"A New Old Play": Clown Spirit and Handmade Craftsmanship
The film A New Old Play opens with its protagonist’s death.
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The film A New Old Play opens with its protagonist’s death.
At 7 p.m. on a 30–degree winter night, the bundled up masses of high school and college students could only be going to one place. No, not a frat, a BYO, or a date night, but a house show. Similar to '90s Riot grrrl movement in Olympia or the early 2000s alternative scene in NYC, the house show scene is characteristic of what it means to listen to music in Philly. The scene is underground, and the people who inhabit it are much like me and you, except cooler. They smoke Marlboros, have mullets, and wear tight muscle shirts with wide–legged pants.
One of my favorite introductions to a film is that of Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. (Which, if you haven’t seen, you should go and watch immediately before reading this spoiler.) In it, a Nazi colonel (Christoph Waltz) visits a French farmer’s (Denis Ménochet) house, responding to rumors that someone in the area is clandestinely sheltering a Jewish family from the Holocaust. The first ten minutes play out, slowly building tension as the audience attempts to piece together which character knows something that the other does not. Then, as the farmer details the ages and features of the family’s children, the camera slowly pans down to reveal them quietly hiding beneath the floorboards.
As I entered Union Transfer, the demographics of the Wednesday night crowd struck me. Twenty–something women in New Rocks coexisted alongside seventy–something men wearing pullovers, making it the most generationally diverse concert I’ve attended. This universality is unique to this small band from the UK.
In the summer of 2016, construction workers stumbled upon a mystery while performing centennial renovations on the historic Thomas Evans building in Penn Dental Medicine. “My phone rang one day that summer, and Elizabeth Ketterlinus, Senior Associate Dean, announced that construction workers had located two boxes in the [Penn Dental Medicine] basement that might be of interest. An hour later, I was perusing their contents,” says Lynn Marsden–Atlass, director of the Arthur Ross Gallery, remembering the start of a nearly decades–long artistic mystery.
The Traces by Mairead Small Staid is a philosophical exploration of happiness in which the author interweaves musings by figures like Aristotle, Cesare Pavese, and Alain de Botton with her own. She turns her self–reflection outward onto the reader, making this debut memoir both revealing and introspective. Small Staid discusses place, longing, and memory, journeying back through her life–altering time as a student abroad in Florence, Italy where she spent idyllic days studying “poems and paintings below oaken ceilings” and "[drinking] espresso in a sunlit courtyard.”
After R&B singer Jhené Aiko lost her older brother Miyagi in 2012, she spent the next five years losing herself. Whether it was abusing controlled substances, immersing herself in meaningless relationships, or jetting across the world to escape her feelings, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do to find solace from her pain.
Maybe it’s the highly dramatic acting that feels almost mimed at times, or maybe it’s the flamboyant clothing sported by Lily Collins’ character, but whatever it is, the fact remains that Emily in Paris is a show that, while highly entertaining, is usually laughable. Ask someone if they’ve watched the Netflix original series, and they’ll almost certainly roll their eyes and laugh, indicating their dislike for the cheesy program.
I walk through the air–conditioned corridors of the São Paulo Museum of Art (MASP), appreciating oil paintings in golden frames and white marble statues. Suddenly, I am stuck by a bright yellow poster, “Do women have to be naked to get into the São Paulo Museum of Art?”
Venturing through the Philadelphia Museum of Art (or any art museum really), you're guaranteed to see a hypersexualized, “ideal” version of the female anatomy: ample bosoms, round bottoms, and long flowing hair. Male physiques at the museum are seldom presented with the same objectification for voyeuristic purposes.
Bones and All is impossible to turn away from. Grimy, gory, gross—absolutely. Swooningly romantic, gentle, and beautiful—also yes. Many viewers may be turned off by the premise of cannibals eating their way across America’s great plains and sprawling highways, but those who find their interest piqued will surely be rewarded. This is a film with a lot of meat on its bones.
The frenzied buzz over Bong Joon–ho’s phenomenal Parasite (2019) seems to have just been yesterday, with both a sweeping victory at the Oscars and the box office (the fourth highest grossing foreign film in the United States). Decision to Leave (2022), a crime thriller from the celebrated Korean auteur Park Chan–wook, was recently released in the United States, and the film has been often described by the press in tandem with Parasite. Decision To Leave had its world premiere at Cannes Film Festival with a tremendous success, and it also aims to be a leading contender in the 2023 Oscar race. While it is still extremely hard to replicate Parasite’s success, Decision to Leave is in no way less glamorous. In fact, the audience may be left much more emotionally struck after watching Decision to Leave.
Oneness: Nature & Connectivity in Chinese Art is bringing the Chinese artistic tradition and landscape to Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Containing works by four prominent contemporary Chinese artists, the show tackles the intersections between humanism and environmentalism. It creates a continuous dialogue through the timeline of Chinese art, placing works like a 16th–century hanging scroll and Emperor’s Dragon Robe (Mang Pao) (c. 1840) alongside modern sculpture and ink paintings. For those looking to journey across the globe and through history, look no further than this immersive exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
If there’s one thing The White Lotus is sure to make you ponder, it’s the number of murders that can be committed at a luxury resort before anybody steps in to explore.
CO–OP Restaurant & Bar is nestled on South 33rd Street in University City, catering to residents and visitors alike, offering them a refined, yet unpretentious dining experience. The restaurant is just as chic as its café space and hotel aptly named “The Study.” Recently, CO–OP held a preview event celebrating the debut of their new restaurant concept, featuring an all–new head chef and restaurant staff and a focus on locally–sourced ingredients, Mid–Atlantic cuisine, and regional cooking practices complimented with a modern twist. This new direction is indicative of CO–OP’s intention to bring more upscale options to the University City area, particularly to those visiting or attending local universities such as Penn.
On a crisp fall afternoon at the Kelly Writers House, Penn students and faculty joined in the Locust Walk–facing seminar room to meet renowned music journalist Alan Light. Light sat across from Anthony DeCurtis, a fellow music writer and 20–year–long faculty member of Penn’s English Department. The two men spoke for an hour, sipping on watered–down iced coffee. Light discussed his fascination with Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” the digitization of music consumption, and his experiences in the ever–changing world of music journalism.
If you're a fan of Matisse, Philadelphia is the place to be this fall.
Tove Lo has been a silent force in pop music for years. The Swedish star expresses her candor through her self–reflective lyrics and her escapism through club–ready beats, giving pop music the breath of fresh air it sorely needs.
When the first season of Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale premiered in the spring of 2017 to critical acclaim, pundits, critics, and journalists interpreted this dystopian tale through a frighteningly current lens. The show, based on Margaret Atwood’s 1985 novel of the same name, follows June Osborne as she is forced into childbearing labor by an America consumed by religious extremism. Premiering a few weeks after President Donald Trump’s inauguration, the show was backdropped by Trump’s presidency. The show’s villains were often compared to corrupt members of Trump’s cabinet, and even the show’s lead actress, Elisabeth Moss, and showrunner Bruce Miller were vocal on their belief that The Handmaid’s Tale was crucial to resisting the current political moment. The show quickly found its cultural niche as a narrative of feminist resistance. Yet even as much as it abhorred the Trump presidency, the show heavily leaned on the Trump administration and particularly its hard line on abortion for inspiration and relevance.
Ten years after his bizarre, stylized neo–noir crime story, Killing Them Softly, Andrew Dominik returns with his newest, almost three–hour long feature film: Blonde. The film, which premiered at the 79th Venice International Film Festival and arrived on Netflix on Sept. 28, has faced heavy criticism over its extreme exploitation and overt simplification of Marilyn Monroe’s tragic life events. The runtime may seem to promise an in–depth, holistic rediscovery of Monroe’s life. Yet, Blonde is not a biopic, and despite the film’s blatant flaws, Dominik’s intention may lie somewhere other than an authentic representation of the blonde bombshell.