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Ruddy cheeks and a halo of blonde flyaway hairs—the portrait of Elizabeth Holmes might almost be cherubic were it not for her hauntingly still, icy pupils. A hand raises, thumb quivering, and a deep voice falls out of the woman, swearing to “tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” This was the scene in a San Francisco courtroom on the morning of July 11, 2017.
Human Cheese Grater: "I was a biter at two; by three, I was reformed; and by five, I was back to biting."
Season two of Euphoria, Sam Levinson’s American teen drama series that follows modern–day high schoolers navigating adolescence, has it all. There’s Zendaya, fancy costumes, stunning makeup, drugs, sex scenes, long takes, lots of music, choreographed dances, and incredible acting. Yet Euphoria still lacks the most fundamental aspect of a compelling show: a thoughtful storyline. In many cases, this season of Euphoria felt more like a compilation of music videos stacked onto each other rather than hour–long episodes.
I’m absolutely plotzing.
Everyone spends their whole life dreaming about their perfect wedding day, right?
When Wharton sophomore Kota Yamamoto started Penn in 2020, the traditional red and blue balloon arches, scattered move–in carts, and awkward first meetings took a back seat to Zoom links and surgical masks. At the height of the COVID–19 pandemic, he sought camaraderie, comfort, and a creative outlet, and soon began to search for a community outside of Penn’s pre–professional sphere.
Easy to make but hard to master, pop–punk has its fair share of vocal critics for being overly generic and juvenile. Avril Lavigne is one of few artists who not only knows the genre’s ins and outs but also has the ability to craft undeniable hits without sacrificing artistic integrity. In her prime, Lavigne was cranking out chart–toppers like “Girlfriend” and “Complicated,” songs that are as catchy as they are relatable. Like her pop contemporaries though, Lavigne eventually drifted away from the sound of her early years. Christina Aguilera found a home in Spanish music on La Fuerza, Nelly Furtado transitioned to indie pop on The Ride, and Lavigne herself tried her hand at more stripped back production on Head Above Water. However, in the wake of pop–punk's surge, Lavigne is going back to her roots. Twenty years later, she makes a return to the realm of teen angst and rebellion on Love Sux, though without the boldness or fearlessness we would typically expect from the artist.
Borscht Afficionado: "I'm so pro–beets my pee is red."
“I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry, I tried.”
From shows like Gossip Girl and Euphoria to Sex and the City and Friends, both high schoolers and late twenty–somethings get their fair share of media representation. By focusing on teenagers and adults trying to figure life out, Hollywood consistently overshadows the ups and downs of being a young adult or college student. Many young adults either have to base their lives on characters who are supposed to be younger than them or aspire to one day be the characters they see on TV that are way older than them.
Everything you are about to read in this article is completely true, except for all the parts that are totally made up.
When you think of Reese Witherspoon, chances are you think of her performance as the lovable Elle Woods, the Harvard Law student from the 2001 classic Legally Blonde. In many respects, Witherspoon is nothing like Woods; she never went to Harvard University (she dropped out of Stanford instead), attended law school, or chased a boyfriend across the country to get back together. But Witherspoon shares Woods’ ambition and drive to succeed and make change. For Witherspoon, this change has been found in the entertainment industry with her production company, Hello Sunshine, which sold for about $900 million in August 2021.
I love going to the movie theater—I love queuing up for popcorn before the movie, I love the way audiences unanimously agree to give the screen their undivided attention, and I love hearing the excited murmurs before the lights dim. At the same time, there is something equally special about viewing a movie or TV show within the confines of your room or home, preferably wrapped up in a blanket and sprawled out in the most socially unacceptable posture possible.
When Chadwick Boseman passed away from colon cancer in 2020, Marvel fans were devastated. The actor, who played Black Panther in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, left a huge hole not only in the franchise but in the hearts of millions of admirers. Remembering him as an inspiration on– and off–screen, Marvel President Kevin Feige announced soon after that Boseman’s role as T’Challa would not be recast in honor of his irreplaceable portrayal of the character. However, fans of the franchise have begun to clamor for the actor to be recast in its upcoming sequels. In fact, a petition to do so has garnered nearly 60,000 signatures, and the growing movement has even gained the support of Boseman’s brother.
@karinhotnanel on Instagram: "I thought cash bar was a metaphor."
Nearly a decade ago, Lupita Nyong’o was awarded an Academy Award for her first feature film role as Patsey in 12 Years a Slave. Overnight, Nyong’o went from just another talented actress to a bonafide Hollywood star. Winning an Oscar is a massive achievement in Hollywood, something that boosts someone’s career to new heights. Yet when comparing Nyong’o to her fellow Best Supporting Actress winners from the past decade like Regina King or Laura Dern, who have experienced career highs directing or starring in coveted roles, Nyong’o’s filmography seems minor and empty. Why has Hollywood not given Nyong’o the same opportunities?
There’s no doubt that Spider–Man: No Way Home—not only the highest box–office earner during the COVID–19 pandemic, but also the sixth highest–grossing movie of all time—was a success of epic proportions. However, its appeal may not have been the emotional storylines, young stars, Tom Holland and Zendaya, or even the beloved character at the center of it all, but rather something that’s increasingly changing the face of Hollywood as we know it: de–aging technology.
When Mary Tyler Moore died in January of 2017, I was completely oblivious to the fact that the world had just lost a star, someone who had charmed American households over the CBS airwaves for decades. That's because I wasn’t aware of her groundbreaking, aptly–named television program, The Mary Tyler Moore Show. The show is a sitcom from the 1970s about a young woman, Mary Richards, who breaks off her engagement and moves to Minneapolis to start a career. She balances her time between the newsroom of a local television station, where she serendipitously lands a job as an associate producer, and her modest, but glamorous studio apartment.
Charcuterie Connoisseur: "Who eats salami? Like, a sausage I can get behind. Oh, I can get behind a sausage."
For decades, Disney relied on Prince Charming for a happy ending; however, the company has since retired its signature plot device. In the last ten years, fairytale romances have morphed into touching meditations on familial relationships.
Solutions by The State News