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The Wharton student to world–tour artist pipeline may not be large, but for recent Penn Alum Inci Gürün (W ‘23), better known under her stage name “INJI,” following her passion is paying off.
What do Megan Thee Stallion and Britney Spears have in common? If you answered with a live ball python scarf, you’d be correct. When the biggest names in music gathered at UBS Arena in Elmont, New York for the 40th MTV Video Music Awards, it wasn’t just about who would take home a Moonman. Although Taylor Swift, Post Malone, and Sabrina Carpenter might have clinched the triple crown (the Video, Artist, and Song of the Year awards), it was the red carpet that captured the interest of viewers nationwide. There, the only rule is that there are none. Whether it’s messy references, gaudy glamor, or performance art, the VMA runway truly embraces an “anything goes” approach to an award show.
I went into Beetlejuice Beetlejuice with my expectations firmly in check. While I love the original, Tim Burton hasn’t made a film I’ve liked since the Clinton administration. Couple this streak with the fact that Burton and co. have been trying to get a Beetlejuice sequel off the ground since the late ‘80s, and this all seemed like a recipe for disaster.
Before ASCII snowflakes cascade down the screen behind him, Porter Robinson asks his audience a few questions in Helvetica. “Do you remember skinning your knee? Do you remember being bored in the summer? Do you remember the last time your mom held you?”
Tucked away on an unassuming corner of Sansom Street, a blinking array of fluorescent lights and a bold red backsplash beckons my friend Grace and I to the entrance of Vic Sushi Bar.
The Substance starts with a celebrity TV fitness host smiling at her audience. It ends with one of the grossest body horror sequences in recent history. And along the way, it provides stark social commentary on society’s fixation with women’s appearances.
Five–foot juggernaut Sabrina Carpenter is pop music’s new It Girl. The beachy rhythms “Espresso” and the glittering synths of “Please Please Please” were the sounds of 2024’s summer, and both grabbed the top spot on the Billboard Hot 100. Their music videos have been successes in an age where videos seem less relevant than ever before—“Espresso” is summer fun given visual form, and “Please Please Please” features Barry Keoghan, who gives a fresh spin on the classic story of the bad boy in love. Replete with pieces of Ariana Grande’s sound, and sporting Taylor Swift’s seal of approval, Carpenter's new album Short n' Sweet delivers all the energy of her summer singles and then some.
“We’ve clearly coordinated this very carefully.” Celeste Ng’s opening comment is met with a round of laughter in the audience. She’s the guest speaker for the March 27 event at the Penn Museum's Widener Hall, which is starting 15 minutes later than advertised. No one’s angry at the late start, but they are impatiently awaiting to hear what wisdom the acclaimed novelist is soon to bestow.
Julia Pratt has never stayed in one place for too long. She spent her childhood years moving around the country and overseas for her mother’s job. At 23 years old, Pratt is still on the road, performing sold–out shows and opening for her favorite artists and bands. Amid the chaos of change and the plight to find home, for Pratt, music has always been a constant.
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.
That painful and mirthful moment when you look at someone you believe you know intimately, and their face seems inexplicably unfamiliar. You feel like you’ve never really looked at them long enough to notice your eyes' perception, to account for all their subtle nuances. You see them as though they are a stranger, even if they are the dearest thing in the world to you. You feel like only now do you actually understand what they look like. This is what Nan Goldin captures in each of her photographs, she exposes the subtle nuances, the raw human experience. She forces you to stare at things long enough to really see what they look like.
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.
The only thing Shakespeare liked more than naming characters “Antonio” was playing with gender—Portia names herself Balthazar in The Merchant of Venice, Viola names herself Cesario in Twelfth Night, and Rosalind names herself after Zeus’s mythical male consort, Ganymede, in As You Like It. The Globe’s recent production of As You Like It ratchets the show’s gender play and gay undertones up to a hundred with gender–blind casting, a feature that is not only the production’s gimmick, but blended in seamlessly with the themes of the play that I almost forgot not all productions of the show are cast in such a way. Though it has sadly ended its run, one of the most fun things I have done in my time in London was go to The Globe’s As You Like It, and it made me hope for not only more productions that centralize fun, but also more theatergoing experiences that centralize community.
As one of the only senior girl groups still active in the K–pop industry, Red Velvet has made a lasting impact on the genre. Title tracks like “Red Flavor,” “Dumb Dumb,” “Zimzalabim,” and “Psycho” display a sample of the group’s wide and expansive sound. No matter if the group showcases its “Red” (the bubbly, colorful pop side) or its “Velvet” (the darker, evocative R&B–influenced side), listeners know that the five–member girl group has one of the most diverse and creative approaches to the K–pop genre.
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.
Bundles of presents under a glistening Christmas tree. Keeping up with decades–old traditions. Quality time with loved ones. For many people, these are the hallmarks of the holiday season. For others, like myself, the staple of post–Thanksgiving holiday cheer is listening to hours upon hours (upon hours!) of Christmas music.
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.
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