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Throwback to September 2016, when the internet met the 13–year–old who challenged an entire audience—or hoes, as she referred to them—to a fight on Dr. Phil. We simultaneously were appalled and amused by this tough–faced, Floridian white–girl who stole cars and claimed her “Brooklyn” accent was "from the streets."
He’s topped the iTunes charts, headlined international tours, and collaborated with Ed Sheeran—but at the end of the day, Hoodie Allen is Steve Markowitz (W '10)—Penn grad who spent his freshman year at Hill house and still remembers team building in Management 100. On the 8th Floor of Huntsman Hall, Hoodie walked into a room of eager Penn students with a “Ben Franklin Quakers” purple t–shirt and a beaming smile. He was excited to be back on campus, and we were excited to have him.
College is supposed to be a time for trying new things and figuring out who you are, which for some of us serves as an invitation to finally buy that mahogany Gibson Les Paul you’ve been wanting to learn how to play ever since fourth grade. Then, you go to the Gibson website and see that the guitar of your dreams costs just shy of $3,000 and think maybe playing an instrument isn’t for you.
Against a backdrop of window frames looking out onto Locust, a girl raps to the beat playing from her phone. "This is me, liquefied to words", she belts into the mic, hand gesturing back and forth to the rhythm of her lyrics. When she finishes, sound applause smatters among the audience filed in rows of folding chairs, and she steps back to her seat, a grin glowing from her cheeks.
Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and Lucy Dacus are familiar names to anyone that’s been paying attention to new indie rock music over the last couple of years. But to most, they are part of what is now an often referred to trend of female artists finally rising to the kind of prominence they’ve always deserved. And while this new and more mainstream appreciation of rock music from women is something to be lauded and continued, the new Baker–Bridgers–Dacus supergroup, boygenius, points out the still underlying misogyny in these discussions of successful female musicianship.
Three Fridays ago, I went to a concert with a group of friends, having bought tickets together months in advance. My friend, in a panic, texted me beforehand urgently, “what are u wearing tonight?? I always worry irrationally about what to wear to concerts.” I responded by detailing the tried and true uniform I’ve adopted for concert–going: comfy jeans that don’t restrict mobility; a neutral tank top to keep cool amongst sweaty crowds; a jacket with secure, zippered pockets so my belongings don’t fly out; and most essentially, my platform converse sneakers for optimum dancing and the edge that the extra couple inches lend in a general–admission free–for–all.
Need some light reading—that isn't for your Sociology class—over Thanksgiving break? Check out our roundup of late–fall book releases for some suggestions.
I remember the anxious moments of rewinding a VCR tape, pounding my pudgy kid finger on the button and willing it to go faster. We had a whole collection of Disney films on VCR, and even after the major switch to DVDs swept the nation, we kept our tapes out of a sense of what I can only call nostalgia. In 2017, when the live–action Beauty and the Beast hit marquees, I was no exception to the flock of teenage girls paying to rewatch an old classic. I hunkered down in the movie theatre seat with my pulse in the tips of my fingers as I reached for the popcorn in my sister’s lap, all too ready to feel a new sense of enlightenment or excitement from an old story. Let’s just say that I was profoundly disappointed.
Last week at the Philadelphia Film Festival, I sat through a four–hour movie. At the Ritz Five movie theater starting at dusk, I plopped down in my seat, constantly shifting around and losing focus. After dozing off within the first hour of the movie, there was a point when I wanted to exit the theater. I thought I knew exactly where the movie was going, and in my mind, I had thought up the perfect movie review headline: “An Elephant Sitting Still is Proof that Movies Should Be No Longer than Two and a Half Hours.” By midnight, my view couldn’t have changed more dramatically.
We hear music everywhere: on the radio, on our way to class, at our events, and yes, in the TV shows comprising our Netflix sessions. But shows centered around music and the music industry – scripted, plotline-based shows (excluding reality TV programs a la “American Idol”) – were scarce until the massive success of “Glee” a decade ago (don’t worry, it got onto the list). Now, shows focused on the trials and tribulations of being a musician and making it in the industry have grown much more common. Highlighted below are some of the best TV shows about music out there. Happy binge-watching!
Armed with a realtor’s license and yoga instructor certification, Eliza Culp (C ’20) could sell you a house and teach you warrior poses at the same time. Even without knowing her, one can immediately tell that this quirky, witty junior from Sarasota, Florida is a girl of many talents. However, after just one conversation, it’s clear that Eliza has one passion that stems deeper than the rest—art. As a member of the Collctve, stylist for The Walk, and seasoned fine arts major, Eliza works across all mediums to bring a variety of eclectic visions to life.
Aesthetics reign supreme in Suspiria: powerful, contortionist choreography plays to a soundtrack of low–key piano melodies and the music of the dancer’s sighs, while malicious lighting illuminates the face of the cast in red. A remake of Dario Argento’s 1977 horror film of the same name, Suspiria is director Luca Guadagnino's own spin on the cult classic—with mixed success.
The Gershman Philadelphia Jewish Film Festival, one of the oldest film festivals in Philadelphia, kicked off on November 3—and you don’t want to miss out. A total of 39 films from 12 different countries will be shown, running until November 18.
There seem to be no shortage of shows for foodies on Netflix—from Chef’s Table to Ugly Delicious, shows that merge cooking and culture are a huge part of the vast array of docuseries available on the streaming platform. The most recent addition to this wealth of colorful culinary adventures is a four part series called Salt Fat Acid Heat, based on the award–winning cookbook of the same name. Samin Nosrat, the author of the cookbook, serves the pivotal role as the show’s animated hostess, who exudes a kind of humility that convinces viewers that they have the power to master the elements of good cooking. As gorgeous and cinematic as Salt Fat Acid Heat may be, there is something uniquely personal about its approach. While watching, I felt like I was part of the adventure, as though I was in the kitchen or the market with Nostrat, who was taking me on a journey to the very essence of flavor.
Sat squarely outside the Meyerson Building is a monumental, seemingly indiscernible structure of red. From one side, it looks to be some sort of spider, its legs crawling out of its body. On the other, a flat face. While it’s so easy to simply pass by it without giving it a second look, the structure is actually the work of Alexander Calder, an American sculptor whose pieces have graced the likes of the Museum of Modern Art in New York and the Guggenheim.
Riverdale, in its creation, is something of an anomaly. Show creator Roberto Aguirre–Sacasa looked at the unassuming world of the Archie Comics and decided to make a murder–mystery TV show for modern adolescents complete with sex, death, and drama. Its first season fared reasonably well, and for good reason: it had a coherent plot and a somewhat–contained story, looking at the murder of a local student. On Rotten Tomatoes, it received an 88% Fresh rating, which is a solid grade. It had its charm in a supposedly self–aware look at high schools, which seemed to be comically overdone with its mean–girl tropes and its jock with a heart of gold.
We all love sleep—it’s a pleasant escape from reality into the realm of dreams that allows you to get that much–needed rest, preparing you for the next day. However, us Penn students struggle to siesta sometimes, spending late nights in the dark corners of the Van Pelt basement or a secluded Huntsman GSR. After pulling an all–nighter for that math midterm, you are going to want to take a nap in the middle of the day. However, it might not be that easy to doze off—what can you do? Well, you can listen to soothing, relaxing music that will lull you into a deep slumber. The songs are quiet and harmonic—their genres don’t matter as long as they minimize the discord in your ears. This is the playlist for you:
In Professor Kirk’s English class, there's talk of bitcoin, the history of fashion, and the latest Wing Bowl, which is an annual buffalo wing eating contest. Not exactly the usual topics of discussion in class. This is ENGL145, Advanced Nonfiction Writing: XFic, where students take the raw material of experience and transform it into a compelling narrative that will be bound in XFic, Penn’s premier literary journal in experimental nonfiction.
Being an international human rights, bestselling author, and Golden Globe Nominee were more than enough to earn Loung Ung a keynote speaking event at Perry World House last Friday. But unlike most of the speakers brought to Penn, she was once a refugee and child soldier. It’s no wonder Penn FilmAid had been arranging to plan an event with her since February.
Paramount’s Heathers has had a long journey before coming onto the small screen. The project, a modern adaptation of the famous 1989 film starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater, was slated to go up months ago but was scrapped in June following controversy around its poor handling of school shootings. It is described as a “black comedy” that is a sexier, modern reboot of the original film. Watching Heathers makes it obvious as to why the project was put on the backmost burner.
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