Ego of the Week: Isaac Gateno
Name: Isaac Gateno
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Name: Isaac Gateno
From dislocated knees to broken arms, humans are inexplicably prone to injury. More often than not, everyone at some point has found themselves lying in a hospital bed, nervously awaiting a doctor’s examination while a nurse offers them a calming smile and a comforting array of cafeteria snacks. For many people, hospital visits are a normalized aspect of one’s adolescence, certainly unenjoyable yet dually inevitable.
I took a class last fall that made me believe food is the center of the universe.
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.
Put a finger down if you love eating the same foods over and over again. Put a finger down if you don’t eat. Put a finger down if you pick at your fingers a lot … and put a bonus finger down if it’s because it helps you focus. If you put more than six fingers down, you might have ADHD.
From swanky wine bars to hole–in–the–wall neighborhood gems, it’s all too easy to lose oneself in the world of the foodie. But there is a certain privilege in the ability to choose and explore cuisine. Even in something as simple as a home–cooked hot meal. The Community Grocer (TCG) seeks to ensure that every person has access to the kind of warm meals worthy of a rave review.
Back home in the Philippines, Lance Tan (SEAS ‘23) grew up eating fries as his after–school snack. Not your ordinary McDonald's fries, but flavored fries, a common food concept in Southeast Asia. In college, noticing a gap in the snacking options on campus, Lance decided to bring a taste of home to Penn and launch his own specialty fries business. “Potato Pit Stop” was born.
Will Zong is the epitome of creativity. An energizer bunny with translucent pink Warby Parker glasses, Will is armed with a curious gleam in his eye and a good–hearted, go–with–the–flow nature that is always drawing him into his next grand adventure. He’s created just about everything under the sun, from binding his own books to computer games, and he doesn't show any signs of stopping post–graduation. To top it all off, he’s a volunteer with the greater Philadelphia youth to "create new inspiration" in the next generation.
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.
Filipinos are passionate about their food. I grew up with the pungent aroma of garlic and banana ketchup on sticks of chicken caramelizing on the grill—the highlight of family gatherings. Birthdays were always celebrated with pancit and lumpia that my mom would make from old family recipes. My family’s cravings would be satisfied when we visited my uncle in NYC and ate at Filipino staples like Krystal’s Cafe or Jeepney, or when my aunt brought us ube cakes from a Princeton bakery on her visits. But growing up in Philadelphia, there were hardly any local Filipino food restaurants we could go to for a “home–cooked” meal. So when Tambayan first opened in July 2021, my family was naturally thrilled.
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.
Amid the urban jungle of broken concrete and faded brick, street artist Kala Hagopian is an eco–conscious mother of naturalistic murals. With a passion that has blossomed since childhood, Hagopian is committed to repainting West Philadelphia's perspective on environmental conservation.
If you were to search for Emily Whitehead (C '27) on the Internet, you'd undoubtedly come across descriptions like “cancer survivor,” “first pediatric patient to receive CAR T cell therapy,” and “living miracle.” However, if you asked Emily Whitehead herself, she would tell you that those labels are just a fragment of her identity: “There's so much more to me than cancer.” Ten years ago, Emily received groundbreaking treatment at the University of Pennsylvania that garnered worldwide attention. Now, having come full circle, she returns to Penn as a freshman, prepared to embark on a new adventure.
What is contained in the stroke of a brush? Or the interplay of shapes on a canvas? Could it be the same as what is intimated in the echoes of a church choir or the patterns of a quilt? For the late Philadelphian Moe Brooker, who died last January, the answer is emphatically yes: structures that underlie art are transferable across mediums and cultures. If Brooker’s extraordinary artistic vision wasn’t enough, he also imbued philosophy into his work. Every piece is a foray into human joy and the divine. Brooker's journey is the story of an artist navigating Philadelphia, its exclusive—and exclusionary—art scene, and finding a unique voice through his paintings. But it is also a universal story, the search for joy and meaning in life.
When Sarah Girgis (C ‘24) was a freshman, her room in the Quad wasn’t exactly a state–of–the–art kitchen. Yet, armed with a hand mixer and an extra desk, she made cookie dough in her dorm, earning her the hall title of resident baker.
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then celebrity impersonation is a lifelong devotional. Career impersonators—from Elvis officiants for elopers in Vegas to washed up cover bands performing to senile audiences—are often disparaged as the runts of the entertainment industry.
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