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Who else has spent post–midnight hours watching old Saturday Night Live clips instead of studying for that midterm you have in the morning? I bet you’ve watched “Wells for Boys” or “Papyrus”—two of the most viewed SNL sketches of all times. What if I told you they were both written by Julio Torres? Would you even know who that is?
How does a horror film that doesn’t deliver its scares until the last 30 minutes succeed?
Fall brings brick–red foliage, an influx of new University City residents, and a lot of good movies to Philadelphia. The Philly Film Festival, running from Oct. 17 to Oct. 27, is an inexpensive and easily accessible way to watch some new and emerging films before their wide release. Overwhelmed by all that PFF has to offer? Never fear—those of us who got a chance to see some of these films over the summer at Cannes and in the early fall at New York Film Festival are here to help you decide what to skip class and spend $12 on seeing.
The young women file in one by one, a girlishly organized succession of hair–bumps, lace blouses and miniskirts; pale blue tights, kitten heels with bows and, of course, eyeliner. Thick, dark wings for watery marbles of gray or green and honey—a shock of young eyes in the black of the theater. Descending down the row, the young women exit off into seats, otherwise too far to see and lost in the blackout. Slowly but surely, the room is engulfed in a fog of girldom; a soft darkness abuzz with chatter, hushed giggles, and reverent utterances of "Coppola." Sofia Coppola.
We’re living in a serial killer biopic renaissance. The ethics of true crime are always a hot–button topic online, and debates reign eternally on the ethics of having a hot guy play a serial killer.
Jackson: Francis Ford Coppola, are you okay?
Last week, Brigitte Bardot celebrated her ninetieth birthday. In celebration, let’s talk about the icon who didn’t just make the world fall in love with her—she made the world obsessed with her.
Sept. 19 was a really important day for me. That’s right, the trailer for Den of Thieves 2: Pantera, the sequel to 2018’s wonderfully trashy Den of Thieves, was finally released. Upon pulling up the trailer on the biggest screen I could find—my laptop—I had a series of strong, visceral, bone–deep reactions.
Before coming to Penn, I would take a trip to the movie theater nearly every week. My sister, who worked for our local theater, always got me free tickets, so I spent every second I could staring at the silver screen. I felt like Nicole Kidman! Experiencing movies on a massive screen with a medium popcorn (extra butter) and some cookie dough bites is truly an “indescribable feeling.”
Everyone hates movie musicals, right?
Welcome to another season of The Bachelorette, where race politics are served alongside champagne and Chopard engagement rings. This time, however, we’re treading on historic ground.
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.
The Emmys, barring a select few moments, were unbelievably milquetoast. The Levys were cute. Shōgun, The Bear, and Baby Reindeer won big. Only Murders got screwed in unforgivable ways. But there were a couple things that made me slightly less cynical about the whole awards show business. I’d be remiss to not point out some historic firsts, like Liza Colón–Zayas becoming the first Latina woman to win in her category (Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series). The big surprise of the night was Hacks, an actual comedy, beating out The Bear for the Outstanding Comedy Series win. And, in an upset much more personal to me (I still have not seen Hacks, I’m sorry!), Lamorne Morris took home a long–overdue Emmy. It may be for his work in Fargo, but it’s built on the back of years of giving one of the best comedic performances on TV at the time in New Girl.
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.
Whenever anyone asks me what my favorite movie franchise is, my response, without fail, is Alien.
You might not immediately recognize the name Gena Rowlands, but I bet your favorite actor probably does. Rowlands, best known for her revolutionary work in her husband John Cassavetes’ films, passed away on August 14th at the age of 94. And while she may be best known to most people as playing older Rachel McAdams in The Notebook, there have been few actors as impactful as her in the past sixty years.
Historically, my family has bonded over Food Network. The Barefoot Contessa, Rachael Ray, Giada—my whole family would spend the weekends watching together and trying out recipes. Nowadays, we’ve shifted away from the big screen and towards the small, sending each other Instagram Reels from “Justine Snacks” or asking each other our thoughts on the latest Claire Saffitz croissant recipe.
Name: Isaac Pollock
To the surprise of pretty much no one who has ever met me, I was a deeply annoying child. I self–identified as an old soul. I was heavily involved in a slew of campaigns for local politicians. And I loved nothing more than to tell fans of a movie that the book was better.
Thanks to the promises in the marketing for Longlegs, the theater was full of nervous chitters anticipating what horrible abomination Nicolas Cage was going to appear as.
Solutions by The State News