The horror in Tod Browning’s 1931 film, Dracula, isn’t necessarily in the blood sucking and gothic violence; the true terror lies in what happens off screen. In today’s world of ever-heightened special effects and jump scares, it’s amazing to look back to 1931 to witness just how horrifying the power of suggestion can be. All of the vampiric acts (save for the flying bats and the repulsion to crucifixes and wolfsbane), take place just off camera. But one never has to wonder what is happening when Dracula is bending over his next victim, or luring a woman into an alleyway to feast. While Dracula does indulge in some intense moments of theatricality and humor, for the most part its subtlety carries the horror of the film. It’s refreshing to watch a film nearly 90 years old that can still hold its own with the horrors of today. While Dracula is an adaptation of the 1897 novel of the same name, written by Bram Stoker, it is more closely associated with its theatrical counterpart, 1924’s Dracula, written by Hamilton Deane, which was later revised for the Broadway stage in 1927 by John L. Balderstone. It was in the 1927 New York production that Bela Lugosi cemented his role as Count Dracula, as well as Edward Van Sloan as Abraham Van Helsing. Browning’s 1931 film is essentially a filmed version of this nationally touring production that ran for over 265 performances. Even with only 34 years passing between the original subject material to Browning’s film, several characters were changed or omitted to bring the tight 85 minute long film to the screen. These many changes help enhance the horrific elements of a Penny-Dreadful-era London, at the cost of weakening many of the lead characters’ development. Aside from Lugosi’s iconic turn as the infamous Count, Dracula immortalizes Dwight Frye’s interpretation of the batty Renfield. At the beginning of the film, it is Renfield not Jonathan Harker, who travels to Transylvania to finalize Dracula’s leasing documents in order to help facilitate Dracula’s move to London. It’s unfortunate that the plot moves at such a clip, because the set pieces for Dracula’s castle are astounding. The film only sticks around in Transylvania for one night, so we only see his beautiful foyer, his three brides and Renfield’s sleeping quarters, for one series of scenes. And what a great three scenes these are: “Listen to them. Children of the night. What music they make.” Watching this film in retrospect, it’s easy to see how influential so many of these iconic lines have become. It is within these first few scenes of the film that Dracula ensnares Renfield into doing his bidding, with promises of life everlasting. And with that, they’re off to London. What follows is a hodgepodge of characters and plot that all follows a variation on their original interpretation. At the end of Dracula and Renfield’s voyage to London, (once Dracula has drained the entire crew and has left Renfield to take the blame), Renfield is taken to a sanitarium and is treated by a Dr. Seward. This Dr. Seward, however, is also Mina’s father, and no longer one of Lucy’s suitors. And John Harker has no affiliation with the Dracula situation whatsoever except for the fact that he is engaged to Mina. The plot deviates based off of these differences, but it really doesn’t trail too far off the beaten path all things considered. Lucy becomes infatuated with Dracula upon his arrival, as he is so unlike the common suitors she is accustomed to. She is beguiled into repeatedly letting him into her room, draining all of her blood until she is transformed into a vampire herself. The deterioration of her health prompts Dr. Seward to contact his mentor, Van Helsing, to assist him in solving the case. After Lucy “passes,” the remaining cast bands together to save Mina from the same fate. The battle for Mina’s soul is supposed to be the driving plot of the film, but the rapid pacing doesn’t allow for this climax to be nearly as compelling as Renfield’s battle for his own soul. One moment Renfield is doing Dracula’s bidding by sneaking into Dr. Seward’s home as to invite Dracula in, and the next he is warning the group to take Mina far away from here before Dracula can bring his plan to fruition. And nobody seems to care. The entire cast belittles Renfield for being a nutter and repeatedly chastises him for pretty much everything he says. They use him for information when need be, but other than that, he’s a nuisance to them. In the film’s most chilling scene, Renfield describes to the group what his master has promised him. He speaks of Dracula coming to his window amid thousands of rats, promising him their blood if he is granted entry into Mina’s bedroom. His conviction is real, and it is terrifying. There is no way an actual scene with thousands of rats could have been any more horrifying than the look on Dwight Frye’s face describing it. In the movie’s final act, Dracula does succeed in abducting Mina to Carfax Abbey, almost securing her as his everlasting bride, but the rescue team is hot on their tracks. Renfield arrives just before John and Van Helsing show up, causing Dracula to believe that Renfield has led them there. With no justice for Renfield, Dracula murders him and quickly takes Mina inside. John and Van Helsing follow and find them in the catacombs; Dracula already asleep in his coffin as the sun rises. Van Helsing stakes him through the heart, lifting Dracula’s curse from Mina. All is well and the film concludes as John and Mina climb to safety. Dracula succeeds as a horror film for the painting of terror that it depicts, not for the actual scenes the audience pays witness too. Elements of the script are outright nutty (a la Martin the caretaker, who truly is a laugh riot), and half of the acting in the cast is subpar. But what is done right, is done bone-chillingly right. Bela “maybe he died with it, maybe it’s Maybelline,” Lugosi’s eyes are forever haunting as he compels you to do his bidding, and Frye’s manic laughter has been mimicked for nearly a century to evoke a sense of dread. If anything, the scariest truth of Dracula is that it sent both of these actors to typecast purgatory, respectively cast as monsters and lunatics until their graves. Neither actor truly came back from the dead after Dracula. Now, that’s one hell of a horror film. Bernadette Gorman Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Reviews #Newsletter #Dracula #1931 #BernadetteGorman #BeaconHorrorShow3

I am a self-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive person. I frequently knoll items on desks and tables, I return almost everything to its place immediately after using it, and I just don’t feel right unless I let a YouTube/Hulu/Netflix video run to completion before being added to my “watched” list. So when I started watching Netflix’s Friends from College and didn’t enjoy the first episode, I wanted to give the second episode a chance. And after that episode was over, well, I was already two episodes deep in an eight episode run. It is extremely difficult for me to step away from a series or film because I always have a deep-seated desire to see what happens to the characters, even if I can’t stand them. And boy, can I not stand the characters in Francesca Delbanco and Nicholas Stoller’s Friends from College . Not only are the characters unlikable, but the format and design of the show is nonsensical and the writing is subpar. Friends from College oversells a group of college friends who are entering their 40’s, but can’t quite leave their Harvard years behind them; what the show can’t crack is the balance between unlikability, humor, and pathos. Friends from College is the type of “comedy,” that begets a misguided understanding of the comedy genre while also promoting poor character development and unchecked privilege. Even at its core, ignoring both the flaws in character design and progression of the story, Friends from College doesn’t produce the level of self-awareness needed to warrant comedic results. Films and television programs that feature characters behaving badly only truly thrive when the characters have nonsensical means of employment, maintaining a level of absurdity to not break the veil of the comedy. Seinfeld, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia , and The Office are three prime examples of understanding this delicate balance. Elaine and George from Seinfeld are employed by seemingly reputable companies spearheaded by silly, but not mean nor completely unprofessional, management. The Gang from Sunny , work at a bar called Paddy’s Pub, (which, in itself, becomes a living, breathing microcosm of degradation - read: funny), helped kept afloat by Frank Reynolds, the “father” figure who actually was fairly wealthy before rejoining his children and experiencing a disgusting mid-life crisis. And Dunder Mifflin in The Office , is a paper company run by goofy employees who still do their jobs while engaging in, usually, mostly harmless hijinks. While watching these three comedies I have never had the opportunity to not believe in the circumstances; even at their most unbelievable, the worlds in which these characters live are so funny and fully realized that the plot structure makes sense. And if it doesn’t make sense completely, the humor of the situation carries the weight of disbelief. Friends from College is unfortunate in that, during incredulous moments, it doesn’t have the comedy safety net to catch its fall. The characters in Friends from College fail to meet the very specifications the title of the show implies: that they actually are, or ever were, friends at all. Ethan Turner (Keegan-Michael Key, suffering from severe Key and Peele withdrawal) is flailing at the beginning of the series when he and his hedge fund lawyer wife, Lisa, (the only friend-to-watch, Cobie Smulders) relocate to NYC for her new job. This relocation reunites their entire friend group, but throws a wrench in the affair that Ethan has been having with Sam (Annie Parisse) for the past twenty-odd years. While five members of the friend group graduated from Harvard in the same class, the dynamic between Sam and Lisa has always been rife with competition, dating back to when the group first met “Froshie” Lisa. Both Ethan and Sam attempt to call off their affair during the run of the series, but can’t get over the animal attraction they feel towards one another, perhaps being the only two friends that make any sense at all during the run of the show. They may not be very friendly to one another – constantly jeopardizing each other's’ marriages and families – but at least it’s understood why they choose to spend time in each other’s company. The rest of the group are filled out by whispers (although they try to be shouts) of people: literary agent Max (Fred Savage), trust-fund hooligan Nick (Nat Faxon), and semi-vapid yogi Marianne (Jae Suh Park). Aside from physical attractions, none of these characters have anything in common, other than their alma mater and my disbelief that they remain employed and housed. If the show would have decided to focus on the group dynamic outside of their professions, then perhaps they could have better mined their psyches. The writing, however, emphasizes and is restricted by the characters’ archetypal professions. Max’s main goal throughout this first season is to help Ethan write his YA werewolf novel. No, scratch that; Max’s main goal throughout the first season is to make sure that everyone loves him, no matter how spineless and obnoxious he becomes. Max is so desperate for acceptance (which he already has) that he loses his boyfriend Felix (an exquisitely utilized Billy Eichner) in the process. Marianne, on the other hand, is such a free spirit that once her “man-friend” proposes marriage, she quickly dumps him. Marianne is the biggest puzzle of the entire series. I could not for the life of me, understand why Marianne is friends with any of these people. She is a yoga instructor who spends her free time writing, directing, and starring in gender-bending remakes of popular plays. None of her friends enjoy her terrible renditions produced out of a high-school gym, and they frequently poke fun at her behind her back. They don’t even necessarily take her seriously to her face, and I can’t imagine they ever did. Or if they used to humor her free-spirited ways during college but now outgrew her, where and how do they draw the line for accepted behaviors? At least Nick, the last friend, seems to be accepting of each friend’s neuroses. As an unemployed trust-fund adult, he is the epitome of college pt. 2. He sleeps around, he experiments with drugs, and his days bleed into his nights during his pursuit of numb debauchery. That is, until Ethan and Lisa return to the city. See, Lisa and Nick used to date too, falling into that, “all college friend groups are incestuous” trope. Lisa, who comes across as an actual human being no doubt thanks to Smulders’ performance, unknowingly becomes the smelling salts under playboy Nick’s nose. They begin to rely on each other for emotional support, especially because Lisa remains in the dark on Ethan and Sam’s ongoing affair, but is subconsciously tapping into the emotional abandonment in its wake. But even Lisa and Nick fall into the trap of despicable acts when they end up in bed together, not once, but over and over and over again while Lisa is on a business trip. It is refreshing that Lisa morally hits rock bottom after the act of adultery, but it is a bit disappointing that this had to be Lisa’s flaw. As a woman, I feel like I fuck up in much more interesting and divisive ways. I cannot sing FX’s You’re the Worst ’s praises enough: it excels at, and raises the bar for, depicting humans at their worst while also deeply humanizing them. Friends from College abysmally misses this opportunity to better explore the complexities of a failing marriage. While Ethan and Sam are carrying on their affair, Ethan and Lisa are trying to become pregnant through in vitro fertilization. In episode four, we see the couple working together to get into the rhythm of the daily, self-given shots necessary to prepare Lisa’s body for the eventual extraction of eggs. In this rare moment of genre-swap for a drama, I began to feel empathy for these characters, especially when towards the end of the procedure, Lisa reveals her torso, bruised and sore from the reality of in vitro. When the time comes for the final and importantly-timed shot, Friends from College becomes a comedy again, and the bag with the contents of the shot becomes confused with a bag of various take-out sauces. Almost jeopardizing the entire procedure, Lisa and Ethan confront their issues of miscommunication and whether or not they’re ready for a child. Ethan admits he only wants to be a parent because Lisa does, and the IVF ends up not taking, sending Lisa down the very real road of depression. Eventually, Lisa decides they need to take some time apart, but I hated that she took the detour of ending up in another man’s bed. The show had the chance to deeper inspect the intricacies of a collapsing marriage but took the easy way out including a scene of Lisa and Nick “comically” fucking all day. Snore. Ultimately, I’d be much more intrigued by Friends from College if it was a drama with hints of comedy instead of the inverse. Okay, so Lisa works for a bunch of man-bros who routinely whip out their genitalia during conference calls. Huh. And when Ethan becomes uncomfortable, which apparently happens every single day, he impersonates various celebrities and can’t speak in a normal voice. That guy’s an accomplished, award-winning novelist? Lastly, how many times have I, or you, watched scenes of adults getting into drugs and shenanigans with little to no payoff? There are just too many desperate attempts at guffaws without any meat on its bones for me to take this as a comedic success. Friends from College is that “friend” at the party who thinks they have a story to tell, when really you heard it already from Stacy down the hall on the second floor who has a DVD player and the wicked comedic timing. Don’t get me wrong, I clearly wanna hear more stories, you just gotta have something to tell. Bernadette Gorman Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Review #FriendsfromCollege #Netflix #BernadetteGorman #TV

Even beginning to critique Patty Jenkins’ 2017 Wonder Woman is like training with the Amazons on Themyscira, and sadly, this is a movie that will, and needs to, be critiqued harder than any other comic book adaptation that has come before it. Not only should it be intelligently reviewed because it’s the most recent, (these adaptations should be getting better, right?) but because it aims to take on the heftier issues our world faces today. Let it be known that in recent years I have fallen off the superhero bandwagon, not missing all of the DC or Marvel films, but certainly bypassing a good chunk of them. I’m not one to be wowed by the sis-boom-bah of these inconceivably high-octane projects unless there’s something much more engaging under the explosions, and I think a lot of these films have fallen flat in the most recent years. That being said, shelling out money for Wonder Woman is vastly important and about so much more than the cost of admission. We’re at an important crossroads in cinematic history, and as much as I wish this had come earlier, and with a film other than Wonder Woman at its apex, the money Hollywood rakes in from this film will begin to affect the diversity of projects brought to the silver screen even more so than projects in the past. I’ve made my monetary contribution, like giving alms for the underappreciated and lacking roles represented on screen, and now all I have left are my words. Really digging into Wonder Woman is a difficult feat because this film is supposed to mean so much to so many different people, as it very well should. The film serves a multi-faceted purpose, and while it’s nearly impossible to tackle every single viewpoint, I think it’s best to critique it through three lenses: Is this film successful in the superhero genre? What does the film Wonder Woman bring to the conversation of feminism? Is Diana Prince the hero we want, or just the hero we need? Even as far as superhero films go, Wonder Woman flips the script in multiple thought-provoking ways that complicate critique, but it still manages to check off most of the superhero trope boxes. Do we get an origin story? We get two! Does it highlight the struggle of coming to terms with what it means to be a hero? You bet! Is there a Big Bad and do they get the fate they deserve? And how! Within these questions, however, lie the greater complexities that make this a pretty good superhero flick but a problematic film as a whole. More often than not, when it comes to trilogies, the first installment is my favorite because I love me a good origin story. And with this film, we get to see Diana (a perfectly curious Gal Gadot) grow into a warrior in Themyscira, and then grow even further into a hero of the Mankind populated Earth. Through this journey, Diana learns that her role as a hero is to protect Mankind, because even while we’re flawed, we’re so much more than that. Wonder Woman astutely proves that to be human, is to have conflicting ideologies and desires; there’s no innate good or evil in any of us. And at the end of this very tumultuous and heart-breaking journey, she vanquishes her adversary, Ares, the God of War (and half brother). We even get a very charismatic romance with Steve Trevor (a dashing Chris Pine) thrown in the mix to boot. Although I take issue with certain pacing and logistics, (Oh, you mean this secret facility? The one practically in this castle’s backyard? Oh and that woebegone village? You mean the one across the street? And remember that time we got to London likity-split? I digress.) Wonder Woman is a fairly entertaining superhero film. I just wish I wasn’t wearing my critical goggles while watching it. If I held it to the standards I did when watching, say, Iron Man , Captain America , or well, (I haven’t seen any in this current universe of DC films), I’d probably have enjoyed it and left it at that. And perhaps that says more about me than the film. But due to its importance in a feminist context and the feminism movement, it’s hard to just leave it be. Wonder Woman knocks it out of the park with stressing that the Amazons of Themyscira detest the Mankind on Earth for their violence and deceit, not for the men that inhabit it. The story avoids what easily could have come across as a film that vilifies men and praises women, and I applaud them for it. The humans aren’t worthy of the Amazons’ help, no matter man or woman! But sadly, I fear, that’s the bulk of equality in the film. Diana’s training on Themyscira, which takes an unidentified length of time in Amazon hours but flies by on screen, is engaging and I wish we could have seen more of it. But that’s not where the training ends. Wonder Woman is the first superhero film, in my knowledge, that has the hero essentially training for the entire film. During the final battle, after Diana witnesses Steve, a human, sacrifice himself for the greater good, she harnesses her true powers and gains the strength needed to defeat Ares. Not to say that she isn’t subconsciously tapping into her strength throughout the rest of the film: she totally is. But not realizing her full potential until the end is like Spider-Man not realizing he can web-sling himself across NYC until the last ten minutes of any Spider-Man origin film (hello Spider-Man number three) or Bruce Wayne just getting the hang of his gadgets in the nick of time to put them to use (like that pesky cowl that keeps having to be resized because of all the different men who’ve portrayed the Dark Knight). And while these heroes trained in their films, they trained alone and unassisted for the vast majority of the time. Diana needs companions and guides during her mission on Earth because she is new to Earth. I appreciate and understand the companionship and camaraderie, but I wish it didn’t come at such a cost. When any new superhero hits the front page of any publication, whether it is The Daily Planet, The Gotham Free Press, or The Daily Bugle, there’s always a decent amount of conversation among the public of whether or not that hero is doing good or bad work. It’s understandable to have doubts about a being that looks human, but that actually has powers that far exceed the realm of possibility. But Steve’s first introduction to Diana already exists in the realm of the impossible, on the shores of Themyscira. Steve has a lot of great qualities: he’s well educated, he’s ambitious and kind-hearted, and he is extremely charming. I don’t hate him. It is hard, however, to ignore his continuous doubts about Diana, when he is her closest friend on Earth. Understandably, Diana is clueless to the world’s etiquette and her place in it. A playful, flirty scene involves Diana explaining that she has read about the pleasures of the flesh, no doubt in an attempt to placate a conversation about consent that exists outside of the film. But when they arrive in London and Diana doesn’t even know that holding hands is a sign of affection, it seems that perhaps book smarts aren’t the same as street smarts. Diana is thrust into a world that is very different from the Amazonian Themyscira, and is taught that while women are fighting for the right to vote, men lead the battles in every other capacity. She adapts surprisingly well, most likely because she wasn’t the freest on Themyscira either, being the daughter of the queen. Eager to help, though, Diana instantly voices her opinion amid the clamor of male voices in a scene where the British Parliament is discussing their next move in the war. “There’s a woman in here,” one exclaims, keenly nodding to the understanding of progression, not only in the film, but also in this genre and industry. Hell yeah, there’s a women in here! But then the film takes one step back again. Steve, knowing he needs to get Diana out of the room as the men make the decisions, pulls and grabs on her waist and wrists repeatedly, until they’re both out in the hallway and down the steps, away from the heavy lifting. And Diana doesn’t mention a word about the manhandling, possibly because she doesn’t know to, or maybe because she’s fixated and overwhelmed by the lack of compassion displayed by the powers that be. Either way, my heart begins to sink. As an adult having the capacity to understand that I am not to tolerate being treated that way, I suppose I can look past this VERY small part of the film. But imagine watching this through the eyes of a child and it is extremely disconcerting. Knowing that some child is watching this hero and representation of strength being physically removed in such a manner, by the romantic interest no less, gives me pause. As a superhero film, this scene only marks the instant where the villain and hero lock eyes for the first time, but as a film that has so much more on its shoulders, my posture begins to sag. Wonder Woman is seemingly confused as to how it wants to tackle Diana’s introduction to Earth. As an audience we already know the power Diana wields, but she has to constantly prove herself to her human, male, combatants. When first meeting Steve’s go-to guys (master-of-disguise Sameer and sniper Charlie), Diana gets to give them a little taste of her strength when a bar fight breaks out. They accept her into the fold. Historically this is a time when women were not known for physical strength or hand-to-hand combat, so Diana’s fighting capabilities come as quite a shock to the group. As their mission progresses, and their guide Chief is introduced, they are presented an opportunity to save a war-torn village. Diana immediately jumps into action, much to the group’s chagrin and chastising. But as the fight to save the village mounts, the team realizes their fighting skills, when used together, are a beautifully choreographed dance and the village is saved. Diana, growing in her powers, displays humanly impossible feats, such as slamming through brick walls and jumping the height of a church bell tower. Yet even still, the group (charming Steve Trevor included) doubts Diana’s intelligence and motives. I’d be remiss to not dwell on the mixed messages, the film and the characters, present to Diana and the audience. I understand that most films do indeed contain some form of romantic subplot, and most typically, a scene that either shows or implies the two romantic leads engaging in intercourse. I worry that to not include the romantic evening scene between Diana and Steve would have sent an equally distressing message, as if to say, “Men deserve sex, pleasure, and love; women don’t.” But do I wish Diana didn’t sleep with, literally, the first man she has ever seen? Of course. Again, being an adult lends me the ability to discern that this is a rushed connection for the sake of, roughly, a two hour film. But I hate the message it sends children looking for a hero with whom they can identify. While their relationship is definitely flirty, fun, and dripping with chemistry, Steve’s lack of trust and respect for Diana doesn’t sit well with me. In his eyes she doesn’t understand the world and its rules, seemingly, unless he can benefit from the situation. Thank goodness they had a conversation earlier in the film to assuage any feelings of guilt for sharing an evening with an otherwise clueless Amazon who he thinks is a little nutso. Even after the evening in the village, the group jokes with Steve that he surely cannot be buying into the, “kill Ares, stop the violence,” theory, though they slyly acknowledge the amazing feats she pulled off just the day before. It’s not until the final battle that Diana’s “theory” is realized and understood to be true. Steve and Diana do share a love both romantic and compassionate, and Diana does look back on it fondly. He did work and grow to “deserve” her, but later than I would have liked. There’s nothing sexier in the bedroom than mutual respect. Ultimately, Wonder Woman seems to be a lesson for audiences in coming to terms with championing a female superhero lead. Diana spends the duration of the film proving to herself, her allies, the opposition, and Ares that she has what it takes to save the day and protect Mankind from themselves and others. But she didn’t have to prove it to me. Diana comes into the world ready to fight, but her herodom is constantly policed, not unlike Diana’s journey to 2017’s Wonder Woman . I want to believe that this film is more than Warner Bros. checking off their Wonder Woman box before eventually getting to November’s Justice League , but I’m not entirely convinced it was. Millions of people have been waiting to hear this story, but we had to first wait until Bruce Wayne wanted to hear it. Framing Wonder Woman’s origin story in the context of her involvement with the impending Justice League takes away the strength, power, and beauty Wonder Woman possesses on her own. Wonder Woman the superhero film does, however, succeed on so many levels. The film gracefully explores themes of empathy, the morally gray area within the soul, and self-discovery. Aside from some lackluster, (albeit fun) villains, the true villains of this story are societal norms. Sameer even makes mention that we don’t always get to be what we want to be and that we all have our own battles to fight. And while Sameer means psychological and sociological battles, the physical battle scenes are exquisite as well (excluding the final, typical blockbuster Ares sequence). Not only are the battles well fought, but everyone looks so damn good fighting them. The production of this film really nails the Themyscira and WWI-era Earth aesthetic, and Wonder Woman herself has never looked better. I also appreciate that she has the most badass theme in recent history, which is adrenaline inducing, and more importantly, memorable. I haven’t been able to shake it since I heard it, nor would I want to. Wonder Woman is the hero we need, without a doubt. Diana Prince has been finally and intelligently realized. It’s beyond time we’ve witnessed a strong, independent, female superhero that is driven by love and compassion. Wonder Woman , on the other hand, wasn’t quite the hero I wanted. With a little more attention to detail, and perhaps some female hands in the story and screenplay kitchen, this film could have jumped just a little higher over a few of those equality hurdles. I enjoyed the time spent watching the film, but I enjoyed the money I spent even more. We’re screaming for more Ripleys, Leias, and Imperator Furiosas. I think they’re starting to hear us. Bernadette Gorman Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Review #WonderWoman #BernadetteGorman #June2017 #Feminism #DC #DCEU

More often than not, the most horrifying and heartbreaking villains are represented by people who look just like you and me. In Neill Blomkamp's 2009 Sci-Fi, District 9 , the conflict we watch on screen is an allegory, not only for the apartheid era in South Africa, but an even broader commentary on how we react to situations and “others” that we do not fully understand. Fear of the other has been a devastatingly driving force behind terrible historic events continuously repeated, as if we are forever re-learning the golden rule. Treating others the way we want to be treated is an instruction that sadly, is most accessible through familiarity, above all else. In District 9 , Blomkamp introduces you to a Johannesburg, South Africa ravaged with socio-political discord and civil unrest, a situation only heightened by the fact that an alien race has also been living there for two-plus decades. When an alien ship mysteriously settles over Johannesburg in the early 80’s, its malnourished alien race is policed into a human-regulated, quarantined compound called District 9. Over time, due to mass reproduction and an unjust economy within the district, their living conditions have been reduced to a massive slum. Understanding that District 9 has become uninhabitable, and needing to better regulate the alien race, the government decides to relocate the population to a new enclosure called District 10. Whereas District 9 was a quick solution at the beginning of the aliens’ residency in Johannesburg, for all intents and purposes, District 10 is an engineered concentration camp. As viewers, we are introduced to this relocation process through documentary-style footage, meant to connect us with our human counterparts even more so than if we were just watching a straightforward sci-fi monster movie. We never learn the name the alien race calls themselves; instead, “we” put them in their place by referring to them as prawns. Parktown prawns are a species of cricket found in South Africa that is considered an undeniable pest. Taking away their dignity by calling them prawns behind, (and in front of) their backs, is only the first offense in a long list of degrading ways in which the aliens are mistreated. Only the Nigerians who operate within the compound show the aliens any compassion, only displaying kindness to profit from overcharging them for food and manning an alien technology black market. These hustlers are the ones who interact with the alien race most frequently, and still, they know them no better than you or I come to know them within the first few minutes of the film. It seems that no real effort was made to integrate the aliens into human society, and over twenty years, this “fear of the other” became ingrained in an entire culture of belief. Sound familiar? Outside of the documentary-style footage, our point of contact within District 9 is Wikus van de Merwe. Wikus is an employee of Multinational United (MNU), the second largest weapons manufacturing company in the world. MNU was also put in charge of the rules and regulations for which the aliens and humans must coexist. At the beginning of the film, Wikus is put in charge of the new alien relocation program to District 10, beginning with evicting the aliens from the only homes they’ve ever known on Earth. Within the human community, Wikus seems to be a likeable person. He seems to be at the bottom of a bureaucratic food chain and is given the chance at a promotion within MNU from his brute of a father-in-law. While interacting with his peers, it’s apparent that Wilkus is a socially awkward people-pleaser that acquires the personas of those around him to fit in. While highly intelligent and mostly competent at his job, the relocation responsibility is his first chance to “run with the big boys,” and make his mark on the company. Wikus is an excellent example of someone molded by their environment to be at war with their inner humanity and the innate desire to assimilate in society. Most of the characters in District 9 are fairly one-note: the heartless MNU executive, the kill-crazy soldier, the thoughtless wife. But how Wikus interacts with the aliens paints him to be a very complicated character. The likeable guy we saw with the documentary film crew begins to erode as he patronizes the aliens, cursing them while not treating any of them with any sense of individuality. He even goes so far as to show his newly appointed protegee how to “abort” a shack of gestating alien eggs by removing their food source and then torching the shack to make sure the job is complete. As he and his team work their way through the slum, he only identifies aliens with higher intelligence by calling out their relationship to the crimes they are committing. Christopher Johnson is one of those aliens that Wikus typecasts as a criminal. While investigating Christopher’s shack, he comes across many scientific apparatus that are in the process of rehabilitating a ship that can help get the aliens home. s he picks up the all-too-important canister containing the life-blood of the ship, he gets spritzed by the black liquid inside. This incident is the true catalyst for the personal morality struggle within District 9 . After getting sprayed and suffering an arm injury, Wikus becomes very sick. Due to his exposure to the alien biotechnology, his body begins to reject its human appearance and Wikus physically starts transforming into the very other that he fears. It is only then that he begins to sympathize with the alien and understand the hatred and fear they endure. It should not be lost on any viewer that it takes having his humanness disintegrate from his body for Wikus to learn true humanity and compassion for fellow life. District 9 is rich with symbolism, and is a desperate call to action to love your neighbor. The sci-fi genre is perfectly constructed to mask messages that need to be heard within riveting landscapes of faraway planets and imaginative new forms of life. Ignoring the alien biotechnology and simply redefining the term “alien” with its synonymous counterpart, “foreign”, we can acknowledge District 9 as a gritty realization of every refugee state to come about in our history. I think there are elements of Wikus in every single one of us. We want to find acceptance, be successful, make each other laugh, and at the end of the workday, retire to a loving and peaceful home. Those desires are what bond us together. And like Wikus, we struggle (to various degrees) with fighting our inner fears, and the shame that cause us to lash out at one another. To live in such discord is the essence of living, fight or flight, beyond just human nature. This cornucopia of emotion and struggle can be found in even the most stable of households. Now imagine taking that discord and feeling that struggle in a place in which you’re not wanted, reviled even. Districts 9 implores that we be even better than Wikus, and speak up for the impoverished and abused, those displaced in society without a true physical and, even more important, spiritual home. Some say now, more than ever, it’s time to stand up to injustice; but that fight is always relevant. When the documentary footage is no longer our window into the world of District 9 , we see action as it happens, sans the conditioning rhetoric of the bureaucracy and media. It is our duty as able bodied, intelligent consumers to heed District 9’ s call to action. Alien or not, know your neighbor and fight that fear. Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Review #District9 #March #BernadetteGorman

(This article contains spoilers for La La Land .) All forms of art possess an innate ability to create retrospective and spur forethought. These modes of thinking can lead to criticisms of anything and everything, most often critiques of childhood, relationships, and career paths. Each genre of film is a lens by which to see the world, and while there are countless hybrids of genres, Hollywood sure does love a mirror. While more common in film’s earlier stages, Hollywood has been romanticizing and vilifying itself since its inception. From Behind the Screen to Sunset Boulevard, Singin’ in the Rain to The Player , and even 2016’s Hail, Caesar! , filmmakers love using the art of their craft as a means to explore themes and relationships. The Hollywood genre is rife with self-discovery, leading to success and fulfillment or failure and denial. Damien Chazelle explores the struggles of commitment and the torture it takes to follow a dream in his 2014 film, Whiplash . While he does not shy away from the psychological trauma suffered to pursue the profession of a jazz percussionist, he uses the thriller lens to focus on the physical torture of chasing said dream. His 2016 musical film, La La Land , instead explores a journey from fantasy to reality, and the pain that comes with it. Not only do his protagonists sacrifice years and self-respect to the Hollywood gods, they sacrifice the film itself and all the whimsical scenes they share to “make it.” La La Land is a beautiful testament to transcending what Hollywood teaches audiences to accept as the path to a perfect life. La La Land opens on a busy Los Angeles highway with a rousing musical number about every new day being an opportunity to catch that coveted big break. Its optimistic mantra, “Another Day of Sun,” implores those dreamers that even if today didn’t work out, there’s always one more day. The mood is seemingly broken at the conclusion of the first number with honks of car horns and shouts of frustrated road rage at the gridlock surrounding the ensemble cast. But never fear, there’s another musical number to explain your big break could be right around the corner (if you’re in the right crowd, to schmooze the right person at the right time). When Sebastian, an aggravated jazz musician, and Mia, an undervalued and aspiring actress, finally share a conversation, they are forced to confront their approaches to success. Unchallenged, both are almost at the end of their creative journeys. Together, they vow to upend the system and write themselves into a script that fits them, instead of waiting for the perfect opportunity to come along. The pursuit of artistic integrity is an amalgam of intent and reception. Both protagonists value intent and reception to various degrees. From birth, we are raised to perform to the best of our abilities, but are always plagued by at least a small degree of fear that our actions won’t be well-received. It is this fear that inhibits action, and we do well to have those in our lives that challenge us and prompt us to act. La La Land confronts this fear by having two characters who speak to both sides of reasoning. Although it is important to have something original or insightful to add to the ongoing conversation of life, it is equally important to throw caution to the wind and not give a damn about inevitable criticisms. La La Land isn’t any different from a lot of films in that it does set up its third act to be the reconciliation of a failure, but it flips the script by presenting an alternate reality to the typical romantic ending. La La Land urges its audience to have a romantic experience with life and not be limited to the romances of only partners or careers and the conception of the “perfect ending.” Sebastian stresses his love of jazz comes from the endless possibilities it presents. He embraces the improvisation of life and helps Mia see that a lack of control can be the ticket to artistic freedom. The audition that scores Mia her breakthrough role is an improvised story she tells about her aunt who lived in Paris. She sings, “Here's to the ones who dream, crazy as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that break. Here’s to the mess we make.” The course we think we need to be on is frequently not the one that gets us to our desired destination. Mia repays Sebastian by teaching him along the way, that catering to a crowd doesn’t necessarily mean the death of his creative freedom. There can be a merger between the two: intent and reception. Both help the other to achieve complete career satisfaction. Retrospection breeds a wonder of what could have been if we would have done even one thing differently. After five years apart, Sebastian and Mia see each other again, and are thrust into a romanticized version of their realistic relationship. Each scene is echoed, through music from when they first met, to when they eventually parted ways, and even beyond. La La Land does not discredit the relationship they shared or the way they made each other feel, even though they ultimately do not end up together. The film speaks to the beauty in each step in life that gets us to the next. We’re all on different paths that lead to different destinations, and it’s okay (even necessary) to feel a sense of whimsy every now and then. With today’s political, social, and cultural climates, Hollywood’s infinite lenses can provide a much needed break from reality. La La Land is a great distraction: just remember to come back down. Bernadette Gorman Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Review #Newsletter #2016 #BernadetteGorman #LaLaLand

“Hi, my name is Bernadette and I’m a Love addict.” As a frequently prescribed patient of Netflix, Hulu, HBOGo, and the like, I’m finding myself more and more saddened by my somewhat persistent memory loss when it comes to the deeper intricacies of television and film. As a notorious binge-watcher, common side effects are: plot hole omissions, infatuation, tunnel vision, and a lack of perspective. So when it was announced that Netflix’s Love would premier its third, and last, season on March 9, 2018, I wanted to make sure that I revisited the characters I had so deeply fallen in love with before watching their swan season. With the sheer overwhelming quantity of television programs, it’s so easy to get hooked on a show but only have the time to give it the “one and done” treatment, which is a real shame for the shows that really move you. Luckily, in its short three-season run, Love provides such a concise and honest story of love and all its foibles, that its characters manage to live beyond the finale as your friends, who will attempt to have your back in your next time of love-riddled need. Created by Judd Apatow and married duo, Lesley Arfin and Paul Rust, Love has a character for everyone, no matter which stage of impending adulthood has entrapped you. What it excels at is depicting multiple stages of love and the way it affects us all differently, all the while remaining a universal language at the same time. The storytelling is so trusting of its audience, that we only see facets of what are very full lives. It allows these extremely real characters to breathe out of frame and take a break from us, the audience, which is indicative of a healthy relationship. Love’s main relationship is between people-pleasing Gus (Paul Rust), and multi-addict Mickey (Gillian Jacobs), who are drawn to each other by their stark differences. As if they are the sun of their Love solar system, their friends and co-workers orbit them in their own love dilemmas. Mickey’s roommate Bertie, (hilarious newcomer Claudia O’Doherty), falls too quickly for Gus’s friend Randy (Mike Mitchell), and that relationship plays out differently than Gus and Mickey’s focal relationship. Cut and copy that about twenty times and you have the couples featured in Love , an ever-challenged group of individuals just trying to let someone into their lives without completely losing themselves in the process. Every one of Love’s three seasons homes in on a different stage of love and argues both for, and against, the pursuit of said love. When we first meet L.A.’s Mickey Dobbs, she is just beginning to refocus on her sobriety with drugs, alcohol, and sex and love. Her very core is chaos, and she knows she feeds on it. With any addiction, going “cold turkey” is commonly partnered with emotional outbursts of egregious proportions. Mickey does not escape these outbursts, and on multiple occasions, she provokes them. During this period of imbalance, she meets Gus: a good guy who is an alternative to the manic men that Mickey has dated in the past. And while Mickey is strangely drawn to Gus, she doesn’t allow herself to pursue him, and instead pawns him off on Bertie, (claiming they are the two nicest people she knows who should surely hit it off). Her sobriety plays a major role in her behavior. She remarks on several occasions that she doesn’t want to binge on Gus, and is trying to curb her desires instead of spending all of her time with him. Personally, in my own relationships, I never had the self-awareness of the dangers of binging on an individual. In the first season, Mickey attempts to master her id by strengthening her ego through AA and SLAA (Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous). This, however, is only the first step towards mastering her domain. Upon Gus Cruikshank’s introduction we find that he too, is constantly dissatisfied with his lot in life. He is tricked into breaking up with his girlfriend because she claims to have cheated on him, (when in reality she hadn’t). He is ruthlessly belittled at work as a tutor for young actors and actresses on the fictitious show Wichita. His living situation at the Springwood apartments is a clear downgrade from where he thought he would be at this current stage in life. And to top it all off, he wasn’t able to choose the color he wanted for his living room area rug. He almost has no agency in his own life. The most fun he has is through his hobbies: writing fake theme-songs for movies that have none with his close group of friends, and his membership at The Magic Castle, a private magicians’ club in Hollywood. Gus clearly finds joy in manipulation and rewriting history as a means to assuage him of past missteps in his own life. When he first introduces Mickey to magic, he’s taken aback by her lack of enthusiasm. Mickey, albeit being a recovering drug abuser, is trying to move past those elements of manipulation, no matter how juvenile Gus’s hobbies are. While Gus and Mickey are definitely trying to impress each other early in the first season, they manage to lay out a good deal of their cards at the very beginning of their friendship. By the end of season one, they have established that they want to pursue some form of relationship, (although more tentatively than most). Mickey finally confronts Gus about her addictions and habits, initially wanting to remain single for a year. At the beginning of season two, our main couple are already starting to project their baggage onto each other: instead of respecting Mickey’s boundaries, Gus acts on his addiction to Mickey, and strongly pursues her against better judgment. With every step forward they take, they take two steps back. As is common with any toxic relationship, the longer they’re around each other without being truly honest with one another, the more transference begins to roar its angry, jealous head. Mickey’s ex-boyfriends have always either mentally abused while in their relationship and then turned a 180 afterwards, or vice versa. Mickey’s belief is that she’s going to be mistreated one way or another, and she subconsciously waits for the other shoe to drop with Gus. Meanwhile, Gus’ professional life becomes more erratic. He and Mickey have to spend a month apart while he tutors his main student, Arya, (precocious Iris Apatow), on location in Atlanta. Gus already lives in a world where his coworkers either use language to demean him to his face, or demean him behind his back, and the director on the Atlanta film is Korean and uses a translator to communicate with his crew. There are no subtitles for the director’s dialogue, which is mirrored by the lack of physical language that Mickey and Gus share. Gus is completely on his own during this month, which is highly representative of anyone’s psyche when it’s rewiring to a new relationship. When the mind begins to process a new person, it struggles between recognizing familiar patterns of human behavior and attempting to treat this new person as an individual. The critical reception of Love has been, on the whole, extremely positive. It’s unfortunate, however, that the characters are usually lambasted for their faults. Either Gus is seen as the gentlemanly hero and Mickey the one who unrightfully damages him in her pursuit of sobriety, or Gus is seen as the villain who can’t learn to deal with his bottled up rage in a healthy manner, thereby inflicting his lifetime of damage upon Mickey. Both viewpoints are correct. Love is a show that doesn’t shy away from the deeper complexities of what it means to be an adult in the here and now. Neither character, no character for that matter, can be fit into just one box. Most sitcoms follow the mold of casting individuals into different character traits of one overarching character: this is the serious one, the funny one, the lothario, the spaz, etc. But each character in Love possesses all of these characteristics, and in some cases, true to real life, they juggle these different characteristics very poorly. I have personally been the Gus, the Mickey, the Bertie…the list goes on and on. So if the storylines in Love cause any discomfort, it’s because it’s acting as a mirror, making viewers face their own shortcomings head-on. Love’s final season is the perfectly flawed capstone to our brief insight into Mickey and Gus’ relationship. We get the chance to see a lot of growth among all characters, but not necessarily resolution. This is exactly on par with Love’s commitment to reality. In life, we truly never see absolute resolution. Sometimes we act horribly, and never face any tangible repercussions, and sometimes our most noble acts go completely unappreciated. That’s just life. The important part is that Mickey and Gus make a commitment to each other: they accept that their relationship, any relationship, is a marriage of understanding reality and curbing expectations. I may have broken Mickey’s rule of not binging on Love , but ultimately, both characters realize that love is not something that can be monitored in doses or intake. You can only learn how to love a person once, and you learn it while it’s happening. Through Mickey’s sobriety and Gus’ acceptance of his own flaws, they come to understand themselves better, and in turn, each other. The typical rom-com formula results in the two main characters coming together in the finale, and their story closes. But Love’s entire premise is happiness doesn’t lead to an ending. Apatow and company have once again crafted a well-told story where the characters will continue to make decisions and age off-screen so long as I, or any fan, shall live. If you haven’t already, I highly recommend taking a shot at Love ; it never hurts to laugh at yourself. Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Reviews #Love #Netflix #TV #BernadetteGorman #Romance #Comedy

We're thrilled to announce the batch of films featured in our next installment of the annual Beacon HorrorShow, where we showcase a variety of awesome flicks from everybody's favorite October genre. And it's all happening at our new totally radical space, Story Screen Drive-In . Need more info? Check out our video below (which we had a blast creating for y'all) and then check out our detailed schedule below, with additional info on each film, as well as links to our ticketing site. Stay Spooky, Fam. SCHEDULE WEEK 1: OCTOBER 1st - 4th THE ADDAMS FAMILY Oct 1st - 4th When a man claiming to be Fester, the missing brother of Gomez Addams, arrives at the Addams' home, the family is thrilled. However, Morticia begins to suspect the man is a fraud, since he cannot recall details of Fester's life. With the help of lawyer Tully Alford, Fester manages to get the Addams clan evicted from their home. Gomez realizes the two men are conspiring to swindle the Addams fortune and that he must challenge Fester. PG-13 ‧ 1991 ‧ Comedy/Family ‧ 1h 50m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets EVIL DEAD 2 Oct 2nd - 4th The second of three films in the Evil Dead series is part horror, part comedy, with Ash Williams once again battling horrifying demons at a secluded cabin in the woods. After discovering an audiotape left by a college professor that contains voices reading from the Book of the Dead, Ash's girlfriend Linda becomes possessed by evil spirits that are awakened by the voices on the tape. Ash soon discovers there is no escaping the woods. R ‧ 1987 ‧ Horror/Comedy ‧ 1h 24m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets MANDY One Night Only: Oct 1st In the Pacific Northwest in 1983, outsiders Red Miller and Mandy Bloom lead a loving and peaceful existence. When their pine-scented haven is savagely destroyed by a cult led by the sadistic Jeremiah Sand, Red is catapulted into a phantasmagoric journey filled with bloody vengeance and laced with deadly fire. R ‧ 2018 ‧ Horror/Thriller ‧ 2h 1m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets WEEK 2: OCTOBER 8th - 11th GET OUT Oct 8th - 11th Now that Chris and his girlfriend, Rose, have reached the meet-the-parents milestone of dating, she invites him for a weekend getaway upstate with Missy and Dean. At first, Chris reads the family's overly accommodating behavior as nervous attempts to deal with their daughter's interracial relationship, but as the weekend progresses, a series of increasingly disturbing discoveries lead him to a truth that he never could have imagined. R ‧ 2017 ‧ Horror/Thriller ‧ 1h 44m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets CANDYMAN Oct 9th - 11th Skeptical graduate student Helen Lyle befriends Anne-Marie McCoy while researching superstitions in a housing project on Chicago's Near North Side. From Anne-Marie, Helen learns about the Candyman, a knife-wielding figure of urban legend that some of her neighbors believe to be responsible for a recent murder. After a mysterious man matching the Candyman's description begins stalking her, Helen comes to fear that the legend may be all too real. R ‧ 1992 ‧ Horror/Slasher ‧ 1h 41m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets HEREDITARY One Night Only: Oct 8th When the matriarch of the Graham family passes away, her daughter and grandchildren begin to unravel cryptic and increasingly terrifying secrets about their ancestry, trying to outrun the sinister fate they have inherited. R ‧ 2018 ‧ Horror/Drama ‧ 2h 7m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets WEEK 3: OCTOBER 15th - 18th THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS Oct 15th - 18th The film follows the misadventures of Jack Skellington, Halloweentown's beloved pumpkin king, who has become bored with the same annual routine of frightening people in the "real world." When Jack accidentally stumbles on Christmastown, all bright colors and warm spirits, he gets a new lease on life -- he plots to bring Christmas under his control by kidnapping Santa Claus and taking over the role. But Jack soon discovers even the best-laid plans of mice and skeleton men can go seriously awry. PG ‧ 1993 ‧ Animation/Fantasy ‧ 1h 16m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets FRIDAY THE 13th PART IV: THE FINAL CHAPTER Oct 16th - 18th A carefree lakeside vacation is interrupted by the re-emergence of killer Jason Voorhees. After he escapes from a morgue, leaving bodies in his wake, Jason travels to Camp Crystal Lake where a group of friends is staying. The teens meet some locals: Tommy and Trish, as well as secretive hiker Rob. As the group of teenagers engages in drunken debauchery, their numbers begin to dwindle, and pieces of the past resurface. R ‧ 1984 ‧ Horror/Slasher ‧ 1h 37m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets MIDSOMMAR One Night Only: Oct 15th A couple travel to Sweden to visit their friend's rural hometown for its fabled midsummer festival, but what begins as an idyllic retreat quickly devolves into an increasingly violent and bizarre competition at the hands of a pagan cult. R ‧ 2019 ‧ Horror/Drama ‧ 2h 18m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets WEEK 4: OCTOBER 22nd - 25th THE CABIN IN THE WOODS Oct 22nd - 25th When five college friends arrive at a remote forest cabin for a little vacation, little do they expect the horrors that await them. One by one, the youths fall victim to backwoods zombies, but there is another factor at play. Two scientists are manipulating the ghoulish goings-on, but even as the body count rises, there is yet more at work than meets the eye. R ‧ 2011 ‧ Horror/Comedy ‧ 1h 35m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT Oct 23rd - 25th Found video footage tells the tale of three film students who've traveled to a small town to collect documentary footage about the Blair Witch, a legendary local murderer. Over the course of several days, the students interview townspeople and gather clues to support the tale's veracity. But the project takes a frightening turn when the students lose their way in the woods and begin hearing horrific noises. R ‧ 1999 ‧ Horror/Indie film ‧ 1h 45m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets THE GUEST One Night Only: Oct 22nd A string of mysterious deaths leads a teenager to become suspicious of a soldier who showed up on her family's doorstep and claimed to be a friend of her dead brother. R ‧ 2014 ‧ Thriller/Mystery ‧ 1h 40m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets WEEK 5: OCTOBER 29th - NOVEMBER 1st BEETLEJUICE Oct 29th - Nov 1st After Barbara and Adam Maitland die in a car accident, they find themselves stuck haunting their country residence, unable to leave the house. When the unbearable Deetzes and teen daughter Lydia buy the home, the Maitlands attempt to scare them away without success. Their efforts attract Beetlejuice, a rambunctious spirit whose "help" quickly becomes dangerous for the Maitlands and innocent Lydia. PG ‧ 1988 ‧ Comedy/Horror ‧ 1h 33m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3: DREAM WARRIORS Oct 30th - Nov 1st During a hallucinatory incident, young Kristen Parker has her wrists slashed by dream-stalking monster Freddy Krueger. Her mother, mistaking the wounds for a suicide attempt, sends Kristen to a psychiatric ward, where she joins a group of similarly troubled teens. One of the doctors there is Nancy Thompson, who had battled Freddy some years before. Nancy senses a potential in Kristen to rid the world of Freddy once and for all. R ‧ 1987 ‧ Horror/Slasher ‧ 1h 36m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets TRICK 'R TREAT One Night Only: Oct 29th Interwoven stories demonstrate that some traditions are best not forgotten as the residents of a small town face real ghosts and goblins on Halloween. Tales of terror reveal the consequences of extinguishing a Jack-o-Lantern before midnight and a grumpy hermit's encounter with a sinister trick-or-treater. R ‧ 2007 ‧ Horror/Thriller ‧ 1h 40m Watch the Trailer Get Tickets

It has been 25 years since 1995 and the release of Disney's Pocahontas . This film is the 6th in the era known as the “Disney Renaissance,” a period of huge success for the company from 1989-1999. During the 70’s and for a majority of the 80’s, Disney was in a dry spell. With the success of The Little Mermaid in 1989, Disney turned the tide back in their favor. By the time 1991 came and Beauty and the Beast nabbed them an Oscar nom, Disney put themselves on a mission. They wanted not only to get nominated, but to win the Best Picture category. Disney works on movies for many years at a time, some of them concurrently. At the time, they were trying to calculate the perfect Oscar winner, they were also making The Lion King, sharing the resources between the projects. The buzz amongst the Disney studios at the time was that Pocahontas was the movie you wanted to attach your name to if you wanted to be a part of history! The first animated movie to win Best Picture was going to be momentous. So, what happened? In the end, The Lion King is the movie that is more fondly remembered. Out of the ten Renaissance films, the first handful are the most significant: Little Mermaid, Beauty & the Beast, Lion King, and 1992’s Aladdin , are the big four of this era. Every attempt afterwards never reached the same highs - both critically and financially - as these four. The Renaissance ends in 1999 with Tarzan, the last real big hit the company has for a while. Pocahontas hits squarely after the midpoint, as the sixth movie of this iconic era, and it pretty much signifies the beginning of the fall. The reason Pocahontas misses the mark involves several factors. The first is the story. Okay, actually the first is obviously the simplistic approach to hundreds of years of racial tension between colonizers and the native people ravaged in the wake of concepts like manifest destiny and the White Man's Burden (thank you to Eastchester High School’s Social Studies department!). But, the story is nothing unique. Five years earlier, Dances with Wolves won the Best Picture with a surprisingly similar story to the one here. A white man finds himself in the world of what he perceives to be uncivilized savages. He decides that there should be compromise and acceptance between their groups. There is some admission of mistreatment to the native community, but it is mostly chalked up to the machinations of a few bad apples, and thank goodness we have our good white people to show that contrast. In an attempt to appease many different audiences, Pocahontas ends up appealing to no one. To appeal to grown-ups and the Academy, the romance between our leads was put front and center, and our protagonists were aged up (for Pocahontas) and down (for John Smith). The animators looked to real-life supermodels for the designs. This creates a Pocahontas who doesn’t really look native and a John Smith who’s blonde and skinny and young. The main thing our heroes have in common with one another is their hotness. They also are both insanely lacking in a developed personality. They magically learn to communicate by listening with their hearts (damn, Rosetta Stone you got competition). But to appeal to younger audiences we are given multiple animal sidekicks and a fairly simplistic plot. Also, the historical weight of genocide and years of ethnocentric legislation is completely lost because the story has to be sanded down so much. The villain of the movie, Ratcliff, fits the concept of the foppish coded-gay villain, made popular with Ursula in the Little Mermaid (based off of drag queen Divine), Scar in The Lion King, and even Jafar, who’s interest in marrying Jasmine is almost entirely political and lacks total sexual interest in Aladdin. He likes to wear glittery outfits and is followed around by an even gayer lackey. Pocahontas did accomplish winning an Academy Award for score and original song, and it does have some amazing music. Disney does not slack in that regard. “Colors of the Wind” is a karaoke standard and Disney classic, up there with songs from even better movies. I like the music of Pocahontas better than the music of The Lion King ( which is a better movie story-wise). However, if you want to get a story about an indigenous pre-Colonial tribal princess going off on an adventure and defying her father, all the while sporting some great music, watch Moana. (If you'd like to hear more on this topic, watch Lindsay Ellis' review of Pocahontas here .) Marco Rummo Marco is a comedian, writer, and underemployed New Yorker trying to make it in this damn world. He enjoys fruitlessly pursuing love on dating apps and keeping track of all of the movies he’s seen on Letterboxd.

There’s a tendency in Hollywood to market women-led action films as revolutionary. We are at a cultural turning point where every time a woman throws a punch, shoots a gun, or walks slowly away from an explosion, we are told that this is a new moment for feminism on screen. We rest the accolades of progress on multi-million dollar pieces of cellophane, and are gleefully told that every new film with a woman on the poster is the next flashpoint for female-led films. The most frustrating part of all of this is that most blockbuster female-led films – while yes, major studios are starting to see the value of cinema that feature women in action roles – are still being written by men. Women are just starting to get their foot in the door as blockbuster action stars with their own agency, removed from sexuality or whims of men, and current movies like Tomb Raider and Red Sparrow only serve to disappoint audiences. While it’s fair to say that all movies have to have a gimmick, films with women as leads tend to rely on the hook for success, rather than the quality of the film itself. Tomb Raider rested on the laurels of a decades-long, multimedia franchise, and Red Sparrow , on Jennifer Lawrence’s star power. Other films recently released starring women in action roles, such as Proud Mary , (with Taraji P. Henderson as a capable and fast-acting spy), and Annihilation , (starring Natalie Portman with a supporting cast of four other women), were ignored by audiences. Annihilation was, by most accounts, a better film than any of the others, but with a studio hamstringing its release and minimal marketing, it never had a chance at success. It’s frustrating that more diverse and unique movies like Proud Mary and Annihilation seem to be glossed over, ignored and ushered out of theaters the same month they are brought in. There is a pervasive belief that the failure of women in film is the failure of all women in film, a problem that men and male-led films never have to face. I doubt Rob Cohen (director of The Fast and the Furious ), will suffer any impediments to his career after The Hurricane Heist . Mediocrity should be good enough, but it isn’t. Women in general, (and women in film specifically), are held to a higher standard. This isn’t anything new, and people have been arguing since Aliens and the early Terminator films that we need more room for characters like Ellen Ripley and Sarah Connor to be on screen. Films with women in the lead need to make a statement, or else opportunities for all women are diminished and dismissed as ‘not profitable.’ Women can’t have mediocre films; their careers simply won’t allow for it. I have nothing against mediocrity. Not every film can be as flat-out fantastic as Wonder Woman (written by a man), or as crafted as Atomic Blonde , (written and directed by men). There is simply an enormous lack of wiggle room when it comes to films that star women. Jason Statham and Bruce Willis can put out a chase scene disguised as a cinematic release every six months, but few women get a chance to be in more than one action sequence in their entire careers. (Exceptions like Charlize Theron do not mean that women have this ability, it simply means that Theron is the exception, and the list of male action heroes would take up the rest of this article.) It’s sad that modern day big-budget films hire writers who are so inexperienced or wrong for their films. Red Sparrow was a book about a woman, written by a man, adapted for the screen by a man. It’s no surprise that the film handled sexual assault so poorly, and the sheer amount of men praising Red Sparrow might have been shocking, if not for the audacity of the marketing surrounding the film. It’s not as if the trailer, synopsis, or graphic images cater to a female audience. One clip I remember seeing over and over was the image of Jennifer Lawrence in a ridiculously impractical bathing suit passing by Joel Edgerton (in a much more utilitarian suit) while at a pool obviously meant for swimming laps. The entire film was truly a man’s masturbatory power-fantasy, starring Lawrence as an agent provocateur of the most pathetic and immature kind, with no mind of her own and a wishy-washy backstory that was supposed to explain her motivations. Tomb Raider was conceptualized and written by a woman, Geneva Robertson-Dworet, and helped along by screenwriter Alastair Siddons. This is Robertson-Dworet’s first feature screenplay, and it shows in some of its trite dialogue and overused tropes. Not to mention that Tomb Raider’s SFX crew could have been hired off the production line from the last Uncharted video game. When every female-led action film has to have some kind of platform on which to make a statement, we end up with films like Tomb Raider and Red Sparrow . Both these films had slick execution, a good aesthetic and the star power that could have made them into hits, but neither capitalized on what worked. What they did have: bland dialogue, weak motivations and one-dimensional women that are carried along by the story. The character of the female lead was sacrificed for a fast-paced narrative and when women are discarded in favor of plot by male writers, directors and producers, it’s obvious. It might be a gift women have, but most of us can tell when a man writes a screenplay. That’s usually not a compliment.* There is nothing outstanding about this latest Tomb Raider film. It serves as a passable action flick, but not of the blockbuster variety; an adaption of a video game, but not a particularly engaging one, and as much as I wish I could say watching Alicia Vikander kick ass for an hour and a half was exciting, it simply was not enough to carry my interest through this film. There were some highlights. The action was believable, the mythos was unique, and there were some narrative twists that were interesting, even if they weren’t surprising. All the actors did a decent job with what they were given, and Alicia Vikander as Lara Croft, was allowed to be dirty, gritty, and unconcerned with prettiness. I was worried that the camera would take on the typical objectifying male gaze, but that never happened. Lara Croft was never oversexualized or even sexualized at all by the narrative. Red Sparrow’s huge failure is its rampant misogyny and sexual assault. There are other problems, (mediocre acting, poor characterization, and muddy motivations), but the distracting, obvious problem is the fact that Dominika (Lawrence) has so little control over her own life and choices, and she is endlessly subjected to the male gaze both through the camera and multiple characters on screen. Red Sparrow , like Tomb Raider , is a thriller-based genre film with a female lead, heavy on the action, with a predominantly male cast supporting the main actress. They both cater to a predominantly male audience and they were marketed as such. Both films are derivative in nature, and neither offer a particularly unique take on their subject matter. Alicia Vikander and Jennifer Lawrence have both stated that they felt empowered by these roles, expressing satisfaction with their characters. Tomb Raider and Red Sparrow take opposite sides on the platform of women’s action films. In the era of Time’s Up, #MeToo, and the Women’s March, a woman’s sexuality has once again become a mystery to Hollywood. Tomb Raider seems to have taken this into consideration, eliminating sexuality from the film almost entirely, while Red Sparrow swings in a totally different direction, making Dominika’s sexuality her weapon and her body a tool to be used by others. Red Sparrow bills itself as a spy thriller, but this kind of barely-veiled erotica on screen isn’t empowering to watch. At least Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft is in charge of her own body at all times, and her utilitarian outfits, pulled back hair and muscular back are all tightly contained and speak to her ownership of her agency. It’s unfortunate that these two films were the ones given marketing and distribution support by studios. Both set back the fight to create more action roles for women, and neither establish their leading actors as action stars. Vikander might break out into more physical roles (her work with the jilted lines and sometimes over the top stuntwork were some of the highlights of Tomb Raider ), but Lawrence has defied pigeonholing despite her notoriety as a new generation of starlet. It’s discouraging to see these two well-known actresses given roles like this: lackluster on screen, stilted on the page, and disappointing in their execution. I wish that I could dismiss these films as mediocre and move on to better, more diverse and more exciting films led by women, such as A Wrinkle in Time , or the upcoming Oceans 8 , but the huge budgets and wide audience that these films received makes them hard to pass over. In the end, while they both made money, neither film was truly successful. At least Tomb Raider is moderately enjoyable, but Red Sparrow is nearly unwatchable during parts. I hope that these films are written off as simply failures of writing and production, and not failures of selling women-led films to an audience. There is simply not enough representation of women in action films to create a deep enough pool for people to pick and choose which female-led films influence major studios. Women are making progress, but until there is true, visible equity and diversity in action films, every film will be held up as a litmus test to determine whether or not another film with a woman as the lead is profitable or marketable, or if the field is oversaturated or underdeveloped, or if something is too risky or too boring. Until there’s a Bruce Willis among women who can rehash the same plot line ten times in five years and STILL be hired for the exact same character, every woman-led movie will be subject to scrutiny far beyond any film that stars a man. I ask that mediocrity be allowed to pass as mediocrity. Trying to make arguments about empowerment is futile, because so few movies make any attempt to fully empower their female characters beyond a single lead. I will settle for simply having more films helmed by women, in front of and behind the camera. Maybe next season will be better. *I’ve heard the same thing said about black audiences watching films made by white people, and queer audiences watching films that center around straight people. Nobody ever gets everything right. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #Articles #TombRaider #RedSparrow #ProudMary #Annihilation #Women #StrongWomeninFilm #LindaCodega #Equality #WomeninFilm

Spike Lee has never been subtle. He addresses issues of race and power in cinema the same way that Baz Luhrman treats alcohol and glitter: without apologies or reservations. There’s a lot to be commended when it comes to his fearless, angry, never-contained portrayal of racial prejudice in his films. Watching a Spike Lee film, we see that Lee continually demands that we come face to face with the realities of hatred and oppression. In every one of his movies, we are forced to be active consumers of art, reflecting on our own impact and on our own experiences. Passivity cannot exist in the same theater as Spike Lee. There is no passivity in Lee’s films or his narration. The audience is as much a part of the film as any of the characters onscreen. Ron Stallworth, the main character of BlackKklansman , is the audience’s guide through both white-dominated and black-exclusive spaces. Throughout the film, as Ron is lectured, so is the audience; as he feels in danger, so too are we in danger. His experiences and emotional investments are what tie the audience to the story. The problem with BlackKklansman is that the story doesn’t stay tied to itself. While jokes that reference modern events and current scandals can date some films, in a period piece like BlackKklansman , drawing parallels between the politics of the 1970’s and today made the film feel out of its place and time. The narrative seemed to be set in the present day, and the references to front-page headlines kept the audience reeling and recalling last week’s news stories. The jokes weren’t funny for long; the idea that nothing changed, that punchlines about David Duke were as germane fifty years ago as they are today makes for a sobering experience. This leads Lee into a narrative trap; the target audience of BlackKklansman isn’t white supremacists or Klan sympathizers. The people going to see this movie are not going for self-improvement, and (generally speaking) they are not the people who Lee believes are a danger to society. The audience of this movie is the people who already feel threatened, endangered, or upset by the ideology, actions, and purpose of the KKK and other white supremacists. The constant reminders of real-life problems that intrude on the narrative threaten the integrity of the movie itself. The fact that viewers in the audience were given half-hearted, watered-down soapbox speeches about the struggles for Black Power in the 70’s felt stagnant. The film didn’t go far enough to be effective or informative, and it wasn’t restrained enough to keep viewers in the narrative itself, rather than feeling like we were listening to a 101 lecture. The idea that nothing has changed for black people was a struggle to watch with undivided interest, especially when there was the tease of an interesting story waiting to be told in the wings of this performance. The average viewer who already agrees with Lee’s point of view is forced to sit through a repurposed TED Talk about dated concepts that they already know about, while they really want to just watch a movie. Throughout the film, BlackKklansman addresses the audience directly. The narrative structure of the movie is diverted when the audience’s attention turns away from the narrative and is forced to reflect on the ways in which the movie speaks to the viewer. This disruption to the narrative "illusion" of the piece of media made it hard for me to enjoy the film, and hard for me to invest in the characters, as I was continually being reminded of the fact that they were, after all, just devices Lee was using to make a political point. This isn’t a diatribe against political movies. Nor is it a dismissal of Lee’s brutally honest point of view. The reason that I didn’t like BlackKklansman had to do with the feeling of being taken out of the movie every five minutes as I tried to place each quote, scandal, headline, and plot twist into the context of our modern-day political drama. It doesn’t feel as if Lee wanted to make a movie about Ron Stallworth’s story – in fact, Stallworth as a character receives very little depth – but instead focuses on making points from behind the camera about the danger of white supremacy. The final narrative moments of BlackKklansman are not uplifting or hopeful. They are a damning reflection of the current era, administration, and division within our country. It is not happy - but it is compelling. It’s a galvanizing call to action. Even though I had issues with the way that Lee frames his film, its ending feels real and it feels strong. I would have been happy to walk out of the theater with this condemnation of white complacency and the idea that the threat to black people hadn’t ever disappeared but evolved. This would have been a good ending. This would have been the ending I would have liked. But it wasn’t the end. After the final shot of Ron Stallworth and Patrice, he shows the real story. The real story is that in August of 2017, white supremacists held a rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, and killed a young activist. My story is that for four years as I attended the University of Virginia, I lived in Charlottesville and called the city home. In many ways, as a military brat, it was my first real home, where I was independent, had my own life, and could make my own decisions. The real story is that white supremacists turned this town into a war zone, and Spike Lee showed it on the silver screen, tacking it onto the end of a movie that had already too much Meta for its one hundred and thirty five minute runtime. As if Spike Lee couldn’t have told us any clearer, here was the video footage of the car that killed Heather Heyer, with Lee basically screaming in the background, “This was the movie I really wanted to make.” Lee shows bodies on the ground, men flying through the air, and cars zooming backwards through the Charlottesville outdoor mall with their bumpers half off. There is no warning for this; Lee inserted into a fictional movie the very real, very deadly footage from Charlottesville. Watching this happen trapped in a theater, almost completely unprepared for the onslaught of emotions I would feel as I watched my old home being shown on screen for pure shock value, I felt shaky and disgusted. I wasn’t at that rally. I carefully consumed news about the attack. I checked in with my friends still in the city. I had never seen the footage that Lee showed, and for good reason. I walked out of the theater, shaking after the last five minutes of rally coverage. I couldn’t stop thinking about the bars I had recognized in the background, the crushed newspaper rack for magazines that I had written for, the gouges that the bumper made in the street where I had celebrated with my friends. I’m not someone prone to anxiety attacks, but I genuinely felt traumatized by those images, and was resentful that Spike Lee would use them so callously and inappropriately at the end of a film that is not about those tense days in Charlottesville. Most of the clips used were not accessible to the news-by-phone public, and for me, I had insulated myself against a lot of those images by choice and by design. Seeing real video of a place you love as it’s torn apart by violence and hatred, in a place where you are not expecting or prepared for it, is not fun, and it’s not a good way to end a movie-going experience. Overall, despite some of the overtly Meta moments of the movie, I enjoyed it. The humor was funny, the characters sympathetic, and the story compelling. It just went about seven minutes too long. If Spike Lee had not included real footage of Charlottesville - which I personally consider inappropriate - I would have enjoyed the movie more, and would have been able to reflect on the kind of cinema Lee was trying to craft. The problem was, that as I drove home in the dark, I felt as if I had been beaten with a sledgehammer meant to remind me of all the problems, sadness, and terror that exists, rather than given instructions on how to improve on the present and move forward in a way that protects Black people and those who fight alongside them. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #Article #Articles #LindaCodega #Blackkklansman #SpikeLee #Racism #Meta #Truth

Jordan Peele’s move from acting to directing came with a significant break in tone. Known for skits, drama, and comedy, Peele’s move into the horror genre was a surprise. His success, however, was not. One of the reasons that the two films Peele has written and directed have been so incredibly well received is because they are pieces of media made to be pulled apart and examined. Many critics have lamented the fact that these movies require analyzing in order to fully understand them, but enjoying them doesn’t have to come at the expense of a historic catalog of references from which to draw. Peele’s Get Out and Us are both masterpieces of horror in their own right. They are intimate and expansive, personal and political, private and public. These two movies investigate horrors against Black people and Black America with a critical narrative and an eye for irony. But what of the references? Peele’s work in horror closely mirrors the work of Alfred Hitchcock. Thematically and narratively, the expansion of chaos and the control of the worlds he has created have led to a string of deliberate and obvious ties. Psycho and Get Out follow a similar formula, as do The Birds and Us . There is a generational torch for horror filmmakers, and the pass from Hitchcock to Peele seems natural, but I want to stress that there’s more to this theory than merely Peele stepping in as the next horror auteur in American cinema. Diverting to Hitchcock for a second, let’s focus on two of his most famous films: Psycho and The Birds . Although never explicitly stated, many who study Hitchcock have come to the conclusion that these two pieces are directly linked. I believe, personally, that The Birds is a perfect sequel to Psycho , existing in the same universe, with similar themes, and a connected narrative. Let’s dig in quickly. Psycho is about the controlled chaos that occurs in a seedy hotel, with a mystery surrounding a family and a murdered woman. There are references to birds throughout the film - Norman Crane, Phoenix, Arizona, and the strange taxidermy owls in flight in the waiting room. Norman even says at one point, “you eat like a bird.” The choice to go from black and white to color also showcases a thematic expansion of chaos that connects both films. Mystery elements drive the narratives, existing alongside the underlying horror and tension. There is blood in the water. Psycho is an expression of a deep-seeded, single-family chaos that spreads to innocent bystanders, and The Birds , takes one small area of disaster, focusing on a family drama, and expands that unimaginable terror from a small island to an implied worldwide apocalypse. Tying it back to Peele, Get Out and Us follow the same formula: hints of one in the other, a deliberate expansion of chaos, and even a remarkable focus on color in Us , whereas Get Out was clearly divided along black and white lines. Psycho and Get Out have many common narrative links between the basic structures of the movies. Both have an unassuming caretaker, people inhabiting other’s bodies and minds, and a reveal of a body in the basement, in addition to kidnapping, detective undertones, and conspiracies. There’s also a darkness to the palate of Get Out that is reminiscent of the black and white tone of Psycho . The mystery narrative that drives the investigations of Psycho and Get Out are also very similar and create a tense, dramatic environment where detectives have to pull apart the threads of the deception, eventually tying everything together and revealing the true nature of the horror inside the home. The Birds and Us also tie into each other. Within a smaller family drama is a large, overwhelming force of chaos that threatens to engulf the entire world. The birds within The Birds , much like the tethered, are unexplainable, and any real discussion between members of the families in peril is dismissed. These phenomena are just accepted, and for a horror movie, it’s good enough that it’s terrifying and familiar at the same time. For these two films, in particular, the need to explain what things mean can be tempting. There has to be symbolism and meaning tied into these images and visions. The bunnies at the end of Us , the lovebirds that Melanie buys at the start of the film. We want to search for meaning in the green coat, in the red jumpsuits. Getting caught up in attaching meaning to the symbols of the films can be fun, and an exercise useful for pieces like this, which need excessively ridiculous media reference libraries, but ultimately, will knowing the ins and outs, the hows and whys, increase our enjoyment of the film? Appreciation and dissection is important, but horror films are meant to be horrific. If we pick too many things apart and draw too many meanings, intentionally or not, the film ceases to be an art and turns into a text. If there is no mystery, if things are tied up, then it can be rationalized and logically understood, undermining much of what makes horror films so engaging and terrifying. Peele has hinted that both Get Out and Us exist within a singular horror universe. His upcoming remake of Candyman , a 90’s supernatural slasher cited as one of Peele’s inspirations for Get Out , will likely reveal more about his intentions to develop a shared world for his horror pieces. This too connects Peele and Hitchcock, who was notorious for using similar actresses, settings, and writers to create an Art Haus effect to his films. Peele is following in Hitchcock’s footsteps, but not imitating him. He’s balancing the work he’s creating between establishing his own brand, and constantly and consciously referencing the work that came before. Peele’s work is intimately tied to Hitchcock’s, and it’s an unfortunate side effect of timing that his work has to come after we, as an audience, have had so much exposure to the medium and genre. Peele’s movies are unique and dynamic and layered, but they are also in the shadow of previous horror-thrillers. However, Peele is too smart to pretend like we don’t know this, and takes deliberate steps within his movies to both pay homage to Hitchcock and differentiate himself. There are links to Hitchcock’s work throughout all of his cinematography, but Peele’s focus on showcasing and dissecting Black experiences, his innovative takes on surreal situations, his ability to commit to the absurdist, and his ability to create effortless layers of meaning within single moments makes him a new force in the horror genre. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #JordanPeele #AlfredHitchcock #Horror #Thriller #Birds #Psycho #GetOut #Us #Article #ThinkPiece #LindaCodega

Without much explanation, Unicorn Store immediately sets up our protagonist as an earnest artist outcast, existing as sincerely as possible in a world that doesn't understand her love of bright colors, glitter, and children's print shirts. Kit (Brie Larson) is an art school dropout (maybe? It's not explained clearly) who moves back home after receiving a failing grade on her art final. Over the course of the movie, Kit is tested by corporate workplace culture, misunderstanding parents, and last but not least, the enigmatic Salesman who offers to sell her what she needs. What she needs, in this case, happens to be a unicorn. Unicorns (as everyone knows) need to be loved. They also need pink hay, a suitable place to live, and owners with responsible finances. Everyone, says the Salesman (played by Samuel L. Jackson) knows this. Unicorns will also love you forever and be your best friend. To Kit, the idea that someone will love all of her - the weird, strange, glitter-speckled and awkward foot-in-mouth mishaps - is just what she wants. Unicorns (despite the very real unicorn that shows up at the end of the film) are actually a metaphor for happiness. The dialogue in Unicorn Store is not subtle about this. This movie was a bright pink and turquoise descent into sincere expressions of often-dismissed and belittled femininity. Throughout the film, the surrealness of watching someone raised by Lisa Frank, Rainbow Brite, and the Care Bears earnestly engage with their childhood obsessions contrasted directly to the sincere literalism of the struggles of dealing with a misunderstanding family and a boring corporate job... It was refreshing and sincere, but it often felt like too much. It felt as if Kit was a teenager, not someone in her mid-twenties just out of art school. The film’s sense of whimsy bordered on immaturity in a way that could have been avoided with a few tweaks to its presentation. Brie Larson did a lot of work embodying the aspects of a woman who still loves things that made her happy fifteen years ago. It was well-preserved, but perhaps a little too cutesy: the artful paint that appeared on Kit’s face every time she picked up a brush, the Tinker bell-like blowing of glitter, and even the meta in-movie explanation when an executive asks, “Isn't this all a little childish?” To which Kit reminds her that even grownups need magic. For a movie preoccupied with glitter, magic, unicorns, and rainbows, Unicorn Store is also surprisingly obsessed with heterosexuality. Kit, her mother, and various characters continue to mention that Kit either, “doesn’t have a boyfriend,” “doesn’t want a boyfriend,” or “can’t get a boyfriend,” in some form or another at least once every fifteen minutes. This movie didn’t need a love story, and this plot was so secondary, that it didn’t even appear until about an hour into this ninety-two minute film. But every character was so focused on establishing that Kit was a Heterosexual Woman who would be with a man if only she could find one who could love her with all her quirkiness that it became infuriating. Why even mention it? Why should we care about her lack of a love life? She’s trying to get a unicorn, isn’t that much more interesting? The constant mention of Kit’s lack of a relationship was actually overwhelming. It made no sense why they would keep bringing up relationship status as a measure of value or merit when Kit seemed so determined to reject traditional value systems. That should have been the biggest hint; this movie isn’t actually about breaking out of the box, but adjusting yourself to fit into the box you’ve been given. Unicorn Store was cute, but it was too self-aware to be genuinely fun. Larson’s comedic timing wasn’t great either, and the script that could have done with a few more rounds of punch-up, also suffered from a director who didn’t have much to offer in the way of comedy. The deadpan comedy was in the vein of Safety Not Guaranteed , Be Kind Rewind and Lars and the Real Girl , but it would have more likely been better if it had been released before 2015. When Kit eventually starts working for a PR firm, there are a series of awkward interactions where the Vice President walks the line between being socially awkward, and a sexual harasser. This is never addressed within the story, and honestly, it feels really out of place with the way that people are presented to revolve around Kit and her decisions. If that had been edited to just be a strange and awkward back and forth it would have been much easier to watch. Again, the comedy here fell flat. This is another problem: this script spent so long in development that when the story was finally translated to screen it lost some of its timeliness. Unicorn Store was written circa 2010-2012, attaching Larson as director in 2014 or so, was filmed in 2016, and finally premiered at the Toronto film festival in 2017 (not to mention that after completion, the film wasn’t picked up for distribution until 2019). Revisions were made throughout development, but problems remain. The comedy doesn’t stick, the earnestness feels five years behind the curve and any feminist moments feel like they happen on accident rather than by design. It doesn’t feel as immediate as it should, and any statement that the movie tries to make has already been said three years ago. The overarching theme of this movie can be distilled down to a pithy catchphrase like, “be yourself and the world will follow,” “never give up,” or even “keep going.” In fact, “Keep Going Kit” can be seen on the bus driving past the Store in the final scene. The irony of this is that within Kit’s desire to be herself, she actually strives to be someone that everyone accepts and loves. She tries to get the unicorn (a weak metaphor for happiness) by finding a steady job, a steady boyfriend, and the love and respect of her family. But Kit doesn’t think about what will actually make her happy and instead, the Salesman guides her along to a traditional, essentialist view of what happiness is: like everyone knows, for a woman, happiness is money, a man, and a family. Kit isn’t a radical, she isn’t new or fantastic or a darling for the new generation, she’s just like everyone else. Despite whatever the film might want you to think, Kit’s love of sparkles and unicorns doesn’t make her special and as a viewer, it’s hard to reconcile the desire for a subversive main character with the fact that her desires line up with what society expects from young women. Unicorn Store walks a strange line between a main character who is whimsical and cynical, but also deeply sincere, riding along a plot that is driven by the fact that there is an unwavering belief that a unicorn is absolutely on its way to Kit. The earnestness of art for art’s sake, the desire to communicate power through self expression, and the absolute sweetness with which Larson delivers her lines makes Unicorn Store enjoyable, even if it isn’t incredible. It is a story about a manic pixie dream girl falling in love with herself and becoming okay with who she is, and accepting that sometimes people won’t know what to do with her. At the same time that it does this, the “be yourself” moral of the story is lost within the overwhelming pressure for Kit to conform to what society wants. She herself doesn’t even seem to care about anything else other than what others think of her (despite her eclectic wardrobe). Her stance on being who you are is washed out by the irony of how totally enmeshed she is in upholding the establishment that made her feel like she wasn’t good enough in the first place. Through her defense of her art professor, her desire for a promotion, and even the way that she views success and failure, it’s obvious that Kit is just a product of the same machine that she thinks she’s rejecting within her feminine whimsy. Brie Larson’s directorial debut might be a rejection of the serious roles she’s taken over the past decade, but it unfortunately does not showcase her talent. Unicorn Store ends up stuck in an earnest miasma of glitter and soft character building that lets the plot disappear into the background. Larson’s Kit is sweet, but not nearly as funny as she could be, and she is far too obsessed with fitting into a box that someone else has already made for her. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #Review #BrieLarson #CaptainMarvel #UnicornStore #Netflix #LindaCodega