'Kingdom': The Living Dead and the Nation’s Death Rattle
The undead in Kingdom don't just rise from the grave—they emerge from the rot at the heart of the Joseon dynasty.
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The undead in Kingdom don't just rise from the grave—they emerge from the rot at the heart of the Joseon dynasty.
2024 has certainly been a year for film and television! Coming off the heels of a historic joint strike from both the Screen Actors Guild and the Writers Guild of America, the industry has been in a somewhat shaky place for the past 12–and–some months. Still, audiences have been fed with a bevy of delicious cinematic treats, from Apple TV originals to Palme d’Or winners to solid, good–old–fashioned seasons of quality comedy writing. Personally, I’ve found my own way with entertainment this year, journeying to Cannes and Los Angeles, and searching for that static buzz of excitement that comes with good television in Philly and New York. In an overwhelming senior year, it’s been nice to know that I’ll always have my friends on my TV set by my side. And if you’re looking for something to engage you, distract you, or just show you the many multifaceted ways that humanity gets depicted on screens small and large, let Street recommend this year’s best offerings. I think I speak for all of us when I say that I hope 2025 brings many, many more things to argue about, fawn over, and watch and rewatch again.
Growing up just across the river from New York City, I am no stranger to long, wrap–around–the–block lines. I’ve seen people wait hours for anything—a chance to buy Sabrina Carpenter tickets, a pop–up clothing brand, or Olivia Rodrigo merch. Even I, however, was surprised to see the sheer amount of sugar enthusiasts congregating in Rittenhouse Square at 8:00 a.m. for Philadelphia’s newest sweet–tooth sensation.
Buying a ticket to see a new release is also a pass to the experience of the movie theater—where the smell of freshly popped popcorn fills the air; displays of candy, nachos, and slushies surround cashiers; enthusiastic audience members talk about what they enjoyed and disliked about the movie; vibrant and colorful posters hang throughout the building; and claw machines play music similar to an ice–cream truck. Before you sit in the leather seats with a bucket of buttered popcorn and start the screening, you don’t know whether you will love the movie or if you’ll hate it. Regardless of how we view films after watching them, it’s always true that when you enter a movie theater, you set foot into a new world, if only for two hours. And sometimes, a new world means a new wardrobe.
Everyone is familiar with the experience of repeating a word with such frequency that it loses all meaning. Where before it had fluidly and unreflectively slipped into our speech, saying it again and again has made it sit uneasily on the tongue, made it strange. It is this experience—of repetition rendering something unfamiliar, and thus creating something new—which perpetually unfolds at the exhibition Begin Again: Repetition in Contemporary Art.
Every time students walk into Falk Dining Commons in Steinhardt Hall, whether it’s their home away from home or just a quick stop for a chicken wrap, Marti Bates is there, swiping them in with her infectious smile. She’s the heartbeat of the place. But behind that smile is a true Penn story—one that stretches back generations. Bates’ family has been part of Penn Dining for years, and now she’s continuing that tradition, building her own life here alongside her husband, who runs the kitchen at Falk Dining Hall. For Bates, it’s more than just a job—whether it’s surprising a former student by flying out to their wedding or just knowing the names of the people who walk through her doors, she goes above and beyond. But for all she gives, the reality of her work is more complicated.
The second floor of Pottruck can be one of the most intimidating places on Penn’s campus. The many squat racks, bench presses, and weight machines always seem to be filled; at peak hours, there are lines forming to use some of the machines. It can feel like every student decided to fit in a quick lift at the same time.
Kapacity calls itself Penn’s premier Korean rock band, but it's not one to be pigeonholed—its setlists span ‘70s hard rock epics, 2000s emo classics, top–of–the–charts K–Pop, and heart–rending balladry. Long divorced from its primarily international student beginnings, now the band’s only focus is quality music, and it’ll reach out to any corner of the world to attain it. I saw this quality for myself at its show in March, and I knew I had to talk with the members—so I sat down with three leading members of the band in their regular rehearsal room to discuss their goals, inspirations, and creative process.
On a cool October night in Philadelphia, jazz lovers flooded Zellerbach Theater and hummed with anticipation for Joshua Redman’s long–awaited return. The sound of Redman’s saxophone last enraptured the city more than a decade ago, and the crowd performed as a hive, buzzing with eagerness. As the lights dimmed and the Joshua Redman Group took the stage, a voice from the darkness hollered from the gallery off of stage right, “Come’on Josh, I’ve been waiting a long time!” and without skipping a beat, Redman burst into sheets of sound, commencing that evening’s journey. It was as if Redman acted as a conductor, yelling ‘all aboard!’ before the train pulled out of its station—the audience, or travelers—clamoring for a window seat. As we settled in and examined the passing scenery, one could imagine the collaboration between piano, bass, sax, and drums as different gears of a freight, chuggin’ over the Schuylkill River Viaduct on its way to the first stop: Chicago.
“I want to get the words right.”
Kimi Li (C ‘25) is not your typical pre–dental student. While she spends her days at Penn immersed in her academics, volunteer work, and research, she makes sure to fill her free moments embarking on exciting side quests. She’s rapped on stage as a prelude act for Hamilton in front of a live audience, competed for the chance to win a $2 million private island on a MrBeast reality YouTube video, and even launched her own shoe–painting small business. “I hate when life gets boring, so I love saying 'yes' to opportunities that make it just a little more exciting,” Kimi says.
As I took my seat on Friday night at the Academy of Music’s cozy Perelman Theater to hear chamber orchestra Sphinx Virtuosi, I reflected on other concerts I’d attended in this very same venue. Generally reserved for chamber ensemble performances (consorts, quartets, the occasional Baroque soloist), the Perelman is intimate, seating 650 as opposed to the 2,500 that its sister concert hall, Marian Anderson Hall, can manage. I’ve most often received an overwhelming impression of comfort from Perelman concerts: safe musical choices, small ensembles with a homespun feel, cute but at times banal performances … from regional youth orchestras to masterful but familiar solo pieces performed by Yo–Yo Ma, I’ve left the Perelman smiling in appreciation but never in astonishment.
You walk into a café, searching for a drink to start your day. A matcha latte feels like a no–brainer, so you go for it, reluctantly swallowing the extra dollar for oat milk since you’ve run out of Lactaids. You insert your card, realizing you’ve spent $7 on a drink, and tell yourself this was a treat for the long week you’ve had (it’s only Tuesday morning). As you recalculate how much you can afford for lunch, the cashier awkwardly calls you back because you forgot something: “Do you want to add a tip?”
The roll out for Halsey’s fifth studio album, The Great Impersonator, was anything but subtle. For eighteen days prior to the release, Halsey posted pictures of herself on Instagram dressed as her greatest musical influences. Amongst the greats they dressed up as were Dolly Parton, David Bowie, Fiona Apple, PJ Harvey, Bjork, Britney Spears, Joni Mitchell, and Bruce Springsteen. It was clear from the start that Halsey wanted us to get up close and personal with The Great Impersonator, revealing the significant figures that influenced each track—but this would only be the tip of the iceberg. In The Great Impersonator, Halsey truly rips themselves open, revealing all the light (as well as the darkness) that exists within them and recounting their past few years spent battling with illness, coming to terms with motherhood, and finding love. While some of the tracks, or “impersonations”, on this album fall flat at times, the album as a whole is Halsey's most earnest, intimate, and deeply personal work yet.
On a quiet morning in Philadelphia, the sun catches on an enormous mural taking over an unassuming carpark wall. Vibrant colors breathe life into the dull concrete, layers of paint whispering stories of history and community. Philadelphia’s walls have become canvases—spaces where we can feel the heartbeat of a city defined by its rich diversity.
I can hardly imagine my pre–COVID–19 life without ChatGPT. Beyond summarizing dense readings and designing practice tests for upcoming midterms, artificial intelligence has crawled its way into the entertainment industry. With AI art gaining traction in mainstream media—for example, through AI–generated profile pictures and fabricated voiceovers of famous celebrities—the question of whether AI should be used in tandem with creative projects has become a point of contention among artists, critics, and the general public.
Phil Elverum is no stranger to misery. His long career as an indie–rock storyteller began with the band D+, before he shot to prominence with The Microphones, singing about the impermanence of life in breathy tones over hot, oppressive instrumentals.
Before I first watched Devilman Crybaby, I had been warned: “Isn’t that the gross pervy one?”
There’s never a dull day in the K–pop universe, and that’s been especially true this past month, which saw a string of Ws for NewJeans against all odds, Bruno Mars’ first Korean music show win, and an appallingly bleak situation regarding RIIZE’s Seunghan. Even past all that, there’s been an unprecedented flow of drops from third, fourth, and fifth–gen titans alike—and like last time, I’ll be going over and reviewing some of the most notable ones.
On Sept. 13, the Philadelphia Historical Commission (PHC) voted 9–0 to approve the creation of the Washington Square West Historic District, spanning 26 blocks between Walnut and Lombard Streets and 8th and Juniper Streets. Nearly 1,500 residential, commercial, and religious properties fall within the boundaries of the new district, the largest in the city.