Don't Watch Disney's 'Mulan': There's a Better Option
Disney’s 2020 Mulan once again reveals the futility of trying to adapt the magic of animation to live–action.
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Disney’s 2020 Mulan once again reveals the futility of trying to adapt the magic of animation to live–action.
Season four of The Good Place has finally been released on Netflix, and, unfortunately for my midterm grades, I spent the last weekend binge–watching it. After being disappointed multiple times before by finales (I’m looking at you, Game of Thrones), I was worried that The Good Place would meet the same fate, especially considering how season four started off. However, it ended up hitting the mark and finishing with a near perfect ending.
MTM. These letters stand for the initials of television legend Mary Tyler Moore, her eponymous television show, and the production company that she founded with her then–husband Grant Tinker, MTM Enterprises. But most importantly, they stand for the legacy of how The Mary Tyler Moore Show set new precedents and standards for women.
When I tuned into the new Netflix show Never Have I Ever, I was excited to finally watch a series with an Indian–American protagonist. I expected to see my complicated feelings about being Indian–American explored on screen.
"Based on a true story..."
Over the course of its nearly 45–year history, SNL’s role in American politics has been unique. From its humble beginnings as an underdog television program, SNL has maintained an influence over politics—specifically presidential politics—as it has parodied national figures and created sharp works of satire on the state of our nation. Some have been critical of the show for being too partisan, but I’ve enjoyed watching SNL’s long history of poking fun at both sides of the aisle. I couldn’t tell you whether I laughed more at the late Phil Hartman’s performance as Ronald Reagan, where he snapped back and forth between his doddering public image and a shrewd, calculating persona, or at the very same comedian, only six years later, stuffing civilians’ Big Macs in his mouth as Bill Clinton. I can nearly recite “Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton Address the Nation,” a deeply feminist cold open performed by Tina Fey and Amy Poehler that emphasized the effects of sexism on both political parties during the 2008 election.
Among the ever–expanding Hollywood canon of films about food, the best one will forever be Pixar’s Ratatouille.
The massively popular second life of animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender is well–documented and well–deserved. A staple of our Nickelodeon childhoods, the critically acclaimed show was especially meaningful for children of Asian descent.
The upcoming Netflix film The Devil All the Time released its trailer two weeks ago, causing a buzz thanks to its star-studded cast and suspenseful, gothic tones. Though it boasts the talents of industry heavy—hitters like Robert Pattinson, Tom Holland, and Sebastian Stan, there is not a single person of color to be found amongst the cast list.
Picture this: you've got a large popcorn in one hand and a fountain drink in the other, walking down aisle B and awkwardly apologizing to strangers between you and your seat. You check whether you've turned off your phone three times before the trailers start. Finally, the lights down and the iconoclast Marvel Studios logo appears. For the next two hours, everyone is glued to what's on the screen. Now, shrink that screen by several degrees, replace the chair with a couch, and rather than being on silent, your phone is glued to your hand, your attention divided between the movie and your Twitter feed.
The appeal of the dating show is the unspoken desire for a neatly–tied ending, shared between both the viewer and participant; it's the guarantee that these carefully selected personalities you watch throughout the season are capable of finding love (and maybe you can too). In a room of gorgeously eligible singles, each reduced to a handful of lines per episode, it is both indulgent and reassuring to entertain the notion that the character you identify with will come out holding the final rose. As we watch strangers profess their family histories and prioritized qualities in a life partner, we are granted breathing room to feel less self–conscious about our own. We normalize the notion that there is someone out there curated to match our idiosyncrasies perfectly.
When The Kissing Booth first debuted on Netflix in May 2018, I was nearing the end of my senior year of high school and had a lot of free time. A hopeless romantic and a sucker for forbidden love stories, as well as an almost–graduate looking for ways to kill time, my 18–year–old self was intrigued by the movie’s seemingly juicy premise: a good girl falls for her best friend’s bad–boy older brother.
One of my all–time favorite children’s books when growing up was The Lorax. I loved the smooth and satisfying rhythm of its rhyming scheme and the detailed and colorful illustrations. I would turn each page slowly as to drink everything in—and I was fascinated by the story.
When my mom and sister first started binge watching Queer Eye two years ago, I cordially rejected their invitation to join. I found makeover shows to be overrated, and always preferred a fast–paced investigative drama or an Arrested Development–esque comedy sitcom to pass the time. Nonetheless, when I eventually joined them on the couch to tune into a QE episode, I was hooked.
365 Days is one of Netflix’s June releases that has become a big hit these past few weeks, being consistently listed under Netflix’s category “Top 10 in the US Today.” At surface level, 365 Days can be described as an erotic foreign film—its characters are Polish and Italian, though dialogue is mostly in English—that has a large amount of nudity and essentially no character development. But the movie is not simply a harmless raunchy sexual fantasy, it is a perpetuator of unrealistic and, frankly, dangerous societal ideals about women and romantic relationships.
Since I was forcibly evacuated from London due to the coronavirus pandemic, I’ve used a VPN to keep my IP address firmly within the southern borough of Bermondsey, 4,854 miles from my current place of residence in Texas. Following Mubi United Kingdom’s ‘Focus On’ Retrospective in early May, I became fascinated with the streaming service’s spotlighted filmmaker Celine Sciamma, whose style—like that of many of her queer and feminist contemporaries—feels both palpably rebellious and earnest in its exploration of adolescent sexuality.
The month of June usually feels like a time for celebration: the weather is beautiful, the flowers are in full bloom, it’s finally summer vacation. But there is also an official reason to celebrate the month of June— it’s Pride Month, a month dedicated to celebrating the LGBTQIA+ members of the world.
“Law and Order: Special Victims Unit” has long been my favorite TV series. Back at Penn, I’d watch SVU curled up in bed on Friday afternoons, on the treadmill most mornings, and while I did my makeup before a night out. Last fall, I even gave in and purchased a Hulu subscription just so I could have access to all 21 seasons. That's 478 episodes, approximately 320 hours of the police procedural, for those of you keeping score at home. The show follows a cast of NYC detectives charged with handling the city’s most sensitive crimes, such as sexual assault, kidnapping, human trafficking, and domestic abuse.
“The book is good enough on its own,” is a phrase often expressed by frustrated readers when they learn their favorite story is being adapted for film. This was certainly my reaction when I learned Sally Rooney’s 2018 best-selling novel Normal People—beloved for its depth and realism—was released this past April as a short television series for the BBC and Hulu.
Nostalgia is a fickle sentiment to come to terms with. As a nineteen–year–old girl, I am constantly grappling with the dichotomy of wanting to grow out of my teenagerish tendencies, yet still retain any remnants of my childhood. And, the truth is, I barely remember much of this childhood at all. Perhaps this is a side effect of aging in the face of social media— many of my fondest memories are not colored by reading Harry Potter under my comforter, but by watching countless YouTube skits past my bedtime. The constant consumption of content from an early age has prevented much of this content from taking up substantial space in my past.