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There are three little–known categories in the Oscars, and I’ll give you a tiny hint—they all have the word "short" in the title. These narrative, documentary, and animated short film categories are preserving the artistic integrity of the Oscars.
The cinematic era defined by superhero films has come to an anticlimactic close. Marvel movies are flopping and copycat rivals are failing even worse. Computer–generated imagery should have been a godsend for sci–fi. Without the constraint of reality, filmmakers can construct natural worlds not in nature, crowds without extras, and aliens without janky prosthetics. Instead, the useful artistic tool has become a crutch, and audiences are over it. Dune is the answer. In Dune: Part Two, director Denis Villeneuve and his elite team combine techniques of modern and classic filmmaking for a sequel so epic that most current blockbusters look amateurish in comparison. This masterpiece of an adaptation turns the second half of Frank Herbert's Dune into a cinematic event akin to The Lord of the Rings trilogy.
The summer before my first year of high school, I spent hours lying on the blue couch in my living room, eyes glued to my widescreen TV. Despite the protests of my siblings, I refused to watch anything besides the 1990s and early–2000s romantic comedies. I was enraptured by the timelessly trendy fashion in Clueless, Kat Stratford’s magnetic personality in 10 Things I Hate About You, and the wholesome but hilarious performance of “Thriller” in 13 Going on 30. No matter how many times I watch these movies, they never fail to ignite the unbridled joy and happiness I felt when I saw them for the first time.
In the dynamic realm of the entertainment industry, Rachel Sennott emerges as a luminary with her unwavering commitment to creative expression. During an event organized by Penn’s Social Planning and Events Committee (SPEC), Sennott candidly shared her insights into her journey, offering a captivating narrative that traverses the realms of filmmaking, acting, and comedy.
Romance isn't as straightforward your simple meet cute anymore, at least according to May December and Saltburn. These critically acclaimed films leave audiences uncomfortable with their twisted themes and unsavory depictions of lust.
In the United States, there are cultural and political wars being fought every day. Conflicts over foreign policy in the Middle East, reproductive rights, and the fragility of democracy are waged on campuses, on town hall steps, and online. It is a time of mass strife and paranoia. In the wake of such issues, former Secretary of State and presidential candidate Hillary Clinton took to X, formerly known as Twitter, to address the American public:
Fiona Herzog: The Zone of Interest by writer–director Jonathan Glazer deprives all that the audience expects to see in a film about Auschwitz. Instead, it delivers chilling implications on the role of guilt, responsibility, and ignorance when making decisions.
Welcome, demigods and mortals alike, to a world where monsters lurk around every corner, gods walk among us, and the fate of the universe hangs in the balance. Yes, my friends, I'm talking about the enchanting realm of Percy Jackson and the Olympians, where ancient myths collide with the modern world in a whirlwind of adventure, humor, and heart. Grab your celestial bronze sword and your Camp Half–Blood T–shirt, because we're about to embark on a journey that's as thrilling as it is legendary: exploring the cultural phenomenon that is the new Percy Jackson TV show on Disney+!
The origin of film lies in its accessibility for the masses.
Weike: Hayao Miyazaki’s newest entry to his glorious filmography bears every hint of a final swan song. It’s a film with a culmination of everything that fascinates Miyazaki: a young boy’s adventure, a parallel reality, and even planes and his obsession with flying. Simultaneously, it’s also a film with ten years in the making, even carrying a title (in Japanese) that begs the most fundamental question of our existence: how do you live? Fiona, how does it feel like to watch The Boy and The Heron in comparison with the other Miyazaki animations?
It’s late at night, the sky deep purple against the New York City skyline as Hudson University President Nathan Alpert walks home. He’s agitated; criticism has been coming from every direction. The campus is in the midst of mounting tensions between pro–Israel and pro–Palestine advocates. Donors have pulled out funding and student groups are protesting. He’s heading home though, complaining to his wife on the phone over the contents of the day and promised a relaxing night for his troubles. But he pauses mid–sentence, noticing students spray–painting political imagery onto a building. He yells out to them as they disperse and turns to leave. But in that movement, his eyes widen. Out of nowhere, a knife plunges into the president’s body. He falls.
If you’re a Penn student, you’ve probably spent the last few days waiting with bated breath as the congressional hearings about antisemitism on college campuses and Liz Magill’s resignation make top national news. You stalk the The Daily Pennsylvanian Instagram account, and your inbox is flooded with email after email discussing Scott Bok, Magill, Julie Platt, and the state of our campus. This is to be expected after such an unprecedented turn of events. But we didn’t expect our president to be the subject of a Saturday Night Live cold open.
When someone mentions the Hunger Games, one’s thoughts likely gravitate towards Katniss Everdeen, the thirteen Districts, and the whole cinematic spectacle. More recently, the mention might garner a visceral reaction towards that Josh Hutcherson "Whistle" meme, or with the recent release of the series prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, you might be reminded of the internet’s collective thirst over President Coriolanus Snow. (What’s up with that, by the way? I know Tom Blyth is hot, but has everyone forgotten that Snow is evil?)
Think about the last time you saw a woman over 60 portrayed on screen as anything but a passive grandmotherly figure. There’s Grace and Frankie, It’s Complicated, Something’s Gotta Give and, well, that’s pretty much it. But for older men, there are a myriad of examples of men over 60 starring in dynamic roles—just think how many Harrison Ford movies have come out since he turned 60 in 2002. Despite the one dimensional examples of older women on screen, most are still part of the workforce until their mid 60s and are active in raising families. Like anyone else, they’re falling in love, grieving losses, exploring the world, and occasionally running into trouble. This phenomenon goes beyond the screen. Surveys have shown that women feel not only devalued by society as they age, but increasingly invisible. This has real world implications, manifesting itself beyond jokey birthday cards to workplace discrimination. The Golden Bachelor seeks to change the lack of representation of women over 60 in media, showcasing the highest peaks and lowest valleys of life after qualifying for AARP while staying (mostly) true to life.
“A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension between the contradictory answers.” Leonard Bernstein’s quote given at a lecture at Harvard University in 1976 opens Bradley Cooper’s sophomore film, Maestro. And, just like his first feature A Star Is Born, Maestro lives up to this promise. Both films are messy, complicated, imperfect, occasionally transcendent but nonetheless fascinating works that reveal the artistic obsession buried within their director.
In her second feature film, Saltburn, Emerald Fennell, Oscar–winning director of Promising Young Women, sought to create a film that evokes physical reactions from the audience.
The titular Eileen, played by Thomasin McKenzie in the 2023 film Eileen, captivated the audiences even before the film’s inception. Adapting from Ottessa Moshfegh’s Booker Prize shortlisted novel, the director William Oldroyd was instantly fascinated by the complexity of the character of Eileen when he read it for the first time, and immediately knew he wanted to work with Moshfegh and screenwriter Luke Goebel to bring the story to the big screen.
What’s your favorite movie? Odds are, I haven’t seen it.
Wingwomen (2023) has so much promise and I thoroughly enjoy many parts of it. But it is difficult to look away from its glaring issues in terms of storytelling—especially a questionable, basic, and boring ending to what is supposed to be a thrilling and heart–warming action spectacular.
2023 marks another year of my affectionate relationship with cinematic and televisual. I traveled around the globe chasing film festivals, producing more academic nonsense for my beloved Cinema & Media Studies classes, and inevitably falling in love with the many worlds behind the screen over and over again. I believe that film and television are all about worldmaking: They have an unparalleled capability to help us imagine strange people, unconventional lives, and alternative experiences that are by no means trivial to our existence on Earth. All film and television, for me, are realistic, because what is our perception of reality but the very boundary of our imagination?
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