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Like many other young women, I was raised with a seemingly unexplainable vendetta against the color pink. Since blue became my favourite color over pink at the ripe age of four, I’ve actively avoided anything to do with it—in my clothes, my room decor, my tech accessories. Pink has always been too girly.
Everyday for lunch and dinner, Penn students head across the street from Huntsman Hall to honeygrow, where they indulge in signature stir–fry, custom salads, or pick up a meal to-go. Founded in Philadelphia by Justin Rosenberg, this fast–casual stir-fry and salad concept has become a “dorm room name” for Penn students since first opening their doors on Walnut Street in November 2015. Justin is amazed that it has already been eight years since honeygrow made its way to University City. “I've wanted to be on Penn's campus since I wrote the original business plan,” he says.
If you’re a pop cultural obsessive like me, Christmas isn’t the most wonderful time of the year. That actually comes a few weeks earlier, usually from late November to early December, in the form of list season. You know what it is, if not by name: when every magazine, blog, and online publication throws down their takes on the best movies, music, television, trends, books, and unforgettable moments of the year. It’s a time to feel vindicated when our faves top the charts, and to discover everything we missed while boring stuff like jobs and school kept us busy.
Wingwomen (2023) has so much promise and I thoroughly enjoy many parts of it. But it is difficult to look away from its glaring issues in terms of storytelling—especially a questionable, basic, and boring ending to what is supposed to be a thrilling and heart–warming action spectacular.
Walking down the gravel sidewalks of the Seventh Ward, passersby are struck by what appears to be an inexplicable coalescence of past and present. At 538 Lombard Street, individuals marvel at the sight of Mrs. Doris Way passing by Mother Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in 1973 and others swear to have seen Nat “King” Cole performing a piano jazz medley at 510 South Broad Street.
Good grief! As finals season approaches, so does the holiday season. Synonymous with this time of year is a certain franchise: Peanuts. With five feature films and 51 television specials under their belts, Charlie Brown and company are the epitome of consistent cultural presence. Though it seems there’s a 25–minute to hour–long short for every holiday—from Easter to Arbor Day—true Peanuts primetime arises as soon as East Coast temperatures hit the fifties. The best of the best cover the three major American events of the season: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Millions have watched these specials air each year for decades (a fact that led to considerable backlash when Apple TV+ acquired them and it appeared the company wouldn’t allow the tradition to carry on). Aside from Charles Schulz’s instantly memorable characters, however, there’s another element that contributes to the Peanuts specials’ charm, and it’s all thanks to Vince Guaraldi.
2023 marks another year of my affectionate relationship with cinematic and televisual. I traveled around the globe chasing film festivals, producing more academic nonsense for my beloved Cinema & Media Studies classes, and inevitably falling in love with the many worlds behind the screen over and over again. I believe that film and television are all about worldmaking: They have an unparalleled capability to help us imagine strange people, unconventional lives, and alternative experiences that are by no means trivial to our existence on Earth. All film and television, for me, are realistic, because what is our perception of reality but the very boundary of our imagination?
The year 2023 will always be remembered for music, at least for me. I’ve had personal stakes in many of the albums that have come out this year. The prodigal boys, i.e. boygenius, reunited after five years and put out the film, directed by none other than Kristen Stewart, and Lana saved lives and served (at Waffle House). If these past few years have proven the solid foundation of artists, 2023 is about those artists taking a sledgehammer on that base and reemerging brand new.
Everyone says they want diversity. Exactly what this means is up for interpretation. While business says it means trying to hire minorities, and universities say they want economic diversity, the decision–makers and the incentives they operate under are the same as they’ve always been, leading us to little noticeable change.
*Author’s note: The SAG–AFTRA strike ended with a tentative deal on Thursday, November 9. Already, actors have been flocking to do press appearances on late–night shows and promoting their work on social media, demonstrating the importance of press to a movie’s success and how the strike imposed on actors’ awards chances.
Search “things they don’t tell you about pregnancy” on TikTok and a slew of videos pop up. New parents, shock evident in their voices, and people on their second or third child hoping to educate others, describe unexpected bodily changes—everything from chronic nose bleeds to rapid hair and nail growth. How could no one tell them this would happen?
It’s easy to forget erasure. It’s easy to get blinded by the popularity of films like Everything Everywhere All At Once and Minari sweeping awards, K–dramas adorning the Netflix front page, and K–pop topping the Billboard charts. Why harp on past racism when we can move forward without turning back?
MJ Lenderman has had a busy two years. When I first saw him perform in Feb. 2022, he was playing in the loading dock of a bar in North Philadelphia to a crowd of, generously, a couple hundred people. Sharing the stage with three local Philly bands, Lendermen lent his guitar heroics to Florry’s rendition of “Dead Flowers” and watched Hooky and Snoozer alongside the beanie and cargo pants–clad masses with whom he blended in well enough not to draw any attention. He was promoting the forthcoming release of his album Boat Songs, via Philly’s own Dear Life records, itself home to 2nd Grade, Friendship, and other local indie stalwarts.
You might’ve heard some rumbling about a new Beatles song that came out a few weeks ago. Billed as the “last Beatles song,” “Now and Then” features the voices of all four Beatles members, a curious product given the disbanded group had tragically lost two of their members within the last 50 years. However, with the help of artificial intelligence, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr were able to isolate George Harrison and John Lennon’s vocals from demo versions of the tracks. Adding some additional production and a 2023 revamp, the group decided to release the song, to the shock of their fans, in tandem with a documentary film Now and Then – The Last Beatles Song that describes the process of how the song was made.
If I want to get back to my hometown, Buffalo, NY from Philly, I have three bad options.
R&B singer Mariah the Scientist’s latest album "To Be Eaten Alive," is a testament to her growth and pen as an artist as she tackles her fame, life, and artistry. Released Oct. 27 off of independent label Buckles Laboratories, much of the record’s lyrical content is relevant to Mariah’s experience surrounding her boyfriend Young Thug’s incarceration on May 9, 2022, when Thug and other artists associated with music label and collective YSL were arrested on gang–related Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act charges, as well as her struggles handling womanhood and the music industry. This album is a step in the right direction, proving that her art can perhaps hold its own alongside generational contemporaries by the likes of SZA and Summer Walker. However, Mariah's work tends to reflect the tried and true motifs first developed by the genre’s predecessors, incorporating a love–letter style of writing and airy production.
There are some who complain that America has gone woke—but when has it not been? The woke mob (Puritans) have been canceling (executing) innocent Americans (“witches”) since our nation’s founding. The original colonizers of New England were among the first to promote a “politically correct” culture in the U.S., rigidly enforcing Puritanical codes of morality and behavior under threat of exile or even death. This unique founding spirit has never really gone away—from the Hays Code to the Satanic Panic to Tipper Gore’s Parents Music Resource Center, the instinct to censor runs deep in American culture. But in recent years, a new outgrowth of this horrifying urge has manifested itself in an entity so cloaked in pizazz and saccharine pop sweetness that it almost defies recognition for the beast that it is. I speak, of course, of that devil Kidz Bop.
As an avid secondhand–book buyer, I have certain rituals when I enter a bookstore. I always step into the horror section to see if I can catch a stray Stephen King; I walk through the classics looking for beautiful hardbacks and marbled pages; and, most importantly, I reminisce among the Young Adult shelves and see if I can spy the iconic black, white, and red–toned Twilight novels. If one part of my bookstore explorations is comfortingly predictable, it’s that I’ll find Stephenie Meyer’s infamous series—often, in its entirety. As of 2021, the saga had sold more than 160 million copies, and according to Publishers Weekly, Twilight was fifth on the list of top–selling books between 2004 and 2021 (just under Dr. Seuss’ Oh, the Places You’ll Go!). If you entered a teen girl’s bedroom in the 2000s or 2010s, chances were you’d find at least one copy—and maybe even a poster or life–size cardboard cutout of a character or two.
All great love stories seem start with fate: two people existing in the same room, two eyes meeting for a split of a second, fate dealing them lucky hands in a great cosmic card game.
Three tracks into Sufjan Stevens’ newest album, Javelin, he asks one of the most simple and honest questions that perhaps anybody can ask: “Will anybody ever love me? For good reasons, without grievance, not for sport?” He isn’t looking for forever, or for massive promises. He just wants someone to be able to “pledge allegiance to my burning heart.” The fittingly titled, “Will Anybody Ever Love Me?” may be one of the best songs of Stevens’ long and varied career.
Solutions by The State News