   From memes to style inspiration, it’s been hard to escape “Barbie” (2023) this summer, and for good reason. Though one might not expect much more of the movie than its bright pink hues and sparkles that are heavily featured in its beginning sequences, “Barbie” has a lot more to it. As the film progresses, “Barbie” reveals director Greta Gerwig’s examinations of womanhood and of the role of the patriarchy in today's era.
   In Barbieland, each of the Barbies has her own job, from doctor to president, while the Kens are devoted to constantly supporting the Barbies in all that they do. The Barbies believe that this depiction of women in every job imaginable has “solved feminism” in the real world, and they are proud of themselves for helping women realize their capabilities. But their female empowerment has its limits, as the Barbies shun all imperfections. They are terrified of being any less than perfect and becoming like the Barbie they call “Weird Barbie,” who became damaged after being played with too hard. She is a horror story to the Barbies, and when the stereotypical Barbie (played by Margot Robbie) starts noticing defects in herself, she’s willing to do anything to revert back to her perfect life and avoid ending up like Weird Barbie. 
   When her journey takes her to the real world, she discovers that the lives of most human women don’t contain any of the dream houses and dance parties of hers. An impassioned speech by Gloria (played by America Ferrera), a woman in the real world, sheds light on the impossible standards women constantly face. Even Barbie can’t fulfill the ideal of a perfect, accomplished, and flawless woman that women in the real world are forced to contend with. The main goal of “Barbie” is to expose how difficult it is to be a woman in a society full of contradictory expectations. As Gloria says, “You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin.” In her powerful monologue, Gloria shows how hard it is to be the “perfect woman” when you’re only human. Though the Barbie doll is known for her unattainable body and enforcement of stereotypes about women, the movie itself takes a contrasting point of view, arguing for the acceptance and embracement of human flaws. This message isn’t exactly original or ground-breaking, but it is more than you would expect from a movie about Barbie, and it does the important job of giving a spotlight to many feminist issues. Its message of acceptance, along with a poppy soundtrack, humorous script, and stylish costumes, is enough to make any viewer feel good walking out of the theater. 
   Additionally, the film demonstrates how the patriarchal system is detrimental not only to women, but also to men. Ken (played by Ryan Gosling), once considered merely Barbie's accessory, embarks on a transformative adventure that exposes the insidious nature of objectification. As he ventures into a fiercely competitive and toxic male environment, Ken finds himself surrounded by a culture that objectifies women, reducing them to mere commodities. This environment, unfortunately, thrives on the possession of these objectified women, equating sexism with masculinity. However, it's only once Ken has a profound realization that he is "Kenough," independent of societal expectations, that he breaks free from this toxic masculine paradigm. His journey serves as a powerful reminder that, along with perpetuating misogyny, the patriarchy also negatively impacts men, trapping them in a never-ending cycle of insecurity and unhealthy competition. "Barbie" masterfully explores these themes, offering audiences a thought-provoking narrative that encourages us all to challenge and dismantle harmful societal norms.
   “Barbie” (2023) takes responsibility for all that the brand has projected onto women in years past; while the original Barbie represented a woman can do everything herself (something that, at the time of the original Barbie’s release, wasn’t common), they also created a woman with no imperfections, something which is not ever attainable in real life. The film also highlights how our world’s patriarchal society encourages men to objectify women, but how the Kens have always been the opposite, craving Barbie’s approval. Though the movie finds a happy medium in Barbie world, leading the Kens to accept themselves as individuals and letting the Barbies accept their imperfections, it doesn’t actually provide a clear-cut solution to misogyny, mostly because there hasn’t been one yet. Instead, it focuses on how impossible we’ve made it for women to be respected for who they are, and it encourages women and men alike to reject these societal expectations. Our world isn’t made of plastic, and we shouldn’t model it as such.

Barbenheimer Spread

When the first pictures of Margot Robbie playing the title role of “Barbie” were released, everyone knew it would be the movie of summer 2023. Shortly after the announcement, fashion labels quickly began to dress their models in hot pink — most memorably Valentino and Versace — and this hot trend covered the runway for most of 2022 and part of 2023. In January, Pantone even declared the color of 2023 “Viva Magenta,” designating this year’s color a vibrant shade of pink, similar to the one Barbie frequently has worn.
Both “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer” caused an immense surge in movie theater attendance, bringing in $337 million and $175 million respectively in their first debut weekend, according to TIME Magazine. Currently, “Barbie” has surpassed $1.3 billion at the global box office.
On TikTok, the app’s users began to share what outfits they were wearing to “Barbie” or “Oppenheimer,” creating videos where they entered the movie theater fully decked out in either hot pink or charcoal outfits. This even sparked a debate among users across the platform over which movie they would see first and at what time (a common consensus was to watch “Oppenheimer” in the morning and “Barbie” in the afternoon).  
In terms of records, “Barbie” had the most success ever in the box office for a Warner Bros. movie and it is currently the highest grossing movie by a female director (Greta Gerwig).

Student Takes: Team “Barbie” or Team “Oppenheimer”?
   “I liked ‘Barbie’ more because it showed strong, independent women creating a future for themselves that sets a good example for other young women,” Besa Liese ’25.
   “I preferred ‘Barbie’ for the entertainment value because at least it was funny, even if I don’t agree with its core principles of promoting capitalism. ‘Oppenheimer’ was just not a good movie; the only thing that redeemed it was Cillian Murphy,” Ero Christy ’25.
   “I chose ‘Barbie’ because it’s about having a cool, fun time. ‘Oppenheimer’ is just about a sad American making a bomb,” Jonathan Taylor ’26.
   “‘Oppenheimer’ because I like physics so I very much like good movies or dramatic movies/TV series about some well-known physicists. I have previously seen a TV series about Einstein which is partially a documentary, partially a dramatic series, and ‘Oppenheimer’ was kind of similar to that. It’s also directed by Christopher Nolan, and I like that director. ‘Barbie’ was more like a promotion of social equality, which is interesting to me, but it’s not as central to my life as physics is,” Orion Wei ’24.
   “I would prefer ‘Barbie’ because ‘Oppenheimer’ was very long, but I loved the whole ‘Barbie’ vibe. I watched the trailer [for Barbie] over and over, [and] I really liked the movie. I liked the whole set and all the doll things, and it was a really great movie,” Phineas McCulloch ’26.

“Barbenheimer,” the Clash of the Summer

"Little Miss Sunshine" (2006), directed by Jonathan Davis and Valerie Faris, emerges as a cinematic gem that illuminates the complexities of chasing self-realization (as the late philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would put it) with a generous sprinkling of humor and warmth. Set against the backdrop of a cross-country journey, the movie introduces us to the Hoover family as they embark on an oftentimes heartbreaking road trip, interwoven with hilarious dialogue. When their young daughter Olive qualifies for the “Little Miss Sunshine” beauty pageant, the Hoovers find themselves confronting personal struggles, rivalries, and an assortment of offbeat encounters. With a remarkable ensemble cast and a heartfelt narrative, the film unveils the transformative power of unconditional love, resilience, and the pursuit of dreams against all odds. "Little Miss Sunshine" explores the intricacies of what it means to “win,” the word nestled at the very heart of the film's messaging, leaving audiences with a renewed appreciation for the unpredictable yet beautiful tapestry of life.
   The Hoover family is a dysfunctional unit composed of a bankrupt perfectionist father, a mother strives to maintain unity, a completely unfiltered grandfather, an uncle who recently survived from a suicide attempt, a philosophical older brother, and Olive, a young, little girl with big dreams. While the movie explores a variety of themes from family to societal expectations, an underlying theme throughout the movie is the subject of philosophy. Dwayne Hoover, Olive’s older brother, spends the entire movie grappling to understand the late philosopher Nietzsche’s wise advice that “those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” As viewers examining the lives of the Hoover family, it is easy to understand how Nietzche’s commentary resonates with the struggles of each character within their own respective worlds. Despite their incompatibility, the family is compelled to work together and understand each other’s troubles in order to support Olive’s journey to successfully participate in the pageant.
   Throughout the film, the director delineates a striking contrast between the atmosphere and the content, effectively illustrating the inherent contradictions of life. Each family member contradicts one another, allowing the film to encompass both somber and joyful perspectives on life. As each of them begin to self-actualize, they come to realize that out of the lot of them, Olive is the happiest through her optimistic view of the more solemn matters of life. Though this is most likely because Olive is a child who doesn’t fully comprehend all of the depressing events that occur on this one short road trip, her effect on the movie is undeniable. Olive’s pure bliss and wide smile transform the otherwise sad events of the movie into a positive ending, as her colorful view on life spreads to influence the other characters’ attitudes as well. Her efforts in becoming a pageant queen, despite not having the appearance of a pre-molded pageant doll, inspires the rest of her family (and the film’s audiences) to chase their own ambitions, emphasizing that the journey of it all may turn out to be more fulfilling than the success at its end.
    While “Little Miss Sunshine” isn’t directly about summer, Olive’s bright aura and cheery smile makes the audience feel as if it’s being enveloped in sunlight. The movie starts out with the uncle’s depression, the brother’s vow of silence, and the father’s business failure polarizing them all, however, these issues eventually unite them when they all refuse to see Olive give up on her dreams. “Little Miss Sunshine” manages to tackle not-so-cheerful themes of dysfunctionality, depression, and even death in a way that doesn’t ignore those issues, but perceives them through a lens of greater acceptance.

Shining light on sadness: “Little Miss Sunshine”

   As long as film has existed as an artistic medium, the written word has turned into visual spectacle. The first science-fiction film ever made, George Melies’ “A Trip to the Moon” (1902), was a loose adaptation of two Jules Verne novels. Since then, we’ve seen countless books and plays transferred from the page to the screen, fulfilling readers’ desires to see the stories they read come to life. For decades, the same debate has raged over these adaptations: To what extent can they be faithful to the originals? Should they be faithful to the originals? And can an adaptation not only match up to, but transcend the quality of the original?
   While literature is a written medium, film is an audio-visual one, and often, what can be portrayed in one cannot as easily or as convincingly be portrayed in the other. It’s in this transition from the literary form
to the cinematic that most adaptations struggle, and it must be acknowledged that some works are more difficult than others to bring to the screen. For example, novels like Virginia Woolf ’s “To the Lighthouse,” which is centered on a family’s visits to an island in Scotland in the 1900s, would make difficult adaptations, as they are set more so in the psyche of their characters than any physical setting.
   Words can depict things that images can’t, but they can also more easily obscure a reality than film can. When a book deals with a reality that is kept hidden or sugar-coated in its description, visually depicting it can often either ruin the mystery or rob the reader of the veil casted over what is depicted. A prime example is Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita.” In the novel, it is clear that all we read has been filtered through the romantic and charismatic writing of protagonist Humbert Humbert, and the reader has to read between the lines to picture the reality (an underage girl kidnapped and preyed upon) that Humbert sells to the reader. With film adaptations, however, this kind of sugarcoating is harder, because we are able to see what is happening. Kubrick, however, found his own way around this by using a similar strategy in the visual medium: filming, scoring, and writing the movie as if it were a romance, rather than the story of a pedophile. For instance, the film is shot with the glossy diffused lighting most romances and comedies would use on their leading actresses, and the film’s music is built around a catchy pop tune rather than any suggestion of suspense or unease.
   This brings us to the question: In cases where a story can be easily adapted, should a film be faithful to the original? When is it appropriate to take creative liberties? With some stories, sticking close to the books can be an asset: the Harry Potter films did so, and received critical acclaim, as did Francis Ford Coppola’s version of Mario Puzo’s “The Godfather.” Other books, however, are less suitable for close adaptations to the screen, either because of lack of action or public interest (the film adaptation of Penelope Fitzgerald’s “The Bookshop” has this problem). Many successful film adaptations take liberties, sometimes altering the entire core of the source material, and in some cases it is these films that transcend the originals. The French auteur Jean-Luc Godard would often take a story and strip it down to its barest skeleton of a plot, upon which he would add his own ideas, philosophical tangents, and experimentations (his 1965 film “Pierrot le Fou” retains only the idea of a man and woman running away together and betraying each other from the novel on which it is based). Most adaptations don’t go as far as Godard, but in the hands of a skilled director, a novel’s plot is often refashioned to fit the screen better: Steven Spielberg’s adaptations of “Jaws” and “Jurassic Park” are better known than the original novels (which many, indeed, are unaware of) because he knew how to refashion their plots into blockbusters without losing the thematic and emotional core of each story. In “Jurassic Park,” for example, character deaths are removed in the adaptation, and the ordering of scenes is changed to better fit the progression of an action-adventure movie.
   The decision to faithfully adapt a book or take creative liberties rests on the filmmakers’ discretion, and the success of an adaptation depends on their ability to capture the essence of the story in the new medium. Some books may be better suited for the screen than others, and some may require a different approach to achieve a successful adaptation. As long as the core of the story remains intact, filmmakers have the freedom to explore new possibilities and create something that stands on its own as a cinematic work of art. Ultimately, whether an adaptation transcends the original or falls short of expectations is up to the audience to decide, but what remains clear is that the act of adapting literature into film continues to be a fascinating and complex process that challenges artists to find new ways to bring stories to life.

From the page to the screen: adaptations

Cheryl Dunye’s film “The Watermelon Woman” (1996) is a significant feminist work as it explores issues of representation, identity, and history through a Black lesbian filmmaker’s perspective. The movie’s importance lies not only in its themes regarding the aforementioned issues, but also in its innovative approach to storytelling, which combines fictional narrative with documentary-style footage and interviews.
   Dunye herself stars as Cheryl, a young filmmaker who becomes fascinated with a Black actress credited only as “The Watermelon Woman” in old movies from the 1930s and 1940s. As Cheryl digs deeper into the actress’s life, she discovers that not only was the “Watermelon Woman” a lesbian, but she also had a relationship with a white director, mirroring Cheryl’s own interracial love affair. Through this parallel, Cheryl grapples with issues of race, gender, and sexual orientation that still resonate today.
   What makes “The Watermelon Woman” so extraordinary is its ability to tell an engaging and entertaining story while also raising important questions about representation and history. The film’s use of real archival footage, including images of Black women in Hollywood films and documentaries, highlights the limited roles and stereotyping that Black actresses have faced throughout history. Meanwhile, the fictional narrative allows Dunye to create a positive and empowering representation of Black lesbian life, a rarity in mainstream media.
   The film’s innovative approach to storytelling is also noteworthy. Dunye uses a mix of documentary and fictional elements to convey its message, with Cheryl often breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to the camera or interacting with real people in her community. This combination creates a sense of authenticity and immediacy that draws the audience into the story and makes them feel invested and drawn into Cheryl’s captivating journey.
   	Furthermore, $5 million is generally considered a low budget for a film by most distributors. Nevertheless, despite having a meager budget of only $300,000, the film’s low production value did not compromise its appearance. Instead, the low production value enhanced the film’s overall aesthetic quality, making it stand out from other films with much higher budgets. Its rawness and grit, which teeters between reality and fiction, captures the heart of the project. In fact, I initially believed it was a real documentary with no elements of fiction, because that is how it is presented to the audience. The lack of color grading or editing preserves the original footage, resulting in a found footage/documentary style that adds to its authenticity.
   While some perceive the film’s format as deceptive, I do not believe it tricks or lies to the audience. The story of Cheryl is based on her real-life experiences, and despite the fictional setting, the story of “The Watermelon Woman” could very well be real. The film cleverly uses a mockumentary style to tell a genuine story. 

Film(me) fatales: movies about women and by women - Watermelon Woman

From February 10 to the 18, PHS Choir traveled throughout Portugal, showcasing their vocal talent in a series of concerts in Coimbra, Porto, and Lisbon. The tour was full of opportunities to explore Portuguese culture, from the unique musical traditions of the country to its art museum in Porto and the historic sites of Lisbon.
PHS Choir students were thrilled about the opportunities they had in Portugal. Many were excited for the chance to participate in Portugal’s food festivals, try the famous Portuguese pastéis de nata, and visit different restaurants and Portuguese monuments. 
“I am hoping to learn about the country and its people as well as the culture and significance. It’s definitely a once in a lifetime experience, and I know I will enjoy it,” said Emil Hansen ’23 prior to the trip. 
Members of the choir have built strong bonds and lasting friendships through their years of performing together, which makes the trip that much more special. It’s not just a group of high schoolers traveling, but a caring family and community that gets to experience and engage in a new culture together. 
   The PHS Choir performed mostly traditional Portuguese Fado music as well as more classical and Renaissance songs in Latin. Traditional American gospel music was also performed in an effort to showcase a traditional American genre. 
“Fado music…are often songs of longing and lament and are quite moving,” said PHS Choir member Adrian Serieyssol ’23. 
Some PHS Choir members were also excited to sing with two host choirs, one university choir, Universidade of Coimbra, and another high school choir, School Dona Filipa de Lencastre. With over three thousand miles between PHS and the Universidade of Coimbra choir, Choir members like Jamie Reynolds ’24 are delighted to form trans-continental connections with choir students from Portuguese schools.
“It’s  always exciting to meet new people,” said Reynolds. “The [occasion is] extra special because we barely know the host choirs and we’re putting on multiple concerts with them [... and] performing for large crowds with them.” 
   Though they didn’t know the choirs beforehand, students certainly had a whole lot of new friends by the end of the trip.
“They took us to lunch and we got to see where they usually hung out and what they did for fun! I’m still in touch with many of them and we all had so much fun together. The other people in the choirs were also so much fun to talk to and sing with because they were all so insanely talented,” said Raima Srivastava ’25.
Portugal is full of vibrant and diverse culture. The country has a rich cultural heritage, and many PHS Choir students were able to taste the Portuguese cuisine, including traditional dishes like bacalhau, a salt cod dish, and pastéis de nata, the famous Portuguese custard tarts. They sampled the fresh seafood and other regional specialties.
“My favorite place to go was this town called Aveiro and it was the cutest area with little shops and colorful buildings. It was on a river and it was beautiful,” Srivastava said. 
After eight days of exploring and making friends (old and new), the tour is definitely something unforgettable for PHS Choir.
“The trip was an experience I’ll never forget because there were so many things I enjoyed and I became friends with people I never thought I’d talk to,” Srivastava said. 

First International PHS Choir Performance Since the Pandemic

Vivre sa Vie
   In 1968, film critic Richard Roud wrote that the art of cinema rests on three paradoxes: visual versus narrative, fiction versus documentary, and reality versus abstraction. Perhaps no director has better reconciled these in their work than the late Jean-Luc Godard, whose films never sought to resolve these paradoxes, but to exploit and display them. Godard, a French director, has said that his films are, in essence, self-directed works of film criticism. Few films demonstrate Godard’s dualism of touching narrative and formalist experimentation better than 1962’s “Vivre Sa Vie”, a true chef d’oeuvre of French cinema. 
   Comprising twelve clearly demarcated “tableaux,” or episodes, “Vivre Sa Vie” tells the story of Nana (Anna Karina), a young parisienne who leaves her husband and slowly descends into prostitution to make ends meet. The episodic structure of “Vivre Sa Vie” allows the movie to avoid a tightly-woven, continuous dramatic plot. Instead, we are given brief glimpses into Nana’s world, each centered around one location or action. One rather straightforwardly depicts Nana’s first experience with a client, others show us a joyous dance through a billiard hall, a letter written over the course of eight minutes, a conversation with a philosopher about love and language (“the more one talks, the less words mean”). These chapters vary in mood, duration, and style, but what unites them is a sense of cold detachment that the world around Nana has towards her. The gray bareness of the city is so immediate that one feels as if Nana’s Paris would appear monochrome even if filmed in color. Her endurant liveliness seems nullified by her uncaring surroundings, manifested both in the blank dreariness of the film’s locations and the objectifying gaze of the film’s male characters. Although she encounters some moments of reciprocated humanity, Nana fails to make any impact on the world around her, almost as if she exists on a different, incompatible plane of existence.
   Godard uses his formalist experimentation to accentuate a similar condition present between the viewer and Nana. By playing with the form of the motion picture in certain moments (such as intentionally positioning key action beyond the edge of the frame, alternating between sound and silence, or positioning actors in unrealistic statue-like positions), Godard draws our attention to film’s status as an art. This not only allows for some truly brilliant effects in certain scenes (which I will leave for the viewer to experience), but makes us aware of the divide between ourselves and what is happening on screen. We are upset by the tragedy prevalent in Nana’s life, but there is nothing we can do about it. Just as Nana is isolated from her surroundings by her role as a sex object, we are made aware of her isolation from help from outside the screen. This makes the moments when Karina looks directly into the camera so striking: it almost seems as if she is pleading with us, but as Godard makes us aware by drawing our attention to the medium he is using, we are unable to help her or reach her. We can only gaze and empathize, as Nana herself does in the film when she sees “The Passion of Joan of Arc” (1928) at the cinema. She cries silently at the tragedy on screen, and evidently sees some of herself in Joan of Arc, but ultimately is powerless to do anything about it. That same situation is part of what makes “Vivre Sa Vie” so heartbreaking for me: the isolation Nana feels from both her fictional world, and our reality. Like many of Godard’s other films, this is once again a commentary on film itself and its power as an art.
   “Vivre Sa Vie” is a must watch for anyone wading into the vast ocean that is French cinema, a tragic and violent contrast of form and content that makes the film, for me, not just one of the most beautiful films of all time, but one of the greatest works of art I have ever experienced.

Another Round 
Danish director Thomas Vinterberg’s 2020 dramatic comedy “Another Round” follows a group of four high school teachers as they conduct an experiment where they live out their daily lives while keeping their blood alcohol level at 0.05. Each participant has a different living situation, and navigates the temptation, pleasure, and downfall that come with alcohol abuse in different ways. In doing so, the film provides a more nuanced depiction of alcoholism than has traditionally been presented in the media.
This is the film's biggest strength: it doesn’t spoonfeed the audience a black and white narrative. The lives of the central characters are boring and dull at the beginning, and are shattered and lonely by the end; they are left to decide whether the pleasure sandwiched between the two phases was worth the anguish of going too far. Where other movies about depression and alcoholism may feel like a PSA, “Another Round” approaches the subject of alcohol in a broader, social context, because ultimately the story isn’t about alcohol, it's about loneliness. One such example of Vinterberg’s nuanced approach to alcohol is the inclusion of a small subplot near the end of the movie. A student is extremely nervous for their final exam and if they don’t pass the exam they won’t be able to graduate. In order to calm the kids' nerves the teacher in charge of the exam, who is also part of the experiment, gives him some alcohol… and it works. What matters is not the substance, but the person, the experience, and the situation.
The setting of the high school is essential, as it juxtaposes the stagnant lives of the teachers with the far more active lives of their students, who have their whole lives ahead of them. This mundane setting also makes the film more relatable, and therefore more immersive. When the experiment is introduced, shifting the film from a melancholic drama to a comedy, you are more open to the idea because the film is finally allowing you to have fun, just as the characters are as well. While watching, you are tempted towards the vice of alcohol within the film, which in turn helps you understand how the characters are feeling. It masterfully shifts from tone to tone to create that ultimate mesmeric experience. 
What makes the film a technical marvel is how it imbues these tones with corresponding levels of energy with the score, cinematography and editing. It can be slow moving, with wide shots and infrequent cuts accompanied with gloomy jazz. But at other times it can be filled with handheld whip pans, fast cuts, and loud dance pop. Although these visual/audio changes may seem jarring on paper, the film does a great job of transitioning between its various emotional phases. One of these ways is by making the characters interact with the motifs, such as bodies of water, in a way corresponding to the energy of the scene; providing thematic consistency .
Mads Mikkelsen, who plays the lead role of Martin, is the highlight of the movie. He brings everything to the table with an absolutely spectacular and moving performance of an entirely unspectacular and ordinary man. He does more unleashed, dramatic scenes, but the powerful moments are those where you see his discontent and loneliness come out in small ways. The way he moves, talks, and even stands still evokes a sadness that is hard to describe… a man who doesn’t see better days ahead of him or looks forward to things, he just exists. Equal parts a broad social commentary and a touching personal story, “Another Round” is a Danish blessing to the drama genre.

Film reviews on Vivre Sa Vie and Another Round

The first Oscars took place in Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel on May 16, 1929, and it was a minuscule, 250-person event organized by the MGM film studio. This humble, non-profit event was the first Academy Awards ceremony, which was aimed at advancing the influence of the newly established film industry. The event was fairly simple; viewers would tune in using their radios or televisions and watch their favorite actors and actresses receive an Oscar award for their best roles. While the first Academy Awards were a small-scale and private event, the organizers were quick to realize that the show could be a major money maker. With the limited public access to celebrities at the time, the Oscars were basically the only time that common people could see actors out of character. Soon, the ceremony was pulling in millions of viewers (43 million by 1953), and the runtime was extended to a couple of hours, rather than a few minutes. As film technology advanced, and factors such as color and CGI were added to film, other categories were added to recognize people working behind the scenes. All of these factors, as well as an amazing comedic performance by Billy Crystal, led to the peak viewership level that the Oscars ever reached in 1998, with 55.3 million viewers.

Since its peak in 1998, the Oscars have been on a steady decline, dropping 56 percent in their viewership over the course of two years (post-2019 and pre–Will Smith slap). This trend is not only indicative of a boredom with the content of the event but also a disdain for the borderline self-obsessed essence of the ceremony. Even the easy hit live performance of “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” was spoiled by the Academy’s insistence to make it a Megan Thee Stallion remix, which featured botched lyrics like “We’re here to celebrate Oscars” (in tune to the original song’s chorus). The Oscars’ descent into irrelevance leads us to wonder what happened to the once beloved event? First and foremost, the novelty of seeing celebrities or actors in their natural states has long since vanished, even before 2019. From tabloids to Instagram fan pages, the average person is sick of seeing celebrities. Many actors, such as Armie Hammer, Amber Heard and Alec Baldwin have actually gained notoriety for what they’ve done outside of their performances, due to their problematic personal lives. You no longer need to tune into an awards show in order to see your favorite celebrities out of character. In light of this, the Oscars made little attempt to change up their format until it was too late. In recent years, they have presented without a host, and cut very important categories (such as sound and editing) from live broadcasting in place of categories like “Fan Favorite” in hopes that these were the problems deterring people from watching. Yet they refuse to stream the Oscars live on one of many popular streaming platforms instead of the ABC channel, when most people do not have or watch cable television and are not willing to subscribe to the broadcasting service for one night only. This scramble to stay relevant is so pathetic that it makes the Oscars seem less professional than ever, despite their insistence that they are the most prestigious film event. The award show recieved the most publicity in two years this month because Will Smith assaulted Chris Rock on stage.

A solution in the coming years is unlikely. The Will Smith slap was but a roadblock to the imminent demise of the Oscars. A restructuring of the entire event (including diversifying the Academy and the awards, as well as creating some excitement for the event itself other than just celebrities winning a little statue) is necessary for the award show to stay afloat. Given that the event’s recent attempts to restructure the format have been widely unsuccessful and how specific this change needs to be to work, a resurface of the Oscars’ relevance is highly unlikely.

The rise and fall of the Oscars

“Do the Right Thing” Film Review

The name Spike Lee is essentially synonymous with films focusing on the complexity of racism in American society, from “Malcolm X” (1992) to “BlacKKKlansman” (2018), two portrayals of hatred on an epic scale. However, in his 1989 film, “Do The Right Thing,” Lee looks at the causes and effects of racial conflict on a smaller stage, choosing to focus only on a Brooklyn neighborhood, which acts as a microcosm of the United States as a whole. This is Spike Lee in miniature, but at his best and most complex, making it perfect as an introduction to his acclaimed filmography.“Do The Right Thing” takes place on the hottest day of the year in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a small, majority-Black New York neighborhood in the embryonic stages of gentrification. Lee spends most of the first part of the movie leading us through the sweltering landscape of brownstones and fire hydrants, introducing us to a colorful cast of characters. The film has a very inactive protagonist, Mookie, played by Lee himself, whom we follow around the neighborhood like his personal cameraman as he delivers pizza for Sal (Danny Aiello, earning himself an Oscar nomination for the role), an Italian-American man who operates the Bed-Stuy fixture Sal’s Famous Pizzeria with his sons Pino (John Turturro) and Vito (Richard Edson) in a plot that at first seems to be wandering around as aimlessly as Mookie. Along the way, racial tension grows with the heat until it reaches a tragic boiling point.That said, what makes “Do The Right Thing” special is that it doesn’t tell you what to make of the slowly built-up racial conflict it depicts: Lee presents us with a situation that is obviously wrong, but leaves us to point the fingers, every moment being left ambiguous in its cause and blame. Sal, the film’s most prominent white character, is someone we might expect to be an unhinged racist, but Lee writes him with as much respect and understanding as he does any of the film’s many Black characters, without discounting his prejudices. Sal hovers somewhere between his open-minded son Vito and his unequivocally racist son Pino. He’s happy and proud of the community his business depends on, but his own racist beliefs are harder to ignore as race relations deteriorate. In one darkly comedic montage, we see Mookie, Pino, a Korean shopkeeper, a policeman, and a Latino youth deliver verbose strings of slurs directly to the camera, addressed at each other, showing us that this is a setting connected by hatred in the most arresting way possible.Lee sets up the film in such a way that everyone will have a different opinion on who was wrong or right. Lee probably has his own interpretation too, but he doesn’t let it bleed into the movie. At the end of the day, it’s clear that what happens on that summer day in Brooklyn lies not just within the Bed-Stuy community, but outside it as well. Lee implies that the cause is a systemic hatred that is channeled through everyone and that hurts everyone. But this is only my interpretation. As I said before, everyone will have a different perspective on a movie that shows us that there isn’t always a right answer. If you want something to think about, spare 120 minutes to watch “Do the Right Thing.” Lee proves he is a master of filmmaking, using Dutch angles, fiery colors, and fluid camera movement to drop you into a world both larger than life and heartbreakingly realistic, as well as give you a movie-going experience you’ll never forget.

"Sorry to Bother You" Film Review

Bold, vibrant, and thought-provoking, Boots Riley’s debut feature “Sorry to Bother You” puts forward a passionate and unique view on the current state of U.S. racial politics and the economic system that leads to oppression. In a dystopian Oakland, Cassius Green (played by Lakieth Stanfield) is behind on his rent, and in an effort to ease the tension with his landlord, he gets a job as a telemarketer with an extreme caveat: He is paid by commission. With the help of an elderly gentleman, Cassius uncovers an uncanny ability to augment his voice in order to sound like a white “worry-free” individual. As the telemarketing company unionizes and Cassius works his way up the corporate ladder, things take an odd turn. Many of the film’s themes are impossible to analyze without spoiling the bold twists the movie takes, but its bombastic storytelling still offers plenty of insight. Boots Riley, the film’s director and writer, is an interesting character to say the least. A communist, hip-hop artist, writer, and protestor, Riley is a man who truly cares about what he preaches, his virtues evident in his unforgettable musical hits like “Your Parent’s Cocaine” and “Clap for the Killers.” He brings an unwavering passion toward Black liberation into every aspect of “Sorry to Bother You.” He doesn’t waste a single frame of his film because he is unsure if executives are going to cut his beautiful cinematic tirade short. His powerful storytelling and advocacy enhance the entire film. A group of high-level telemarketers, “power callers,” who sell slave labor and weapons of mass destruction must get into a building through a mob of angry union workers. One of these protestors films herself throwing a sharp, opened can of soda at one of the prestigious power callers. This clip goes viral on YouTube. Then, by the climax, the same, now viral woman who threw the soda can in protest of the rich elite, is recreating the scene in an advertisement for the soda company. This is in reference to the common practice of commodifying revolution, like how Apple creates deceitful racial equity initiatives while happily exploiting child labor in the Congo to mine cobalt. This criticism of modern consumerist culture takes up at most one minute of screen time total, a common pattern in this movie. But, Riley’s ability to jam-pack the film with symbol after symbol comes with a stipulation. The film lacks emotional depth — each character isn’t really a person so much as a symbol to drive yet another point home. This would be a problem if the film were a slow-burn drama, dependent on the emotional journey of the protagonist to hold the narrative together. However, this fast-paced, satirical, darkly comedic, science-fiction extravaganza is anything but that. What makes “Sorry to Bother You” work so well in comparison to its political satire contemporaries? A movie like “Don’t Look Up” also lacks emotional depth, preferring to use characters as two-dimensional symbols, but it’s a snoozefest that feels more like a lecture than a film. Instead, Riley punches you in the face with the point he’s making but does it in some of the most subversive and creative ways possible. While “Don’t Look Up” spends two hours and twenty minutes spoon-feeding you, “Sorry to Bother You” conveys its themes with seemingly surface-level symbols that intertwine into a thought-provoking narrative. From a voice augmentation superpower to a talk show where the attendee is gruesomely tortured for a live audience, “Sorry to Bother You” will show you the system is screwed while also taking you on a wild ride.

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