Promising Young Virginia Woolf

 A couple weeks ago I went to the movie theatres for the first time in a very long time. The darkness of the theatre surrounded me and the grandiose of the silver screen captivated me all over again, as if it was my first time. The movie I saw left me in tears and with a feeling of deep rage, but also deep understanding. I was liberated, I was resigned. The movie I saw was Promising Young Woman, a contender for Best Picture at this years Oscars. Do I think it will win the Oscar? Sadly, no. Do I think that everyone should go see it? Definitely yes. To me what makes this film incredible is its penultimate, disturbing yet vindicating ending. Now before I get into the ending I will briefly get into the rest of the plot. The film centers around Cassandra, who is traumatized by the past of a closet's friends sexual assault and death, and seeks vengeance against those who crossed her path. The film starts off showing Cassie getting fake super drunk at a club and waiting to see what "nice" guy will take her home. However, as the film questions is there really any "nice" guy? And night after night of faking drunk the men that take Cassie home blur the lines of drunkness and consent. But right when the men try to take it too far Cassie shows them how actually stone cold sober she is and berates them for what they claim they were not going to do with a, clearly and what they thought to be, very drunk girl. In this way the film raises the questions around consent and what society teaches not only young women but young men as well. That these are the men who think themselves to be the pillars of society and good people, but behind closed doors they are the predators and the sexual assaulters. They are taught by society that because they are "good" young men they couldn't possibly be bad, even if they really are. 

Here, Promising Young Woman offers more food for though and raises more questions than it is willing to go on the attack and make a clear statement about the actual wrongs of society. The whole film seems to toe the line of its potential, almost coming through on the rage and wrath that it brings up and is about but never quite reaching it. That is, right until the ending I would say. The end, which left me in tears and with my heart pounding, is executed ruthlessly. In both a good and bad way. I do not want to give any spoilers, but the ending is truly what the whole film is leading up to. It is the feeling of that final woosh as a roller coaster rolls to a stop after the last, biggest final drop. It ends with the only reality that could have seemingly could have been for Cassie, our main character, to ever find peace and solace in a life that has treated her terribly and people around her, men and women, that have done nothing but gaslight and withhold the truth from her. Deny her reality and the reality of so many women around her. The ending is both freeing and devastating due to the lengths that have to be gone to in order for the truth to come out. 

In this way, the ending of Promising Young Woman, heavily reminds me of the ending to Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? In both endings the main characters, women pushed to the edges of their sanity by society and the men around them, are forced to reconcile with the lies around them. They are both women who have been traumatized by the men in their life and society and in order to gain peace they need to come to terms with their own grief and truth, even if it comes at the cost of the heartache of breaking down the lies and walls that have been built around them.

The Divided State of America: Death, Violence, and Fire

 

`            The political, social, and economic tension throughout the past year in the United States of America has provided almost all human beings with eyes and ears nothing other than a pure sense of absolute chaos. The fighting… the headlines… the countless unfortunate events… the losses… the lies… the flames… the damage… the hate… the chaos… the division… So much tension piled up and fit into one little segment or scene, or in this case, a nation, that it’s almost as if some people could sit back, put their feet up, and watch it all happen like it’s some critically acclaimed film. You know what? Someone could feel like Captain Willard, navigating himself through the chaotic madness of Vietnam in Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. The current state of America in 2021 could resemble the pure chaos that the renowned filmmaker intended to encapsulate his audience with. The futility of death and violence and intervention in Vietnam could be drawn to the purposeless division in our country today.

              Captain Willard finds himself navigating the jungle in a land across the world from home, avoiding death and tragedy scene after scene in the film. Draw that to… say, a college student, or any individual for that matter, preparing to dive into this world and make a life on his or her own, just as Willard makes it to Colonel Kurtz by himself by the end of the film.

              Pure chaos and pointless death. Those are the main takeaways from Coppola’s film. Just a handful of events within the last six months can resemble this pure chaos and pointless death…

 Just a few days before this past Christmas, an automobile accident in Yonkers, New York left four teenagers dead as a convicted drug dealer attempted to evade police in a high-speed chase. He destroyed the lives of four young men as he split their vehicle in half after their collision. He single-handedly caused four families to stare at unwrapped Christmas gifts under trees in their homes that week. Mayor Mike Spano added, “four young lives were cut short by the recklessness of one individual. Let this be a lesson to all who drive at excessive speeds—it’s not only your life at risk but also the innocent lives with whom you share the road.”

Throughout March and April, all across the country, but consistently in big cities, a spree of violent attacks on Asian-Americans occurs within a year after the coronavirus outbreak in China and the entire world is thrown into a dark storm that pours down on countless lives over a year later. One particular video gone viral of one of these hateful attacks on Asian-Americans shows a middle-aged thug stomping on the head of a poor, old, innocent lady. A nearby store security guard (now we’re talking ten feet nearby, and a security guard, whose job is to… forget it) even goes out of his way to CLOSE the door on the poor lady getting stomped on for no other reason than pure hate. He closed the door on her…

Mass shootings continue to haunt the nation this year as mentally ill individuals achieve easy access to high-powered machines of death, violence, and terror. A young man unleashes a wrath of bullets in a supermarket in Colorado on people who are trying to put on the table for their families. In Atlanta, staff and customers at a nail salon are the recipients of bullets and lose their lives as well. Lives brought to an end for reasons of pure hate and violence.

All these examples of death and violence can be drawn to the madness that never ends in Coppola’s film. However, this last example of mass shootings in our country resembles the “Ride of the Valkyries” scene in Apocalypse Now. It represents one person or party inflicting violence and death over another for no rational rhyme or reason. It represents the pure destruction of human life, and emphasizes the futility of doing so. It also includes an element of enjoying, or getting something out of committing acts of violence and physical harm like this.

This month, a twelve-year-old boy was walking down Malcolm X Boulevard in Brooklyn, New York, when he was suddenly shot in the chest from a moving car. Was it intentional or accidental? Not sure. Can anyone say which one is worse?

This tragic event could remind someone of Clean’s death on the boat in Apocalypse Now, a scene in which Captain Willard and the squad witness the death of an innocent, young man. A young man who was in the process of listening to a tape from his family back home. I imagine this young boy was on his way to his family, at his home. It could just be a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but someone or something is to blame.

Also in this month, a twenty-year-old man is tragically and undeservedly shot and killed by police in Minnesota. The panicked officer who was rightfully pulling him over allegedly shot her pistol instead of her taser gun by mistake, which doesn’t make much sense or carry much credibility. People come quick to blame the poor young man because of his criminal background, but he was just a kid who fell victim to the life of violence that has become mainstream, enabled, and arguably encouraged in our society today. This tragic event has been followed by days of burning and destroying and looting innocent neighborhoods and businesses where people are trying to proceed with their lives day by day and avoid this very violence that has swarmed our society. A crucial part of this event, like many today, is that it seems like it is all recorded for seemingly entertainment purposes, and to display to the country what is happening… but not in a good way at all, in most cases. It’s like the scene in Apocalypse Now when the camera crew sits in the midst of warfare and pure chaos, catching every moment they can on camera and yelling at the soldiers to keep doing what they’re doing. They only want more of the chaos… Keep going! Keep it up! Don’t look at the camera! Go! Go! Go!

As mentioned earlier, it’s as if someone has it all orchestrated. Like it’s all a show for people someplace else. It really is like a movie… you can’t make some of it up, as cliché as that sounds. In Apocalypse Now, nobody knows why the soldiers are there and killing and destroying everyone and everything in Vietnam, not even themselves. In America today, nobody knows why they want so much division, and just like the American intervention in Vietnam in the mid-century era, nobody knows who wants so much of this division.

Gentrification in Concrete Cowboy and Modern-Day Colonialism

By Ashley Wright

Recently, Netflix released the 2021 American Western film Concrete Cowboy, directed by Ricky Staub, which is a film adaptation of the book Ghetto Cowboy by Greg Neri. The original novel and the movie both serve as a fictionalized retelling of the real-life Fletcher Street Urban Riding Club, which was a society based on African American horse-riding culture in Philadelphia. The movie follows a fifteen-year-old boy named Cole who is sent to live in Philadelphia with his estranged father after getting expelled from school. Cole is a typical Western protagonist, clearly feeling isolated from his community and spending the first portion of the movie traveling the streets with little more than a place to sleep after leaving his dad’s house following an argument. As Cole spends more time in Philly, however, he grows closer with his dad and the local community. During the days, Cole works at the local stable and learns more about the urban cowboys but at night he rides around with his friend Smush, getting into trouble involving the local drug dealers. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that one of the threats facing the community is not just from within the neighborhood itself but also the threat of gentrification and white developers closing in and shutting down the Riding Club all-together.

Cole’s father, Harp, and the other urban cowboys take it upon themselves to teach Cole not only the importance of hard work at the stables, but also the history behind it. The group details the long history of Black cowboys in America, blaming the erasure of their history on the fact that “Hollywood has whitewashed us, they just deleted us right out of the history books.” The white role in the erasure of the Black cowboys is far from contained in the past, however, as the threat of gentrification becomes a looming presence as the film progresses. At one point Paris, a character who was paralyzed by and lost his brother to an altercation over a street corner, even laments over the fact that the city put a Starbucks on that corner turning what they were fighting for into nothing. The struggle against incoming developers intensifies as the horses at the club are taken by animal control due to complaints to the property owners (as the characters in the film can only afford to rent), against the backdrop of the characters’ protests and cries that “we built this place, y’all tryna tear this place down! We built this place; this is our home.” Even as the stables are torn down, however, the characters are able to bind together through their shared identity as cowboys, and vow to continue riding and maintaining their heritage despite any outside forces.

Despite being set over 100 years apart, the film Concrete Cowboy actually shares a lot thematically with the book Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. This is because of the role of gentrification in the film, which is also known as modern-day colonialism, and the parallels to the criticism of white colonialism in Heart of Darkness. Joseph Conrad’s novel draws a dark picture of colonialism, depicting the brutal realities of a white superpower entering native communities, abusing their people, and depriving them of their resources. In the novel, Marlow and the other characters slowly realize that colonialism is not a means for “improving” communities that European countries view as less than but is instead a tool for inflicting violence and other unspeakable horrors to native communities. These themes, while perhaps more subtle than the images depicted in Heart of Darkness, can be found in modern-day stories of gentrification as well. Concrete Cowboy shows how development groups enter communities of color under the guise of “bettering” low-income areas but instead harm the locals and threaten to shut down their livelihoods all-together.

Despite the major differences between these two works, it is important to draw these comparisons to see how concepts that may seem contained to the past, such as colonialism, still play a role in modern society and impact different communities and cultures. In this way, Concrete Cowboy is not only a film worth watching on its own merit, but also because of the larger conversations it invites its audiences to engage in.

Nomads Portrayed Eight Decades Apart

Chloe Zhao’s film Nomadland tells the heartfelt and awe-inspiring story of a group of on-the-road Americans looking to land seasonal jobs, but above all, they find inner harmony owing to the strong, meaningful relationships they build. Due to the Great Recession, the US Gypsum shut down its plant in Empire, Nevada after almost nine decades, forcing all of the resident workers to relocate. After the loss of her husband, job and home, Fern was left to pack up her life into a van and travel through the country in hopes of finding work. Little did she know, embarking on this journey would be the best decision she’s ever made as the relationships she built, conversations she took part in and experiences she underwent, ultimately healed her. 

     The nomads in Zhao’s film look out for one another as they try to evade the tyranny of the dollar, by trusting the direction in which life takes them. The roads of America become their home and their workplace, whichever workplace that may be at a given time. This all sounds a bit too familiar… After the release of Zhao’s film in 2020, sources such as CBR and Catholic Philly have claimed that Nomadland is The Grapes of Wrath of our times. After having had the pleasure of watching the film myself, I can concur! John Steinbeck’s novel is set during the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl, where the Joads family was driven out of their Oklahoma home due to a sudden drought, bank foreclosures, etc. Along with a mass of tenant workers, the Joads set out for California, in hopes of building a stable life for themselves and a brighter future. Similar to the nomads of Nomadland the migrant farmers try to land different jobs on different farms, hoping to earn enough money to get by and head forward. The individuals in Nomadland and the migrant workers in The Grapes of Wrath are American nomads portrayed 80 years apart, each dealing with the economic collapses of their time. Zhao’s film was set during the Great Recession, also known as the most intense economic recession since the Great Depression, which was the time of the publication of Steinbeck’s novel, greatly influencing his work. The consequences of their times were dire for both groups (the nomads and the migrant workers), but in the end they became stronger and gained something far beyond what they could have imagined: true friendships, a found family and a strong sense of community.

Though there are parallels between Steinbeck’s novel and Zhao’s film in terms of the harsh circumstances of the working class and disheartening economic situations, the aspects that really tie the two together are: sense of belonging to a community/unity, the building of new relationships and the distinct presence of generosity and kindness. Though the two stories are set almost eight decades apart, these are the common factors that allow the nomads to get through everything and are what save them. Towards the end of Steinbeck’s novel, when Tom Joads speaks to Ma in the bushes he conveys an undeniable sense of collectivity and unity of the Joad family, the migrant farmers and the working class as a whole. He opens up to Ma about his newly discovered goal, which was to work towards the collective good, as his soul was a mere part of a great big soul, of the working class. He wishes to continue Casy’s legacy by devoting his life to helping his people. Justice for the migrant farmers was his foremost priority. ”A fella ain’t got a soul of his own but only a piece of a big one” he exclaimed. This idea of a collective effort (“a collective soul”) and working towards a common great goal of defying the odds and attaining equality, manifests an undeniable sense of togetherness and community. The unity stemmed from an understanding of each other’s suffering, which is precisely what Steinbeck aimed to convey. In Nomadland, Bob Wells makes a similar speech, alluding to the idea of unity and community. He tells the nomads the analogy of the workhorse: “the workhorse that is willing to work itself to death and be put out to pasture is what happens to so many of us… we ‘work horses’ have to gather together and take care of each other and that’s what this is all about”. This is exactly what we see throughout the remainder of the film: unity and genuine care among the nomads. 

The Joads family cares for one another and for the other migrant workers. Rose of Sharon’s infamous selfless act in the final scene evoked deep care, kindness and generosity. After having tragically lost her baby and after facing countless hardships, upliftingly, Rose of Sharon thought quickly to save the dying man’s when she breastfed him. Furthermore, the Joads and the Wilsons care for one another as if they were one big family and foster a strong bond. Similarly, throughout Nomadland, the nomads are there for eachother and through their kind actions evince true care for one another’s well being. For instance, when Fern discovers that the tire of her van popped she turns to Swankie. Prior to actually helping Fern resolve her problem, Swankie shows immense care for Fern’s safety when she lectures her about not having a spare tire; as she repeated the phrase “you can die out here, do you understand that?” she spoke with such assertiveness. I felt as though I was watching a mother speak firmly to her daughter out of deep concern and love. Swankie goes on to help Fern paint her “ratty-looking van”, helps repair her tire, offers her paint and gifts Fern her good sitting chair. The two build a strong relationship. Dave, another nomad with whom Fern gets very close to, encourages her to quit smoking by giving her licorice sticks to curb her urge to smoke cigarettes, thus showing concern for her health. Later, when Dave becomes sick with diverticulitis, Fern tends to him, makes him soup and visits him in the hospital after surgery. Dave then helps Fern land a job at “Wall Drug” (a local restaurant) and Fern convinces Dave to visit his son James who has just become a father. There is this reciprocation of care between Fern and Dave as well as that of the other nomads. These are only several among many instances in the film when the nomads showed true care for one another. The nomads have an undeniable sense of community as they sit around the fire sharing their most inner thoughts and experiences, they teach each other survival skills for life on the road, advise one another on how to approach different life situations, etc. They grief together, laugh together, cry together, lookout for each other, truly listen to one another and have grown to appreciate the relationships and friendships they embarked on. In both Nomadland and The Grapes of Wrath, kindness and a sense of unity prevailed.

Social Classes in The Grapes of Wrath and Atypical

 Social Classes in The Grapes of Wrath and Atypical

Over the past few months, I’ve watched and rewatched Netflix’s series Atypical, which follows the life of an autistic high school student named Sam as he faces and overcomes the social boundaries placed by society on neuroqueer individuals. Sam’s constant struggle set against the subplot of the neurotypical characters around him mirrors the format of John Ford’s 1940 film The Grapes of Wrath. In this film, the Joad family faces the obstacles of being working class citizens in the United States. Both works depict the way in which the members of the classes in power restrict the freedom of those beneath them on the social ladder. Given the 70 year gap between the making of each, the issues of society have shifted; however, the pattern of societal discriminartion remains.

 For the Joads, life on the road is depicted as a lonely and harsh journey. Shots in the movie show the family driving alone through vast swatches of coutryside, during which they can only hope for shelter at their next destination. These scenes convey the instability of being part of the working class, a class deemed undesirable for its low-value labor and high demand for aid from the government. The Joads encounter multiple communities of other travelling families looking for gold and stability, all of which prove unstable given the fact that all of the families have needs that cannot be met within the walls of the community. They must struggle to integrate into the capitalist system in order to protect themselves from poverty driven illnesses; however, the communities of social outcasts breed mutual hope and skills for survival.

Sam also finds himself shifting from community to community in attempt to find support in his own struggle to survive as an undeniable member of his community. The series depicts Sam’s experience with high school as an equally lonely and harsh journey in which he battles bullies and people with prejudices against autism in every aspect of his life. He finds support in his sister, his turtle, his therapist, his support groups and his girlfriend. Unlike the Joads, Sam is not only supported by people who share his disadvantage, but also neurotypical loved ones; however these people all act as the stops along his journey towards success in a discriminatory society. 

Similar criticism can also be applied to both works in their depiction of the undesirable communities as marginalized groups who must solve their own problems rather than hope for structural change. For example, in the Grapes of Wrath, as adapted for screening, the Joads, especially Ma, are depicted as tough people who take what life throws at them and make the best of it. While this message is inspiring, it also fails to acknowledge the ways in which the oppressive powers could be dismantled or adapted to better serve the working class. 

A similar message is sent in Atypical that if the marginalized individual works hard enough, he can find his place in society. For Sam, many of his aggressors are not brought to justice and he instead learns to pick his battles and use defensive strategies to function in overstimulating environments. Of course life is about adaptation and overcoming our  disadvantages; however both works could have done a better job at not glossing over the struggling classes as dismissable to the people around them.

Parallels Between the Death of Prince Philip and Kurtz

                                                        

American Nomads by Kathryn Pender

  

     Chloe Zhao’s 2020 film Nomadland is an incredibly raw motion picture that wavers between both fiction and documentary. It is a film that captures the reclusive lifestyle of the wandering American nomads as they move from job to job, never setting down roots in one place. Although these nomads may remain off the grid for most of their lives, the film has not gone unnoticed or underappreciated by critics. Zhao, as recently as April 10th 2021, has won the BAFTA for best director, making her the second woman and the first Asian woman to win the award. Nomandland’s leading lady, Frances McDormand also won for best actress. Earlier last month, Zhao also became the first Asian woman to win the Golden Globe for best director, also taking home the coveted Golden Globe for best motion picture. Zhao's Film adaptation of Nomadland is based on Jessica Bruder's 2017 nonfiction book Nomadland: Surviving America in the Twenty-First Century.

     Nomadland follows the story of a woman named Fern, who is a sixty something year old widow, portrayed by Frances McDormand, who has taken up permanent residence in a van following the death of her husband and of the town she once called home. Fern had lived in a Nevada town called Empire which had been virtually erased a year earlier. The town was operated by U.S. Gypsum, but due to a decreased demand for sheetrock during the Great Recession, the town laid off its workers, becoming nothing more than a discontinued zip code. 

    Zhao ultimately blends both reality through the made-up Fern’s encounters with the other nomads, aside from actor David Strathairn, who are playing fictional versions of themselves. This adds a particular depth and poignancy to the film, as Zhao takes her viewer on a cinematic journey through the American West. And although the nature scenes are nothing short of picturesque, the portrayal of nomadic life is anything but romanticized. Fern has no indoor plumbing, is often alone during holidays, battles the cold, thus representing the consistent struggles of a nomad. She is only in the company of those she meets on the road. However, Fern believes that ‘she isn’t homeless, she’s houseless,’ and that ‘it’s not the same thing.’ This lifestyle and notion of finding a “home” within various contexts is remincest of Steinbeck’s critically acclaimed Joad family of migrant farmers. Both the Joads and Fern travel to wherever they can find work, constantly impoverished and consistently on the move.

    Nomadland has been proclaimed a modern day version of The Grapes of Wrath as both works expose the underbelly of the American dream. Both Fern and the Joads struggle to find low paying jobs as a result of American economic recessions. The Joads struggled through the Great Depression, heading West in hopes of finding steady work. Fern heads West with a similar goal of finding a job that can support her, as the movie opens depicting Fern as only a seasonal Amazon worker at a distribution center. 

    However, both the ending of Nomadland and Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath share some striking similarities. I would argue that both conclusions can be viewed as incomplete. Neither story is given a so-called “happy ending.” Both nomadic fictions reflect that of a wanderer’s life— concluding in uncertainty, perhaps generating more questions than answers. Both stories, although fiction, are rooted in reality and hardship. Each story deconstructs the myth of the American dream, indicating that going West does not always ensure prosperity. This harsh and uncertain reality is reflected through both Fern and fellow nomad Bob and through Ma and Tom Joad. Tom Joad has to depart from his family but explains that he’ll still be “all around in the dark'' (572) even after he’s gone and that he’ll come back “when it's all blowed over” (572). A prominent nomad in the film named Bob makes a statement reminiscent of Tom Joad, saying, “I don’t ever say a final goodbye. I just say, I’ll see you down the road and I do.” Thus, Zhao’s portrait of the modern American nomad not only reflects reality through those actors who play themselves, but evokes the ghostly nomads of the past, such as the Joads and the real migrant farmers they represented. Neither the ending of Steinbeck’s book nor Zhao’s film are outwardly optimistic, but each arguably resembles glimmers of hope. Each is a story of survival that ends seemingly houseless, whether it be a van or rising flood waters, but not necessarily homeless. 

"History Has Its Eyes on You"

 12 April 2021

“History Has Its Eyes on You” - Hamilton

By Amanda Gurth

On July 3rd of 2020 Hamilton the Musical was released on Disney Plus. As someone who was not lucky enough to see Hamilton on Broadway with the original cast, I was elated that the archival recording was released and available for me and millions of others to view whenever we pleased. Since its release on Disney Plus, I have become a huge fan and am consistently delighted to discover new nuances and themes every time I watch it. One of the reasons Hamilton was and is such a groundbreaking show, aside from its infectious rap score and genius lyrics, is that with the exception of the actor who played King George III and a couple of ensemble members, the cast is made up entirely of people of color. Not only is this a progressive statement about the need for more diversity on Broadway but the musical is about the founding fathers of America, all of whom as white. Thus, by virtue, the show discredits the white supremacist ideals rooted in the foundation of the country and presents its audience with a flawless representation of the minorities who were and are burdened by systematic racism. 

Passion and Activism

Aside from the fact that the company is mostly people of color, the writer of the show, Lin-Manuel Miranda was able to perfectly integrate messages of minority and female empowerment. Such examples include lines like “immigrants, we get the job done” and “we’ll never be truly free until those in bondage have the same rights as you and me.” Alexander Hamilton, who was played by Lin-Manuel Miranda, is represented as a force to be reckoned with, an immigrant who came to America who would stop at nothing to free this country and build a strong treasury. One of my favorite lines Hamilton recites from the show is “I'm past patiently waitin' I'm passionately smashin' every expectation every action's an act of creation. I'm laughin' in the face of casualties and sorrow. For the first time, I'm thinkin' past tomorrow.” Hamilton’s dire need to incite change and his ambition for success mirror that of some of the great activists of this country's past and present. One of the most famous activists with a Hamilton-like confidence and drive is none other than Malcolm X. An excellent representation of Malcolm X’s story is with the film entitled Malcolm X directed by Spike Lee. From the very opening scene of the film, the audience is struck with an intense confrontation of racism. The audience is shown the heartbreaking beating of Rodney King by four white police officers that occurred in 1992. Furthermore, this is accompanied by Malcolm’s electric and powerful words, “Brothers and sisters, I am here to tell you that I charge the white man. I charge the white man with being the greatest murderer on earth. I charge the white man with being the greatest kidnapper on earth. There is no place in this world that this man can go and say he created peace and harmony.” Malcolm X is pleading for some sense of urgency; he is pleading for people to wake up; he is pleading for people to rise up. 

Art That Sends A Message

    Spike Lee’s film Malcolm X as well as Hamilton the Musical are wonderful and entertaining pieces of art that create dialogue about topics of race. With the recent rise of the Black Lives Matter movement following the death of George Floyd, movies like Malcolm X and shows like Hamilton have a different context and seem to carry a different weight. They are both powerful reflections of the plight to overcome adversity and commentaries on historical and systemic racism; they say something important in a time where it needs to be said. 

"Falcon and the Winter Soldier" Relates to the BLM Movements, and Here's Why by Francesca Dumont

Marvel’s new and exciting show, Falcon and the Winter Soldier, just began streaming on Disney+, and while we only have four episodes to review, we are met with unprecedented depth and complexity. Tackling a timeline after Avengers: Endgame is already difficult, but now adding in elements of the current socio political environment outside the realm of television, it adds even more layers to dissect. Sam Wilson and James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes are the Falcon and the Winter Soldier who each have their own internal struggles that they must come to terms with. Bucky had been previously tortured and forced into performing violent acts for enemies. This show follows and subsequently allows Bucky to overcome his traumas. Sam is faced with the challenge of being one of the few African American heroes in the MCU, and what this condition entails for his character.  However, this is not our first introduction to strong African American characters. Sam, played by Anthony Mackie, Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes, played by Don Cheadle, King T’Challa, played by posthumous actor Chadwick Boseman, along with the entire cast of Black Panther, has paved way for further representation within the Marvel Cinematic Universe (or MCU). Falcon and the Winter Soldier look to tie the narratives of black characters, the reality within the MCU, and the current human climate all together to create a story that is powerful but also enjoyable for Marvel fans. Of course, this series is best understood with a bit of background information, so I’ll do my best to summarize as quickly as I can. 

Throughout what is labeled the “Infinity Saga” in the MCU, the villainous Thanos manages to wipe out half the population of the world by collecting all of the Infinity Stones and snapping his fingers. This event was named “The Blip”, and it took the work of the Avengers team to bring back everyone while also defeating Thanos and his army...it sounds complicated because it is. Through this process, the team loses some of the fandom’s favorite characters. One of the surviving and most notable characters that relates closely to this TV series is Steve Rogers (Captain America). Steve and Sam Wilson developed a close relationship throughout the movies, and this series picks up in the time after Steve’s departure from Sam. Before Steve departs, he presents his shield to Sam and tells him that it belongs to him now. Sam reluctantly takes the shield, but it is through this hesitation that we find the base for Sam’s inner conflict within the show. Bucky and Sam both must learn how to navigate a world where there is no Captain America, and many are trying to adjust to life after being gone for five years from “the Blip”. 

Through the many examples from the first four episodes thus far, we can see how Sam must come to terms with what Captain America’s shield represents. He believes that he is not worthy of the power yielded through that piece of vibranium, so he hands it away to a museum to instead be honored through a glass case. Through a conversation with Rhodey in the first episode, they agree that the “world is broken” and that “nobody is stable” (15:36-15:48). Another impactful moment the audience witnesses appears in episode 2, where Sam follows Bucky to meet a super soldier from the 1950s. This super soldier, Isaiah, is black and has not been known by any of the Avengers. Bucky chose to keep Isaiah’s identity and the knowledge of his existence private because “he [Isaiah] had already been through enough” (31:40). While Bucky is labeled a killer, he claims that he is not that person anymore. It is Isaiah who asks, “You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be?” (29:20). In reference to his African American identity, Isaiah asserts that his repercussions for past misdeeds were more harsh than Bucky’s. He was punished far worse by being thrown in jail and becoming a test subject, and “even your [Bucky’s] people weren’t done with me” (30:15). After leaving the house, Bucky and Sam have an altercation in the street,  leading to the police showing up and questioning Sam… but only Sam. Bucky stands there and tries to defend Sam, and it’s only when the cops realize that Sam is an Avenger that they ease up on him. There is a clear division between Bucky and Sam’s identities, and Marvel chooses to tackle this issue because it relates to what is going on in the world today. 

I can’t help but see a correlation between “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” and the feelings of underrepresentation and subsequent oppression that Sam faces. Malcolm X was told early on that “you need to think about something you can be” (41). With everyone telling him that because of his race he’s unable to achieve the same things, it reinforces Malcolm’s own internalized racism and perpetuates ideas of white supremacy within him. Malcolm further goes on to say that “the white man taught him [the black man] to hate everything black”, and that “everything white was good, to be admired, respected, and loved” (178). Sam Wilson is unable to believe that he can assume the role of Captain America, not only because a white man initially embodied the title, but also because he is a black man becoming a symbol for the nation. He doesn’t see this newfound title as being agreeable with the masses, nor does he see that within himself, so that is why he chooses to give it away. 

In correlation with the BLM movements today, this TV series highlights that black character representation is now more important than ever. The protests that rallied through the streets across the country throughout the summer of 2020 only increased the necessity for representation and diversity in Hollywood. Marvel does a good job of combining the “action movie” narrative with the real conflicts the world faces today, and we as an audience are anxious to see how Sam Wilson will manage his new role and come to accept his identity as a black superhero in the MCU. 

Red, White & Royal Blue or Why You Shouldn't Feel Guilty about so-called "Guilty Pleasures"

Something my friends and I keep coming back to during this pandemic is the sentiment that “maturity means realizing pop music is actually good.” The basis of this is that, for as long as we can remember, we’ve been indoctrinated into this belief that only the dark and serious can be quote-unquote “good” art, that there’s this (false) dichotomy between that and the campy, feminine, and fun, between Quentin Tarantino and Britney Spears. The former is considered classic while the other is a “guilty pleasure.”

The deeply-ingrained cultural sentiment tells us that to like Britney Spears or Taylor Swift or The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City is on some level shameful consumption, while watching a Scorsese movie or listening to Tame Impala is praiseworthy. This isn’t to bash any of those things. I’ve enjoyed watching most Scorsese movies I’ve encountered and The Sopranos, another emblem of this, is among my favorite shows, but I can enjoy both and others should be able to as well without any feelings of guilt involved.

Enter Red, White and Royal Blue, by Casey McQuiston, my favorite book I’ve read this year so far. It’s the supremely unrealistic romcom tale of the son of the first female President, Alex Claremont-Diaz, falling in love with a British prince, Henry Wales. The book, with its pink-themed cover and its subject matter, would immediately turn off anyone look for so-called “serious literature.” The plot isn’t anything revolutionary. It’s themes and tropes are well-worn in the annals of the romantic novel. RW&RB has a fairly conventional enemies-to-lovers plot, followed by a reason for the protagonists to split up and then reunite at the end. There’s a happy ending not just for the principal couple but for all “good” characters in the book. In addition to Alex and Henry’s happy ending, several romances are sparked, Alex’s mother wins reelection, and families are reunited.

McQuiston’s work shows that art in any genre, when done well, can be great art. The reader develops a real emotional attachment to the characters and its LGBTQ themes and protagonists subvert the romance novel’s traditional patriarchal tropes, while also honoring its better elements. At the root of the romance novel’s frequent low regard is that it is a genre that’s principally the domain of women, as authors and audience.

The horror genre, like the romcom or romance novel, is often seen as fundamentally unworthy of serious criticism for its perceived lowbrow nature, even with recent examples such as Get Out and Hereditary showing the foolishness of this. Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark is a less-contemporary installment in this tradition of horror done well. Like RW&RB, Near Dark shows artistic excellence is not contained simply to certain preordained genres, but instead can come from anywhere and, more importantly, anyone. The dead old white men of the western cannon don’t have a monopoly on talent.

It’s easy for audiences, even when hailing from marginalized backgrounds, to disregard genres because of inherited cultural sentiments that draw arbitrary and inflexible demarcations between “good” and “bad” art, but once you get past this type of gatekeeping, a wider real of possibilities and opportunities for enjoyment and entertainment abound.

Varsity Blues and Academic Elitism

The bomb that was the 2019 college admissions scandal blew up in all of our faces not long ago. We saw famous faces spewed across the media and watched in awe as our favorite personalities became convicts. The release of Netflix's 2021 documentary, Operation Varsity Blues: The College Admissions Scandal, has effectively resuscitated the drama once again. Director Chris Smith provides captivating insight into the inner workings of the rich and famous. We are likewise familiarized with Rick Singer, the mastermind behind it all.

Fordham's Reaction to Racism and Malcolm X

  America in 2020 and 2021 has been extremely racially charged. Not that it hasn’t in the past decade or so as well, but the call to action feels stronger than this generation may be used to due to extreme violence facing both Black Americans and AAPI. Fordham has come out with statements regarding killings of innocent minorities. 

    Some have argued that these statements are bland and only being put out from Fr. McShane because he feels he must. No action is happening behind these emails and Fordham’s stance on these racial injustices are weak.

 In his email to students after the Atlanta Massacre in March 2021, Fr. McShane writes,“Our thoughts and our hearts go out to all the families and friends directly affected by this terrible tragedy. More generally, we condemn the broader context of increasing violence against Asian Americans in which this crime took place.” This statement, while nice, is general and does not take a strong stance against racism and never acknowledges hate crimes that have happened across Fordham’s campuses. 

Fordham students upset regarding this seemingly dull response to racism in America reflects the teachings of Malcolm X that we read earlier this semester. Malcolm X is often referred to as “the violent social justice leader” whereas Martin Luther King Jr. is the “peaceful social justice leader.” It is clear which one America favors. In American public schools, there is a clear difference of teachings of the lives of the two social justice warriors. We praise Martin Luther King Jr (As we should, do not get me wrong) and we rarely are taught the life and work that Malcolm X did for the civil rights movement.

Personally, I did not learn about Malcolm X at all until college. Growing up and going to early schooling in Texas, I only heard the name Malcolm X tossed around but I didn’t know anything else about him. It was not until I took an American History class- taught by an African American professor- that I really learned about the life and philosophy of Malcolm X. Malcolm X is crucial to the Civil Rights Movement and to erase him from that movement would be a crime. 

Fordham’s reprecutionless words in the statement from Fr. McShane, I can only assume, would horrify Malcolm X. The lack of action and the lack of, for lack of a better word, gusto, is so opposed to the incredible leader's work. The ‘thoughts and prayers’ and peaceful protest of Martin Luther King Jr. have not gotten the world of racial injustice as far as minorities deserve. It is the ideology that Fordham displays in the email quoted above that sending thoughts and prayers is enough will keep America stagnant in the progress towards racial justice. 

Just today, Daunte Wright was murdered after being pulled over for having an air freshener hanging from his rear view mirror. The movement began by Malcolm X and the Black Panther Party is not finished. The Spring and Summer of 2020 we saw, and attended, rallies and protests that showed that action helps. Changes began to happen and Americans, specifically white Americans, must show up for others and fight the fight Malcolm X did not get to finish in his lifetime.

Constructed Worlds by Nico Riordan

As I found myself lounging on the couch in aimless, endless couch-surfing like so many of us during this second year of the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself watching the flagship Disney+ television show WandaVision and was fascinated to find that it had an interesting number of parallels with Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. Both are relatively loose adaptations of pre-existing literature (the former as an adaptation of a few different Marvel Comic runs, the latter of the Steven King book of the same name), and deal with worlds and locations that are not quite what they seem. 

WandaVision begins in a fantasy world built from the tropes, aesthetic, and general structure of famous television sitcoms, chronologically moving through the decades beginning in the 1950s. As the series progresses, we come to find out that it has been constructed by one of its titular characters as a coping mechanism for her grief over the loss of the other. Wanda is a witch, able to manipulate the very fabric of reality, and she does so, making a number of people from the real world forcibly complicit in her fantasy reality. Eventually, the world devolves as meddling from the outside and from within breaks down Wanda and her hold over those within. The show wains in quality as the facade inside it begins to crumble, but it made for a welcome breath of fresh, new air in a time where most high-budget content had been postponed until the end of the pandemic.

One could argue that The Shining plays with somewhat similar tools in its proverbial sandbox.  Kubrick's protagonist Jack Torrance deals with isolation, alcoholism, and writer's block while moonlighting as a hotel caretaker and writing his novel. Throughout the film, Jack descends further into delusion and madness, and while this is happening the world of the Overlook Hotel begins to come alive. More of the Overlook's patrons make themselves known to the audience, and Kubrick shows that whilst their world might not be entirely real, it is certainly present, and directly affects both Jack and his family. 

These two worlds running juxtaposed to each other represent the mind and its own madness, with Wanda's world deteriorating as she comes to terms with her issues, and Jack's becoming worse and worse as he succumbs to his.