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Everyone says they want diversity. Exactly what this means is up for interpretation. While business says it means trying to hire minorities, and universities say they want economic diversity, the decision–makers and the incentives they operate under are the same as they’ve always been, leading us to little noticeable change.
*Author’s note: The SAG–AFTRA strike ended with a tentative deal on Thursday, November 9. Already, actors have been flocking to do press appearances on late–night shows and promoting their work on social media, demonstrating the importance of press to a movie’s success and how the strike imposed on actors’ awards chances.
It’s easy to forget erasure. It’s easy to get blinded by the popularity of films like Everything Everywhere All At Once and Minari sweeping awards, K–dramas adorning the Netflix front page, and K–pop topping the Billboard charts. Why harp on past racism when we can move forward without turning back?
As an avid secondhand–book buyer, I have certain rituals when I enter a bookstore. I always step into the horror section to see if I can catch a stray Stephen King; I walk through the classics looking for beautiful hardbacks and marbled pages; and, most importantly, I reminisce among the Young Adult shelves and see if I can spy the iconic black, white, and red–toned Twilight novels. If one part of my bookstore explorations is comfortingly predictable, it’s that I’ll find Stephenie Meyer’s infamous series—often, in its entirety. As of 2021, the saga had sold more than 160 million copies, and according to Publishers Weekly, Twilight was fifth on the list of top–selling books between 2004 and 2021 (just under Dr. Seuss’ Oh, the Places You’ll Go!). If you entered a teen girl’s bedroom in the 2000s or 2010s, chances were you’d find at least one copy—and maybe even a poster or life–size cardboard cutout of a character or two.
All great love stories seem start with fate: two people existing in the same room, two eyes meeting for a split of a second, fate dealing them lucky hands in a great cosmic card game.
Every October, the best of world cinema visits the Bourse theater on a quiet street of old city and the Philadelphia Film Center beside Rittenhouse Square. The annual Philadelphia Film Festival celebrates cinematic splendor and brings together filmmakers and audience in conviviality. This year, our writer Aden Berger and I sat through multiple screenings at the festival like we have for the past few years, and selected what we believe to be under–the–rader gems from this year's extravagant lineup.
It's too easy to not give full attention to a movie.
Editor's Note: This is (strictly speaking, no guarantee) the longest article we've ever published in the history of Street. Sadly, as much as we'd like to, we at the office can't watch the show back–to–back together in order to copy edit the piece and make sure Isaac has got every tiny detail right—that's the task we've left to all of you. I can't speak for everyone else, but I'm so ready to dive into Riverdale world immediately after this is published.
Twenty years ago, Roberto Aguirre–Sacasa, a former Glee writer who would go on to become the Riverdale showrunner, received a cease–and–desist order from Archie Comics the night before the world premiere of his adapted play, Archie’s Weird Fantasy. Archie Comics forced Aguirre–Sacasa to change his characters' names, distancing them from the pre–existing IP, as the company thought that portraying Archie as gay, which Aguirre–Sacasa intended to do, would “dilute and tarnish his image.” So the team bit the bullet, changed the names, and premiered Weird Comic Book Fantasy instead of Archie’s Weird Fantasy, following the grown–up lives of Tapeworm (Jughead), Monica (Veronica), Rosie (Betty), and an out–of–the–closet Buddy (Archie). Oh, and also the play included AIDS, the Leopold and Loeb case, and a meta–commentary on the head of EC comics. Is it any wonder Aguirre–Sacasa’s Riverdale would end up going in the myriad of increasingly fantastical directions?
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
Imagine walking out of the movie theater, feeling either renewed or like you just wasted a few hours of your life, and wanting to rave, rant, or complain about it with someone. It’s a pretty common experience. Maybe you’d discuss the film with your friends over dinner; maybe you’d mention it to a classmate in passing.
We are living in the apex of recycled media. From dark and gritty reboots like Riverdale to unwanted sequels like the upcoming Gladiator 2, most high–profile projects these days simply get greenlit with a specific audience in mind. This is probably why when Rick Riordan visited the Disney+ offices, it didn’t take long to seal the deal: Percy Jackson and the Olympians—a veteran children’s series—is getting its well–deserved adaptation this holiday season.
Why are filmmakers so obsessed with food? The past few years have seen a dramatic rise in the popularity of movies and TV shows set in the kitchen: The Bear, The Menu, Burnt, Boiling Point and The Taste of Things are just some examples. Why has this niche genre exploded? In this article, I will answer that very question and present my Grand Unified Theory of Food Film, a five–part theory as to why the Food Film has become so popular.
On Monday, Oct. 9, after nearly five months of being on strike, 99% of the membership of the Writers Guild of America voted to ratify the contract that the WGA negotiating team had reached with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers. With gains made for a restructuring of the residuals model in the age of streaming, protection from AI, and assurances about the minimum amount of work a writer will get for a certain project, the deal is nothing less than historic.
Wes Anderson loves stories. He loves stories about stories. He even loves stories about stories about stories. With his three latest films, The French Dispatch, Asteroid City, and the recently released collection of short films, The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, Anderson has delved deeper into his fascination with storytelling and created an unofficial “artifice trilogy,” three films that explore why we tell stories and how we frame them.
In a Miyazaki film, time is granted to allow the characters to live.
To say “food is a love language” has become a one–liner spoken ad nauseam, but it cannot be denied that some foods truly do create feelings of warmth, comfort, and love. Filmmakers clearly understand food’s connection to love, specifically the correlation between eating noodles and falling in love. Captured countless times in some of cinema’s great love stories, these scenes showcase that the power of pasta and the power of love are not mutually exclusive phenomena.
The term “cult classic” can very easily be understood by breaking it up into its two constituent words: Cult and classic. Cult means that a given piece of culture only appeals to a certain group, and that these devotees rarely make up more than a small subset of the overall population. But classic means that for these dedicated few, the piece of culture occupies a very special place.
It only took Disney ten years to kill Star Wars—Star Wars, one of the most legendary franchises of all time. Imagine telling your eight–year–old self that one day, a new Star Wars TV show would be released every couple of months, and not only would no one care, but the shows would be mocked and reviled. This summer’s release of Ahsoka, the latest Star Wars TV show, demonstrates just how far the once–great franchise has fallen.
This summer, starting June 5th, just as in eight summers before, the U.K. reality TV show, Love Island, sent numerous single guys and girls to Mallorca, Spain where they would live with each other and work to form romantic connections. As in previous summers, different versions of the show premiered in other countries such as the U.S., France, and Australia. At almost any point during this summer, you could go online and find pages upon pages of discourse surrounding the show, its characters, and its various international spin–offs. And yet, despite Love Island's attempt at recreating its original hype from its first run, the show did not achieve nearly the same results this time around.
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