6-$8 per cup of bubble tea, depending on size

⚠Tip: For toppings, “boba” refers to the typical boba, but “pearls” refers to mini boba.

Overall, Wanpo’s teas are flavorful and not overly sweet. There is always an abundance of boba and toppings, and the boba is the perfect texture — nice and chewy. 

The popular Wanpo milk tea was flavorful at 50% sweetness, the usual level I opt for. It was a little bit on the sweeter side, but still not overly sweet. Compared to Boba Guys, whose bubble tea always seems watered-down to me, and T4, whose bubble tea is overly sweet, the Wanpo milk tea hit the right spot. 

The shop’s amenities, including a progress screen, were thoughtful but unhelpful. The screen was also inaccurate — the wait time for our drinks was not as long as it suggested. 

Somi Somi

From boba to bingsu: Best Asian desserts of the Bay
The matcha/oreo swirl with nutella taiyaki (upside-down Ah-Boong). (Photo: MADDIE PARK/The Stanford Daily)

Key features:

  • 2.9 miles away — University Ave
  • $7 per Ah-Boong

⚠ Tip: Order the upside-down Ah-Boong, so that the soft serve does not drip over your hands.

Somi Somi serves the Korean dessert Ah-Boong, a fish-shaped waffle cone (taiyaki) on soft serve ice cream. The soft serve ice cream is offered in six to eight flavors, and you can typically choose two swirls from the selection. The swirl combinations change regularly, with two new pairs of soft serve flavors offered each week. Customers can also choose a filling for the taiyaki, with options that range from the standard custard, to nutella, red bean, taro and even cream cheese.

The matcha/oreo swirl with nutella taiyaki, topped with matcha powder, was a perfect balance of creamy and crunchy. The soft serve was smooth and complemented the flaky, crunchy and doughy taiyaki very well. The matcha powder accentuated the bitterness of the matcha soft serve ice cream, making that flavor pop.

The service is fast for soft serve ice cream or Ah-Boong (about five minutes), but slower for taiyaki (up to 15 minutes).

Satura Patisserie

Key features:

  • 5.7 miles away — Downtown Los Altos
  • Japanese Cake Shop

⚠ Tip: Online order and in-store. You can only buy slices of cakes in-store.

Cakes from Satura Patisserie are light and fluffy. The Satura Shortcake (strawberry shortcake) is their signature cake. The vanilla cake base and cream were not dense or heavy, and it was not overwhelmingly sweet. I could taste the strawberries in every bite. 

The Mango & Coco cake was similarly delicious and flavorful. The combination of the mousses, cake and kiwi gave the cake a smooth texture with the occasional crunch of fruit. My only critique is that I wish there was more fruit on top of the cake. 

Hong Kong Chinese Bakery

From boba to bingsu: Best Asian desserts of the Bay
The char siu bao (left) and egg tart (right) after being reheated — just as tasty as when it was freshly bought (as long as it is consumed within 3-5 days of purchase). (Photo: MADDIE PARK/The Stanford Daily)

Key features:

  • 7.7 miles away — Castro Street
  • Mom-and-pop shop
  • No preservatives

⚠ Tip: Cash only!

Hong Kong Chinese Bakery sells all types of Chinese baked goods. The popular char siu bao — a sweet and salty bun with a creamy pork filling inside — was both delicious and huge. The bun was light and fluffy. Meanwhile, its pork filling had an almost-creamy consistency with little bits of char siu for texture. 

The paper chiffon cake was slightly sweet, though a little dry on the outside. The cake’s redeeming qualities, however, included its lightness, fluffiness and moistness on the inside.

On an idler day, the wait is roughly five minutes. On busier days, the wait time increases to 15 minutes. The price is quite reasonable for the size and quality of the baked goods.

Sulbing

From boba to bingsu: Best Asian desserts of the Bay
The strawberry sulbing (left) and red bean injeolmi sulbing (right). Sulbing featured cute cartoon characters on some of its signs, and the shop itself had a lot of seating! (Photo: MADDIE PARK/The Stanford Daily)

Key features:

  • 15 miles away — Santa Clara
  • Great place for group dessert!

Sulbing was a very nice place to escape the heat. The bingsu, though a little bit on the pricey side, was delicious. Both desserts that I sampled were not overly sweet. 

The red bean injeolmi sulbing (the store’s signature) was a flavorful treat that was both sweet and savory. The injeolmi powder provided a nutty taste reminiscent of cashew, while the red bean was sweet. Cut-up almonds added a nice crunch and the mushiness of the sweet red bean added to the texture of the dessert.

The strawberry sulbing was a good balance of sweet and sour. This dessert was topped with a sweet and tangy strawberry-like jam, with red bean in the center of this dessert.

As somebody that enjoys many toppings on desserts, I felt that Sulbing provided just enough, if not too little toppings on both bingsu. Sulbing has TV screens to alert you that your order is ready — just listen for a soft dinging sound.

Hui Lau Shan

Key features:

  • 16 miles away — Cupertino
  • One-of-a-kind: Hong Kong mango desserts
  • Great place for group dessert!

Calling all mango-lovers: Hui Lau Shan is your next go-to dessert spot. The Mango Chewy Ball dessert has a mango base (slightly thicker than a slushie-like consistency) with chewy tapioca balls, mango slices and mango ice cream. Though the mango base was sweet, the chewy tapioca balls (which had no flavor) balanced out the sweetness of the mango slush and provided a nice texture. The mango ice cream (on top of the dessert) was smooth, firm and not overly sweet.

Eating the mango pudding felt like eating a real mango — as the texture was chunky and firm, similar to that of an actual mango. Hui Lau Shan also provided milk to accompany the pudding, but there wasn’t a significant change after pouring the milk on top. Regardless, the taste was on-point.

There will be a long line, though it goes quickly. Also, big cups (located at the counter) for sharing desserts cost $1.

Uncle Tetsu | Japanese Cheesecake

From boba to bingsu: Best Asian desserts of the Bay
The original cheesecake. All cheesecakes from Uncle Tetsu have a “stamp” in the middle of the cheesecake with the signature Uncle Tetsu logo. (Photo: MADDIE PARK/The Stanford Daily)

Key features:

  • 18 miles away — Hillsdale Shopping Center
  • One-of-a-kind: Japanese souffle cheesecake
  • Great place for group dessert!

⚠ Tip: If you are aiming to get a specific flavor of cheesecake, go earlier in the day, so that there is a less likely chance of that flavor being sold out.

If you are in the mood for Japanese souffle cheesecake, Uncle Tetsu is the place to go. The cheesecakes are delicious when chilled; they’re soft, moist, spongy and melt in your mouth — a huge distinguishing factor from regular cheesecake. The original cheesecake was a lighter, fluffier version of a typical cheesecake; however, it was not as sweet.

Uncle Tetsu cheesecakes are smaller than a 10-inch cheesecake (the typical size of a cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory). However, they are still large enough to share.

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and contains subjective opinions, thoughts and critiques.

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“Top Gun: Maverick” keeps the ’80s nostalgia and exceeds the original https://stanforddaily.com/2022/08/22/top-gun-maverick-keeps-the-80s-nostalgia-and-exceeds-the-original/ https://stanforddaily.com/2022/08/22/top-gun-maverick-keeps-the-80s-nostalgia-and-exceeds-the-original/#respond Tue, 23 Aug 2022 05:07:39 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1206924 Comparing “Top Gun” with its sequel, “Top Gun: Maverick,” the latter does everything the former does, but better, writes Sonia Verma.

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“Top Gun: Maverick” (2022), the sequel to Tony Scott’s “Top Gun” (1986), boasted 96% on Rotten Tomatoes a month after its theatrical release and made history as the 50th movie ever to have a box office gross of over $1 billion worldwide. Its popularity can be attributed to multiple factors: a strong plot, well-developed character arcs, a balanced romantic side-plot and most of all, its beautiful cinematography and special effects. Not only does this movie maintain elements of the original movie, but it also improves upon them.

“Top Gun” itself was the highest-grossing movie in its year of release, cashing in around $440 million in today’s dollars. Complete with ahead-of-its-time action sequences and the sex appeal of its cast, “Top Gun” was a hit with its many target audiences. Many today consider it a Hollywood classic and for good reason: its enthralling action scenes, charismatic characters, as well as its “slice of life” format make it a perfect feel-good movie.

“Top Gun” was an action movie with a fresh story beat. There were no villains, and the main focus was the journey of Lt. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, played by Tom Cruise, at TOPGUN academy. But even without an explicit antagonist, Maverick’s time there catalyzed his incredible character growth arc as he made friends, rivals and even found love.

Meanwhile, “Top Gun: Maverick” has a simple and concise plot paired alongside a linear heist subplot. The straightforwardness makes it easier for characters to shine and keeps the audience’s attention. It also helps the scenes blend seamlessly together — there are no awkward or slow parts of the movie, as many action movies tend to have. A well-written heist movie generally has excellent suspense, witty dialogue, great action scenes and good chemistry between characters — all areas in which “Top Gun: Maverick” excels. The 1986 original has an unusual story that gave it a beat of freshness, but the plot was ultimately weak. The film’s pace was too slow occasionally and failed to develop its side characters. The structure of “Top Gun: Maverick” was familiar and therefore easier to follow than its predecessor.

The original, despite its groundbreaking action scenes and impeccable aesthetic, fell short in its characters and their interactions with one another. Maverick was the only dynamic, well-rounded character within the entire cast. Other characters, like Goose, Maverick’s best friend played by Anthony Edwards, and Maverick’s love interest, Charlie, played by Kelly McGillis, were flat and static. Interactions between characters were also slow, awkward and, for the most part, pointless, barring the dialogue during action scenes. 

On the other hand, all the characters of ‘“Top Gun: Maverick” are able to shine, partially because easily understood plot but also because of the good chemistry the characters and actors have with each other. Miles Teller as Rooster captured the slick aesthetic of a brooding, cocky and handsome male lead from the original movie. Cruise’s acting as Maverick is impeccable as always, and the character interactions don’t feel stilted. Cruise and co-star Jennifer Connelly, playing Penny Benjamin, have a playful chemistry with each other that is mature yet lighthearted and easygoing. The chemistry between Maverick and Rooster is also believable; the movie is paced well enough to give adequate time to establish tension between these two characters and a believable reconciliation at the end. 

The romance in “Top Gun,” although central to the plot, was a bit half-hearted. Cruise’s acting and character far outshone his love interest. However, it did allow the audience to observe some depth in McGillis’s character. She is more mature and careful in her affection compared to Cruise’s brazen yet naive depiction of love.

But it’s a classic for a good reason: at the time, the use of little-to-no CGI for its stunts and effects was mind-blowing for the realism and quality of the action. The movie, though the action was contained in the first and last 20 minutes of the movie, had a satisfying, feel-good conclusion. 

“Top Gun: Maverick” similarly has few CGI action scenes, but unlike “Top Gun,” the cinematography is all-around gorgeous. The action scenes are a cut above the rest — nail-biting and heart-pounding. Viewers feel like they were right there with the characters, feeling what they felt and seeing what they saw. The movie is vivid and full of life, like reading a novel with surround sound. 

Comparing “Top Gun” with its sequel, “Top Gun: Maverick,” the latter does everything the former does, but better. The action scenes are gritty, the emotion is raw, in and piercing through the screen, the cinematography is more modern and the aged main character just gives the movie more charm. While “Top Gun” will always have its ‘80s nostalgia, “Top Gun: Maverick” is a perfect movie for modern-day audiences.

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and contains subjective opinions, thoughts and critiques.

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“Where the Crawdads Sing” loses the details but keeps the heart of a tragic story https://stanforddaily.com/2022/08/16/where-the-crawdads-sing-loses-the-details-but-keeps-the-heart-of-a-tragic-story/ https://stanforddaily.com/2022/08/16/where-the-crawdads-sing-loses-the-details-but-keeps-the-heart-of-a-tragic-story/#respond Wed, 17 Aug 2022 03:18:00 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1206669 The movie vividly reflected the book through its talented cast, setting and amazingly composed soundtrack but omitted some important plot details.

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Adapting a novel for the big screen has always been a tricky task. Delia Owens’s murder mystery coming-of-age novel “Where The Crawdads Sing,” which has sold over 12 million copies and was chosen for Reese Witherspoon’s book club selection, set expectations high. Though the movie vividly reflected the book through its talented cast, setting and amazingly composed soundtrack, it omitted some important plot details.

Owens’s book tells the story of Kya, played by Daisy Edgar-Jones, who suffers the abuse of her alcoholic father that drove her mother and siblings away. When her father disappears, she’s left to survive in the marsh, alone and shoeless. Kya eventually learns to read and write from her lover Tate, portrayed by Taylor John Smith, and later publishes a book. She’s mocked as the “Marsh Girl” for her wildness, a label that ultimately affects her trial for the murder of Chase Andrews, her former lover.

Similar to Kya’s story, Owens has been wanted for questioning as an important witness and accessory to felonies in a murder case of an alleged poacher, back when she moved to Zambia with her husband to continue her work on preventing poaching of wildlife. Though Owens still denies all the accusations on behalf of her and her husband’s part in the murders, people testify that Mark Owens was someone who bragged about killing poachers. After Owens published her book, “Where The Crawdads Sing,” some believed it was actually a story based on her time in Africa, since she has drawn parallels between her experience living in the wilderness and a nature admirer like Kya.

 “It’s about trying to make it in a wild place,” she said in an interview with The New York Times. Lingering questions about what really happened in Zambia make up part of the publicity of both the book and the movie.

Owens’s book starts at Kya’s tragic childhood and ends at the trial. But the movie’s director, Olivia Newman, follows a different storyline, beginning with Kya’s arrest and interspersing scenes of the trial with flashbacks that reveal how people have failed her throughout her life. Though I’m usually not a big fan of this flashback method, I liked the way Newman used it. Rather than confusing me, it connected the dots and created a well-paced movie. Flashbacks such as Chase giving Kya the shell he found on the beach — which she later turned into a necklace and gave him as a present only to take it back when she killed him — remind you to focus every clue on the murder like a detective.

When I heard that the charming Edgar-Jones was going to play Kya in the movie, I thought it was a miscast, that she didn’t look like the character. But I was wrong: Edgar-Jones’s multilayered depiction of emotions, such as her straight-faced shyness, is brilliant throughout the movie. David Strathairn’s performance as Kya’s lawyer, Tom Milton, was similarly outstanding with his polite yet determined lawyer portrayal. His performance exuded hope, providing the audience with the realization that there are people like him out there who just don’t give up on people like Kya when society already has. 

I especially appreciated Milton’s touching yet empathetically reproachful closing statement at the end of the trial about how the townspeople excluded Kya and have forgotten about her. His sentiment on the fact that she is a person with feelings — which eventually led her to go into her shell and isolate herself — provided a realistic explanation for Kya. “We labeled and rejected her because we thought she was different. But, ladies and gen­tlemen, did we exclude Miss Clark because she was different, or was she different because we excluded her?” was one of the greatest lines in the movie, painting a picture of how society shaped her. 

Every single one of the movie’s soundtracks evoked the warm sunlight of the marsh, connecting me with every scene. The movie’s original soundtrack “Carolina,” penned by lyrical genius Taylor Swift, made me stay and sob to the credits. The lines “Lost I was born, lonesome I came / Lonesome I’ll always stay” and “Carolina knows / Why for years they’ve said / That I was guilty as sin / And sleep in a liar’s bed” perfectly sum up Kya’s story. Other songs on the movie’s soundtrack are composed by Golden Globe and Oscar winner Mychael Danna. I loved every single one of them as each created the natural atmosphere that transcended the story on the screen.

One thing disappointed me — the movie was too focused on Kya’s romance. Despite its theme of social ostracism and its 1969 North Carolina setting, it failed to address the issues of racism and anti-Blackness, whose effects were felt acutely by the characters Jumpin and Mabel in the book.

The movie also glosses over the sibling bond between Kya and her brother Jodie (Logan Macrae). Their reunion gets lost between the trial and flashbacks, and at the movie’s conclusion, it’s unclear how the siblings got so close with only one meeting. In the book, by contrast, Kya and Jodie share an obvious bond. Jodie gives Kya advice — for example, he urges Kya to forgive Tate after Tate breaks a promise to her. And Mabel and Tate’s support during Kya’s first period would’ve made much more sense had their relationship dynamics been more deeply explored. The movie’s omission of those details left many plot points unexplained. Like every book and adaptation pair, the book version of “Where the Crawdads Sing” reigns superior.

“Where the Crawdads Sing” is one of the best movies I’ve seen this year. Despite the missing details, I loved most parts of the film, from the story to the soundtrack. But if you’ve only watched the movie, I definitely recommend reading the book. While the movie is excellent, the book elevates the story with its beautifully-written details on the tragic and unfair coming-of-age of a woman who survived.

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and contains subjective opinions, thoughts and critiques.

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“Elvis” falls short of a genuine and raw insight of the rock star https://stanforddaily.com/2022/07/16/elvis-falls-short-of-a-genuine-and-raw-insight-of-the-rock-star/ https://stanforddaily.com/2022/07/16/elvis-falls-short-of-a-genuine-and-raw-insight-of-the-rock-star/#respond Sat, 16 Jul 2022 13:49:19 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1206080 Luhrmann creates a beautiful, dazzling facade that appeals to consumers and hides the pain and exploitation lurking beneath the story of Elvis, writes Roxana Gosfield.

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A film chronicling Elvis Presley’s rise to fame and subsequent fall from grace would have to be larger than life: a criteria that, amidst all of the Vegas performances and flashy outfits and emblematic rebellions littering Elvis’ prime, would be difficult for any filmmaker to properly meet. But after giving us a grandiose “The Great Gatsby” adaptation and an unforgettable modern “Romeo + Juliet,” director Baz Luhrmann seemed to be the man for the job. “Elvis,” rather than focusing on a specific lens or event in Elvis’ life, aims for a broad overview of the factors contributing to the ebb and flow of his popularity, as well as a more intimate look at the so-called “King of Rock and Roll.”

Luhrmann’s “Elvis” is undoubtedly a cinematic masterpiece — the camera juts combined with epic set design manages to emulate the raw excitement that seeing a performance by a man of Elvis’ stature would exude. Jonathan Redmond and Matt Villa do a phenomenal job on the editing front, evoking the rapidity both of Elvis himself and of his rise to fame. However, where “Elvis” goes for filmmaking gold, it comes up merely gilded.

The film quite obviously posits post-war consumerism as the reason for Elvis’ downfall, personified in Elvis’ crooked manager and confidant, Colonel Tom Parker. Parker is played by Tom Hanks who, despite intense prosthetic additions and a borderline laughable Dutch accent, cannot manage to escape his ever-earnest demeanor. Hanks does make a valiant effort to encapsulate the evil and greed of his character, but the script gives him little to work with in order to become a dynamic or even intriguing character. With the majority of his assigned dialogue a regurgitation of a few management idioms, Parker’s pervading presence in the film ultimately feels like a failed attempt by Luhrmann to offer a catch-all scapegoat to not delve into the very real flaws of Elvis’ personal character. 

Austin Butler does give an unforgettable performance as Elvis, capturing his impulsivity, magnetism and, ultimately, his docility quite well. While his heavier scenes might not pack the intended punch, with his long-awaited goodbye to Priscilla and reaction to his mother’s death falling a bit flat, Butler juggles both Elvis’ great ambition and talent with the passivity that allowed Colonel Tom Parker to exploit him almost flawlessly. Not to mention he gives a mean Elvis performance, the most striking scene being a depiction of the musician’s first show at The International Hotel. 

In Luhrmann’s defense, the film is riddled with some undeniable high points. Elvis’ tweenage montage is exciting and powerful, and it pays some, though not nearly sufficient, lip service to the Black culture that served as his main inspiration. And Elvis’ final, tortured ballad succeeds enormously in humanizing and appreciating Elvis despite his character’s fall from grace. But even these standout moments fail to rescue the rest of “Elvis,” which, though it pushes a three hour runtime, ultimately says nothing at all. 

Luhrmann could, with his directing of “Elvis,” be likened to the man himself — he embarks on a flashy, sometimes tacky but on-the-whole earnest effort to make something great. Yet Luhrmann’s decision to ground the story atop Colonel Tom Parker and skirt around Elvis’ darker side places him on the same plane as Parker himself, further exploiting Elvis’ life and work, this time at the expense of the people who he hurt. 

For instance, Priscilla Presley, played by Olivia DeJonge, met a 24-year-old Elvis at age 14 and spent their marriage second to Elvis’ co-stars and fans, whom he regularly slept with. Though, in “Elvis,” her character is forced into the shadows of the film so that her story does not tarnish Elvis’ heroic reputation. African American talent is shown exclusively supporting and praising Elvis, creating the false notion that they appreciated his blatant burglary of their hard work. Elvis is presented as a boy who could never grow up quickly enough to defend himself, and while there certainly is truth to his exploitation by external, corrupt figures, he was by no means innocent himself. 

Luhrmann offers the bare minimum in regards to critiquing or even just truly exploring Elvis’ mind. He instead does the very thing that he attempts to criticize in his film — creating a beautiful, dazzling facade that appeals to consumers and hides the pain and exploitation lurking beneath the story of Elvis. The film is nice to look at and listen to, but the intense sugar-coating of his character ends up a detriment to the truth behind the man, which is ultimately a more moving and powerful tale. What Luhrmann has given the audience is a self-indulgent highlight reel that will likely uphold Elvis’ posthumous ability to reap credit and praise off of the backs of others.

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and contains subjective opinions, thoughts and critiques.

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“The Love Hypothesis” depicts love at Stanford and criticizes inequality in academia https://stanforddaily.com/2022/01/20/the-love-hypothesis-depicts-love-at-stanford-and-criticizes-inequality-in-academia/ https://stanforddaily.com/2022/01/20/the-love-hypothesis-depicts-love-at-stanford-and-criticizes-inequality-in-academia/#respond Fri, 21 Jan 2022 01:44:23 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1190257 While it doesn’t feel true to Stanford at all times, Hazelwood’s novel presents both the beauty of biology and the downfalls of academia, all while narrating a gripping romance.

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Spotted: a fake-relationship turned real romance between a biology Ph.D. student and a biology professor, set in the familiar terrain of our very own Stanford University. Although I am not the biggest fan of romance books, Ali Hazelwood’s debut novel immediately caught my attention. This is it, I thought to myself. This could be Stanford’s very own “Pride and Prejudice”! Then I bought the book right away. 

In “The Love Hypothesis,” author and cognitive neuroscientist Ali Hazelwood combines her two passions, writing and science, to give her readers a contemporary love story that reflects Stanford students’ frustrations with the elite institution. While delivering readers’ favorite romance tropes, Hazelwood also explores the fascinating world of biology and critiques academia as it exists today. In order to convince her skeptical best friend Anh that she’s in a happy relationship, Olive Smith, our protagonist and a third-year Ph.D. candidate, kisses Adam Carlsen, a professor notorious for giving low grades and harsh critiques. After the incident, Olive and Adam decide to fake-date so that Anh will continue to buy Olive’s charade and Stanford, convinced Adam’s there to stay, will fund his research. The two make a peculiar and even problematic couple because of their faculty-student relationship, yet their fake-dating persists.

Hazelwood began her writing career with Star Trek and Star Wars fan fiction, which she wrote frequently during the last year of her Ph.D. program. Along with her personal experiences in academia, these media franchises significantly shaped her novel. “The Love Hypothesis” incorporates emails between students and faculty members regarding research collaborations, portrays the day-to-day life of Ph.D. students in and outside of their labs and frequently mentions Olive’s work investigating blood biomarkers as an early-detection mechanism for pancreatic cancer, a real-life popular research area. Although Olive’s fictitious life is not a realistic depiction of life at Stanford, Hazelwood adequately portrays common student struggles and the work of today’s biologists. In the book, the emphasis on collaboration within the field of biology, depicted through Olive’s desire to partner with computational modelers, or even small details such as a graduate students’ eagerness to use the PCR machine first, reflect Hazelwood’s own knowledge and passion for the field. In addition, her love of Star Wars comes out through the characters of Olive and Adam, the former with a shy yet bubbly persona like Rey and the latter emulating Kylo Ren’s angst and detached attitude.

Reading the book through a Cardinal lens, you realize Hazelwood is not exactly campus-fluent. When Olive and Adam are setting the rules for their fake relationship, they agree to meet at Starbucks every Wednesday morning to make their relationship look more convincing, yet not once do they go to CoHo or Coupa. During their Starbucks dates, Olive constantly gets pumpkin spice lattes, and the two never go out to get boba. Considering the popularity of boba shops all around Palo Alto and the frequent door-dash boba orders during on-calls, it was especially peculiar that Olive and Adam did not participate in the boba culture at Stanford. Later, when Olive goes to visit Adam, he’s surprised to learn she doesn’t drive but instead bikes, as if he’s not seen the profuse bikes around campus. Compounding our confusion, Olive complains about there being no bike lanes around, which is very unlike anywhere near Stanford. It is also surprising that Olive never uses the Marguerite to get to the School of Medicine, a common practice among Ph.D. students. 

Aside from documenting the ups and downs of fake-dating on the Farm, “The Love Hypothesis” strikes a more sincere chord, as it doesn’t shy away from criticizing the world of academia. Hazelwood highlights how STEM academia is problematic through Olive’s experiences as well as those of her close friends and Adam. She acknowledges and critiques the chronic underpayment of student researchers, cultural sexism in academia, racism in higher education and the demoralizing attitudes of faculty toward beginner researchers.

“Committing to years of unappreciated, underpaid 80-hour workweeks might not be good for [Olive’s] mental health,” writes Hazelwood, condemning the lack of appreciation researchers express for student work from the very first page of her novel. She further depicts Olive’s struggle with rent and meals due to her low salary in an expensive city. Through Olive’s personal struggles, Hazelwood attests that current researchers are not paid adequately by the multimillion-dollar institutions they work in, which often withholds them from feeling passion for their jobs.  

Moreover, she repeatedly criticizes the sexist and racist practices in academia: “[Olive] was the only woman in the room, virtually alone in a sea of white men,” Hazelwood writes to expose the structural inequalities in academia that refuse women and people of color seats at the table. She reiterates throughout the book how the lack of diversity in Olive’s professional and academic environments makes her feel out of place and pushes her to doubt her own abilities, resulting in tremendous anxiety and imposter syndrome.

A breath of fresh air, Olive’s best friend Anh is characterized by her enthusiasm and optimistic outlook throughout the book, even in the face of constant gender discrimination. She is also the head of Stanford Women in Science Association and director of outreach for the Organization of BIPOC Scientists. Anh’s passion within the field and her positive perception of the future reflects a hope for change and highlights the importance of such organizations to diversify the field and create safer environments for women.

While it doesn’t feel true to Stanford at all times, Hazelwood’s novel presents both the beauty of biology and the downfalls of academia, all while narrating a gripping romance. Meanwhile, Hazelwood herself proves that one can follow their passions in STEM and creative writing simultaneously by excelling as a researcher and a novelist. For those who live for classic romance tropes, love biology or are looking for examples of how to reach faculty through email, “The Love Hypothesis” has you covered!

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective opinions, thoughts and critiques.

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‘Squid Game’ is a fresh dystopian take on the horrors of capitalism https://stanforddaily.com/2021/11/01/squid-game-is-a-fresh-dystopian-take-on-the-horrors-of-capitalism/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/11/01/squid-game-is-a-fresh-dystopian-take-on-the-horrors-of-capitalism/#respond Tue, 02 Nov 2021 02:53:20 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1186917 Netflix's biggest hit, "Squid Game," captures the cruelties of capitalist society with a compelling plot and innovative cinematography, writes Emma Wang and Eric Zhu.

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On track to becoming Netflix’s biggest show ever, “Squid Game” leaves viewers unsettled but locked in, immersed in its eerie premise. Written by South Korean director Hwang Dong-hyuk, the recent release’s overnight virality follows the increasing popularity of South Korean films in America, most notably demonstrated by “Parasite” (2019) and “Train to Busan” (2016)

The show’s unprecedented success likely boils down to its refreshing spin on the dystopian genre and its topical storyline, which has created a psychological thriller that plays on the real horrors of capitalist society.

Seong Gi-Hun, the main character of “Squid Game,” is a deadbeat, divorced gambler who is in debt to loan sharks and leeches money off his mother to get by. At the height of his desperation, he is approached by a man at the subway station who offers him the chance to join a game to win money — a lot of it. Eventually, he agrees and finds himself on an isolated island with 455 other participants, each in desperate need of money. The reality of their situation is soon revealed: the games they play are simple, but their lives are at stake. In a deadly version of the childhood game “Red Light, Green Light,” players are killed left, right and center as panic ensues.

What separates “Squid Game” from similar dystopian, fight-to-the-death game show narratives is that players can end the game at any time with a majority vote. After the first game, the players take a vote, which surprisingly results in a decision to leave. Everyone returns to their lives, free from the nightmarish imprisonment that leaves as fast as it came. But as we follow a few of the contestants, we see that life outside the game is as brutal as it is inside. Most players return to the game, realizing that they would rather risk their lives than live in the real world. As horrifying as it may seem, the game is not antagonistic, as often portrayed in most works of dystopian literature. Instead, the game is an escape from the real nightmare of everyday life.

“Squid Game” also stands out for its creative use of visual and auditory elements to reinforce its messages. During “Red Light, Green Light,” we see the first explicit mention of the two colors that become recurring motifs. The players, all having fallen into debt, wear green tracksuits, while the game workers wear dark pink. These two colors haunt the players even after they leave — red and green traffic lights are shone on their faces — a reminder that life on the outside is as brutal as within the game.

Emphasizing themes of classism, the show leans on classical music to highlight the game’s irony. During episode seven, a group of wealthy individuals watches the players fighting for their lives as a source of entertainment while lighthearted melodies play in the background. The contradiction between the beauty of the show’s musical score and the horror of its storyline makes a sharp commentary on society’s acceptance of financial inequality.

The series not only condemns the inequalities of capitalist society, but also the dangers of internalized capitalism and how cutthroat competition can bring out the worst parts of human nature. It disturbs us because it shows us how cruel people can be when their lives or, more importantly, their families and pride are on the line.

“Squid Game” is a thrilling experience that hooks the viewer from the start and never lets go. While not without flaws, it deserves much of the hype that it has received. The show stands out because it is so much more than simply a warning about the dark side of capitalism. “Squid Game” brings the problem of inequality into the spotlight, and its horror catalyzes viewers to consider how we can make the world a more equal place and dismantle the mindset of internalized capitalism. At the very least, viewers learn not to trust strangers on the subway.

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‘Young Royals’: Not just your latest teen drama on Netflix https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/25/young-royals-not-just-your-latest-teen-drama-on-netflix/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/25/young-royals-not-just-your-latest-teen-drama-on-netflix/#respond Thu, 26 Aug 2021 00:42:21 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1184538 Debuting on Netflix in early July, “Young Royals” is a Swedish drama series that follows a group of teens at an elite boarding school. But it's not like most other teen dramas on Netflix.

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In recent years, Netflix has developed a reputation for having a subpar collection of teen shows and movies — a reputation not totally undeserved. But occasionally, among all the mediocre shows, a few stand out. One of the rare gems is “Young Royals.”

Debuting on Netflix in early July, “Young Royals” is a Swedish drama series that follows a group of teens at an elite boarding school. When I first saw the trailer, I wasn’t sold on the show — it seemed like your typical teen drama of the week. But I was soon proven wrong.

The show’s main character, Prince Wilhelm (Edvin Ryding), is second in line for the Swedish throne. He was sent to Hillerska, the most elite school in the country, after a video of him in a fight went viral. There, under the guidance of his older second cousin August (Malte Gardinger), Wilhelm is slowly initiated into life at Hillerska. Wilhelm also meets Simon (Omar Rudberg), and the two boys’ connection and subsequent romance become the main plot point of the show.

The attention “Young Royals” gives to the small details is immensely refreshing — so few other teen shows on Netflix pay such heed. Several characters re-wear their clothes throughout the series, and their possessions, such as Simon’s phone, suit their economic status. In addition, multiple characters, including Wilhelm, have pimples and textured skin, something rarely shown in teen shows. Despite that some characters are princes or heiresses, the normalization of such things feels surprisingly grounded and relatable.

“Young Royals” also tackles internalized homophobia and coming out from a nuanced and fresh perspective. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly have internalized homophobia; rather, he has an obligation to the throne and nation that makes it difficult to ever pursue a same-sex relationship. The issue, as “Young Royals” makes clear, isn’t homophobia, but the conformity of the upper class to the high standards that have governed their actions for hundreds of years — something made painfully clear in a statement that Wilhelm is forced to give in the last episode: “Everyone is free to live however they want to,” yet he isn’t.

The characters are exquisite as well. Wilhelm, who clearly struggles with anxiety and anger issues, is a compelling and tortured lead trying to manage the expectations of the Swedish monarchy while navigating his first crush. 

Simon, a non-residential student at Hillerska with the voice of an angel, isn’t shy about criticizing the monarchy in front of Wilhelm. But he is also willing to empathize with Wilhelm while not compromising his own values — a subtle dynamic that Young Royals nailed.

There’s also August, our so-called villain. I say “so-called” because every character in this show is too nuanced to be placed into a “good” or “evil” category, though August has very few redeeming qualities.

And Sara (Frida Argento), Simon’s sister, portrays neurodiversity via flaws and insecurities that make her seem like a real human being — something sadly lacking in shows that feature neurodiverse characters.

In the span of six short episodes, “Young Royals” captivatingly explores the lives of these students. With a rap soundtrack and a dreamy electric theme, the show quickly draws us into the world at Hillerska and leaves us reluctant to leave after the bittersweet cliffhanger at the end.

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The ‘Lolita’ Resurgence https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/23/the-lolita-resurgence/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/23/the-lolita-resurgence/#respond Mon, 23 Aug 2021 20:43:12 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1184477 Once banned as pornography but now considered a 20th-century classic, Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” tells the story of middle-aged Humbert Humbert and his tragic love affair with his 12-year-old stepdaughter Dolores “Lolita” Haze. The visual tropes that recur throughout the novel — including bubblegum, lips, underwear and sly references to the female anatomy — have seen […]

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Once banned as pornography but now considered a 20th-century classic, Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” tells the story of middle-aged Humbert Humbert and his tragic love affair with his 12-year-old stepdaughter Dolores “Lolita” Haze. The visual tropes that recur throughout the novel — including bubblegum, lips, underwear and sly references to the female anatomy — have seen a resurgence in popular culture, and “Lolita” itself has enjoyed increasing popular appeal as a result. 

So, one may question how such a story made its way to the cover of new publications, Pinterest boards and TikTok For You Pages. From an America of gas stations, scenic motels and neon-lit restaurants, Nabokov illustrates the story of Lolita in a world reminiscent of a post-World War II era — an “aesthetic” millennials and Gen-Z are seemingly captivated by. 

Although infamous for its controversy, the novel’s legacy also owes a great deal to the volume of references it has received in pop culture. Among notable references, artist Lana Del Rey’s “Off To The Races” includes the famous opening-line from “Lolita”: “Light of my life. Fire of my loins.” Furtherly, Lana not only has a song titled “Lolita,” but also one titled “Carmen” — one of Humbert Humbert’s favorite nicknames for Lo. Both songs revolve around youth and male attraction.

Yet, behind Lana’s music’s vintage aesthetics and evocative tunes remains the story of a 12-year-old girl — a story brimming with childhood trauma and abuse. 

The narrative of an older man getting the younger girl is not a new one, nor one that will soon go out of style. Actual predatory relationships depicted in books or songs open the door for an audience as young as Rey’s to misinterpret the true danger of the type of situations depicted. Such a narrative promotes the grooming or the building of false trust between a predator and a victim and the sexual exploitation of young girls.

Such unique “vintage” aesthetic and special literary devices have made the romanticization of the toxic relationship inevitable. Written from the perspective of Humbert himself, the reality of Lolita’s childhood was hidden from the reader behind Humbert’s alluring prose and seeming internal struggles of morality.  

Humbert attempts to immortalize Lolita and justify his perverse desires as artistic necessities by referring to young girls’ nymphets. 

The nickname he gives her, Lolita, further demonstrates how Humbert never saw her for who she was but instead projected such fabrication he had of her onto reality.

Ultimately, the resurgence of “Lolita” leads us to judge the identities of our moral character. By sympathizing with Humbert, the story of Dolores becomes overlooked. By calling the story a beautiful literary take on two complex characters, we diminish the reality of abusive behavior fragmented throughout. 

The persistent romanticization surrounding such a story reveals the immense influence mere ‘aesthetics’ and celebrities like Lana Del Rey have through pop culture and what is and isn’t considered acceptable among today’s society. Although Ray never candidly condones such behavior within her music or song lyrics, her artistic portrayal has influenced her mass following in glamorizing the aesthetics of the story without consideration to the true depth of “Lolita.”

Amidst the modern age of immense influence across social media, youth are more exposed than ever to various concepts and ideas that may glamorize unacceptable behavior. Despite whatever artistic aim Ray and Nobokov intended to achieve, portraying pedophilia and child abuse enables the possibility for debate whether the topic is up for conversation or not. Awareness is integral, but one can create art that brings attention to a problem without normalizing the topic. We cannot afford to let this concept of abuse be recognized for anything other than it is — unacceptable. 

Contact Lea Nepomuceno at lea.a.nepomuceno ‘at’ gmail.com

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Review: ‘The Day the World Stops Shopping’ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/18/review-the-day-the-world-stops-shopping/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/18/review-the-day-the-world-stops-shopping/#respond Thu, 19 Aug 2021 02:28:15 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1184330 Award-winning journalist J.B. MacKinnon says that many assume that in order to save our earth from the imminent environmental threats, we must switch to greener product alternatives. But maybe, he writes, the solution is to stop buying products entirely, or at least less than we do now.

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What if every human on Earth stopped shopping? How would the global economy adapt? How would we adjust? J.B. MacKinnon, an independent award-winning journalist, seeks to answer these questions in his book “The Day The World Stops Shopping,” which was released on May 18.

MacKinnon’s investigative-journalism piece is both informative and well-sourced, exploring the implications of a creative solution to an array of pressing issues — climate change, water depletion and deforestation — caused in part by overconsumption.

Our lives are ruled by consumerism, argues MacKinnon; we spend money on commodities like the trendiest clothes, the newest tech and our daily Starbucks. Items we once saw as luxuries, like air conditioning, have become essential in our everyday lives.

MacKinnon says many assume that, to save our Earth from imminent environmental threats, we must switch to greener product alternatives. But maybe, he writes, the solution is to stop buying products entirely — or at least buy less than we do now.

“Nothing we have done to green our consumer appetite has been able to keep pace with how quickly that appetite is growing, to the point that the unwavering dedication to greening has become particular if not absurd,” he writes. “If we wish to lessen the harms caused by consumption, why not consider … consuming less?”

MacKinnon draws in a wide reader base by using a simple yet informative tone, and he either avoids using or explains scientific jargon.

The book is divided into four sections: first days, collapse, adaptation and transformation. These sections provide a framework for sorting MacKinnon’s one-off stories, each only a few pages in length. The stories are designed to showcase how different people’s and companies’ experiences would be affected if the world stopped consuming.

These stories are written with different perspectives in mind — light pollution, fast fashion and more. While the book rapidly jumps between these chapters, it is easy for readers to savor each story as its own piece of journalism.

The book thrives on MacKinnon’s excellent sourcing, which includes both scientific evidence and interviews.

For example, he begins the book with observations from the Kalahari Desert of Namibia, located in southwest Africa, recounting interviews he collected from a nearby tribe on their simplistic way of living. Through this story, MacKinnon seeks to showcase the possibility that our society can revert to simplistic living. Besides this source, he cites data from United Nations scientists, other environmentalist writers, company executives and economists. The range of perspectives included in his book allows readers to see all sides of the topic.

Additionally, MacKinnon looks at certain issues through the lens of the pandemic — drawing upon circumstances to which many readers can relate. During the start of the pandemic, people almost “stopped shopping.” Hesitant to leave their homes, they relied on what they already had. Thus he sometimes notes the reality marked at the beginning of the pandemic — everyone in the world stopped shopping.

Before reading this book, I was not familiar with the impact consumerism could have on the environment. By the end, I realized that consumerism negatively affects our environment, and that by reducing our collective consumption by even a third, we can work toward solving many of the environmental issues of our time.

It is not enough, MacKinnon concedes, that an individual or a few change their shopping habits. To create change, the human race must reduce the amount we collectively consume.

Even so, the book doesn’t explain how we can reduce our collective consumption. The beauty of “The Day the World Stops Shopping” is that MacKinnon instead prompts the reader to seek out other resources, allowing them to conduct further research and take action as they see fit.

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‘Never Have I Ever’ season two tries, but succumbs to mediocrity https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/11/never-have-i-ever-season-two-tries-but-succumbs-to-mediocrity/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/08/11/never-have-i-ever-season-two-tries-but-succumbs-to-mediocrity/#respond Thu, 12 Aug 2021 04:20:56 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1184265 For all its merits, season two is a one-time watch because it leaves viewers with a sense of promise unfulfilled, writes Malavika Rajesh.

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The viewers of Mindy Kaling’s second season of “Never Have I Ever” will be grateful for Netflix’s “next episode” feature: The little white bar that pops up in the bottom right corner and automatically transports you to the next episode just when you think you’re done for the day. It leaves no room for even the slightest possibility of turning off the TV and going to bed.

Without it, you might feel tempted to stop watching after the first few episodes, because the plot picks up only during the second half of the season.

The climax of season one sets the stage for season two: a new romance unexpectedly blossoms between Devi, the main character, and her nemesis Ben — occurring just as Paxton, her high school’s wildly popular heartthrob, runs over to Devi’s house to confess his love to her. Devi ultimately finds herself navigating an entirely new social dilemma: who will she choose, Ben or Paxton?

Much of the first half of season two focuses on this million-dollar question, providing some delicious fodder to the “Team Ben vs. Team Paxton” rivalry that has cropped up among fans of the show. Ben is smart and dependable, while Paxton is, well, hot — as seen in the many, many, many conversations and shots that focus on his body, to the point where it teeters dangerously toward objectification. Luckily, this topic is addressed in an episode that delves into his point of view and turns out to be one of the saving graces of the season.

At times, the dialogue tends to be unnatural, the script struggling to find its bearings. The first season is carried by the emotional complexity of Devi’s trauma after she witnesses her father’s death — but the second season fails to build on this momentum, instead choosing to hastily address it toward the end of a 10-episode package. The storytelling also tends to regress — a tendency for which the show benefits from Netflix’s next episode feature. The season picks up toward the end, becoming emotionally richer, but by then it’s already time to say goodbye.

Kaling’s second effort does succeed in bringing to the limelight issues ranging from toxic relationships to eating disorders to sexism in the workplace. Did it feel as though there was too much discussed in too little time? Yes, but skimming over these topics paves the way for deeper discussions, so let’s be optimistic.

Actresses Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, Poorna Jagannathan and Richa Moorjani, who play the starring women, settle more comfortably into their roles this time around, while Darren Barnet brings surprising depth to Paxton’s character.

Devi, played by Ramakrishnan, stumbles from one bad decision to the next in her quest to become a normal teenager after trauma and attain the pinnacle of high school popularity. But, by the end of the season, she goes from devi to Devi — a three-dimensional character with several added layers of complexity.

But the greatest character development comes in Nalini, Devi’s mother, whose portrayal metamorphoses from that of a struggling single mother to a woman rediscovering love in a journey compounded by grief. She gets a chunk in the story, and you’ll discover that it cuts into the rough edges of her sassy Indian mother persona, making her softer and ultimately more vulnerable.

What this season gets wholly right is its Indianness. From dialogues interspersed with colorful Tamil to a departure from a stereotypical portrayal of Muslim Indians, it is Indian to its core. This feature is reflected in the settings, costumes, each character’s quirks (for instance, Devi’s grandmother’s constant complaints of her various ailments) and other little details. One favorite little detail: when Aneesa, the new Indian girl, brings a Ferrero Rocher pyramid to Devi’s house, John McEnroe exclaims, “For Indian people, that’s the Rolex of confection gift boxes!” — an uncontested fact.

But, for all its merits, it is strictly a one-time watch and leaves the viewer with a sense of promise unfulfilled. This season could have been more, so much more, but it fails to create a lasting impression, opting instead to fall into the rabbit hole of mediocrity.

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‘La Llorona: A New Horror Musical’ is a tale for moving on https://stanforddaily.com/2021/03/17/la-llorona-a-new-horror-musical-is-a-tale-for-moving-on/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/03/17/la-llorona-a-new-horror-musical-is-a-tale-for-moving-on/#respond Thu, 18 Mar 2021 02:19:53 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1179957 “La Llorona,” Obed de La Cruz’s chilling playwriting debut, doesn’t draw on the Latinx folklore to blitz you with jump scares. It prompts you: Let go of the past lest the past tightens its hold on you.

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Long ago, a woman named Maria married a man with whom she had two children. They lived in marital bliss until she caught him with another woman. Their relationship strained, Maria suspected her husband planned to flee with his mistress and take her children away from her. So, she woke them in the night. “Your father loves you more, but I’ll have you forever,” she told them before dragging them to a river and drowning them — and immediately regretted it. Out of grief, she drowned herself, too. But she was without peace in the afterlife. Now she stalks the earth at night, her soul haunting the river where she drowned her children. That’s how she became the Weeping Woman, or, as generations of children know her, “La Llorona.” 

Nostalgic ghost stories make for great drama, hence great theatre. But “La Llorona,” Obed de La Cruz’s chilling playwriting debut, doesn’t draw on the Latinx folklore to blitz you with jump scares. It prompts you: Let go of the past lest the past tightens its hold on you. 

If “La Llorona” was ever in jeopardy of rehashing the premise of other horrors about the titular phantom (remember that Llorona surge in 2019 with “La Llorona” and “Curse of La Llorona” released only four months apart? ), the play’s authentic storyline and settings keep it fresh. We meet Elena (Shania Santana), a seamstress living in Corozal, a small town in Puerto Rico, sewing dresses to save up money to fulfill her dream of owning a tailor shop. Her reputation among the locals is marred by the death of her husband Carlos years ago. The police found his corpse in the river behind her house; despite insisting she wasn’t involved, people believed she murdered him for attempting to run away with their young son, Gabi (Dylan Moore). When Gabi turned eighteen, he stole the money from his mother’s shop to pursue his dreams in America. Just as Elena is close to buying the store again five years later, he returns to untangle the mystery around his father’s death under the guise of visiting his ill grandmother. Faced with her son’s arrival, Elena grapples with lingering resentment from their history and the raspy voice in her head begging her to kill him. 

The production team of Ram’s Head Theatrical Society seemed to heed the show’s theme of foraging ahead by deviating from Stanford’s historically white theatre scene; the staff behind and in front of the screen are mostly people of color. In the producer’s notes, Evelyn Kuo wrote the show’s brilliance doesn’t just lie within its diversity but that “it is a testament that people of color are fiercely capable of creating entertaining narratives and artwork, and it is a privilege for all of us to appreciate the beauty (and horror!) of the finished product.” 

The beauty is difficult to deny. While the fright and gore in the show was a slow burn packed near the end, viewers await the thematic pay-off while submerged in musical performances like rhythmic bass-fueled “Las Bahemias” or “Cigarillo y Machete.” The songs also nod to the history of trauma engraved in the Corozal. In “Orange Tree,” Elena’s grandmother Lydia (Journey Washingtonhigh) stands in the field of growing orange trees and reflects on how she used to dream of motherhood before she was forcibly sterilized by the U.S government after her first child — a procedure most mainland Americans are unaware of continues to happen to this day.   

To adapt to a streamed production, Cruz condensed the script for the virtual show and managed to do so without abandoning the spirit of the characters or the setting. The use of drone footage of the river running through Corozal helped ground the musical in a place and the use of mirrored Zoom backgrounds created the illusion that the performers weren’t miles away, but tucked in the same room.

After a year of theatres experimenting with virtual shows, “La Llorona” is an eerie play that demonstrates progress in virtual storytelling with performances that don’t feel molded around but rather designed for the medium. It’s a glimpse of how technology can be used when in-person performances are permitted once again. 

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David Fincher dives into the old, finds the new in ‘Mank’ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/26/david-fincher-dives-into-the-old-finds-the-new-in-mank/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/26/david-fincher-dives-into-the-old-finds-the-new-in-mank/#respond Wed, 27 Jan 2021 06:11:05 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1177025 The drama of the film comes from witnessing the arc of a man truly foreign to viewers. What begins as a simple story of a writer working on a screenplay unfolds into the ups and downs of an alcoholic surrounded by men below him in both intellect and morality.

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Darkly lit rooms, pools of blood on the floor, anxiety and jealousy on full display, these are what could be considered hallmarks of a David Fincher film. One of the most captivating auteurs of the last two decades, Fincher has earned the creative autonomy an artist like himself demands, which he has utilized to communicate his one founding principle: “people are perverts.” So, how does the director of “Fight Club,” “The Social Network” and “Gone Girl” bring his signature cynicism to a black-and-white biopic about the man who wrote “Citizen Kane”? Turns out, he does it with ease. There is no murderer, vigilante or detective in “Mank,” and yet the absence of these Fincher film staples doesn’t inhibit his exploration of other ones, such as geniuses and men with egos the size of hot air balloons. 

Certain promotional material for the film has the title stylized as “MANK,” which is fitting since Fincher does a spectacular job of having the eponymous character front-and-center with every scene of the film. Chronicling Herman Mankiewicz’s writing of “Citizen Kane” while flashing back to his relationships with those who would inspire the film, “Mank” runs the severe risk of having its main character become the least interesting personality on screen. With a story that includes Orson Welles, Louis B. Mayer, William Randolph Hearst and Upton Sinclair, any other director could have easily slipped into focusing on the larger-than-life figures around Mank. Yet Fincher, with the help of his late father’s focused screenplay, is able to have Gary Oldman’s performance as the screenwriter constantly grab ahold of the audience’s attention.

The film could have gone in a million different directions, as it holds the special advantage of detailing the life of a man most have absolutely no knowledge of. Were this a biopic similar to Fincher’s “The Social Network,” where the ending is not only known by most of the audience but actually affects their everyday lives, “Mank” would have lost much of its excitement. The drama of the film comes from witnessing the arc of a man truly foreign to viewers. What begins as a simple story of a writer working on a screenplay unfolds into the ups and downs of an alcoholic surrounded by men below him in both intellect and morality.

That being said, the film is far from simple, for Mankiewicz was far from the perfect man and his life was far from that of the average writer. In an unexpected connection to the modern zeitgeist, the film takes a dive into the ugliness of media and politics. So as not to spoil any scenes or cameos, the only specifics to be mentioned are that Upton Sinclair’s gubernatorial run for California and his outspoken socialist views end up grabbing Mank’s interest and propel him to clash with those around him. Whereas this political subplot and the main storyline of the screenplay could have served as enough fodder for a two-hour film, the Finchers bring in one more supporting character to humanize the man even more: Marion Davies. A sort of platonic affair, his relationship with Davies shows Mank to be someone more than the drunk who gambles away thousands of dollars of a debt that has already been forgiven. It should be noted that while Oldman stands among the very best actors working today, the scenes revolving around Mank’s relationship with Davies never feel like he is carrying the burden of the scene. In fact, Amanda Seyfried’s portrayal is another highlight of the film. She brings a certain respect to a woman whom many would have — and did — looked down upon for finding her way to Hollywood stardom through her romance with the aged William Randolph Hearst. She isn’t a clutz that falls upwards, but a New Yorker who knows only how to speak the truth and stands by that all the way.

Now, for everything that has been mentioned of the film, it is clear that it stands apart from everything else Fincher has done, for better or for worse. Many of Fincher’s calling cards are absent and with them the dark, ominous tone he has become known for. There is no saying that this film, as well-made as it is and as genuinely interesting as its subject is, will be for everyone. At the end of the day, it’s in black-and-white, has no action sequences and displays a cast with absolutely no diversity. For plenty of people, any one of these features would be enough to push them away, so this trifecta may certainly ensure disappointment for some audiences. But, for those who are merely interested in a good story made by artists who put in the most, “Mank” will definitely meet those requirements and perhaps open them up to a world of old Hollywood — which is not as boring as they may think.

Contact Allan Lopez at allan300 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Netflix’s ‘Selena: The Series’ is reminiscent of the 1997 film https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/25/netflixs-selena-the-series-is-reminiscent-of-the-1997-film/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/25/netflixs-selena-the-series-is-reminiscent-of-the-1997-film/#respond Tue, 26 Jan 2021 03:04:44 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1176902 The series feels less like an homage to the singer, more like a pursuit of profit. It feels like an elongated version of the movie with small additions, like a greater interest in Abraham’s character and the songwriting process.

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Netflix recently released Part 1 of “Selena: The Series,” which showcases the rise of late singer Selena Quintanilla (portrayed by Christian Serratos, Rosita on “The Walking Dead”). The series was released during the 25th anniversary year of the singer’s tragic murder and 23 years after the 1997 film “Selena,” with Jennifer Lopez portraying the Grammy-winning singer. While the series covers many topics in the 1997 film, it provides more details on the singer’s early life and career, and presents her music through an interesting approach.

Part 1 takes the audience through the transformation of Selena and her band, and also covers the challenges the singer and her family overcame to reach stardom and success. 

The series begins with father Abraham Quintanilla forming a band with Selena’s older siblings — Suzette on drums and A.B. on bass. Quintanilla soon discovers that his youngest daughter, Selena, is a talented singer, and decides to make her the lead.

Abraham’s ambition to make the band succeed after his own band, “Los Dinos,” failed — along with financial stress experienced by the recession of the 1980s — puts Abraham in a unique situation. Compared to the 1997 film, the series more heavily stresses Abraham’s strict character and personal struggles.

To get their name out, the new band covers iconic pop songs, like “Funkytown,” at various gigs. The band’s growing success leaves them seeking their own sound. A.B. is the band’s songwriter and producer, and writes hits like “Dame Un Beso” and “Como La Flor.

I enjoyed the series’ take on the songwriting process. For instance, the audience learns that some hits were influenced by broken cars and Selena’s experiences. Before the band records and performs new songs, we learn about how that song came to be. As a song develops and prepares for recording, a faint sound of the song in its early stages — such as with A.B. playing the “Baila Esta Cumbia” tune on a toy piano — can be heard in the background, certainly an interesting motif throughout the series.

Additionally, I appreciate the show’s efforts to create a retro vibe, preserving Selena’s essence. Performance scenes — playing on the “Johnny Canales Show,” and the use of old-school camcorders to capture scenes of life on the road — create a nostalgic feel. Costumes worn by Serratos provide a glimpse into the evolution of Selena’s fashion.

Even so, the series feels less like an homage to the singer, more like a pursuit of profit. It feels like an elongated version of the movie with small additions, like a greater interest in Abraham’s character and the songwriting process. Additionally, Jennifer Lopez’s portrayal of the singer is more enjoyable than Christian Serratos’. Another upset of the series: actor Julio Macias’ (“On My Block”’s Spooky) lack of commitment to the role of band member Pete Astudillo. Unlike Serratos, who took dance lessons to bring Selena to life, Macias’ poor dancing dexterity is noticeable. Further, the series has a more corny tone, while the film’s tone is more serious. I am left feeling as if the show is a failed attempt at recreating the life of the singer — something already done appropriately via the heartfelt film. 

The series is reminiscent of the 1997 film, and all in all reminds us that Selena is a cultural icon who broke many barriers, forever transforming music. Quintanilla is a singer gone too soon; her music and legacy, however, live on.

Contact Rosana Maris Arias at rosmar18 ‘at’ stanford.edu. 

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‘The Crown’ offers a compelling historical narrative https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/21/the-crown-offers-a-compelling-historical-narrative/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/21/the-crown-offers-a-compelling-historical-narrative/#respond Fri, 22 Jan 2021 03:36:54 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1176900 The show’s consistency makes the experience much more enjoyable. For instance, televised scenes of the royals were recreated with the show’s cast and filmed in black and white.

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The Netflix historical drama “The Crown” takes its viewers on an enticing journey through the British monarchy. This show is made for a wide audience: from history nerds to those not familiar with British history. It provides a nice overview of historical events and their significance for Britain and the world. The drama has been criticized for being overly dramatic and not depicting fact, however.

“The Crown” opens roughly two years after the conclusion of World War II, with Prince Philip resigning his titles in order to join the British royal family. It currently ends in season four with the fall of former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and the troubling marriage of Prince Charles (played by Josh O’Connor) and the late Princess Diana (played by Emma Corrin).

The four available seasons are organized in many different and interesting ways. One way includes the “split” between actors portraying the royal family. The first two seasons star Claire Foy as young Queen Elizabeth II (“Season of the Witch,” 2011) and Matt Smith (BBC’s “Doctor Who”) as young Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. The latter two seasons star Olivia Colman as an older queen and Tobias Menzies as an older Prince Philip.

I was thrown off by the change in cast at the start of season three because of how impressed I was with Foy and Smith’s portrayals of the royal couple, but I soon became a fan of Colman and Menzies. 

The show’s acting is far from short. The cast has received numerous accolades, including Colman and Foy who both won Golden Globes for “Best Performance by an Actress in a Television Series – Drama.” Other actors’ portrayals are equally impressive. Josh O’Connor’s Prince Charles is particularly convincing to me. 

The series is primarily centered around Queen Elizabeth II, yet it profiles other main members of the family and British Parliament. This is one of my favorite aspects of the series. While it makes sense for the queen to be at the center of “The Crown,” the writers’ effort to individualize other characters brings the monarchy to life. For example, the series lets us in on the minds and experiences of Prince Philip and his son Prince Charles, among other characters. Aside from being the queen’s husband or son, we learn more about the complex identities of these characters. The show creatively and successfully balances the focal point of Her Majesty with other members of the monarchy, as well as important political figures.

The historical content of the show is another one of its great assets. Not only do we learn about the inner workings of the royal family, we also learn about British politics, history and the nation’s stance in the world.

Although the show does not go into great depth about the nation’s history, I appreciate its showcase of prime ministers, relations with the larger Commonwealth and the United States and changing trends and ideologies — something main characters grapple with.

I find the show captivating yet educational (to some degree, of course). “The Crown” makes British history and history of the family exciting by contextualizing familial, national and international events with each other.

In order to bring history to life, “The Crown” transports viewers to a different time through its commitment to details.

Props used on the show give us a glimpse of British life in the mid-1900s. Television sets play black-and-white footage of news. We see characters listen to the radio and use typewriters, and telephone operators connect the royals to private phone lines. 

The sets and settings seen throughout the series are stunning. Buckingham Palace is a common setting in the series. We get a sense of the intensity and wonder felt on a visit to the palace from the initial moments when cars drive through the palace gates. Characters are followed from the gates, through the doors and up the main staircase on their visits with the queen. The palace’s different rooms and antique props make the show so appealing.

Monumental moments like the queen’s coronation are epic. Accurate recreations of these events make the historical aspect of the drama come to life. Scenes like Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s dance at a ball in Australia are very similar to the actual event.

'The Crown' offers a compelling historical narrative
Princess Diana and Prince Charles dance at an Australian ball: in “The Crown” and in real life (Photo: Netflix; Getty Images)

The show’s cinematography enhances its attractiveness. Different angles and technology used to film add complexity to scenes and help make them more believable. Vintage cars are frequently seen driving guests to the palace; however, such scenes were filmed with the help of green screen technology

The show’s consistency makes the experience much more enjoyable. For instance, televised scenes of the royals were recreated with the show’s cast and filmed in black and white. These minor details contribute to the authenticity of the show.

Different camera angles make scenes more interesting. Show cinematographer Adriano Goldman makes us feel like we are walking through the halls of Buckingham Palace and other grand venues. The lighting also makes scenes feel more antique. I am amazed by how Goldman uses the camera to deliver the past through crisp visuals.

“The Crown” does not disappoint. The historical drama currently has 39 Emmy nominations and 10 Emmy Awards, and is renewed for two final seasons with a new cast. The show’s delivery of the grandeur of the past is praiseworthy. The series is an experience that has left me wanting to visit Buckingham Palace even more.

Contact Rosana Maris Arias at rosmar18 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Ariana Grande’s ‘excuse me, i love you’ captures the hearts of long-time enthusiasts https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/20/ariana-grandes-excuse-me-i-love-you-captures-the-hearts-of-long-time-enthusiasts/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/20/ariana-grandes-excuse-me-i-love-you-captures-the-hearts-of-long-time-enthusiasts/#respond Thu, 21 Jan 2021 04:27:30 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1176779 The Sweetener Tour did not only save Grande’s fans; it also saved her from her demons. “excuse me, i love you” perfectly depicted Grande in a better state — ready to rule pop music once again.

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“excuse me, i love you” is a concert documentary that covers Ariana Grande’s 2019 Sweetener World Tour, which consisted of tracks from her “Sweetener” and “thank u, next” albums.

The 97-minute film was very pleasant and appeasing, especially for fans who followed Grande’s artistic journey ever since her first album “Yours Truly.” “excuse me, i love you” perfectly highlights Grande’s soaring vocals and harmonic whistles as well as her sensual and expressive choreography.

“excuse me, i love you” provides a full concert experience from the comfort of home. From backstage interactions to live performances in London, viewers capture a glimpse of Grande’s daily routine while on tour. Although I enjoyed the concert documentary, adding shows from various countries could have diversified appeal and intimacy to fans around the world. Grande is a global superstar, so it would have made sense if every single performance was from another country or from shows that truly touched her heart. 

“excuse me, i love you” undoubtedly portrays Grande as a flexible and effortlessly brilliant musician. It is very noticeable that Grande and her team carefully plotted every single performance and brought the singer’s tracks to life through astounding visual effects, ardent choreography and angelic vocals.

Unfortunately, the film did not include many off-stage scenes that delved deeper into Grande’s personality and her preparation for her most acclaimed tour. In the scenes included in the film, however, Grande was seen as a comical and generous friend to her fellow crew, musicians and dancers.

Tiny bits of rehearsal clips and pre-show rituals showed Grande’s strong bond with her team — closely resembling familial ties. Her humor and bubbly personality were captured when she Facetimed Kristin Chenoweth while picking up dog poop.

“excuse me, i love you” also had moments when Grande was in awe, such as when Mariah Carey tasked her to be featured on her 25th anniversary “All I Want for Christmas Is You” singalong video, or when she screamed in delight with her dancers after finding out that the president of the United States had been impeached.

Although the film did not portray Grande’s obstacles during the tour that impacted her personal growth, it made me feel like I was in the front row of the audience screaming her bangerz with my friends at the top of our lungs while we entered a blissful dimension.

Even if there weren’t too many backstage clips in “excuse me, i love you,” I am convinced that Grande will release another documentary in the future that will narrate her life story and the problems she has overcome. “excuse me, i love you” was meant to be enjoyable and serve as a digital gateway for fans who weren’t able to experience the Sweetener World Tour live.

I’d recommend “excuse me, i love you” to Grande’s long-time enthusiasts since they’ve watched previous interviews, performances, award shows and tours to understand the artist’s stories expressed during her tour performances. On the other hand, curious viewers who only have superficial knowledge of Grande’s history will not fully appreciate the entirety of the film. Further, they might find it bland.

I began and finished “excuse me, i love you” with the same respect for Grande’s music and artistry. It was very relieving to see her back on stage after the Manchester bombing, since she initially declared that she was never going to perform again after the horrifying incident. The Sweetener Tour did not only save Grande’s fans; it also saved her from her demons. “excuse me, i love you” perfectly depicted Grande in a better state — ready to rule pop music once again.

Contact Ron Rocky Coloma at rcoloma ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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‘Bridgerton’ is an immaculate escape from reality https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/19/bridgerton-is-an-immaculate-escape-from-reality/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/19/bridgerton-is-an-immaculate-escape-from-reality/#respond Wed, 20 Jan 2021 06:02:15 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1176898 “Bridgerton” is beautiful through and through. If you’re looking for a gritty historical drama, dear reader, “Bridgerton” may not be for you. But if you want to escape your mundane coronavirus-ridden life, the delectable world of this series’ London society is sure to quench your thirst.

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Welcome, dear reader, to the enticing world of “Bridgerton.” Everyone is dressed to the nines with somewhere to go. Whether it’s innocently taking tea with friends or becoming embroiled in a romantic scandal, the characters in this drama have much more exciting ways to spend their time than we do as we wait for a vaccine and dream of the future. 

“Bridgerton” follows the Regency-era aristocratic Bridgerton family on their quests for love and self-discovery. The first season, now available on Netflix, centers around the oldest Bridgerton daughter, Daphne, as she enters her first social season in pursuit of a husband. 

Produced by the skillful Shonda Rhimes and set against the backdrop of England’s opulent historical sights, “Bridgerton” is a gorgeous piece of work. Alongside memorable writing and performances, each frame of the show is crafted to be a feast for the eyes. Each swishing skirt and spiral staircase is designed to have the audience dreaming of a more beautiful world. 

We follow the elegant young men and women of the British aristocracy as they navigate society in search of the perfect spouse. An enigmatic, gossip-girl-like scandal sheet writer, Lady Whistledown (voiced by Julie Andrews), narrates the drama and shapes the opinions of society as the season progresses, sealing fates and wreaking havoc. After being deemed an early failure by Whistledown, Daphne’s marital prospects plummet. To take matters into her own hands, Daphne enters into an arrangement with her brother’s best friend Simon, a duke. The deal is that Simon and Daphne will pretend to be in love so that eligible suitors will flock to Daphne and women will stay away from Simon. We can only imagine how this will end up.

As we follow Daphne and Simon to balls, picnics and strolls through the park, it becomes evident that “Bridgerton” is in no way trying to reflect the reality of life in the year 1813. Every moment is curated to create a sense of escapism for the watcher. The people are too pretty, the streets too clean. In every shot, the lighting is complimentary, the outfits are decadent and the dialogue is clear and confident. “Bridgerton” allows us to look into a world that doesn’t exist and never existed. There’s no sense of realism in the show, and that’s exactly what makes it so good.

'Bridgerton' is an immaculate escape from reality
(Photo: Netflix)

“Bridgerton” is completely detached from the problems of the real world. It stands in stark contrast to the harsh, hyper-realistic depictions seen in other big-budget period dramas such as “Outlander” or even “The Crown.” In one scene, two upper-class women venture into the poor part of town. “Look at the children,” one of them says, pointing to a singular beggar boy sitting on the street. This is the only glimpse we get into the lives of the less fortunate, and even then, it doesn’t look that bad. The people’s faces are clean and there are no dirty, smelly crowds in sight. 

“Bridgerton” also seeks to freshen up the Regency-era romance genre. Based on a series of novels by Julia Quinn from the early 2000s, “Bridgerton” doesn’t shy away from bringing up the subjects modern audiences care about seeing, such as sex, gender and race. The show creators purposefully brought sex, gender and race to the forefront of the show in order to catch the eye of their intended audience. Deliberately casting non-white actors and prepping sex scenes like stunts, show creator Chris Van Dusen sets “Bridgerton” apart from the Jane Austen adaptations that have set the trend for media set in this period of British history. 

However, depictions of racism are rarely seen. No one is surprised to see Black people mingling with white people, and nobody balks at the thought of Daphne Bridgerton marrying the clearly Black Simon. The implication is made that everyone has recently begun accepting Black people as equals in the aristocracy. So even though seeing some color on screen is refreshing, race in “Bridgerton” barely reflects the real world and history. Sexism throughout the series is clear, and the lack of avenues for women to take power remind the audience that it is, in fact, 1813. The lack of issues for non-white people in society stands in stark contrast to the struggles women are seen facing in every episode. Why did Van Dusen choose to create a universe where racism is gone but sexism is strong?

'Bridgerton' is an immaculate escape from reality
(Photo: Netflix)

Yet another somewhat magical aspect of the show is sex. While “Bridgerton” was in production, there was immense speculation on how the show would manage sex scenes. The source material kept sex central to the story, cementing the place of steamy scenes in its adaptation. However, these scenes often do not realistically portray sex. Like every other element of the show, sex on “Bridgerton” usually seems too good to be true. It’s clean, sexy and thoroughly pleasing.

“Bridgerton” is beautiful through and through. Every piece is staged to be as fun to watch as possible. Every glittering sequence reminds the audience of how television is larger than life — and larger than reality. If you’re looking for a gritty historical drama, dear reader, “Bridgerton” may not be for you. But if you want to escape your mundane coronavirus-ridden life, the delectable world of this series’ London society is sure to quench your thirst. 

Contact Fateemah Faiq at faiqf ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41 https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/19/top-50-hip-hop-rap-albums-of-2020-50-41/ https://stanforddaily.com/2021/01/19/top-50-hip-hop-rap-albums-of-2020-50-41/#respond Wed, 20 Jan 2021 05:29:25 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1176754 A countdown of the 50 best hip-hop/rap albums from 2020, featuring Billboard-topping stars and underground artists alike.

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Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

50. Jadakiss: “Ignatius”

Jadakiss, the 45-year-old New York native, has continued to put out strong releases from 2001 all the way up through 2020. “Ignatius” is a record that does not try too hard to adapt to modern trends in rap, and sticks to many of Jadakiss’ roots with his unique delivery, style and production choices. Highly personal and introspective, Jadakiss’ most recent studio album provides an array of different sounds and features ranging from John Legend to Pusha T to 2 Chainz. In particular, Pusha T’s verse on “Huntin Season” serves as one of the highlights of the album, and meshes effortlessly with Jadakiss’ style and the production that the verse is paired with. Although maybe not the most exciting or innovative album of the year, “Ignatius” places another solid compilation into his discography.

Favorite Songs: “Huntin Season,” “Angels Getting Pedicured,” “(NYB) Need Your Best”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

49. Rico Nasty: “Nightmare Vacation”

Any listen to Rico Nasty will always be eventful, and “Nightmare Vacation” is no different. One of the most flamboyant personalities in all of hip-hop, Rico brings an infectious energy across nearly every track that she touches. Her most recent effort wasn’t as focused or high-quality as previous projects “Anger Management” (2019) and “Nasty” (2018), but Rico was able to put together a fun and intriguing collection of songs nevertheless. Rico remains one of the most exciting young stars in rap, and will be very fun to watch as her career progresses.

Favorite Songs: “Candy,” “Back & Forth,” “STFU” 

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

48. Lil Baby: “My Turn” 

Lil Baby was certainly one of the emerging superstars of 2020. With “My Turn” achieving great commercial success, Lil Baby fully established himself in the center of the rap mainstream. Outside of his album and its deluxe counterpart, Lil Baby also released “The Bigger Picture,” a commentary on the Black Lives Matter protests in the wake of the killing of George Floyd, which became an incredibly popular anthem and a song that helped to timestamp the summer of 2020. “My Turn” might not be the most technically crafted album, or the most adventurous work, but Lil Baby was able to cement himself in his lane of rap, and is poised to be a star in the genre for a while to come. 

Favorite Songs: “Grace,” “Heatin Up,” “Same Thing,” “We Should”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

47. Polo G: “The GOAT” 

Polo G is one of the most promising young artists in rap, and “The GOAT” highlights his ability to transition between different sounds and provide consistently thoughtful songwriting. The production choices throughout the album are generic and simply not very captivating, but Polo G’s writing and soul help to cover up some of these flaws. More than anything, “The GOAT” helps to lay an exciting foundation for Polo G, who has the potential to become a great artist later in his career.

Favorite Songs: “Chinatown,” “Martin & Gina,” “Wishing for a Hero”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

46. Megan Thee Stallion: “Good News” 

2020 was an eventful year for Megan Thee Stallion, to say the least. “Good News” served as the recap for Meg on a year that included two major projects, one of the year’s biggest singles with “WAP,” a major controversy with Tory Lanez and a rise to superstardom. Although this album didn’t see Meg take many new approaches with her content or themes, it was another project that saw her consistently rapping at an impressive level, and providing a collection of entertaining songs that highlight her persona and swagger. Though less of an album-centric artist at the moment, Megan Thee Stallion has all of the tools and skills going forth to continue to put out entertaining, impactful and incredibly popular music.

Favorite Songs: “What’s New,” “Go Crazy,” “Shots Fired,” “Don’t Stop”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

45. Princess Nokia: “Everything Is Beautiful” 

Part of a two-disc double album, “Everything Is Beautiful” presents the lighter and more playful side, as opposed to its counterpart, “Everything Sucks.” Princess Nokia blends comedy and a smooth sound with many of the tracks featuring lighthearted themes. The lighter side of the double album provides a fun and easy compilation that highlights many of Princess Nokia’s strengths.

Favorite Songs: “Wash & Sets,” “Soul Food y Adobo,” “Gemini”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

44. Stove God Cooks & Roc Marciano: “Reasonable Drought” 

“Reasonable Drought” established Syracuse rapper Stove God Cooks in the emerging crew of upstate New York rappers that includes the likes of the primary Griselda trio. Collaborating with underground hip-hop legend Roc Marciano, who is the executive producer, Stove God Cooks is met with production that fits his style and themes very well. With one of the most distinctive and soulful deliveries, this album really highlights many of the strengths in his artistry. The album could use a little bit more consistency and coherence throughout, but “Reasonable Drought” is mostly able to achieve its aims and give Stove God a solid foundation as a debut project.

Favorite Songs: “Cocaine Cologne,” “Burt & State,” “Break the Pyrex”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

43. Ty Dolla $ign: “Featuring Ty Dolla $ign”

“Featuring Ty Dolla $ign” is an obvious play on his history of consistently giving quality features across various hip-hop and R&B tracks. Historically and iconically known as a “feature” artist, Ty Dolla $ign finally gets his feature favors returned for his 2020 LP. The star power across the album is obvious, with guest verses coming from artists such as Kanye West, Anderson .Paak, Post Malone, Nicki Minaj, Big Sean, Future and Young Thug. Despite being a collection of many seemingly non-connected singles, “Featuring Ty Dolla $ign” provides many enjoyable songs that remind people that Ty Dolla $ign is plenty capable of creating great music curated by himself.

Favorite Songs: “Track 6,” “Tyrone 2021,” “Your Turn,” “Slow Down,” “By Yourself”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

42. Action Bronson: “Only for Dolphins” 

One of the funniest and most entertaining characters in daily life, Action Bronson also provides an interesting and entertaining listen with nearly every release. 2020’s “Only for Dolphins” proves to be no different. Action Bronson has been known for his unique delivery and very interesting production choices, and this album continues with those trends. A colorful album from front to back, Bronson showcases an intriguing display and the vivid imagination which has always made him a fun figure to keep up with in music.

Favorite Songs: “Sergio,” “Marcus Aurelius,” “Latin Grammys,” “Cliff Hanger”

Top 50 hip-hop/rap albums of 2020: #50-41

41. Megan Thee Stallion: “Suga”

The first of two 2020 projects released by Megan, “Suga” finds the Houston rapper comfortable in her emerging superstardom and making some of the more enjoyable songs of 2020. Boasting her trademark confidence across the project, “Suga” also sees Megan take a more personal approach on tracks such as “Crying in the Car.” For an EP, the project has a solid sense of cohesion and provides quality music across. Artistically, we see Megan go into certain sounds and spaces that were new and refreshing to hear. As a bonus, this project gives us one of the year’s best and most exciting songs in rap in 2020 with “Captain Hook.”

Favorite Songs: “Captain Hook,” “Crying In The Car” “What I Need,” “B.I.T.C.H”

Click here for a Spotify Playlist of some of my favorite songs across the year 2020.

Contact Nick Sligh at nick1019 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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TheatreWorks’s ‘Simple Gifts’ is heartwarming holiday fare https://stanforddaily.com/2020/12/22/theatreworkss-simple-gifts-is-heartwarming-holiday-fare/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/12/22/theatreworkss-simple-gifts-is-heartwarming-holiday-fare/#respond Wed, 23 Dec 2020 02:20:29 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1176274 This December, the Bay Area-based TheatreWorks debuted its original holiday musical “Simple Gifts.” Billed as a “joyful, multicultural celebration of beloved holiday songs and traditions from many diverse backgrounds,” virtual carolers sing of winter celebrations from Hannukah, Kwanzaa and Noche Buena to Bodhi Day, Diwali and Yule on the Winter Solstice.

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Even 2020 cannot change the arrival of the holiday season. The word “holiday” in English means holy day, or a time in which people pause from work to celebrate religious and other culturally significant occasions. Celebrating holidays amid COVID-19 and all the other socioeconomic upheavals of this year, however, presents a curious paradox. Most holidays involve large indoor gatherings of people from different households and activities such as feasting, dancing and gift exchange. How can people celebrate the holidays when quarantine with its stipulated germ pods, social distancing, masks and travel restrictions leaves no other options than Zoom, the same technology employed for school and work? One compelling answer for keeping the holiday spirit alive comes from a rather unlikely source — digital theater. 

This December, the Bay Area-based TheatreWorks debuted its original holiday musical “Simple Gifts.” Billed as a “joyful, multicultural celebration of beloved holiday songs and traditions from many diverse backgrounds,” virtual carolers sing of winter celebrations from Hannukah, Kwanzaa and Noche Buena to Bodhi Day, Diwali and Yule on the winter solstice. Eleven actors and four musicians come together in the artistic vision of Tim Bond, Music Director William Liberatore and videographer Stephen Muterspaugh to create an audiovisual collage of resonant holiday moments. By naming the show after the well-known 19th century Shaker song covered by the likes of Aaron Copland and Yo-Yo Ma, Bond reminds remote patrons that turning our holiday stories over can bring love and delight even in the darkest of times. 

Candlelight permeates most of the video frames, personal holiday stories and even lyrics in Bond’s “Simple Gifts.” The show opens with a close-up shot of Liberatore playing the titular “Simple Gifts” with a singular lit candle atop the piano. A cross-fade to Velina Brown saying “there’s something magical about winter and holiday time” cues Michael Gene Sullivan and others enumerating what the holiday means to them — “the music,” “the food,” “tamales,” “latkes,” “my grandma’s ravioli.” While most of the ensemble perform songs with clear holiday ties, Michelle K. Jordan singing the Grammy-nominated R&B singer India Arie’s “I Am Light” literally underscores the triumph of light, hope and love that can persist beyond the holiday season. The first opening sequence features the remote ensemble from all over California holding burning candles, masterfully edited by Muterspaugh to stand side by side. According to Brown and Sullivan, the choral camaraderie showcased in “Simple Gifts” was a just feat of video production. 

“We would rehearse the songs by ourselves, we’d rehearse with Liberatore once but he would send us recordings of the backing tracks, our choral lines,” Sullivan told The Daily. “We just needed to go over that ourselves. We had ear prompts so we could hear the music even if we were singing a cappella. We could hear a click track so we’d all be in the same tempo and key.” 

The award-winning couple Michael Gene Sullivan and Velina Brown auditioned together for “Simple Gifts” after contacting TheatreWorks in August to ask them if they had any plans for a Christmas show. The audition process required prospective ensemble members to send in tapes of them talking about their own holiday experiences, memories that were meaningful to them around the holiday season, as well as singing a holiday song. 

“Part of my personal story was that I used to direct a Christmas choir,” Sullivan told The Daily. “[Velina and I] met in middle school, we were in a high school choir together and we wanted to keep it going after we graduated. We were in it for eight years and we won contests.”

TheatreWorks's 'Simple Gifts' is heartwarming holiday fare
Seasoned Bay Area producer, actress and career coach Velina Brown performs a lovely rendition of the holiday classic “The Christmas Song.” (Photo: TheatreWorks).

Brown added that their background in a Christmas choir ended up in the final piece, and the couple feature prominently in the choral numbers throughout the show. Brown auditioned with “The Christmas Song” and patrons of “Simple Gifts” are treated to her strong vibrato and smiling alto vocals on the heartwarming classic. Another Christmas classic in “Simple Gifts” is Bryan Munar on guitar and vocals for “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” The Filipino actor accompanies his wistful performance with memories of his extended family in pre-COVID times celebrating Noche Buena with music, food and dance all through the night. The desire to gather with “faithful friends who are dear to us” quintessential to doing theater unfortunately was not realized in any capacity during the production process. 

“It was all very separate. We only rehearsed with Liberatore once in the studio. Then we went back to record our lines and vocal parts,” Brown told The Daily. “It was really important to me how conscientious they were being. [Michael and I] were there together because we were in the same germ pod.” Certified COVID Compliance Officer Steven B. Mannshardt worked closely with on-site technicians to ensure proper precautions and sanitizing occurred such that actors such as Brown felt safe recording their lines and vocal parts in the studio. The remote nature of the rehearsal process, however, meant that actors hardly ever interfaced with other actors. 

Brown noted that at one of their music rehearsals they did get to meet Sharon Rietkirk, fellow ensemble member and wife of the trombonist Tim Higgins. The second of two “Simple Gifts” couples, Rietkirk and Higgins perform together in the flirtatious “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” This 1947 song by Frank Loesser of “Guys and Dolls” fame supplants the widely known “Auld Lang Syne” in paying homage to the New Year’s Eve holiday. 

TheatreWorks's 'Simple Gifts' is heartwarming holiday fare
The musical couple Sharon Rietkirk and trombonist Tim Higgins perform Frank Loesser’s “What Are You Doing On Christmas Eve?” (Photo: TheatreWorks)

Concerning the musical representation of holidays in “Simple Gifts,” TheatreWorks veteran David Crane speculated that Artistic Director Tim Bond in conceiving the show tried to “pick deeper cuts or do a new take on an older song.” The biracial Jewish and Japanese “Simple Gifts” actor performs in two Hanukkah songs likely unfamiliar to most patrons: the Hebrew “Banu Choschech L’goresh” and the Ladino “Ocho Kandelikas.” Crane also speaks in the show about the Buddhist Bodhi Day celebration on Dec. 8, the celebration of Diwali and his grandfather Toshimi sweeping up red firecracker papers after the New Years’ celebration around his childhood home in Hawaii. While Crane does not celebrate Bodhi Day or Diwali himself, he appreciated how “Simple Gifts” encouraged him to articulate holiday stories from his own life. 

“I did not have the story pre-set, pre-planned in my arsenal of stories to tell when I auditioned. The experience of celebrating New Years in Hawaii were stories I had in my consciousness but had never strung them together. I was telling the whole crew [in rehearsal] and at our talkbacks after the shows how it was pretty awesome to be given the impetus,” Crane told The Daily. 

The actor-turned-educator reflected on how he found himself “tapping into that Event Post or Buzzfeed energy” in learning to play himself in the script for the show. Sullivan and Brown similarly acknowledged the novelty of performing one’s own story versus another character in a script. Though “devised” has become a buzzword to describe the plethora of innovative, virtual theater ranging from Stanford’s Gaieties 2020 and Cerulean to Stephen Sondheim’s 90th birthday and the Backroom Shakespeare Project, Brown hesitates to call “Simple Gifts” devised. 

“The stories that we told in our auditions was our contribution to Simple Gifts. For camera things in general, it really is an editor’s medium because when you record something, the director and editor figure out how to edit it. In live theater, it is the actor’s medium as the actors are in charge of how the experience goes. When I think of devised theater, I think of having a topic and people jamming on it as a group,” she said. 

“I would say [Simple Gifts] falls in the middle as we devised our stories individually, not as a group.” Sullivan added. “There was this one recording where I added this one extra bit and the Director rejected it because of timing. ‘Please stick to the original draft of your life,’ he told me. —  something to get used to, but it was a lot of fun.” 

When asked if they had any favorite performances by others in “Simple Gifts,” Brown and Sullivan initially struggled to answer: “We got to learn about other people’s families and traditions. It was a learning experience as you normally don’t get that kind of deep-dive into other people. In a piece like this, everything is just fascinating.” 

One such piece is the Christmas Truce of 1914, the miraculous story recounted by Will Springhorn Jr. of how hundreds of thousands of British and German troops struck a temporary truce amid World War I for holiday festivities. The image of soldiers on both sides of the war pausing their battery has a narrative echo in Crane’s story of the firecrackers, showing how personal and historic holidays alike can carry that simple gift of love and delight. Despite the pandemic, the people of “Simple Gifts” whose stories compose the emotional core of the show remain hopeful for celebrating the holidays and the eventual return of live performing arts. 

Crane becoming an acting teacher at the Oakland School for the Arts is a direct result of the pandemic, a window opening when the door on Broadway closed this March that has brought him great joy as he works with young adults on acting technique and devising shows. Brown and Sullivan meanwhile have been busy producing a radio play series “Tales of the Resistance” and the labor-oriented “A Red Carol” with the San Francisco Mime Troupe. Looking ahead to the new year, the couple remain hopeful that TheatreWorks’ canceled shows such as “Ragtime” and “Guess Who Is Coming To Dinner?” will go up once it is safe to do live theater again. 

“If the weather’s okay, we’ll get together outside for Christmas dinner restaurant-spaced in the backyard,” Brown told The Daily. “Once the pandemic is contained, that’s not going to be our tradition for celebrating as a family.” Looking ahead to 2021, the couple remain cautiously optimistic that they can come back for TheatreWorks’ “Ragtime” and “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” canceled by the pandemic. Brown has also shifted to writing her long-running theater column “The Business of Showbiz” on a need versus monthly basis, noting “there is still so much unknown about what can be done safely next.”  

At the time of his interview, Crane was about to celebrate the seventh night of Hanukkah with his significant other in Hawaii. “I’m currently in Honolulu, we don’t have a menorah but we found a piece of coral and have been very carefully lighting candles on it. What’s next for 2021? I wish I could be like ‘come see my next show.’ I am so grateful to have Simple Gifts, to have been part of something again.” If Brown, Sullivan and Crane’s anecdotes of working remotely on the holiday musical are any indication, the power of song and story to bring people together even through a screen is a simple gift to enjoy by performers and patrons alike time and time again. 

Presented as part of TheatreWorks from Home, Simple Gifts will be livestreamed Dec. 10-27, with on-demand streaming available Dec. 28, 2020 – Jan. 1, 2021. Live post-show conversations with members of the cast will follow every performance. 

Contact Natalie Francis at natfran ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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‘The Queen’s Gambit’ is a gem in a batch of cheesy Netflix originals https://stanforddaily.com/2020/12/14/the-queens-gambit-is-a-gem-in-a-batch-of-cheesy-netflix-originals/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/12/14/the-queens-gambit-is-a-gem-in-a-batch-of-cheesy-netflix-originals/#respond Mon, 14 Dec 2020 23:28:41 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1175668 From forfeits to fashion to feminism, "The Queen's Gambit" is a timeless bildungsroman set in the ’60s. It’s as precise as period dramas come, sincere in its acting and somehow more riveting than Sunday night football.

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It’s officially holiday season, which means basic Netflix romcoms about Christmas couples in a pandemic-free land are constantly being churned out, to our 3 a.m. guilty pleasure delight.

“The Queen’s Gambit” is anything but that. Adapted from Walter Tevis’ novel of the same name, the series tells the coming-of-age of Beth Harmon, an eight-year-old girl with unpacked family trauma, a quiet demeanor and a raw talent for chess. 

From forfeits to fashion to feminism, “The Queen’s Gambit” is a timeless bildungsroman set in the ’60s. It’s as precise as period dramas come, sincere in its acting and somehow more riveting than Sunday night football.

After a car crash kills her single mother but leaves her unharmed, Beth is sent to an orphanage where she meets Jolene, an older girl who has accepted her fate of never being adopted because she is Black; Mr. Shaibel, an emotionally closed-off janitor who teaches her to play chess; and addictive pale green tranquilizer pills. Eventually, Beth is adopted and leaves with a newfound desire to experience the rest of the world (or at least, the rest of Lexington, Ky.).

Playing the silently hotheaded ginger from age 15 and up, Anya Taylor-Joy perfectly conveys that it’s a man’s world, and not just when it comes to chess.

Taylor-Joy gracefully walks the line between being likeable towards the audience and selfish yet desirable towards her supporting crew of dorky, charismatic grandmasters. We watch her grow up as both a chess player and a person, eventually outgrowing her circle-skirted high school bullies.

Costume design here is impeccable, not only for any Vogue editor, but for movie buffs seeking character development. Beth replaces the potato sack school uniforms for Ben Snyder’s discounted blazers and finally, the Parisian geek chic aesthetic. Thicker eyeliner accentuates her substance-related spiral, a pale green dress with forest accents takes inspiration from the tranquilizers she is so reliant on and her final piece — the white queen showstopper — does more than capture ’60s fashion. Beth’s tumultuous character and guarded mind is brought to life with dramatic changes in attire.

'The Queen's Gambit' is a gem in a batch of cheesy Netflix originals
Beth Harmon combines fashionista with chess prodigy in “The Queen’s Gambit.” (Graphic: HANNAH BLUM/The Stanford Daily) (Photo: Netflix)

Outfits aren’t the only thing “The Queen’s Gambit” gets right. When it comes to depicting niches in film, Hollywood couldn’t care less (think of the pain archaeologists endure when they see on-screen shipwrecks, or cellists upon watching “Cruel Intentions”). But with National Master Bruce Pandolfini and Grandmaster Gary Kasparov as the chess technical consultants for this show, the gameplay isn’t just authentic, it goes to painstaking lengths to present a host of Easter eggs for any chess aficionado. Can you spot the Caro-Kann defense or the Paul Morphy/Duke Karl homage?

With electrifying chess sequences and cute department store shopping spree montages, it is ultimately Beth’s relationships which give us unfashionable, amateurish watchers an emotional stake in Beth’s life. Our hearts wrench for scenes of a lonely Beth, eyes glazed with tragedy, and skip during public displays of companionship — witty banter, bona fide pep talks, when Beth tells Benny she “likes his hair.” These dynamics could only happen with the talented, cohesive ensemble that includes Thomas Brodie-Sangster (Newt from “The Maze Runner”), Bill Camp (Primetime Emmy Award Winner for “The Night Of”) and Harry Melling (that’s right, it’s Dudley Dursley from the Harry Potter series).

As most “sports” dramas go, there are certainly tropes, namely the token POC supportive best friend and an extremely protagonist-centric universe. The rebellious Jolene whom Beth befriended decades ago suddenly swoops in when Beth needs her most. While Jolene contends that she is not Beth’s “guardian angel” and hints at her own prominent future, one cannot help but wonder if Jolene’s purpose is solely symbolic. Indeed, there is rarely a moment when Beth is not the center of the screen. 

'The Queen's Gambit' is a gem in a batch of cheesy Netflix originals
(Photo: Netflix)

Even so, “The Queen’s Gambit” flawlessly executes Beth’s multi-dimensional character arc, nimbly avoiding the “she’s not like other girls” cliché. This, coupled with Benny’s bad boy persona, illustrates that no, geniuses don’t have to be worshipped as geniuses — they can be fashionable, carpool karaoke-loving humans. When a female reporter badgers Beth with questions about what it’s like to play chess with men, the prodigy replies that she doesn’t notice, much less care. After Beth loses her virginity, she calmly smokes a cigarette as the picture of elegance. A traumatized genius, tortured addict and seductive player, Beth represents every alluring male character in classic cinema and is a rare example of an on-screen woman who is completely in control of her sexuality.

With all that said, will the series return for a second season?

Spoiler alert — probably not.

This season ended when the book did, and while limited series are occasionally renewed, it is both fulfilling and disappointing that the creators are perfectly satisfied with where things are at.

While Beth’s future remains uncertain, her story has undoubtedly inspired millions around the world. Even fictional, “The Queen’s Gambit” envisions a world where little girls hold their ground against formidable opponents and where the end is never truly the end. Beth Harmon is an icon among chess connoisseurs and ’60s fanatics, but is also an embodiment of all that is 2020. She may be defeated once, but never twice. She may have kooky, emotionally charged moments, but her passion and stubborn determination prevail time and time again. Enjoyable with brilliant acting, killer suspense and an aesthetic film palette, most of all, this period series gives me hope for the future, knowing that it is never truly the end.

Contact Nicole Tong at nwtong ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Movies to watch in quarantine: ‘Ocean’s Eleven’ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/12/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-oceans-eleven/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/12/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-oceans-eleven/#respond Fri, 13 Nov 2020 04:14:11 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1175108 Today, dear reader, I am again catching up on the cinema classics I had before neglected. This time, we have watched the ultimate heist thriller, “Ocean’s Eleven,” and I must say, this flick stole my heart.

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Recommend movies for us to watch using this form, which is also embedded at the bottom of our article.

Hi! We’re Mark and Nitish, and we (like most of you we hope) are practicing social distancing to help prevent the spread of coronavirus. We recognize that this is a super stressful time for a lot of people and that many of you are being harmed by the virus in one way or another. So, we thought we’d do something that would hopefully lighten the mood. We are going to be watching and reviewing movies available on streaming platforms. Our column will be published every Wednesday and Friday, and we plan on reviewing one movie per day. That makes things easier for us procrastinators! We hope that you can watch along, send us your thoughts and recommend movies that you like or want us to watch. Best of luck to all of you in these trying times!

Ocean’s Eleven” (Released in 2001; watched by us on Nov. 11 2020)

A heist thriller by Steven Soderbergh. We watched it on Netflix!

Mark:

Today, dear reader, I am again catching up on the cinema classics I had before neglected. This time, we have watched the ultimate heist thriller, “Ocean’s Eleven,” and I must say, this flick stole my heart. 

Hm… note to self: rewrite that last sentence. It was not good.

“Ocean’s Eleven” primarily follows master thief, Danny Ocean, and his partner in crime, Rusty Ryan, as they attempt to do the impossible: steal from one of the most tightly secured — and dangerous — casinos in Vegas. The duo recruit an ensemble cast of nine other specialists, including but not limited to: Frank Catton, a casino worker with insider knowledge; Basher Tarr, an explosives expert; “Yen,” an acrobat; and Linus Caldwell, a young and hot-headed pickpocket. However, as Ocean’s team of 11 plans the ultimate heist, it becomes clear that this is not just about the money. To Ocean, this mission is personal. 

There is a lot to love about “Ocean’s Eleven.” 

There is a lot to this movie in general. 

A lot.

For starters, there are at least 11 leads to keep track of, not including the movie’s villain: the brutal and murderous casino owner, Terry Benedict. There are a lot of tricks and traps waiting in the casino too, each requiring their own convoluted solutions and resources to deal with. I was expecting a movie… instead, I’ve found myself refereeing a high-intensity match of 5D Chess, having to watch all its moving pieces. I admit, I’ve had to consult the Wikipedia summary to keep track of everything in this review, and clearly even they had left some stuff out. 

Some might consider this a flaw. Not only is the poor, innocent first-time viewer bound to be confused, but the viewer is essentially forced to sort of accept the occasional convenient solution when it is revealed that the characters know more than the audience. Presumably, this is for the sanity of the filmmakers, as having to clearly establish each and every gear and pulley would have made “Ocean’s Eleven” an Odyssey-length epic. This results in a movie that moves too fast for me, a normie deprived of the intellectual vitality required to understand this flick. 

But, I am completely fine with that. So be it that the heist flick lacks the slow, methodological pace to create more informed moments of audience realization, or the thorough examination of each and every piece of the puzzle. That is what the mystery genre is for, and we already have plenty of those. That one “Rick and Morty” episode I half-paid attention to in the airplane eight months ago had told me exactly what to expect out of “Ocean’s Eleven.” It is a relentless flurry of twists, turns and high-IQ plays. This movie has all the spectacle of a Bond flick, all the fun of a classic Spielberg adventure and all the cunning of the average game of “Among Us” (bite me, I have the right to be mainstream once in a while). 

You will not get everything at first, and that is alright. When one boards a roller-coaster they do not have to understand all the mechanics and physics that makes it — they just need to strap in and enjoy the ride. I’ve heard some say that the heist genre is convoluted and formulaic, but I’d advise the reader against being that jerkwad who tries to explain every trick at a magic show. It is an experience worthwhile in itself to just enjoy the madness. 

Nitish:

Everyone loves “Ocean’s Eleven,” and it’s honestly hard not to enjoy it. Granted, Soderbergh probably has nightmares about the Bechdel test, but aside from the fact that the one named woman who isn’t a sex worker is little more than a trophy to be passed between protagonist and antagonist, this movie is pretty solid. Lots of people think that this movie is good because of its meticulous plotting or its clever heisting. Neither of these things are true. “Ocean’s Eleven” is a treat primarily because it’s an opportunity to watch George Clooney and Brad Pitt charismatically wield sharp dialogue like they’re in a back-alley knife fight in an Indonesian martial arts movie. “Ocean’s Eleven” doesn’t actually have the meticulous plotting that it claims to. But that’s okay! 

It’s not solid because of the plot. Mark says that “Ocean’s Eleven” has all the cunning of the average game of “Among Us,” and that’s true but only because the vast majority of people who play “Among Us” are dumbasses who couldn’t lie their way into the Trump administration’s recount team if their lives depended on it. (Seriously Mark, have you played this game? There are no Borgias or Bismarcks here, everyone is dumb.) There’s a twist halfway into the movie where a character gets “pulled off the job” because of some inane romantic subplot — see the trophy thing from earlier — and then he’s put back. Key members of the team aren’t informed about it because… reasons? There’s a pretty elegant reveal at the end, but like a gourmet doughnut, beneath the sprinkles and maple syrup, there’s a gaping hole — there’s no way for them to get the decoy material into the vault. (If you don’t care for spoilers, check it out.) And the timing of the last reveal, if you bother to put some thought into it, is absolutely absurd. Problems are handled with convenient deus-ex-machina devices — two guards with Uzis are brought down with a little metal frisbee. And most infuriating of all, they manage to create an opening in the security network by setting off an electromagnetic pulse device in Las Vegas. A device they stole from Caltech. Forget escaping a vengeful casino owner, they have to worry about escaping the entire U.S. government who might be a tiny bit ticked off that someone managed to steal a weapon that could be used to decimate an entire city in a heartbeat. For all the discussion about the tight security, it gets lax whenever the plot requires it: How did Clooney get into the elevator? How on earth did he get back? How come the guard outside the room didn’t hear him catching up with Bruiser like he was an old friend? There are a ton of little lies and deceptions in this movie, but the biggest and most effective one of all comes from Soderbergh: This heist plot isn’t remotely plausible. 

But, dear reader, I admit I didn’t notice any of this flimsy plot the first time I watched this movie. And that’s because, as I said earlier, Clooney and Pitt kill this script. They’re both naturally charismatic actors, and they just dial it to an 11 here. (Get it? The name of the movie is “Ocean’s Eleven!” It’s a double entendre!) The script has a ton of sharp one-liners, plenty of great bits of dialogue. Soderbergh’s framing of shots is sharp and smart. It’s just a blast to watch because of it. You should watch it, too. 

And I think the ultimate takeaway from “Ocean’s Eleven” is that a heist movie doesn’t need to have a meticulously thought out plot that takes into account every point of failure. It just needs to seem like it has. And if I’m being honest, that earlier paragraph with a rant about how this movie doesn’t add up is just me being annoying. Because unless you’re taking notes, you probably won’t catch any of them. Even if you do, you’ll probably believe George Clooney when he says that he planned for it. So go ahead and watch “Ocean’s Eleven.” And after you watch it the first time, take a second run-through like I did and see if you can count the ways the plot breaks down, and let me know about the stuff I missed!

Contact Mark York at mdyorkjr ‘at’ stanford.edu and Nitish Vaidyanathan at nitishv ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Frameline44, part 4: History tells all https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/12/frameline44-part-4-history-tells-all/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/12/frameline44-part-4-history-tells-all/#respond Fri, 13 Nov 2020 03:57:16 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174871 The film takes a two-pronged approach by telling the unique and relatively unknown history of the electronic “Keyboard Fantasies” album while also following several of Glenn’s tour performances.

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This is the fourth piece in The Daily’s Frameline44 coverage. This piece covers select documentary films from the festival. Due to film embargos, some of The Daily’s coverage will be released upon a film’s respective digital or cinematic release.

“Ahead of the Curve” (2020, Jen Rainin and Rivkah Beth Medow)

Jen Rainin and Rivkah Beth Medow’s documentary “Ahead of the Curve” presents a fascinating, in-depth look at the complex history of Curve, a lesbian media outlet. Founded by Franco Stevens in 1990 and originally named Deneuve (whose name also has an amusing past with no clear origin, as the film highlights), Curve — or Curve Magazine, as it was named — was known for championing women from all walks of life and became the go-to lesbian magazine. Describing a work that started from a mere seed of a magazine to its iteration today, “Ahead of the Curve” is a quick yet unparalleled look into the history of this storied magazine, richly supplemented by archival photos and video footage.

The magazine bizarrely faced a lawsuit from French actress Catherine Deneuve, who didn’t want her last name associated with a queer magazine, which forced the magazine to change its name to Curve Magazine. But this was also evidence that the magazine had grown extraordinarily large — large enough for a world-class actress to know it. The sheer capacity of those creating Curve was astounding — how Stevens and those at the magazine traveled around the United States to huge crowds, themselves becoming household names in the queer community. Curve was a magazine that provided America’s lesbian community with an outlet for self-expression, something they could enjoy, treasure or otherwise share with other queer folks amid homophobia in their own lives.

The complex history of Curve is just as interesting as the closeness of the queer women who created this magazine; they became Curve Magazine itself. As Curve grew bigger, the magazine featured a lot of big-name queer women and queer allies (and queer icons!), something that Stevens admitted was surprising and still unbelievable. (Some big names on the cover throughout the history of the magazine include Wanda Sykes, Margaret Cho, Jane Lynch, Tegan and Sara, Kristen Stewart, Melissa Etheridge, Cate Blanchett and Ellen Page.) The documentary also takes a dive into the present, where the magazine is now online-only, but has a legacy that persists. Stevens sold the magazine and the new editors began to change what Curve looked like, going from more of a colorful free-style format to a sleek cover reminiscent of Vogue. Facing low print sales, Curve was at risk for shutting down entirely — but it survived, and “Ahead of the Curve” rightfully celebrates this.

“Keyboard Fantasies: The Beverly Glenn-Copeland Story” (2019, Posy Dixon)

Frameline44, part 4: History tells all
A still from “Keyboard Fantasies: The Beverly Glenn-Copeland Story.” (Courtesy of LUCA)

(As you read, I recommend that you listen to Beverly Glenn-Copeland’s eponymous 1986 album, “Keyboard Fantasies,” which you can find on Spotify here.)

“Keyboard Fantasies” is a glimpse into the life of legendary musician, multi-instrumentalist, vocalist and cross-genre genius Beverly Glenn-Copeland — or Glenn, as his friends and bandmates address him. Primarily narrated by Glenn himself, “Keyboard Fantasies” briefly explores his childhood as he was encouraged to pursue music before going off to college at McGill University in Canada. Attending McGill beginning in 1961, Glenn was able to explore his sexuality while also standing out through another dimension as one of the very first Black students to attend the university. Glenn himself addresses how his own identity changed over the years, shifting from self-identifying as a lesbian to a trans man today. 

The film takes a two-pronged approach by telling the unique and relatively unknown history of the electronic “Keyboard Fantasies” album while also following several of Glenn’s tour performances. “Keyboard Fantasies” became a sleeper hit after being found by a Japanese collector, and Glenn hastened to send all his remaining album copies to the collector. Coupled with this historical narrative comes the story of his bandmates, a devoted touring group of incredible student musicians who all adore and admire him — as a musician, as a trans man and as a friend.

“Keyboard Fantasies” really deserves more depth and, frankly, a longer run time. But for as much heartwarming and calming content as it gives, “Keyboard Fantasies” is a beautiful look at a musician and trans icon who goes nearly unrecognized outside of more niche musical circles, having never sought to become a huge name. Even if you’re not one to put the melodious tones of “Keyboard Fantasies” on repeat, the film is sure to spark a little artistic inspiration in you.

“Killing Patient Zero” (2019, Laurie Lynd)

Frameline44, part 4: History tells all
A still from “Killing Patient Zero.” (Courtesy of Fadoo Productions)

“Killing Patient Zero” outlines the history of the term “patient zero” as it applies to the AIDS crisis — which became synonymous with one person: Gaëtan Dugas, an Air Canada flight attendant. For viewers unfamiliar with this history, “Killing Patient Zero” is a nuanced and relatively comprehensive look at the media’s vilification of Dugas, even as he cooperated with Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) investigators and fought against a complete lambasting of his own queerness as the “cause” of the AIDS epidemic in the United States.

Although the film is heavy on talking heads, it’s nonetheless filled with discussions from people close to Dugas and those who experienced firsthand the emergence of the AIDS crisis. “Killing Patient Zero” balances an empathetic look at Dugas and his wild, joyous and literally high-flying sexual life as a gay man in the 1970s with the darker history of how the public came to be aware of AIDS and the Reagan administration’s complete and absolute ignorance of it. Through a close tracing of the emergence of cases as they appeared via AIDS symptoms, particularly Kaposi’s sarcoma, “Killing Patient Zero” unearths the fallacy built around the idea of “patient zero” — how it was misread and then perpetuated, reinforcing homophobic standards amongst the general public. The medical professionals who created the study labeled Dugas as the “Out of California Case,” or “patient O,” which was read as “patient 0” (i.e., zero) leading to its synonymization with the first case, even though this was very clearly debunked years later.

In “Killing Patient Zero,” viewers are able to slowly but surely descend into this complex network of misunderstandings and come to see how this well-intended medical study led everyone to villainize Dugas to such an extent that his family still refuses to speak to the press. “Killing Patient Zero” effectively illustrates the combination of a fundamental medical misunderstanding of HIV — that the HIV incubation period is on the scale of years to decades, not months — coupled with journalists and the medical community effectively working against each other instead of together in the face of what was ultimately a complete governmental failure.

But who is really to blame, if anyone in particular? The film leaves that for viewers to decide. By including testimonies from Dugas’ friends and former partners, medical professionals involved in the original study and the journalist who revealed Dugas’ name to the wider world (himself a gay man who also eventually died of AIDS), “Killing Patient Zero” parses through an extraordinarily complex history with wide-ranging impacts today. The rise of the term “patient zero” has become something of a sociopolitically charged term — the victim of blame, despite its medical meaning as an “index case” (often defined as the first documented case) rather than the original case — especially in pandemic times like these.

Contact Olivia Popp at oliviapopp ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Movies to watch in quarantine: ‘The Handmaiden’ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/10/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-the-handmaiden/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/10/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-the-handmaiden/#respond Wed, 11 Nov 2020 03:41:50 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174954 I would recommend that you watch this, but absolutely do not watch this in a room that other people might walk into — you will have far too many questions to answer.

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Recommend movies for us to watch using this form, which is also embedded at the bottom of our article.

Hi! We’re Mark and Nitish, and we (like most of you, we hope) are practicing social distancing to help prevent the spread of coronavirus. We recognize that this is a super stressful time for a lot of people and that many of you are being harmed by the virus in one way or another. So, we thought we’d do something that would hopefully lighten the mood. We are going to be watching and reviewing movies available on streaming platforms. Our column will be published every Wednesday and Friday, and we plan on reviewing one movie a day. That makes things easier for us procrastinators! We hope that you can watch along, send us your thoughts and recommend movies that you like or want us to watch. Best of luck to all of you in these trying times!

“The Handmaiden” (Released in 2016; watched by us on October 26, 2020)

A psychological thriller by Park Chan-wook. We watched it on Amazon Prime!

Content warning: Sexual abuse

Mark:

I am not sure what I was expecting when I tuned in to “The Handmaiden,” but it certainly was not the movie I ended up watching.

“The Handmaiden” feels, at points, like a vengeful Frankenstein’s Monster. This movie is like a cinematic frappe of “Parasite,” “The Favorite” and “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” with just a tiny pinch of “Fifty Shades of Grey” for … uh, flavor. It is simultaneously uncomfortable, horrifying and funny, and for this reason “The Handmaiden” is very hard to define. Yet, I cannot deny that it is consistently masterful in its craft. 

This romance/thriller takes place in Japanese-occupied Korea. A conman under the pseudonym “Count Fujiwara” sets his sights on the Kozucki Estate, which is run by a wicked Korean man who assisted the Japanese in taking over his country for personal gain. Fujiwara’s plan is simple: seduce and marry the heiress, Lady Hideko, then commit her to an insane asylum to claim the inheritance for his own. He hires a pickpocket, Sook-hee, to act as Hideko’s handmaiden, in order to further his chances of wooing her. It is a 4D chess move… except Sook-hee and Hideko are the ones who fall in love instead. OOPSIES! 

The premise alone does not even begin to cover “The Handmaiden.” This is one wack movie. There are so many twists and turns to this film, and the audience is constantly forced to reassess what previous scenes even meant — nobody can possibly predict what this movie will do next. A lot of the film’s structure and plot is based off of the 2002 novel, “The Fingersmith,” and this inherited craziness is a large part of what makes “The Handmaiden” so fun. Watching this movie is like being enveloped in some narrative tornado, and I had no choice but to turn my brain off and go along with the ride. 

When I do go into critic mode, however, I am far from disappointed. The cinematography and editing are consistently spot-on, creating so many unique shots out of comparatively very little. The vast majority of “The Handmaiden” takes place inside one manor. In that respect, the film is similar to “Parasite,” leading me to believe it might have been an inspiration — but this one setting seems to take on new life with every scene. The Kozucki Manor is depicted as a lush, beautiful, though overwhelming world of riches in the eyes of poor pickpocket Sook-hee — the lifestyle of these nobles is affluent and the estate is seemingly limitless. Then, the Manor becomes a dark, claustrophobic prison in the eyes of Hideko — the walls are closing in, the shadows blot out any lights and the otherwise beautiful views in the horizon become mere reminders of what she can never experience.

The beating heart of “The Handmaiden” is the relationship — and the contrasts — between the stories of Sook-hee and Hideko. This movie tells a lot through its filmmaking alone, which is to be celebrated, but the writing is spot-on too. Their romance is, on the surface, practically straight out of a Disney movie (well, a very much R-rated one). Though the timeline is left a bit ambiguous, one can assume all it takes is a few months for the leading couple to decide they ought to be together forever. But, through how this movie is framed, I truly believed it. Not only are their character traits and motivations well fleshed out enough so that their relationship makes sense (circumventing a lot of issues I have with movie romances) but, by essentially reliving this sequence of events twice through different perspectives, these fewer shared moments feel all the more impactful. 

This is a very physical romance, yes. I was surprised to find perhaps some of the most intimate — and, uh, let’s call it non-conservative — sex scenes cinema has ever depicted, and since cinema eroticism is not exactly my kind of thing, I was… um, er… ok. Be warned, dear reader: Do not watch this movie with your parents. 

Trust me. Don’t do that. Take it from me. If you, hypothetically, have a Korean mother, and you, theoretically, like sharing your movies with her, you are going to want to skip this one. Do not watch this movie with your parents. I told you that, and theoretically, it would have been nice if somebody told me.

With that said, I will assure you, reader, that there is plenty of substance to pair with the spiciness. Nay, I will guarantee the reader that “The Handmaiden” is perhaps one of the best movies to come from the previous decade. This is some of the best filmmaking, and the best storytelling, that I have seen in a long while, and I am always ecstatic to give such a title to a film from my birthplace.

Nitish:

“The Handmaiden” is a historical-romance-erotic-arthouse-feminist film (or something like that) from the Korean auteur Park Chan-wook. As you might be able to tell, “The Handmaiden” is a lot to process. And I think that there are a lot of good reasons that this movie might not work for everyone. But it’s ultimately an excellent film that you should watch — just not in front of anyone else. Seriously. You’ll have a lot of weird questions to answer. 

Park Chan-wook’s film is notable for a few reasons, but I’ll start with the easiest one: The plot is incredibly well-woven. The movie’s most basic premise is that of a type of heist: A conman and thief named Count Fujiwara asks a young Korean woman named Sook-hee to enter the employ of Kouzuki, a native Korean who helped the Japanese take over. Trapped in Kouzuki’s house is the Japanese heiress Hideko, who he plans on marrying in order to gain access to her considerable finances to fund his book collection. Sook-hee’s job is to work as Hideko’s handmaiden, and her task is to convince Hideko to fall in love with Count Fujiwara so they can elope, thus allowing the count to gain access to Hideko’s money. They plan to deposit Hideko in a mental asylum after they’ve won the deeds to her wealth. 

But from here, the heist starts to develop in unpredictable ways. For starters, Sook-hee and Hideko start to fall in love. And from there it gets even more complicated. There’s plot twist after plot twist, betrayal after betrayal. I want to be a little opaque here — a pretty significant degree of the joy of watching this movie is the sensation of having Park Chan-wook ripping the rug out from beneath you every time you think you’ve found your footing. Events of the story are told and then retold as you have new information to recontextualize them. It’s an incredibly effective gambit. As I said in an earlier review, a good twist doesn’t just change the plot: It changes the narrative of the movie, changing the way we conceive of characters and the way we interpret the themes. And boy, oh boy, does “The Handmaiden” nail every twist in its not-inconsiderable runtime, repeatedly changing the way we look at characters while never really changing who the characters are. It’s a remarkable sleight of hand. Suffice to say, when (spoiler, but sort of an obvious one) the star-crossed lovers eventually find their way to freedom, it feels as though you and the pair have all run a marathon through concertina wire. 

And now, most importantly, the narrative of this story. It’s hard to describe this adequately, and I think a lot of the way that a viewer will react to this movie depends on the way that they respond to the graphic way the movie is filmed. But broadly speaking, “The Handmaiden” is about the two leads falling in love and reclaiming their autonomy and sexuality from a society that has stripped it from them. The rich, spacious manor that Kouzuki has trapped Hideko in is filmed claustrophobically. And both Sook-hee and Hideko are essentially pawns in a game between two rapacious men who try to control Hideko in order to gain access to her fortune. 

Both of these men abuse Hideko repeatedly. I should warn the viewer: This movie is at times incredibly uncomfortable to watch. Hideko’s torment at the hands of her captor(s) appears to be Park Chan-wook’s attempt to depict the ways in which women’s sexualities are systematically stripped from them and turned into objects of male fantasy. This is obviously a worthwhile topic to discuss, but while I was watching the movie I couldn’t help but wonder if “The Handmaiden” was counterproductive in achieving its aims. Park Chan-wook films graphic sex between our two female protagonists with a pornographic framing that made me put my head into my hands and pray that my parents didn’t walk downstairs. And when Hideko is forced to (spoiler) read erotic fiction to a room full of older men, Park Chan-wook makes sure to make the scene just as excruciatingly uncomfortable as you feel it should be. When this movie was at its most graphic, it was difficult for me to wonder if I wasn’t myself partaking in the type of voyeurism that the story appears to be criticizing. At what point is the graphic depiction of men co-opting women’s sexuality itself an example of men co-opting women’s sexuality? And there’s also a lot of issues of social class in this film, with colonization and classism playing key narrative roles. How do we deal with these? 

To be honest, I wasn’t sure. But I read some reviews that started to clarify some stuff for me, including one particularly instructive one from an online feminist film journal. The romance between the two leads is depicted almost as a tonic to these societal ills. Where they were trapped, Hideko and Sook-hee are able to find freedom with each other. It’s difficult for me to go into too much detail without spoiling some genuinely arresting scenes, but as the third act unfolds, Park Chan-wook shows us a few key scenes of our two leads seizing back their autonomy by reappropriating a sexuality that was stolen from them. I think the success of this movie for you, dear reader, will entirely depend on the degree to which the third act convinces you of this idea. It was convincing for me, but I think if Park Chan-wook was any less successful in these pivotal scenes, it would have rendered “The Handmaiden” vulnerable to the criticism of the male gaze that it itself presents. So I think “The Handmaiden” is an incredible film and is a pretty good example of feminist filmmaking by a male director. It’s probably not for everyone. But I ultimately think that Park Chan-wook’s sensual, graphic filmmaking ends up manipulating the audience’s emotions in a fascinating and clever way. I would recommend that you watch this, but absolutely do not watch this in a room that other people might walk into — you will have far too many questions to answer. If you’re interested in more movies about feminism and queer romance, you can’t do much better than “Portrait of a Lady on Fire,” which is one of the finest movies that I have ever watched of any genre.

Contact Mark York at mdyorkjr ‘at’ stanford.edu and Nitish Vaidyanathan ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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‘Coming Home Again’ is a subtle tribute to Asian American intergenerational grief and communication https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/09/coming-home-again-is-a-subtle-tribute-to-asian-american-intergenerational-grief-and-communication/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/09/coming-home-again-is-a-subtle-tribute-to-asian-american-intergenerational-grief-and-communication/#respond Tue, 10 Nov 2020 07:47:56 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174811 Chang-rae does, in fact, reach his breaking point in the “Coming Home Again,” and it’s a stunning moment of catharsis for both Chang-rae and the viewer, demonstrating the efficacy of such hard-won moments in Wang’s measured filmmaking style.

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Based on a short story with the same name by Stanford’s Professor Chang-rae Lee, the quiet beauty of Wayne Wang’s new film “Coming Home Again” (written by Wang and Lee) captures the relationship of a Korean American son’s loss for words as his mother is dying from stomach cancer. While putting its short-story roots on display in a non-linear fashion, Wang carefully inserts flashbacks that are stylistically inseparable from present-day — save for the identifier that Chang-rae’s mother is smiling and not bed-ridden. In doing so, Wang weaves a complex tale of grief, loss and accumulated emotional stagnancy primarily situated within one home.

The film opens with a release of Chang-rae’s pent-up emotions — he bursts into sobs after running up a steep hill characteristic of San Francisco, establishing the locale as well as the story to come. Masterfully played by actor/director Justin Chon (“Gook,” “Ms. Purple” and the upcoming “Blue Bayou”), Chang-rae is otherwise stoic, caring for his mother (Jackie Chung) out of love and as a dutiful son — but he does not openly recognize the former. Most of the film is concerned with the relationship between Chang-rae and his mother — his mother’s kalbi/galbi (Korean short ribs) are foundational to their connection. “Food as memory” or “food as connection” is a common trope in contemporary Asian American film — yet “Coming Home Again” subverts this trope by dwelling much less on the sensory experience of the food and what it evokes, instead focusing on the experience of creating the food and the cooking lessons Chang-rae’s mother passed onto him. Chang-rae’s feeling of ineptitude, being “not good enough” for his mother, is perfectly exemplified through his fear of not being able to make kalbi, a food she gave him as a post-school snack, just as she taught him. In one particularly jarring scene, Chang-rae’s mother forces out a smile while frantically choking on Chang-rae’s kalbi and spitting it out. Neither Chang-rae nor the viewer can parse out whether it is due to Chang-rae’s cooking skills or due to his mother’s stomach cancer, and Chang-rae’s mother is notably tight-lipped, merely affirming that the kalbi is, in fact, tasty and neither confirming nor denying the cause.

While “Coming Home Again” is not as distinctly linear as popular American audiences might expect (or even hope for), it epitomizes the static nature of their relationship: his mother questioning why he has returned home and denying any assistance while Chang-rae attempts to make himself useful while floundering, having stepped away from his fancy Wall Street job. The element of religion in “Coming Home Again” is rather understated but becomes one of the most interesting parts of the film. In an uncomfortable scene between Chang-rae, Chang-rae’s mother and what appears to be her church friends, Chang-rae refuses to take his mother’s stomach cancer as simply “God’s will” as they solemnly sing “Auld Lang Syne” in Korean. But this denial is more revealing of the protagonist than it is of them: clearly not ready to let go of his mother, but at the same time the nature of their relationship had not established an open precedent to really say what he feels.

Chang-rae’s sister (Christina July Kim), however, can and will. Between Chang-rae’s father (John Lie) — who Chang-rae accuses of having an affair with a younger woman — Chang-rae and his sister, it’s his sister who openly objects to putting their mother in hospice and simply letting life take its course. The entrance of his sister in the latter half of the film breaks the stillness of the film, inserting an element of freeness that is clearly not the norm around Chang-rae and his mother, who are guided by a lack of communication and demonstration of their love through actions like making food for each other. His sister also slips in another subtle, revealing element of the film: she calls him Rae rather than Chang-rae, an aspect of assimilation — and perhaps also recognizing the name his mother gave him — on which Chang-rae pushes back when he tells his childhood friend to call him Chang-rae, not just Rae.

The film prefers to rely on the slow pace and subdued mood it establishes from the start, which will certainly please some viewers and frustrate others. While the film does capture solemnity well, it loses steam when it’s stuck in this narrative box in its 86-minute runtime which, in and of itself, is plenty of time to explore the portrait of a relationship. Although the film is dominated by quiet moments of reflection and the occasional outburst in private, it reveals its secrets in the juxtaposition between restraint and emotion. Moreover, the film is dominated by long stretches of mundane shots that the viewer must interpret for themselves. Chang-rae does, in fact, reach his breaking point in the “Coming Home Again,” and it’s a stunning moment of catharsis for both Chang-rae and the viewer, demonstrating the efficacy of such hard-won moments in Wang’s measured filmmaking style.

“Coming Home Again” is absolutely a film to add to the contemporary Asian American canon, if you support or acknowledge that one exists (or should exist) as an entity. It’s a film that pristinely captures the impossibility of open, verbal communication between many Asian American children and their parents, especially in times of grief when it’s truly needed the most. You can watch “Coming Home Again” online now through Virtual Cinema and at select in-person theaters.

Contact Olivia Popp at oliviapopp ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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HBO’s ‘The Undoing’ offers mystery, escapism in pilot https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/03/hbos-the-undoing-offers-mystery-escapism-in-pilot/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/11/03/hbos-the-undoing-offers-mystery-escapism-in-pilot/#respond Wed, 04 Nov 2020 03:03:32 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174490 If only for a moment, the series distracts us from the grim reality of the COVID-19 pandemic, allowing us to immerse ourselves in 45 minutes of secretive relationships, cryptic backstories and luxurious wardrobes.

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Murder, wealth, competitive private school parents and seductive strangers run amiss in David E. Kelley’s creations, and his latest limited series, “The Undoing,” is no exception. 

Starring Nicole Kidman and Hugh Grant, “The Undoing” feels highly reminiscent of Kelley’s earlier HBO drama series, “Big Little Lies,” which was adapted from the best-selling novel of the same name. In fact, both shows were based upon novels. 

In the case of “The Undoing, Jean Hanff Korelitz’s 2014 psychological thriller “You Should Have Known” serves as the source material. Additionally, both shows grapple with similar themes of class and privilege, all the while focusing on a murder mystery. 

Having premiered on Oct. 25, “The Undoing” follows New York City therapist Grace Fraser (Kidman), whose seemingly idyllic life with her pediatric oncologist husband (Grant) unravels when tragedy strikes their son’s private school community. 

Their son Henry (Noah Jupe) attends the elite Reardon School, where Grace meets the enigmatic Elena (Matilda De Angelis), whose son attends the school on an implied scholarship. As highlighted in the pilot episode, Grace spends her days helping couples repair their relationships by learning more about each other. In a cruelly ironic twist, however, Grace realizes that she herself may not truly know the person closest to her —  her husband, Jonathan — despite her penchant for helping her patients discover just that. 

After a series of bizarre encounters between Elena and Grace, Elena’s dead body is found, and the police rule the case a homicide. Jonathan becomes a potential suspect in Elena’s murder, causing Grace to question her skills as a therapist and ability to read people. At the conclusion of the pilot, Grace attempts to reach Jonathan, who is supposedly out of town at an oncology conference. Several calls later, she discovers that he left his cell phone in their apartment, making him unreachable, wherever he may be. 

Grant once again reprises his common role as the witty English husband to his American counterpart. Despite providing several moments of comic relief, his character also serves as a looming dubious presence in a world filled with unethical, overzealous parents who stop at nothing — perhaps even resorting to murder — to ensure their children’s success.

Although the pilot includes several captivating characters, both main and supporting ones alike, Kidman’s performance ultimately takes center stage. The foreshadowing of her character’s emotional instability, while not subtle, still manages to capture the audience’s attention, making viewers feel invested in her unknown but clearly serious plight.

Thus far, “The Undoing” offers some much-needed escapism, inviting viewers to experience a classic whodunit with a side of glamorous fashion, a glittering setting and soapy plotlines. If only for a moment, the series distracts us from the grim reality of the COVID-19 pandemic, allowing us to immerse ourselves in 45 minutes of secretive relationships, cryptic backstories and luxurious wardrobes.

Although “The Undoing” bears countless similarities to “Big Little Lies” in terms of style, theme and even actresses (Kidman), it nonetheless offers an intriguing pilot episode — and hopefully five other compelling ones to follow. 

Contact Alexandra Chang at abc2022 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Frameline44, part 3: Family dynamics https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/29/frameline44-part-3-family-dynamics/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/29/frameline44-part-3-family-dynamics/#respond Fri, 30 Oct 2020 03:14:07 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174157 At only 71 minutes, “Forgotten Roads” is quite short and has much more room to play. We never truly see the spaceships, but they’re spoken about everywhere; the allegory doesn’t quite land, but at the same time, it doesn’t detract from the narrative, either.

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This is the third piece in The Daily’s Frameline44 coverage. This piece covers select films from the festival that center on the lives of queer folks as they intertwine with their families’ lives. Due to film embargos, some of The Daily’s coverage will be released upon their respective digital or cinematic releases.

“Taiwan Equals Love” (2020, Yan Zhexuan (Sophia Yan), Chinese title: “同愛一家”)

“Taiwan Equals Love” follows three couples — Jovi and Mindy, Tien-Ming and Hsiang, and Gu and Shinchi — as they navigate being queer in Taiwan and advocating for their rights during Taiwan’s overhaul of its marriage equality laws. Jovi and Mindy are two women who live in Taiwan with their daughter, Tien-Ming and Hsiang are two men who have cared for one another for decades and Gu and Shinchi are two young men who also run a small business together.

“Taiwan Equals Love” is a documentary account of Taiwan’s most recent marriage equality set during a period between 2017 (when the Taiwanese Constitutional Court ruled that the existing marriage law was unconstitutional) and 2019 (when the Taiwanese government officially passed a law granting same-sex couples nearly all the same rights heterosexual couples have). In this time, the Taiwanese legislative government was embroiled in a battle to actually pass a bill that amended the law and was given exactly two years to do so, otherwise the marriages of same-sex couples would simply be in effect automatically.

The film carefully traces each couple’s landmarks across this fight, each varying in capacity for how much they can partake in advocacy. Jovi and Mindy take on more active roles, taking part in LGBTQ rights organizations and protests; Tien-Ming and Hsiang are busy taking care of each other as Hsiang’s health is failing; and Gu and Shinchi spend a majority of their time running their small business selling products online. “Taiwan Equals Love” casts an intimate eye across each couple’s struggle while revealing their own unique investment in the fight, and it’s impossible not to become attached as a viewer, either. Jovi and Mindy want to be able to officially get married so that they can both be legal mothers to their daughter Aliy. Tien-Ming and Hsiang need to be able to ensure passage of possessions if Hsiang’s health fails. Gu and Shinchi want to be able to stay together in Taiwan, but Gu is from Macau and, under existing laws, cannot stay in Taiwan permanently.

While “Taiwan Equals Love” is people-oriented in nature, it also outlines the history and policy struggles of this two-year period. This includes a number of referendums voted on that restricted the recognition of same-sex marriages, pressed by outspoken anti-LGBTQ organizations. Despite being considered quite progressive in Asia, there was, and continues to be, plenty of opposition toward marriage equality in Taiwan. Nonetheless, the court upheld its original ruling in spite of the attempts to strike it down. “Taiwan Equals Love” is able to strike the right balance between celebrating Taiwan’s advances while still acknowledging the distance it still needs to go.

“Forgotten Roads” (2020, Nicol Ruiz Benavides, Spanish title: “La Nave del Olvido”)

two older women walk down a road holding hands
A still from “Forgotten Roads.” (Outplay Films International)

It’s delightful to see films featuring older queer couples, and “Forgotten Roads” does just that. Taking place in a small town in Chile, the film follows Claudina after the death of her husband, which has left her alone and unsure of what to do. As such, she moves in with her daughter (who has a teenage daughter and young son of her own) and spends days passing the time and trying to keep herself distracted. 

Claudina quickly hits it off with Elsa, a cool gray-haired woman, and an elder love blossoms in small-town Chile, even while rumors fly. Elsa seems to know the ins and outs of the local queer scene better than anyone else and re-instills love in Claudina. (They even go to the local makeshift queer club together! It’s adorable.) 

Claudina’s daughter cannot stand the gossip and begins to pry at Claudina’s relationship with Elsa, while Claudina’s grandson doesn’t seem to care and Claudina’s granddaughter seems to enjoy sharing in her secret and perhaps expresses some solidarity with Claudina herself.

The film (somewhat inexplicably) takes place in an alternate reality in which aliens and their UFOs have arrived at Earth and constantly touch down in Earth’s atmosphere, accompanied by bright lights and sounds at night signaling their periodic arrival. Claudina is frequently transfixed by these lights; this serves as an allegory for the blissful distraction that Elsa’s love provides for her, as fleeting as a spaceship flying through the night. (See the Spanish title for a good hint: with my barely scratch-the-surface Spanish skills, “La Nave del Olvido” loosely translates to the “UFO/spaceship of the forgotten.”) 

At only 71 minutes, “Forgotten Roads” is quite short and has much more room to play. We never truly see the spaceships, but they’re spoken about everywhere; the allegory doesn’t quite land, but at the same time, it doesn’t detract from the narrative, either. “Forgotten Roads” doesn’t go anywhere particularly new, losing out on a fascinating opportunity to dive deeper into the UFO metaphor and never does. Nevertheless, sometimes it’s just nice to sit back and watch a story of a queer elder in love that was clearly crafted with care.

“My Soul is Made of Love” (2019, Chen Ming-Lang, Chinese title: “我的靈魂是愛做的” and also known as “The Teacher”)

Frameline44, part 3: Family dynamics
A still from “My Soul is Made of Love.” (Swallow Wings Films)

“My Soul is Made of Love” is set during the same period as “Taiwan Equals Love,” but this time, as a fictionalized account. In a literal translation of its Chinese title, the bright-eyed Kevin (Oscar Chiu) falls madly in love with an older man, Jin-Wu (Chang Chin-Hao). However, Jin-Wu fails to tell Kevin that he is still deeply entrenched in his ex-wife’s (Winnie Shih-Ying Chang) life because they run a small factory together — and that they’re technically still married, even if they’ve separated. (In one incredibly uncomfortable scene, Kevin attends a dinner with Jin-Wu, his wife and a huge chunk of extended family as the awkward trio tries to play it cool.) 

Jin-Wu also fails to tell Kevin that he is HIV positive until much later in the relationship, making the latter fearful for himself and Jin-Wu when he finds out. Although the film doesn’t handle HIV/AIDS stigma particularly gracefully, it does successfully show perhaps one illustration of being a queer teacher in Taiwan, even as progressive as it is within Asia. While rumors of him being gay lead the students to poke and prod at him, it’s his hypothetical HIV diagnosis that threatens his position as a teacher and the school board very intrusively demands that he have a test in order to “prove” himself. Within the confines of the matter-of-fact school administration setting, their nonchalant discussion of a teacher’s job on the line is more terrifying than anything else.

But Kevin’s relationships with his supportive mother and friends is heartwarming, with his mother merely caring that he’s staying healthy and happy with Jin-Wu and his friends keeping him sane as he navigates the toxic school environment and his rocky relationship with Jin-Wu. The film’s standout performer, although she has very little screen time, is Winnie Shih-Ying Chang who, for this role, won Best Supporting Actress at the 2019 Golden Horse Awards, often described as the Chinese-language Oscars. Chang brings her character to life in a number of bold scenes, herself a wife scorned as her husband fails to communicate and the naive Kevin issues a number of unreasonable requests. While “My Soul is Made of Love” is not perfect, strong performances in the three leading roles prop up the film as a welcome introduction to current queer Taiwanese cinema.

Contact Olivia Popp at oliviapopp ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Cinematic commanders-in-chief: A look at our finest movie presidents https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/28/cinematic-commanders-in-chief-a-look-at-our-finest-movie-presidents/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/28/cinematic-commanders-in-chief-a-look-at-our-finest-movie-presidents/#respond Thu, 29 Oct 2020 03:17:08 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174093 If central casting were to pick a president, you would probably get Henry Fonda. Honest and compassionate with that folksy charm, Fonda fits into the role of movie president like a glove. We’d love to meet him on a happier day, but the script has decided otherwise. In “Fail Safe,” accidental communication orders an American bomber to drop a nuclear bomb over the Soviet Union.

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Election Day is just around the corner. Democracy! But all the coverage can be exhausting. So, if you’re looking for a break from endless election news but also want some good presidential entertainment, then I have you covered. Here are three of Hollywood’s fine presidential offerings.   

“Fail Safe” (1964)

If central casting were to pick a president, you would probably get Henry Fonda. Honest and compassionate with that folksy charm, Fonda fits into the role of movie president like a glove. We’d love to meet him on a happier day, but the script has decided otherwise. In “Fail Safe,” accidental communication orders an American bomber to drop a nuclear bomb over the Soviet Union. 

Millions of lives are at stakes as he talks via phone to his Air Force Command Center and with the Soviet Premier. But none of that is readily apparent; Fonda is as cool as a cucumber. We only see him talk to these centers over the phone. The only person who he talks to in person is his young Russian translator, Buck. 

I won’t spoil it, but the ending of this film is a true gut punch. It shocked and made me angry, but thinking more about it, one realizes that it was probably the only decision that could have happened. But it makes you wonder what kind of man the supposedly nice Fonda really is.

The film also makes an interesting companion piece with “Dr. Strangelove,” also from 1964. Except instead of a tense thriller, “Strangelove” is a dark comedy about nuclear war. That film features the weak-minded President Merkin Muffley, played for great comic effect by Peter Sellers. Watch both and see which president-responds-to-nuclear-doomsday movie you prefer. I’m partial to “Fail Safe,” but all opinions on this matter are welcome.

“Welcome to Mooseport” (2004)

Cinematic commanders-in-chief: A look at our finest movie presidents
Gene Hackman and Ray Romano face off in “Welcome to Mooseport” (Photo: 20th Century Fox)

In “Welcome to Mooseport,” Gene Hackman plays a divorced but popular ex-president who retires to the small town of Mooseport, Maine. When the town’s mayor dies, the council asks Hackman to step in. One problem arises, though: Ray Romano, a local handyman, also runs for mayor. And just to make things more complicated, both Hackman and Romano both compete for the affection of a local woman. 

I am in the minority in advocating for this film. It bombed at the box office and has a whopping 13% on Rotten Tomatoes. However, it is great to see Hackman and Romano face off against each other and duke it out for the office and the girl. I genuinely switched who I was rooting for multiple times in this movie, a testament to both actors’ charm. Sure, it’s quite corny, predictable and a bit stale. But it has a few good lines and some compelling stars, and for a picture like this, that’s enough. 

“Dave” (1993)

Cinematic commanders-in-chief: A look at our finest movie presidents
Dave Kovic impersonates the president in “Dave” (Photo: HBO)

Time for a feel-good president movie that starts with the commander-in-chief suffering a debilitating stroke, as happens to President Bill Mitchell. But instead of having the vice president step in (which the Constitution requires), Mitchell’s handlers hire Dave Kovic, played by Kevin Kline, to play the part of President Mitchell. Dave bears a shocking resemblance to the president and even impersonates the man at weekend nightclubs, a small side-gig that became his full-time job. 

“Dave” is a Capra-esque president flick. Our honest and hard-working everyman, played with wit and humility by Kline, comes into the highest office in the land and tries to do good by the American people. He shows empathy to the homeless in Washington and helps revive the president’s broken marriage with the First Lady (played by Sigourney Weaver). Dave’s agenda was also one that I’m sure most people could get behind; as president Dave worked to expand employment opportunities and get government spending under control.

Dave stands out among the cast of swarmy Washington insiders who try to puppeteer him. And more than that, the film reminds us that good people can still serve in government: people who are brave, far-sighted and good-hearted. If you’re feeling down about the current state of politics, then “Dave” is the perfect film for you.

Do you approve of my presidential film picks? Are you part of the 87% who think that “Welcome to Mooseport” is utter garbage? Are you dismayed that 1997’s “Air Force One” is not included in a list of presidential flicks? If you feel any of these, don’t just scream aimlessly at your computer screen. Write to me, and let me know what some of your favorite president movies are.

Contact Mark Huerta at huertam ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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‘The Trial of the Chicago 7’ is as timely as ever https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/28/the-trial-of-the-chicago-7-is-as-timely-as-ever/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/28/the-trial-of-the-chicago-7-is-as-timely-as-ever/#respond Thu, 29 Oct 2020 02:59:09 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174162 “We’re not going to jail because of what we did. We’re going to jail because of who we are,” says Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen), who is the first to proclaim that the trial is political. Seemingly just another hopped-up hippie, Hoffman’s stoner self masks his truly scintillating wit and spunk. His earnest indignation often opposes the rather respectable Mr. Hayden (Eddie Redmayne), who would prefer to follow the rules so he can get back to the picket line.

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“Give me a moment, would you friend? I’ve never been on trial for my thoughts before,” says Abbie Hoffman on the stand in the fittingly titled “The Trial of the Chicago 7.”

While it may not be 1969 anymore, the issues at the core of this Netflix film couldn’t be more ever-present, retelling the true story of seven antiwar activists who faced trial for speaking their truth. Call it clumsy, schmaltzy or historically inaccurate, but “The Trial of the Chicago 7” makes for crowd-pleasing entertainment with Aaron Sorkin’s signature snappy dialogue. 

And when I say snappy, I mean it. The film is a sharp succession of wry jokes, rapid repartee and powerfully impassioned speeches that elicit as much admiration as they would eye-rolling. In other words, “The Trial of the Chicago 7” is nothing less than what we’ve come to expect from the writer-director of “The Social Network” and “The West Wing.” That being said, Sorkin’s penchant for poetic romanticization often softens the actual sparring: the blows of what was a brutal trial in American history. 

The first seven minutes of the movie play out like a groovy heist flick, a montage assembling the team. The eight unrelated radicals who would later turn future defendants prepare to protest the Vietnam War at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Cut to the courtroom, and the camera pans over to Students for a Democratic Society leader Tom Hayden, antiwar pacifist David Dellinger, “Yippies” Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin and Black Panther Party leader Bobby Seale now on trial. In essence, the film readies its audience for serious courtroom proceedings, an idea that is quickly unraveled by the trial’s sheer injustice. 

“We’re not going to jail because of what we did. We’re going to jail because of who we are,” says Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen), who is the first to proclaim that the trial is political. Seemingly just another hopped-up hippie, Hoffman’s stoner self masks his truly scintillating wit and spunk. His earnest indignation often opposes the rather respectable Mr. Hayden (Eddie Redmayne), who would prefer to follow the rules so he can get back to the picket line.

“I don’t have time for cultural revolution. It distracts from actual revolution,” he says in response to Hoffman.

The issue on trial is whether the Chicago 7 conspired to incite violence at the convention’s protests. Of course, the accusations are false, but prosecutor Robin Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), the truly contemptible Judge Julius Hoffman (who, for the record, is unrelated to Abbie) and the rest of the Nixon government will bear whatever costs they must to put these “radical leftists” in prison. This becomes especially clear when they decide to try Black Panther leader Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) as an eighth defendant despite his lawyer’s absence and his insistence that he’d never met the other seven until their indictment. 

As the defense tries to fine-tune their strategy, allowing for seamless flashbacks to the protests in between the proceedings, new questions emerge as to what the trial means in the context of the Chicago 7’s movement: what these men represent, what it means to do what is respectable and what is right. “The Trial of the Chicago 7” never provides clear answers to these questions, but it poses them so willingly, knowing that its timeliness is more than likely to compensate. After all, in a year like 2020, there’s something awfully familiar about its characters —  about their disgruntlement at the systems in place, the conflicting emotions that ebb and flow in uncertain times like these and as Hayden even admits, the contempt that institutions have for people like him, who are just as American as anyone else. 

In “The Trial of the Chicago 7,” Aaron Sorkin strikes a solid balance between a larger-than-life case and its larger-than-life all-star cast, and for the most part, Sorkin does the story justice. While it may not be as neatly packaged as a viewer could hope and while it may sacrifice a punchy conclusion for a hallmark Hollywood ending, “The Trial of the Chicago 7” is an undeniably engaging watch that’s straightforward in its messaging. As history unfolds, one thing is certain: the world is always watching. 

Contact Rathi Anandu at rathi29 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Movies to watch in quarantine: ‘Fargo’ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/27/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-fargo/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/27/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-fargo/#respond Wed, 28 Oct 2020 03:10:40 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174180 The tone is a bit bizarre. There are some beautifully composed shots, but a lot of the cinematography is just solid. The story is a strange, sort of random, tale about a botched kidnapping con job. But somehow, “Fargo” is more than the sum of its parts.

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Recommend movies for us to watch using this form, which is also embedded at the bottom of our article.

Hi! We’re Mark and Nitish, and we (like most of you, we hope) are practicing social distancing to help prevent the spread of coronavirus. We recognize that this is a super stressful time for a lot of people and that many of you are being harmed by the virus in one way or another. So, we thought we’d do something that would hopefully lighten the mood. We are going to be watching and reviewing movies available on streaming platforms. Our column will be published every Wednesday and Friday, and we plan on reviewing one movie a day. That makes things easier for us procrastinators! We hope that you can watch along, send us your thoughts and recommend movies that you like or want us to watch. Best of luck to all of you in these trying times!

Fargo (Released in 1996; watched by us on Oct. 22, 2020)

A crime film by Joel and Ethan Coen. We watched it on Netflix!

Mark:

There are not a whole lot of fancy things I can say about “Fargo.” This movie did not make me question genre constructs, nor was I forced at any point to ponder the deeper aspects of life (though I do worry that the smalltown Minnesota accent will be forever ingrained into my brain). 

And let me be clear, dear reader, this is far from a bad thing. “Fargo” is a very good crime thriller flick that thrives off its simplicity. It is one of those simple, blessed movies that, by reading the premise, you will probably know whether or not you will like. This makes my job a whole lot easier. 

Based on a true story, “Fargo” follows an unusual string of homicides — and an even stranger conspiracy — that occurs in a small town in Minnesota. It all starts with a pathetic car salesman named Jerry. He has financial troubles, so he naturally decides to arrange a deal with two thugs — they will kidnap his wife in order to demand a considerable ransom from his wealthy father-in-law. Who hasn’t been there before, am I right? Then, we follow two branching storylines: the criminals, who gradually begin to take more and more lives, and pregnant police chief, Marge, who investigates the resulting homicides. 

There are not many movies that take place in the humbler, wintery and — some might remark — unremarkable American midwest, so “Fargo” already stands out through setting alone. But this movie does us one better. By contrasting the happy-go-lucky image outsiders might impose on the midwest with this extraordinarily bloody sequence of events (and the many depraved criminals that have triggered it), you get a simple narrative that feels so tonally distinct from its many genre peers. 

I do believe the filmmakers knew full well what they were doing. “Fargo” chooses to lean into the assumptions I believe a large portion of the audience base might have imposed onto the midwest. 

The accents are as saturated as a packet of Caprisun, the dialogue can be rather goofy (even when not played for laughs) and there is a repetition of some generic phrases like “yah” and “you betcha” that keep calling into mind the softness, the politeness and the Canadian-lite-ness that the snooty LA media industry had — intentionally or not — tacked on to the population. This makes things all the more unsettling when we see witnesses shot, criminals cuss like they are in a Scorsese flick and bodies fed into wood chippers. It is like finding out your fun, goofy, sweater-vest-wearing uncle was caught murdering your aunt for the insurance.

But, while there is tension, this tonal dichotomy naturally leads to a rather triumphant conclusion. By the movie’s end, our most violent felon is caught by Marge, and she proceeds to lecture him like a disappointed mother. It is kind of funny, but highly resonant regardless. Our protagonist, Marge, is the very definition of a gentle expecting mother, usually cast in the sidelines in these types of films. Yet she has become one of cinema’s most engaging and awesome leads specifically because of these very same kindly and feminine traits. The very fact that she can watch somebody feed his partner into a woodchipper, shoot him in the leg, then gently chastise him like a schoolkid who just threw a rock at Suzan from third grade says a lot about her character. 

Dear reader, you cannot go wrong choosing “Fargo” for movie night. It is one of the quintessential — and most surprisingly optimistic — crime thrillers that will simultaneously warm your heart and chill you to the bone. THIS, Nitish, is a feel-good family flick. 

Well… ok, not family flick, there was that whole wood chipper thing, but you get it. 

Nitish:

Well, well, well. I take no small amount of pride that I’ve been able to infect the normally buoyant Mark with my uninspired teenage edginess to the point that he says that a movie about a grisly series of murders is a feel-good family flick. This column has clearly been a success. 

Anyways, “Fargo” is a wonderful movie. I agree with Mark that it’s sort of hard to accurately describe the appeal of this movie. The tone is a bit bizarre. There are some beautifully composed shots, but a lot of the cinematography is just solid. The story is a strange, sort of random, tale about a botched kidnapping con job. But somehow, “Fargo” is more than the sum of its parts. 

“Fargo” is such an astoundingly particular film that it’s difficult to write this review. It’s difficult to think of another murder mystery movie where the story is put on hold so that the lead detective can resist the awkward advances of an old friend who’s desperately lonely after the death of his wife. “Fargo” is ambitious in the almost total lack of ambition put on the frame. One of my favorite shots comes from this moment where the lead detective Marge (played perfectly by Frances McDormand) catches her breath to deal with her morning sickness and there’s a dead body framed in the background. In another brief conversation, she is informed that the old friend wasn’t actually married and that he’s instead dealing with some mental health issues. Why? I have no idea. It’s never mentioned again. 

“Fargo” seems to be going out of its way to make every aspect of this movie seem like this polite normalcy. A citizen gives a brief interview on how he heard someone saying that they were going to kill a man, and then lightly remarks on the weather. This artificial calm is thrown into sharp relief by the fact that all the actors use these Minnesota-isms, with the ever-present “oh jeez.” 

There are a lot of small things the Coen brothers do right: Everybody is characterized delightfully clearly. You see someone for a few minutes and you feel as though you’ve lived your entire life with them. The dialogue has this luxuriously lazy pace to it. There are all these small little moments of casual conversation between characters that make the film feel deeply grounded. But ultimately, the thing that’s so remarkable about “Fargo” is how unremarkable it makes itself. The Coen brothers have stripped away all the frills and fuss of other films and have instead made the crime and violence seem like this deeply natural, normal thing. It just sorta happens. The people who are living just go back to their lives. The people who are dead, or wood-chipped, just stay dead. It’s bizarre, but it works. 

I don’t know what this accomplishes exactly. But it’s amazing, warmly funny (somehow!) and it feels like you’ve just sat down in an old-fashioned diner and watched cars go by. I walk away from this film and on one hand I think I’ve watched a happy little slice-of-life documentary about a few Minnesotans. On the other hand, I think I’ve watched a brutal tragedy about greed and arrogance. It might not make sense how those two meld together, but they do. And that’s the magic of “Fargo,” folks. You should check it out.

Contact Mark York at mdyorkjr ‘at’ stanford.edu and Nitish Vaidyanathan at nitishv ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Land, language and legacy in ‘How Much of These Hills Is Gold’ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/27/land-language-and-legacy-in-how-much-of-these-hills-is-gold/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/27/land-language-and-legacy-in-how-much-of-these-hills-is-gold/#respond Wed, 28 Oct 2020 02:25:00 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174181 “This land is not your land,” Zhang writes at the beginning of “Hills.” America, with its ideal of freedom, exercises this very freedom with the continual subjugation of disadvantaged groups.

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“What makes a home a home?” 

Released during the very beginning of quarantine, C Pam Zhang’s debut novel “How Much of These Hills Is Gold” revisits the landscape of great American “Western literature” while exploring the Gold Rush through the previously unexplored lens of Chinese immigrants. Intertwining traditional Chinese folklore with historical context, Zhang raises questions of belonging, home, sexuality and more. Months after its publication, “Hills” became longlisted for the Booker Prize, and Zhang was subsequently nominated for the National Book Foundation’s “5 under 35.” 

“Hills” starts off with a quest: Sam and Lucy’s father, Ba, has died, and now they need to seek two silver dollars for a proper burial. Told as a constant back and forth between present and past and between action and memory, Lucy and Sam heave Ba’s dead body across a stolen horse in order to find a home for the body to lie in. For most of the first section (the book is divided into four), the two siblings traverse the rolling hills, remembering stories of buffalos and tigers, of burials and recipes and eventually finding a place to bury Ba’s body.

In the beginning of the book, Lucy and Sam each seem to have a parent whose personality they mirror. Lucy is Ma, with her beautiful face and persuasive voice; Sam is Ba, with his clenched fists and hard tone. Zhang develops all her characters with both grace and harshness, exemplified through Lucy’s belief that “what makes Ma most beautiful is the contradiction of her.” 

A blend of history and myth, the language of “Hills” is poetic without becoming pure poetry. Zhang’s words flow and blend into each other, becoming almost a stylistic microcosm of the rolling and tumbling hills. 

Though set in a historical time period, Zhang undermines the idea that history is purely factual. Through telling the stories of Chinese immigrants, Zhang creates space in a period that is conceived of as dominated by the white male gold digger — because of course white people weren’t the only people living on the West Coast during the Gold Rush, and of course there were Native Americans and Chinese and all different kinds of immigrants. This presumption of white-washed history is personified in the teacher Leigh, who promises to teach Lucy in exchange for Lucy’s stories about where she comes from, who calls Lucy “savage,” who calls her mother a different breed. Zhang calls into question history as objective; rather, she presents history as a series of what we chose to exemplify and what we chose to leave out. 

The question that eventually looms over the entire book starts out small: The question Ba asks Lucy, “What makes a dog a dog,” becomes an inside joke for the siblings, digressing into “What makes a bed a bed,” “What makes a boat a boat” and eventually, “What makes a home a home?Zhang doesn’t give us a straightforward answer. Instead, she gives us multiple: Tigers mark the home for Ma, while Ba belongs to the wind and buffalos; Lucy is somewhere in the middle, unsure of whether she can claim a land or let the land claim her. These potential answers become motifs that are revisited throughout the novel, repeating and rolling like the hills Lucy and Sam seek to navigate. Even though we don’t get a definite answer to these questions, there is a familiar longing for a land to return to, for a home that is beyond description. 

“This land is not your land,” Zhang writes at the beginning of “Hills.” America, with its ideal of freedom, exercises this very freedom with the continual subjugation of disadvantaged groups. Throughout history, marginalized groups have found themselves without a voice, without a space to call home. By imagining this beautiful story, Zhang has given us a story that prompts us to ask these difficult questions and to seek spaces for ourselves. As Lucy in the final scene of the novel, “She opens her mouth. She wants.” 

Contact Emma Wang at ekwang ‘at’ stanford.edu

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Borat is up to his old tricks in a new and divided America https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/26/borat-is-up-to-his-old-tricks-in-a-new-and-divided-america/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/26/borat-is-up-to-his-old-tricks-in-a-new-and-divided-america/#respond Tue, 27 Oct 2020 03:52:27 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174090 Is “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” an accurate portrayal of this hectic year? Probably. But will we look back on this sequel as an insightful time capsule, or as an outdated flick of little consequence?

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A “Borat” sequel was always going to face some challenges.

The original 2006 film relied on the element of surprise. Sacha Baron Cohen’s creation, Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiyev, wormed his way into rodeos, dinner parties and meetings with politicians like Alan Keyes and Bob Barr. Because nobody besides Baron Cohen and the production team knew the persona was a farce, these unscripted, real-life encounters proved illuminating. Not only did Americans tolerate Borat’s anti-Semitism and antiziganism (ostensibly customary in his faux-foreign culture) out of reflexive politeness, but they were emboldened by his blatant bigotry to express their own deeply racist and homophobic beliefs.

But now, 14 years later, “Borat” has established itself in the modern comedy canon. And its eponymous character — with his thick mustache, gray business suit and catch-all Eastern European accent — has become too iconic and recognizable. How could a Borat revival elicit honest responses from people if they were already in on the joke?

Borat is up to his old tricks in a new and divided America
(Photo: Amazon Prime Video)

One of Baron Cohen’s solutions is the art of disguise — Borat masquerades as “typical” Americans, including John Chevrolet, Professor Phillip Drummond III and, of course, President McDonald Trump. But the second, more effective solution is the introduction of a new character: Borat’s 15-year-old daughter, Tutar (Maria Bakalova in a star-making turn). Bakalova’s anonymity allows Tutar to take the stage at a Republican women’s club assembly and secure an interview with Rudy Giuliani. And, although not included in the final cut of the film, she recently infiltrated the White House. As Tutar, Bakalova is utterly fearless and her comic timing is on par with Baron Cohen’s.

In fact, thanks to the addition of Bakalova, “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” (now streaming on Amazon Prime Video) eclipses its predecessor in some respects. The first film’s narrative momentum came from Borat’s lust after Pamela Anderson; his motivation to find and marry her served as a loose framework to link his various, random interactions with people across the country. Here, however, the story is more coherent — Borat comes to America to “gift” his daughter as a bride to Vice President “Mikhael” Pence. Since the relationship between Borat and Tutar is well-developed, the movie’s turning points actually hold emotional weight. Baron Cohen and Bakalova have an easy chemistry, so their scripted scenes together feel worthwhile, not merely obligatory to form a narrative throughline.

Whereas the original “Borat” examined xenophobia in a post-9/11 “US and A” in the thick of its War on Terror, “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” turns its attention to misogyny in the Trump era. Unlike Borat’s quest to locate Anderson, Tutar has no agency in her search for a husband — she is being offered by her father. This sequel, for all its deliberately flagrant instances of sexism, understands the nuances of gender power imbalances. Tutar is coached by an experienced sugar baby, considers breast implants and idolizes “Queen Melania.” In one of the movie’s best scenes, Borat and Tutar visit a pro-life crisis pregnancy center. (The clinic, Faith for Fathers, advertises on its website that “[its] goal is to help dads leave a Godly legacy”.) In a series of miscommunications, Borat obliviously implies that Tutar is pregnant and that he is the father. The pastor they meet with advises, “God doesn’t make accidents.” Furthermore, the film’s most buzzed-about sequence — the compromising culmination of Tutar’s interview with Giuliani — addresses head-on the misogyny and objectification women must navigate in the professional world.

But even this “scandalous” exposé isn’t so shocking. The idea that our political leaders could be gullible and crooked is hardly a revelation. A decade ago, it was unexpected to see Americans espousing such overt hatred; today, we no longer need Borat to draw out these horrifying responses — they have become normalized in a news cycle that puts its hands up in outrage one day and moves on the next.

That’s not to say that this sequel has nothing of value to add. When Borat shelters in place with two QAnon conspiracy theorists, they contend that the Clintons drink the blood of children — that this belief is somehow less startling to viewers than Tutar’s proud public display of her “moon blood” is pretty incisive cultural commentary on the stigmatization of women’s issues. And hearing Americans cheering to “chop [journalists] up like the Saudis do” and “gas [scientists] up like the Germans” is certainly appalling. But what do these episodes really tell us? Do they change anyone’s minds?

The original “Borat” was not the most well-constructed story, but the improvised feel was part of its charm and it shone as a brilliant satire. Though “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” is a solid comedy anchored by two exemplary lead performances, the 2020 edition of Borat simply does not have the same shock value as its 2006 counterpart.

Is “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” an accurate portrayal of this hectic year? Probably. But will we look back on this sequel as an insightful time capsule, or as an outdated flick of little consequence?

Contact Jared Klegar at jkklegar ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Frameline44, part 2: Coming-of-age tales https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/25/frameline44-part-2-coming-of-age-tales/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/25/frameline44-part-2-coming-of-age-tales/#respond Mon, 26 Oct 2020 03:00:31 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174028 In these three LGBTQ films, all of which could be considered coming-of-age films beyond featuring teens or young adults, something is learned and hard, existential truths about the world are taught. This, of course, is often a hallmark of coming-of-age films. But “Alice Júnior,” “No Hard Feelings” and “Cocoon” all take the coming-of-age narrative and run with it in different directions, situated terrifically within their national and cultural contexts.

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This is the second piece in The Daily’s Frameline44 coverage. This piece covers select coming-of-age films from the festival. Due to film embargoes, some of The Daily’s coverage will be released upon their respective digital or cinematic releases.

In these three LGBTQ films, all of which could be considered coming-of-age films beyond featuring teens or young adults, something is learned and hard, existential truths about the world are taught. This, of course, is often a hallmark of coming-of-age films. But “Alice Júnior,” “No Hard Feelings” and “Cocoon” all take the coming-of-age narrative and run with it in different directions, situated terrifically within their national and cultural contexts.

“No Hard Feelings” (2020, Faraz Shariat, German title: “Futur Drei”)

“No Hard Feelings” is a unique film and is perhaps my favorite of the entirety of Frameline44. Its beauty is hard-won and pays off in its imagery and creative non-linearity as you go further into the film. “No Hard Feelings” won the prestigious Teddy Award at Berlinale 2020, joining the ranks of Lisa Chodolenko’s “The Kids Are Alright,” Lukas Moodysson’s “Show Me Love,” Cheryl Dunye’s “The Watermelon Woman,” Rose Troche’s “Go Fish” and Todd Haynes’ “Poison.” 

Depicted in part through its marketing, the film’s thematic center is best represented through its German title, “Futur Drei” (literally “Future Three”). That is, the three central characters who vow to remain together in the future even if they’re separated. But for them, this vision of the future is difficult. “No Hard Feelings” follows Parvis (Benjamin Radjaipour), an Iranian-German young adult who must do community service hours at a refugee center. This is where he meets the Iranian siblings Amon (Eidin Jalali) and Banafshe (Banafshe Hourmazdi) who are seeking asylum in Germany. Forces beyond their control threaten to tear their carefully constructed world apart when one of the siblings is threatened with a deportation order.

For Parvis, Amon and Banafshe, they are one another’s worlds. They take shelter in each other, Parvis provides an outlet for the siblings who were forced to leave their entire lives behind and the siblings provide an outlet for Parvis, as he otherwise hides his queerness from outsiders. Amon and Banafshe have an incredibly close bond, but when Parvis and Amon hit it off, a whole new world is unlocked for the three of them — along with the struggles that come with being queer in a land that doesn’t accept them both as ethnic minorities and as queer individuals.

The magnificence of “No Hard Feelings” comes in its creative distortion of reality. When the inevitable starts to click into place, the film takes this “future three” beyond the scope of reality, portraying a mind-bending selection of snapshots of perhaps what could have happened. “No Hard Feelings” reimagines the relationships and lives of the three friends if the siblings could have both stayed in Germany, even if we know what “really” happens in real life. Because when they promise to stay together, they mean it. Just because they’re not with each other doesn’t mean they don’t exist as three forever, together.

“No Hard Feelings” has been picked up for a US release through M-Appeal.

“Alice Júnior” (2019, Gil Baroni)

Frameline44, part 2: Coming-of-age tales
A still from “Alice Júnior.” (Photo: Moro Filmes)

The film centers on the titular Alice Júnior (Anne Celestino), a trans Brazilian high school student who becomes a semi-famous Youtuber after competing on a modeling reality TV show. Alice takes the “júnior” as a nod to her father, Jean Genet (Emmanuel Rosset), with whom she shared a name before she transitioned. Her father’s name, cleverly, is most likely a riff off of Jean Genet, a French novelist whose works contained extraordinarily homoerotic themes and material. Her father studies scents and creates extremely rare perfumes from natural ingredients, only adding to the delightful absurdity of why they must uproot themselves and move to a small, conservative and fictional town in the south of Brazil. They must go where the Araucaria angustifolia, or Brazilian pine — a critically endangered species — exists.

As Alice learns to navigate the rather hostile school environment, makes friends and crushes on a boy, all she longs for is to have her first kiss. As such, some have described “Alice Júnior” as a trans “Booksmart.” And stylistically it is in many ways, adding an Instagram-sticker-esque flair with animations and sound effects that pop up throughout the film. But, it also features an even more wildly diverse cast of characters, even giving Alice’s single father a romantic arc featuring a quirky plant-loving woman. 

The film’s one major drawback is that it spreads its short runtime over many characters and miniature arcs, never able to devote enough time to all of them. But all in all, “Alice Júnior” is a fun, fulfilling watch with a fantastic pop and hip-hop soundtrack featuring trans and gender non-conforming Brazilian musical artists. It’s a refreshing take on the coming-of-age comedies that populate American cinema today, and great news — you can watch “Alice Júnior” on Netflix now. You might even see Alice get that first kiss she’s always dreamed of — but not in the ways that she or you might expect.

“Cocoon” (2020, Leonie Krippendorff, German title: “Kokon”)

Frameline44, part 2: Coming-of-age tales
A still from “Cocoon.” (Photo: M-Appeal)

Germany is hitting it out of the park this year with queer coming-of-age films, next with “Cocoon,” another film from Berlinale 2020. Reminiscent of the slow, water-filled cinematography of Céline Sciamma’s 2006 queer film “Water Lilies,” “Cocoon” dwells in the color grandeur of Berlin and is just as much a portrait of life in Berlin as it is of its protagonist, 14-year-old Nora (Lena Urzendowsky). 

Taking place during a hot summer in the Kottbusser Tor area of the Kreuzberg district of Berlin, “Cocoon” follows Nora and her older, more popular sister Jule (Lena Klenke) as Nora is taken along with her sister to pool parties with Jule’s popular clique. While Jule and her friends openly flirt with boys, Nora’s drawn to Romy (Jella Haase), a tomboyish girl who easily hits it off as friends with the boys, much to Jule’s dismay. As Nora and Romy strike up something of a romantic friendship, they run the gamut of activities together — breaking into the pool at night and swimming, hanging out in Berlin together and even going to Pride together. The film slowly changes the tight aspect ratio to a wide one over the course of one pivotal scene — a freedom you might not even realize you were missing until you have it, just like Nora learns over the course of the film.

It’s Nora’s open, honest innocence about her sexuality that makes “Cocoon” so different. Nora blatantly says she’s attracted to girls like others around her are attracted to boys, and when one teacher laughs at her and tells her otherwise, Nora simply ignores the teacher and continues exploring and embracing her sexuality. It’s also a queer coming-of-age story that isn’t just about queer discovery — it’s also about sisterhood, living in Berlin, alcoholic single parents and straining against conformity beyond one’s sexuality. The true magic of “Cocoon” is in its cinematography more than its story, but its narrative is one of joy and youthful excitement in truly experiencing love and learning from it, even if it is fleeting.

Contact Olivia Popp at oliviapopp ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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‘Emily in Paris’ is a cog in the machine of capitalism https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/25/emily-in-paris-is-a-cog-in-the-machine-of-capitalism/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/25/emily-in-paris-is-a-cog-in-the-machine-of-capitalism/#respond Mon, 26 Oct 2020 03:00:16 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1174026 “Emily in Paris” makes a capitalist argument a moral argument. By deeming one culture better than another, one economic system more virtuous than another, Star’s Netflix show makes caricatures of the French and parrots the idea that America is best.

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Meet Emily: She is waifish, beautiful and wholly American. We know she is American because she adores her job at a marketing firm, runs 5.3 miles in 41 minutes and has an all-American boyfriend who drinks beer and likes the Cubs. He goes to sports bars and wears button-down shirts.

In the pilot of its 2020 comedy-drama “Emily in Paris,” Netflix has given us a technicolor propaganda short for American exceptionalism. Starring Lily Collins as Emily Cooper, the show follows a Chicago marketing executive who relocates to Paris to help a luxury brand with its “social media engagement.” (An exciting paradox: Emily herself has only 48 followers on Instagram.) 

Made by “Sex and the City” creator Darren Star, “Emily in Paris” retains his signature mimosas-and-kitten-heels aesthetic while introducing a preoccupation with an American “love of work” and how the French are simply too “laissez-faire” to handle it.

Star’s Paris is the Panera Bread French onion soup of France depictions: see-through, bland and a little bit cheesy. Every Frenchman is attractive and sexually interested in Emily and every woman is middle-aged, judgy and rude. There is an entire scene dedicated strictly to the eating of a pain au chocolat — just a few berets away from being outright cartoonish. Emily flits through Paris like a guest at the Epcot World Showcase — speaking English to every cashier, getting offended if misunderstood — and eventually summarizes her impressions to her all-American sports boyfriend by saying, “The entire city looks like Ratatouille.” (The caricatures do not end here. In one scene, Emily’s bosses are discussing what kind of people they would be without pleasure. Her boss’s response? “German.”)

This is where the central tension of the pilot is revealed: Emily does not know any French. Her new coworkers are aghast. When she uses a voice app to translate herself from English to French, one coworker who wears whimsical white glasses physically runs away. Soon enough, the whole office is calling her “la plouc” — “the hick.” With blatant rudeness, they talk ill of her to her face and refuse to grab lunch with her.

Yet, Emily is saved by her signature American can-do attitude. When presenting her social media ideas to the team, her coworkers question her and her qualifications. Why do they need the perspective of this American girl who doesn’t know French?

“The French are masters of social media,” says one coworker. 

“True,” replies Emily. “But Americans invented it, which is why I hope to be a valuable member of your team.”

This is single-handedly one of the best justifications for a job candidacy I’ve ever heard. It’s like saying you should inherit Frito-Lay because an American national invented the potato chip. Despite no qualifications or expertise, the show expects us to root for Emily as she operates with an American entitlement that deems her too unbothered to truly learn the language, to accept criticism or to listen to any advice at all. After all, she is doe-eyed and excited, and that should be enough. She’s there to “fake it ‘til you make it” more than anything.

The French, meanwhile, are portrayed as lazy and unmotivated. At Emily’s office, everyone starts working at 10:30 a.m. The coworkers smoke cigarettes and talk shop and go to long lunches — all to be contrasted with Emily’s spreadsheets-and-iced-coffee persona.

This contrasting portrayal of French and American work habits becomes my central qualm with Star’s “Emily in Paris.” While the French are depicted as sophisticated and pleasure-driven, the show virtue signals that a “work to live” instead of “live to work” mentality is morally wrong. Emily, meanwhile, is quick to claim that she enjoys work, that working hard and doing a good job make her happy.

This tension is best encapsulated in an exchange Emily has with her coworker Luc. Luc is the zany Frenchman of the show, which we know because he has wispy Einstein hair, rides an electric scooter and vapes casually. As the ethical heartbeat of the office, Luc approaches Emily in an outdoor cafe to apologize for how rude the other employees have been.

“[We are afraid of] your ideas,” Luc explains. “They are more new. Maybe they are better … Maybe we feel we have to work harder, make more money.”

The undercurrent of this exchange works out to this: American Emily has better ideas, the French are too lazy to work hard and innovate and without an unqualified American twentysomething the brand is doomed for failure. The rhetoric here reinforces the notion that the American should live to work, should enjoy their work and inspire others to love their work too. Can’t Luc stop vaping for one second to get this?

By playing into central interests of capitalism — to convince the laborer to value their worth by production and to be emotionally invested in their production — “Emily in Paris” creates an ethic in which to find joy and fulfillment in labor is deemed the moral be-all and end-all. In an interview with podcaster Jay Shetty, Collins admits this, “[Emily] has all these attributes that admittedly get a bad rap — like loving to work.” Yet, the issue is not Emily’s individual love of work — that might be fine within a more multidimensional character. The problem is that it’s her only personality trait. 

The character’s identity is largely derived from what the show calls a “can-do attitude.” But, in reality, this “can-do attitude” is an insistence that her social media acumen is inherently better than that of the French, that she should talk about her marketing deals for pharmaceutical products at dinner parties and that the pleasure-driven whims and fancies of the French are ethically inferior.

“Emily in Paris” makes a capitalist argument a moral argument. By deeming one culture better than another, one economic system more virtuous than another, Star’s Netflix show makes caricatures of the French and parrots the idea that America is best.

Contact Valerie Trapp at trappv22 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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Movies to watch in quarantine: ‘La La Land’ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/22/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-la-la-land/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/22/movies-to-watch-in-quarantine-la-la-land/#respond Fri, 23 Oct 2020 01:33:26 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1173969 “La La Land” follows two aspiring artists, a wanna-be actor, Mia, and a broke jazz pianist, Sebastian, who have both come to Hollywood in the hopes of becoming big stars. The two eventually meet and fall in love, but as they begin to find success our couple struggles to maintain their relationship.

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Hi! We’re Mark and Nitish, and we (like most of you we hope) are practicing social distancing to help prevent the spread of coronavirus. We recognize that this is a super stressful time for a lot of people, and that many of you are being harmed by the virus in one way or another. So, we thought we’d do something that would hopefully lighten the mood. We are going to be watching and reviewing movies available on streaming platforms. Our column will be published every Wednesday and Friday, and we plan on reviewing one movie a day. That makes things easier for us procrastinators! We hope that you can watch along, send us your thoughts, and recommend movies that you like or want us to watch. Best of luck to all of you in these trying times!

La La Land” (Released in 2016; watched by us on October 20, 2020)

A musical by Damien Chazelle. We watched it on HBO Go!

Mark:

I knew going into this review that “Moonlight” is an undeniable cultural milestone that I, quite frankly, am intimidated to talk about. That day, however, is not today. I just really wanted to make fun of the Oscars some more. In case the reader is too young to remember the infamous 2016 Oscars mix-up, this is what I’m referencing.

No, dear reader, we really are discussing “La La Land” today. It has been an intense few weeks for our movie column. We discussed a tragic action flick, a mind-bending acid trip and a potentially problematic, though undeniably effective horror movie that, to this day, still gives me the shivers. I just want to smile, dear reader; I am human too! So, Nitish and I decided to talk about something lighter, something fluffier… and entertainment does not get much more fun than the musical. 

“La La Land” follows two aspiring artists, a wanna-be actor, Mia, and a broke jazz pianist, Sebastian, who have both come to Hollywood in the hopes of becoming big stars. The two eventually meet and fall in love, but as they begin to find success our couple struggles to maintain their relationship. 

This is almost as Hollywood as premises can get. We all know that actors love movies about actors and filmmakers love movies about filmmakers. Often, this can lead to pretentious messes in which the film industry gets so stuck inside its own butt that it completely forgets about the audience. While I am not sure whether Nitish or I have complained about this yet in our column, let it be said that these are frustrations we both share (look forward to our inevitable “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” review). But, I do not think “La La Land” has that problem. 

Dear reader, you can probably call this movie sugary, saccharine or even wholesome to a vomit-inducing degree enough to make even your Webkinz doll roll their beady eyes, but it does not gatekeep. “La La Land” is fun and accessible while still being technically impressive and possessing an adequate narrative.

This film is the rare, happy marriage between New York’s Broadway scene and the movie studios of California. After the infamous release of “Cats,” I do believe a movie musical done right ought to be appreciated. While in films like this decade’s “Les Miserables” the audience is forced to watch uncomfortably as the director actively fights against their source material in favor of their own vision, “La La Land” does not share that issue. It is not an adaptation. It tells its own story and sings its own songs, which were designed solely for the medium. This allows “La La Land” to stand out as both a movie and as a musical.

The filmmaking is, quite frankly, incredible. This is especially true of its cinematography. “La La Land” is easily distinguished by its long, sweeping shots which follow its actors for long stretches of time. We watch as our characters interact with the set and dance, giving their performances time to breathe and the audiences time to realize how impressive these routines are. When a musical number occurs, cuts are treated sparingly, more like blackouts in a traditional musical. The final sequence of the movie manages to even create the illusion of time passing in one continuous shot by using wheel-away sets and pantomiming in a way more common with stage productions. 

There is no need for ridiculously over-the-top stunt work like in “The Greatest Showman” (It’s a terrible movie, change my mind!) or for the laughable need for realism that eventually gave us “Cats.” “La La Land” does not distract from the rough edges or even some of the arguable limits of the theater shows it was clearly based on. Instead, this movie uses its stylistic flourishes and Hollywood budget to package the awe and fun of attending a live performance. I am surprised that we haven’t seen more films learn from this example. 

I am not without complaints, I admit. Perhaps my bitter singleness is revealing itself, but when I first saw “La La Land” (barely paying attention to it as it was put on in my living room) I interpreted the final sequence as suggesting more of a trade-off between following your dreams and the little moments in life. In one timeline, our leads reach stardom; in the other, they remain together and start a family. Turns out, what that final sequence was really suggesting was that stardom was inevitable and that our leads could have gotten both if they’d played their cards right. I personally find this to be a much less interesting message. I admit, I liked my initial assumption of what this movie was about more. 

I do wish at points that “La La Land” had a bit more roughness to it, some more sand in this tropical paradise. But, this is not the day I want to look a gift horse in the mouth. “La La Land” is the movie musical, and I have never seen anybody who did not crack a smile seeing it. 

Nitish:

So, dear reader, I hope that you realize that I like serious movies. Movies about theology or war or politics or race or love or hatred or stuff like that. The kind of film that I can hold on to as a temporary tonic to placate the imposter syndrome that is a bit of an inevitable consequence of going to a school like Stanford. People can’t sing in my movies! I like serious movies, movies where people live and die, movies that have real stakes to them. To leave your car to belt out a song amidst a carefully choreographed dance sequence? No. Absolutely not. Such a thing would degrade the sanctity of film as a mechanism for broadening the mind, for making a person think and making them uncomfortable. I went so far as to tell my good friend Noah that I hated musicals. He managed to convince me to watch “Singin’ in the Rain,” and I in turn managed to steel my mind and body and keep myself from smiling or tapping my foot along to the film’s insidious attempts to deceive me into enjoying it. 

And one of the consequences of my performatively cynical taste in movies is that I have to pick sides. I have to say that one movie is better than another. And, after the snafu at the 2016 Academy Awards where “La La Land” seemed to get the nod over “Moonlight,” the obviously superior film, I had to double down on my support for “Moonlight” by leading a pointless crusade against “La La Land.” You see, “Moonlight” is a genuine masterpiece, one of the finest achievements of American film. Every frame seems to be wrought out of the titular substance with such lush cinematography that Roger Deakins would sell both his eyeballs to the devil if it meant he could construct a single frame half as beautiful as one lying on Jenkins’ cutting-room floor. It features several astonishing performances. Its tale of a young Black man struggling to come to terms with his sexuality is poignant, heart-rending, deeply emotionally arresting and sadly an outlier in an industry that still has a lot of work to do on diversity. And as a result of “Moonlight’s” genuinely generational perfection, its ability to elevate the craft, “La La Land” became to me, and I think a lot of people, a sort of stand-in for the moldy Hollywood milieu that “Moonlight” had risen past. 

But then, against all odds, I ended up liking “La La Land.” And I realized that I was being super unfair to it. Reader, I hope you realize that I’m an idiot with a massive ego and that it takes a lot for an idiot with a massive ego to admit that he’s wrong. And here I am. 

I’ll start off with the cinematography. To be clear, it’s not as good as Laxton and Jenkins’ extraordinary achievement in “Moonlight.” But Sandgren and Chazelle are still operating at a cut above the batting average in “La La Land,” with some really impressive long takes where the camera operator moves in rhythm with the music. The camera work is clearly handheld, and “La La Land” is so much better for the fleshly presence that it brings. The best part about the visuals of Chazelle’s film is indisputably the color palette. Los Angeles is a living oil painting in “La La Land” with deep reds and rich blues that pop in the night. The music is pretty good too! 

And then, the narrative. For the first half of the movie, I was not enjoying it. At all. I still found the idea of people spontaneously breaking into song and dance bizarre. Moreover, the spontaneous song and dance seemed to contribute to the tone of a movie far too saccharine for my tastes. At first blush, “La La Land” seems to be yet another installment in Hollywood’s long tradition of self-adulatory unobjectionable meet-cutes where two attractive people manage to find a way to love each other despite the fact that scheduling their first date was slightly inconvenient. LA is portrayed as this magical land where the ordinary is alchemically transformed into something eternal and beautiful. Altogether far too sunny for my more, ahem, refined tastes. And the movie seems to start off with this almost relentless optimism that feels fake. 

But Chazelle starts to subvert that narrative in interesting and profound ways. I don’t want to spoil anything, but the romance doesn’t end up totally as intended. At one point, Ryan Gosling’s Sebastien says that “LA worships everything but values nothing,” and Chazelle seems to be refuting that point (and my own cynicism) by articulating a very real type of value of Hollywood. Hollywood, Chazelle seems to be arguing, is not about the type of success that the movie’s characters attain, but rather about the bright optimism and love of art that propels them there. It doesn’t work out, perhaps. The romance may fade. But, Chazelle shows us that even if Hollywood doesn’t end up living to the hype, there is a real beauty to the romanticism that will continue to guide generations of romantics there. 

So “La La Land” is still not a true masterpiece, I don’t think. It’s a little too proud of itself, and despite a depth that surprised me I still think it could have been more profound. It’s definitely way worse than “Moonlight,” with a fraction of the heart contained in that tale. But “La La Land” is still an ode to artists and dreamers that is lyrical, idyllic and strangely elegiac. It’s not the best movie I’ve watched on the power of art this COVID-movie-marathon — “Portrait of a Lady on Fire,” “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” and “I Lost My Body” all come to mind — but it is still good. I’d watch it again.

I couldn’t figure out a way to fit this into the review naturally, so I’ll just ineptly tack it on at the end: Black Thought’s new album is fantastic.

Contact Mark York at mdyorkjr ‘at’ stanford.edu and Nitish Vaidyanathan at nitishv ‘at stanford.edu.

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Stanford alums’ ‘Superstore’ delivers real comedy while taking on important topics https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/20/stanford-alums-superstore-delivers-real-comedy-while-taking-on-important-topics/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/20/stanford-alums-superstore-delivers-real-comedy-while-taking-on-important-topics/#respond Wed, 21 Oct 2020 03:51:25 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1173866 The 2015 sitcom was created by Justin Spitzer and is co-produced by Stanford alumni Jonathan Green ’95 and Gabe Miller ’93. Aside from being genuinely good comedy (“Superstore” is way better than “The Office,” in my opinion), the show touches on important and relevant topics such as labor issues, culture and identity and immigration among many others.

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Content warning: Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detainment

Are you looking for a new show to commit to during quarantine? In search of good comedy? Look no further than NBC’s “Superstore.” The 2015 sitcom was created by Justin Spitzer and is co-produced by Stanford alumni Jonathan Green ’95 and Gabe Miller ’93.

Season six of “Superstore” is set to air on Oct. 29, after season five ended with main characters Amy Sosa and Jonah Simms headed for Palo Alto.

Aside from being genuinely good comedy (“Superstore” is way better than “The Office,” in my opinion), the show touches on important and relevant topics such as labor issues, culture and identity and immigration among many others — something I really appreciate.

The show is centered around a retail warehouse store in St. Louis, Missouri. This branch belongs to the large Cloud 9 franchise, which eventually becomes owned by parent company Zephra. While the show mainly focuses on the experiences of main character Amy Sosa, it does a good job of equally showcasing the lives of supporting characters. 

At the beginning of the series, we are introduced to Amy, portrayed by America Ferrera who is also a co-producer for the series. Amy is a floor supervisor at Cloud 9 Store #1217 and eventually works her way up to store manager. She is headed to Cloud 9 Headquarters to become Director of Customer Experience, through which she would oversee all locations. When contemplating the offer, Amy feels guilty about becoming a “sellout” by accepting the position. This stems from the idea of tokenism in the workplace, which is brought up in the season five finale. She is reluctant to accept the role as she realizes she was offered the position because she is Latina and not because of her merit and qualifications. After thinking about this dilemma more, Amy accepts the position and plans on moving to Palo Alto. While the basis of this offer is controversial, by having Amy become Director of Customer Experience, the show is depicting the tearing down of glass ceilings, something that needs to be worked on in the real world.

Furthermore, the cast and characters have diverse backgrounds and experiences. This not only allows audiences to see themselves in film and television, something that hasn’t always been historically true, but validates audiences and their stories. UCLA’s Hollywood Diversity Report 2019 illustrates that while there is an increase in representation in the entertainment industry, women and minorities remain underrepresented. 

According to the report, 77% of top film roles were played by white actors/actresses. Further, among most racial and ethnic groups, women were significantly underrepresented as featured actors in the top 2017 films. The industry still has a long way to go. The report also illustrates that audiences prefer works with a diverse cast. 

Among the amazing and diverse cast of “Superstore” are Ferrera (lead of ABC’s 2006 “Ugly Betty,” which is an adaption of the Colombian telenovela “Yo soy Betty, la fea”), Ben Feldman (“The Perfect Man”), Nico Santos (“Crazy Rich Asians”), Kaliko Kauahi (NBC’s “Parks and Recreation”), and many others.

My first encounter with the show was with the season four finale, “Employee Appreciation Day,” in which store associate Mateo Liwanag is detained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) after Cloud 9 corporate sends ICE to the St. Louis branch after learning about Mateo’s undocumented status. Though the audience is made aware of Mateo’s undocumented status earlier in the series, some of the characters first learn about it during this episode. 

“Employee Appreciation Day” first aired in May 2019, which was around the time the Trump administration began to threaten undocumented families through ICE raids targeting certain cities. I was stunned that a show had raised awareness around the undocumented status in the United States and covered the topic of ICE and ICE raids. 

At the end of the episode, I knew I had to watch more of this show. I admire its ability to cover sensitive topics and recent controversies. Not only does the show actually make me laugh, but it’s relatable on so many levels, it does not resort to cheap, dirty humor and it’s real. Real in the sense that I can see many different people, personalities and perspectives represented in it. 

Contact Rosana Maris Arias at rosmar18 ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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What to watch: ‘A Fistful of Dollars’ (1964) https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/20/what-to-watch-a-fistful-of-dollars-1964/ https://stanforddaily.com/2020/10/20/what-to-watch-a-fistful-of-dollars-1964/#respond Wed, 21 Oct 2020 03:43:30 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1173739 Despite being Italian, “A Fistful of Dollars” is the Western in its thickest, purest form. Every scene is either a shootout or exposition necessary for the next one. No hoedowns in a saloon, no speechifying from pioneer dads on rocking chairs about hard work and frontier values. Just shootouts, scenes leading to shootouts and more shootouts.

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“Get three coffins ready,” says a cigarillo-chewing, serape-clad Clint Eastwood. He plays a nameless man talking to the town’s undertaker. Eastwood approaches a group of baddies, an argument ensues, guns are drawn and the Man with No Name rides back to the undertaker. “My mistake. Four coffins.”

After arriving in the New Mexican town of San Miguel, a man walks up to Eastwood and tries to sell him on the town — and he gives him one hell of a pitch. “Everyone here has become very rich — or else they are dead,” he tells Eastwood. And many people do die in this film: According to the Movie Body Counts website, 98 on-screen deaths take place in this 99-minute runtime, while the All Outta Bubble Gum website records a mere 94 on-screen deaths. But why does everyone kill each other in this tiny town, you may ask? It all comes down to a feud between two rival smuggling clans: the Rojos and the Baxters. Eastwood is pretty quick on the draw and uses this skill to play both sides off each other, going from gunfight to gunfight until he happens to clean up the town altogether.

It’s important to remember that this is an Italian film — the very first “Spaghetti Western.” It was not shot on the llanos of New Mexico, but in the countryside of old Spain and the studios of ’60s Rome. The film is the work of iconic director Sergio Leone, the father of the Spaghetti Western. As such, the film is slower and less talky than your average American film. Leone knows that the eyes tell the most. He lingers between wide shots of the Western-like landscapes of southern Spain and extreme close-ups before the guns are fired. And Leone knows he can lean on the score of the late great Ennio Morricone. Morricone manages not just to compose a theme; he writes in this score the emptiness of the Western landscape, the peril that awaits the viewer, the creatures of this hostile terrain — be they poisonous scorpions or ruthless bandits.

Despite being Italian, “A Fistful of Dollars” is the Western in its thickest, purest form. Every scene is either a shootout or exposition necessary for the next one. No hoedowns in a saloon, no speechifying from pioneer dads on rocking chairs about hard work and frontier values. Just shootouts, scenes leading to shootouts and more shootouts.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is a fun but brutal watch. Those two don’t often go together — it’s like pairing a fine Italian wine with a Big Mac. But when it comes to gut-punching films that inspired an entire cinematic movement, then it doesn’t get much better.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is available for streaming on Amazon Prime. 

Contact Mark Huerta at huertam ‘at’ stanford.edu.

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