01.29.20 by 34th Street Magazine

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EOTW: Ranvir Bhatia

Mac Miller's 'Circles' Review

Wonderspaces Opens Its Doors

January 29, 2020 | 34st.com

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n and vulner ability

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

January 29, 2020 Tamsyn Brann, Editor–in–Chief Sam Mitchell, Campus Editor Beatrice Forman, Culture Editor Eliana Doft, Assignments Editor

3 WORD ON THE STREET

Capitalist Culture Harms Yoga

Karin Hananel, Special Issues Editor Chelsey Zhu, Features Editor Mehek Boparai & Hannah Yusuf, Word on the Street Editors Katie Farrell, Ego Editor Melannie Jay, Music Editor Alice Goulding, Style Editor Sam Kesler, Film & TV Editor Alice Heyeh, Arts Editor

4 EGO

EOTW: Ranvir Bhatia, Gabriela Alvarado

Ego Beats: Julia Davies, Julia Esposito, Fernanda Brizuela Music Beats: Keely Douglas, Ananya Muthukrishnan, Amy Xiang Features Staff: Denali Sagner, Jessica Bao, Sofia Heller, Jen Cullen

6 MUSIC

Mac Miller's 'Circles', Deadmau5,

LOL

10 FEATURE

CAPS Group Therapy

LOL 15 FILM & TV

Dolittle, The Gentlemen Review

17 ARTS

ICA Winter 2020 Exhibit

LOL 19 OVERHEARDS

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 29, 2020

Style Beats: Diya Sethi, Tara O'Brien, Jordan Wachsman, Hannah Lonser Film & TV Beats: Anna Collins, Harshita Gupta Arts Beats: Amanpreet Singh, Rema Hort Design Editor: Ava Cruz Street Design Editor: Isabel Liang Street Audience Engagement Editor: Ryan McLaughlin Street Photo Editor: Sophia Dai Street Video Editor: Morgan Jones

Illustrators: Isabel Liang, Felicity Yick, Anne Marie Grudem, Georgia Ray Staff Photographers: Sudeep Bhargava, Sally Chenw Audience Engagment Associates: Maya Berardi, Rachel Markowitz, Kat Ulich, Stephanie Nam

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Tamsyn Brann, Editor–in–Chief, at brann@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com

Staff Writers: Sophie Burkholder, Avery Johnston, Layla Murphy, Peyton Toups, Samantha Sanders

©2019 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a–okay.) All rights reserved. 34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Wednesday.

Cover by Felicity Yick

"Reading street provides coronavirus immunity"

Copy Associates: Nadia Goldman, Kira Horowitz, Alice Goulding

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR I

n high school, I used to do my homework at a table near a window where I could see the sun drop behind the houses down the rest of the block. Sunsets were beautiful, and so, I assumed, were the sunrises that I always slept through. I remember thinking about this as a teenager, probably halfway through high school, and decided I needed to see more sunrises. This was in late spring, around my birthday, because things were blooming, I think, and the nights were almost warm. I set an alarm, and I distinctly recall hoping I wouldn’t press snooze while half asleep. I woke up, alert, half an hour before the familiar beeping was supposed to yank me into consciousness. I stared at the dim blue numbers on my alarm clock as they blinked the minutes away. Outside, I sat in my fraying gray sweatpants for a while. I looked at a white spider that curled itself around the purple flower of something beautiful that my mother had planted near the door. My plan was flawed: I had forgotten about the trees surrounding my home and I had forgotten the houses. An uninterrupted view of the sunrise was an impossibility from this altitude—I was in the shadows of vegetation and buildings I’d known and seen almost daily for over a decade.

Isabel Liang In the dawn, things grew less gray. I watched the spider skitter and skip down the petals before slinking into the earth. Even if I wake up early enough, I wouldn’t be able to see sunrises from my apartment. I’d have to go to the laundry room in the floor above, with its east–facing window. My view would be undisturbed, but there would be no ground to sit on, no flower, no spider. Maybe soon I’ll squint at the first rays of daylight from the laundry room, and maybe I’ll feel the kind of peace I did watching the white spider climb down the purple flower. I’ll let the dawn accumulate around me, and this time, I’ll see the sun.

WORD ON THE STREET

Weird Flex But Okay Western Capitalist Culture Has Made Yoga Harmful How capitalism converted yoga from empowering to damaging. Anna Fleming

ading through through the throng of bourgeois hipsters at Hot Yoga Santa Monica, I couldn’t help but think it was exactly the sort of place my mother would hate. I placed my Converse on a shelf next to someone’s Louis Vuitton bag, and nervously tugged at my hand–me–down tank top, still stained with waffle cone batter from my job at an ice cream shop. The studio was hot, and I placed my mat, branded RENTAL all the way across, in the only remaining spot: between an ostentatious gong and an elderly man who was, I kid you not, ripped. He smiled at me in solidarity, for though I didn’t know it at the time, we had both elected to torture ourselves in that room. What I did know for sure was this: 1) I was the only woman in the room wearing a shirt— without an irrationally small hip to waist ratio—and 2) I felt like absolute shit. The series of life events which led me to that special hell were unique. I grew up in a mixed culture family. My Indian step–dad and my white Ohio–born mother raised me in a quasi–Hindu, quasi–Christian household since I was five. We attended pujas about as often as we attended mass, decorated our Christmas tree to Bollywood music, watched Hanuman and Ganesh cartoons on the weekends, and made periodic visits to my step dad’s family in Kolkata, with whom I had learned to communicate in broken and very basic Bengali. My step–grandfather was a close part of our family. We often would walk in on him reading the Bhagavad Gita or doing yoga on an old rug in his

modest apartment. It was my mother, though, that inspired me to start practicing. Young and imitative, I watched her drive off to her mysterious yoga classes every week and get up at seven to practice in our living room. The first yoga class I accompanied her to was awkward. The instructor adjusted me as I tried my best to imitate the twists and stretches of the anonymous yogi in front of me, even when my muscles burned or I lost my balance. Afterwards, though, I’ll never forget that my mom told me I looked “very strong,” and I realized that that was exactly how I felt. For an hour or so, I had done my body the kindness of taking the time to care for it, and connected it to a controlled yet free mental state. That’s why I went back, and eventually my mother bought me a mat so I could always return to the feeling of genuine mind-body connection, strength, energy, focus, and self–reflection. I felt none of those things at Hot8Yoga, an LA yoga studio chain. As if the kombucha fridge, eucalyptus towels, electrolyte shot station, and merchandise counter I passed on my way in weren’t enough indication that I was about to practice a different kind of “yoga,” the class itself surely made it clear. The vinyasa sequences moved quickly, and

the other asanas (poses) were mainly tricky balances. We even started doing crunches midway through, which is definitely not an asana. For the gratification of the influencers, who hoisted their logoed leggings high into the air like banners, we were encouraged repeatedly to use the mirrors which covered all sides of the room. There

Isabel Lian g

was, evidently, a certain way to look. I wasn’t used to that type of yoga and I did not fit into that class. Still, I felt that with enough effort, one day I could. When I tried to practice on my own, I grew restless. I was forced to consider the possibility that I had fallen victim to an industry which sold yoga as a commodity, which perpetuated the notion that yoga is transactional rather than personal. This concept has dangerous implications. Since traditional yoga is anti–material, success-

fully marketing yoga means marketing an “aesthetic.” Moreover, the fact that yoga, of all things, is being used as a tool of capitalism is ironic, as the practice is traditionally meant to be accessible to all people for self improvement. Pre–classical yoga derived from the Upanishads as a practice of ego removal through awareness of the self, classical yoga as a path to enlightenment, and post– classical yoga as transcendence from physical world through mind–body connectedness. Now, it is marketed as an aspect of a glamorous lifestyle you can purchase if you can afford, and alienates a whole swarm of demographics including, but not limited to, lower income and plus sized people. And when you think about it in terms of intersectionality, it makes perfect sense. Yoga cannot exist on a large scale in a Western capitalist context when capitalism is by its very nature tied to socioeconomic, gender, and racial oppression and all its intersections. Thinking of yoga transactionally is not a new concept in Western yoga. Karl Marx identified the phenomenon of commodity fetishism in the 1800s—and we see this in yoga. Choudhury Bikram, an Indian immigrant to Los Angeles, actually tried to copyright his sequence of 26 asanas in ninety degree heat for profit as his teacher training program gained traction in the US, and used his status as a “guru” to

rape and sexually assault many of his female students, threatening their careers if they did not submit to him. Bikram was also known to have body–shamed both his students for not appearing slender. Bikram isn’t just a case study. Besides the fact that his influence has been hugely pervasive particularly in hot yoga culture, which he himself brought to the states, the Western yoga industry is inseparable from the implicit sexualization of women’s bodies. The notion of the feminine “yoga body” as being slim yet toned, strong but not too muscular–looking, is central to the yoga marketing industry. I was not immune to this. My first year living in Los Angeles marked a fresh bout of body dysmorphia and disordered eating patterns, triggered after attending yoga classes. I was in the gym sometimes twice a day, but I wasn’t there to be healthy. And even if I wasn’t attending classes that frequently, Instagram’s algorithm populated my feed with toxic yoga content: “Yoga Poses for da Booty,” “How a Yogi Crosses Her Legs,” and images which otherwise reinforced the concept of yoga as a look rather than a feeling, an ideal rather than a fulfilling practice. It is a tragedy that the integration of yoga as a capitalist tool has conditioned many to believe that modest personal practice is not good enough practice. When my mom told me I looked “very strong” she wasn’t commenting on my gangly seventh grade physique, but rather the stability reflected in of the asanas. When this distinction is made on an individual level, it opens up yoga as an inclusive space for personal practice.

JANUARY 29, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

EGO

h o m e t ow n : major: ac t i v i t i e s :

m e e t t h e s e n i o r w h o ' s s e rv i n g o t h e r s t h ro u g h h i s pa s s i o n f o r m u s i c a n d m e d i c i n e . by j u l i a dav i e s

What made you want to do the Vagelos Program when you came to Penn? ranvir bhatia: I was always big on research because I had a high school bio teacher that was amazing. She would have this phone cord and then she would fold it up like a protein and then unfold how a protein denatures. She really sparked my curiosity and so I did some research in high school. I thought I [wanted] to be a researcher and make drugs. I did a lot of that in college, but then I realized that medicine would lead to a better life. 34th street:

What made you get involved with Frisbee in college? rb : I ran track in high school, and spending time with teammates and working together was huge. In running relays, you have to push yourself hard because your teammates were relying on you and in the end you’re gasping for air and throwing up in a trash can. Having that reliance on each other is cool, it makes you come together and have a strong connection. When I came to college, I didn’t have that because there was no more track. I wasn’t fast enough to run here. So I street:

wanted a sport like that— for the team. Frisbee was cool because it was like that, there was that team mentality, but it was also super chill. It’s not as intense, and it’s been a lot of fun. street: What is it like being on the Frisbee team now? rb: I became captain of the B–team in my sophomore year and then I stepped down my junior year because I thought it would be cool to pass the torch to the young ones and I thought that I would make the A-team, but I didn’t really work at it and I didn’t make the A-team. I realized this year that I should probably be captain again, so now I’m captain of the B-team again. street : Do you think the tradition will continue once you graduate? rb : I might have to send them beats and write for them the next couple years. I hope it does.

What role has music played in your Penn experience? rb : I’d say it’s been very central. I’ve probably spent too much time doing it. There’s so much talent here and there’s so many people doing awesome things with street :

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 29, 2020

it. Being able to work with them and collaborate and find new avenues has been so much fun. I’ve been rapping since sixth grade. It started off with school projects, like in sixth grade I performed this rap in front of the entire school about Apollo 11. At the time I was really shy and I didn’t really have friends. I feel like rapping and performing in front of people really helped open myself up and communicate with people. I did that through middle school and high school, and then in high school I started playing in the jazz band and that’s when I started making the links. I saw people like Kendrick Lamar and Childish Gambino and J. Cole, and I was like this is cool. That’s when I started combining the two. What’s your favorite part of making music? rb: At first it was the lyrics, but for the last three years it’s the beats themselves. I always start with piano chords then I throw in baseline drums and then I get other people in like a guitar player, a saxophone player, enhancing it. The live sound is always the ideal, but it’s cool to combine the live sound with trap flavors and drums. street:

Livingston, New Jersey Biochemistry, Biophysics, Master’s in Chemistry (The Vagelos Scholars Program) Captain of Penn Frisbee’s B–Team, Head of Band Dance Music, Penn Jazz Combos, Penn Baroque Ensemble, Volunteer at the United Community Clinic (UCC) and the After School Arts Program at the Platt Student Performing Arts House, Jazz and Grooves.

street: What made you get involved with After School Arts Program at the Platt? rb: I did the West Philadelphia Tutoring Project for a little bit and it was really cool learning from these kid’s lives and learning about their experiences. They make you more aware and understanding of what’s happening around you and how you were fortunate because you grew up in a fancy town in New Jersey and you had everything. Every time I went volunteering, instead of doing the math and

reading that was assigned I’d just do fun stuff. Once, I took one student to play basketball. I wanted to do something fun and that I was passionate about with these kids. One thing is music and a lot of these kids are in underresourced public schools focus on standardized testing, like math or reading, and so they leave behind music and all these other programs. When I found about this, I thought it was really cool to instill that. The kids were really receptive to it.

l i g h t n i n g ro u n d street: Favorite class at Penn? rb: Definitely “(NURS 343) Culture, Health &

Development in Ghana”

street: Song on repeat right now? rb: “Prayers to the Trap God” by Roddy Ricch street: Favorite late–night food spot on campus? rb: We lived on 42nd last year and we’d go to 7–Eleven.

When we go to 7–Eleven and it’s late at night we’re just buying all the taquitos, so we buy seven or eight taquitos. street: Any pre–tournament rituals or superstitions? rb: Music. Listening to chill stuff like Anderson .Paak

because if I listen to something hype it would stress me out. street: Proudest accomplishment during your time at

Penn?

rb: With this one kid at the after–school arts program we

made a song and we got to perform at this performance at the end. It’s on SoundCloud now. street: There’s two types of people at Penn… rb: The people that you know and you see who will go

out of their way to give you a hug or dap you up and the people who know you and won’t look at you at all. street: Which one of those people are you? rb: I’m the first one.

EGO

CAFSA Board Member

Sheds her Anonymity

Gabriela Alvarado discusses her time on the Executive Board of CAFSA and breaking from the tradition of the club's anonymity.

Julia Esposito

n Tuesday night, a group of students came together in Harnwell’s Rooftop Lounge to learn more about the Coalition Against Fraternity Sexual Assault (CAFSA)—an organization that had previously been anonymous. Four CAFSA board members were present to engage with Penn’s students and open up about their mission. Among these students was first–year Gabriela Alvarado (C '23). Gabriela is planning to double–major in Latin American & Latino Studies and Health & Societies. She’s a Civic Scholar focusing on service learning. Although she joined CAFSA during her first semester at Penn, she's going public about it now. CAFSA's mission revolves around issues of sexual assault and racial inequality, particularly focused on Greek life. A current goal of the organization is to replace the fraternities on Locust Walk with cultural centers and wellness spaces. But Gabriela dispels the assumption among some that the organization is anti–fraternity. “We’re not against Greek life. We’re for survivors,” she says. After coming to campus this fall, Gabriela joined CAFSA’s board because of her passion for activism. “I met someone who helped to organize the core people involved

[in CAFSA]. Basically, I was thinking, ‘Man, I hate the way that Locust is right now,’” she explains. Last semester, Gabriela was involved in two main CAFSA protests. The first was in front of the button. “It was like drizzling just barely, but I was standing there, I can’t remember, maybe two hours," she says. "So, I was soaked. There weren’t a lot of people there, but we did get a lot of people come to talk to us." On top of that, the signs they’d been holding got so wet that the red ink on the signs bled, creating an unintentionally ominous look. "There’s a lot of work that needs to be done," she explains. "There’s a lot of work that needs to be done administratively to organize these protests." She ended up being one of the few CAFSA board members who revealed their identity last Tuesday at the town hall. The goal was to answer questions from Penn students and hear new ideas. But coming out with their identities wasn’t an easy decision to make. “I think there’s been a lot of fear within our group," Gabriela says. "We were verbally intimidated by people in the administration. That’s why a lot of our board members remain anonymous, and I very strongly support

that." “For me, I guess my bad parents just Courtesy of Gabriela Alvarado word. taught me to stand It became up for what I believe in an insult," she says. … Someone needs to stand up “If someone asked me, ‘Are you and say, ‘That’s not okay.’ And Mexican?’ I would say no.” being anonymous is important, The leadership program helped but at a certain point it impedes her realize her identity wasn’t an progress. If someone has to put insult. She started a group called their face to it, then I’ll do that.” the Chicanx Latinx Student CAFSA wasn’t the first activist Union in her high school and group that Gabriela’s been a part wrote a proposal to have a manof. She was involved in leaderdatory ethics studies class. Her ship and activism throughout work as an activist brought her high school in her hometown of into the Civic Scholar program Sacramento, California. at Penn. “I went to this leadership Her activism hasn't stopped now program called Chicano Latino that she's at Penn, either. Through Youth Leadership Project. We her work, she's already learned went to the Capitol building [in something about the power indiSacramento], went to the Senviduals have to enact change. ate floor, did mock–lobbying. It “We’ve gotten some alumni was really cool. I think the main response saying, ‘I wish I had done takeaway that I got from that was this when I was here. I wish this be proud of your identity.” group had formed when I was here.’ She joined during Trump's Th ings like that. And I’m really presidential campaign and the happy about that," she says. "But rise of a movement that demonlike, you should have done it." ized immigrants in general and "If you see something’s wrong, Mexicans in particular. you don’t have to stand by.” "The word ‘Mexican’ became a

JANUARY 29, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

MUSIC

The rapper's posthumous album is a mature mediation on life and death.

Mac Miller's ' Provides ' a Touching Conclusion to the Artist's Work Gebran Abdulhai

n Aug. 3, 2018, Mac Miller released Swimming, intended to be the first of two companion albums. On Sept. 7, 2018, Miller was found dead in his home, in what was later determined to be an accidental overdose of fentanyl, cocaine, and alcohol. On Jan. 17, 2020, Warner Records posthumously released Circles, the intended companion to Swimming, and the final studio album by Malcolm James McCormick. How does one talk about Circles? To do a straightforward review is impossible, as albums do not spring fully formed from an artist’s head, but are rather built, piece–by–piece, from their experiences. At the same time, to reduce the album to the final tragedy of Miller’s short life and untimely death would be an insult to the artist, who wanted to be remembered for his music, not his personal life's turbulence. The easy answer: begin with the music. Most hip hop traditionally bears sparse instrumentation, allowing the rhythm and rhyme of the lyricist to take center stage, but Circles makes particular use of Miller’s vocals, gruff and raspy and tired. Songs like the title track, “Good News,” and “That’s On 6

Me” use subtle instrumentation to ground Miller’s rhymes, but keep it purposely sparse and light. One of the final tracks, “Hands,” showcases the most instrumental features. Collaborator and producer Jon Brion, who completed the album, said in the liner notes that Miller wanted the song to be “big and expansive and cinematic … He was really excited but had no idea how one would even go about that.” Brion was given, in many ways, a thankless job. He had begun working with Miller before the singer’s death, providing suggestions on how to bring a vocal track to life. As such, he was tasked with completing the album, adding percussion, strings, overdubs, and other flourishes, put together with conversations between himself and Miller. Brion’s influence on the album is subtle, as it should be—this is Miller’s album, and his job is not to create it, but to present it, and Brion does so without pageantry. This is Mac Miller, unfiltered and genuine. The decision to release an album after an artist’s death is always a difficult one. Those left behind must ask themselves whether this is what the artist in question would have wanted, or if any posthumous

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 29, 2020

recordings are just a cheap cash grab. Amy Winehouse’s producer Salaam Remi said to NME in 2011, in response to the release of Lioness, that “it makes no sense for these songs to be sitting on a hard drive withering away,” and that it would not lead to “a Tupac situation,” referencing the seven posthumous albums by rapper Tupac Shakur. Often, posthumous releases are compilations, a series of songs left behind with no plan, no track listing or cohesive album, simply snippets recorded and pushed away for another time. Circles, on the other hand, is a coherent product, backed by a clear vision. In this way, it resembles less Lioness and more Come Over When You’re Sober, Pt. 2, released a year after Lil Peep’s accidental overdose. Peep’s mother saved his recordings from his old MacBook, and producer Smokeasac completed the album. Death due to overdose, as was the case with Miller, Winehouse, Peep, and so many others, is sudden and unpredictable. David Bowie was able to release Blackstar as a “parting gift” to his fans, knowing the liver cancer that eventually took his life would not be immediate, which allowed him

the time to plan his final releases. Miller had no such luxury. At the same time, his final recording is haunting in the ways in which it seems to predict his death. Many of the lyrics reference his desire to fix his health and relationships while there’s still time. On “Good News,” he says, “I know maybe I'm too late, I could make it there some other time,” and on "Surf," he insists, “Before it's all over, I promise we'll figure it out,” while “That’s On Me” suggests an acute awareness of his problems—as well as a genuine desire to improve them. Other tracks feature more abstract mediations on life, death, and reality. On “I Can See,” Miller says, “And now I know if life is but a dream then so are we / Show me something, show me something, something I can see.” Meanwhile, on “Complicated,” he says, “Some people say they want to live forever / That's way too long, I'll just get through today,” before insisting that “I’m way too young to be gettin’ old.” The one cover on Circles, of Arthur Lee’s “Everybody,” is particularly haunting with its chorus of “Everybody's gotta live / And everybody's gonna die.” Swimming and Circles were meant to be companion al-

Melannie Jay

bums, but Miller had plans beyond those two. Brion told The New York Times that “There were supposed to be three albums: the first, Swimming, was sort of the hybridization of going between hip–hop and song form. The second, which he’d already decided would be called Circles, would be song– based. And I believe the third one would have been just a pure hip–hop record.” In saying this, Circles’ place becomes more ambiguous. On the one hand, it represents closure, acting as the other half of the album that preceded it. On the other, an awareness remains that there was supposed to be more. At some point, a musician releases their final album. Sometimes this is due to a purposeful retirement, or a prolonged illness that allows them to plan their final words. Other times, as with Miller, the artist’s life and voice are cut short. Miller, even after his death, seems to implore his fans to take comfort in what he did leave behind, and not what could have been. As he tells the listener on “Blue World,” “Fuck the bullshit, I'm here to make it all better / With a little music for you / I don't do enough for you.”

MUSIC

Diving into Middle School Nostalgia at the Concert Daniel Bulpitt

hen I was 12 years old, my life mostly consisted of going to school, sports practices, and playing Minecraft late into the evening, often accompanied by Pandora– curated electronic music. Yes, I’ll out myself here—I loved Minecraft. I played it often and for hours at a time, much to the bewilderment of my own dad who thought I was cooped up playing Minesweeper for that long. Imagine the peculiar sense of relief he must have felt when he found out I wasn’t. Anyway, my adolescent Minecraft addiction isn’t really the point here, but I digress. Instead, let’s talk about one of the musicians I often associate with that period in my life: Deadmau5 (and, I might add, he too was a vocal Minecraft player, with a coveted, one–of–a–kind character model). Alongside other EDM contemporaries like Skrillex or Swedish House Mafia, Deadmau5 truly occupies a distinct niche in recent cultural memory, along a similar vein to Ultra, cat memes, Tumblr, and leetspeak. When I heard about his concert this January at The Met, I knew I had to cover it. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to revel in middle school nostalgia. The concert started with an opening act from Jay Robinson, who was the sort of DJ you might expect to hear at some club in the UK on a Wednesday night. His music was somewhat aggressive yet danceable, a mix of his origi-

The seminal DJ turned The Met into a time machine. nal work and samplings from artists like Valentino Khan. While not a fan of his brand of hard–hitting bass, I will say the crowd did make the whole experience altogether more lively, dramatically dancing with bass drops and flashing lights. While waiting for Deadmau5 to come on, the lights came up to reveal a monolithic cube, which only strengthened my associations of the artist with a certain aforementioned game. Then the lights went down, the cube lit up, and suddenly a Fortnite–adjacent videogame landing sequence played on the screens of the monolith. I guess Deadmau5 had moved on from Minecraft. The visuals were absolutely astounding. Deadmau5 sat inside his cube while lasers, flashes, and walls of LCDs captivated the starry–eyed. At first, I even joked to my friend that he was holding the concert remotely from the comfort of his home. And then the cube moved. It gyrated, tilting left, right, and then forward towards the crowd before spinning behind him to reveal the DJ perched inside, iconic mouse head and all. After that, the visuals continued to dominate the show. Some were abstract and beguiling, with wave–like forms cascading across the screen. Others seemed to be more thematic, like when a giant all– seeing eye glared back at the audience. And then there were others with memes, middle– fingers, and grotesque animal

Daniel Bulpitt

figures adorning Deadmau5’s cartoonish head, reminding me of a long–forgotten, sort of childish sense of irreverence popular on the internet back in middle school. They also seemed to reveal a bit of Deadmau5’s own personality—funnier images for songs that, at this point, are kind of memes in and of themselves, and more artistic ones for his more avant–garde house sets. Deadmau5, while a famous DJ, is clearly the type of person able to make fun of himself, and is frankly just a bit of a nerd.

His music ran a wide gamut as well. From the synth–heavy “Infra Turbo Pigcart Racer” plucked straight from a video game, to the ambient and dramatic “coelacanth (ov)”, and the more techno–leaning “Avaritia,” Deadmau5 is really one of the only DJs out there that can do it all. His ability to incorporate such vast reaches of electronic music in the same show really surprised me, although that probably would have been expected by somebody who actually kept up with his new releases.

While taking a nostalgia– riddled trip back to middle school would probably cause most, myself included, to cringe, I ended up somehow delighted to reminisce about that time while rediscovering Deadmau5. It was now all memes, old hobbies, familiar sounds—almost like an old friend I had gotten back in touch with. Somehow, Deadmau5 had made it all funny, reminding me of what I was like back when I maybe took myself a bit less seriously.

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ST YLE

Where to Watch the Super Bowl in Philly this Sunday Jordan Wachsman

Hard Rock Ca Philadelphia fe

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Rock out to the half–time show at The Hard Rock Cafe in Reading Terminal. This international staple is known for paying homa ge to rock and roll and for its legendary burgers. Plus, this year will be the ﬁrst annual Hard Rock Cafe Big Game Tailgate Party! There will be food and be verage specials, tailgate games, and sports trivia wit h special prizes. Tickets can be purchased for $8 ahead of the event, and $10 cash at the door. Your ticket will include a cocktail, tailgate games, and vie wing of the Superbowl.

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Devil’s Den Devilʼs Den does the big game a little differently. They kick off Super Bowl Sunday with a viewing party of the Puppy Bowl, a television program which satirizes the Super Bowl, substituting puppies—yes, puppies—for players. This watch party will beneﬁt Morris Animal Refuge, with 20% of proﬁts made from food being donated to the shelter. Stay after the Puppy Bowl to watch the real game—you might even get to sit next to a puppy.

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ge a know Tabu Loun ly neighborhood ts l Phil ndly spor the centra ood. An LGBT–frie nday for Su orh the Gayb er on Superbowl d v o cktails an bar, head Miami–themed co lude one e inc drinks lik ckets cost $25 and re, chips ti ic q s ua beer. Bas uperbowl during the S e n o t, e drink tick limited tater tots o bar. un , ip d –time tac and lf a h a d n game, a th St, 12 254 S , PA 19107 h elp ia Philad

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 29, 2020

1148 S 11th St, Philadelphia, PA 19147

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Xfinity! Live Xfinity! Live, located in the Wells Fargo Center, is known as a hub of entertainment and sports in Philly. This year, it will be hosting a Big Game Bash event in honor of the Super Bowl! The venue is the ideal location to watch the game if you want to be surrounded by people. With lots of other restaurants in the complex, you'll even be able to take a snack break. The venue boasts a huge screen perfect for broadcasting for a big game like this, and seating will be available on a first come, first served basis. 1100 Pattison Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19148

ST YLE

Wonderspaces

Brings Unforgettable Interactive Art to Philly

An interactive art experience like no other, Wonderspaces has officially made its Philadelphia debut.

Hannah Lonser

onderspaces opened its doors to the Philadelphia community on Jan. 24, revealing a host of highly– anticipated installations inside. Occupying a two–level, 24,000 square–foot gallery in Fashion District Philadelphia, Wonderspaces is currently home to 14 participatory exhibits designed by artists from around the globe, several of which made waves at major cultural events like Burning Man and Sundance Film Festival before finding their home in Philly. Make no mistake, Wonderspaces is no ordinary showcase. Unlike traditional exhibitions, Wonderspaces encourages visitors to interact with the art around them— and to snap some fun photos

for Instagram along the way. Guests are invited to use their bodies to create artwork of their own in Memo Akten’s Body Paint. Sensors embedded in the installation detect a participant’s movement and create corresponding “paint” streaks on the wall. Meanwhile, Illegal Arts’ The Last Word gives visitors the chance to write down thoughts they’ve left unsaid on one of the hundreds of pieces of paper housed in the display and to read how others wish their conversations could have ended. And be sure to keep your camera at the ready as there are plenty of opportunities to take unique photos as you navigate the exhibit. One of Wonderspaces most anticipated—and

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photographable—exhibits Submergence by Squidsoup invites guests to walk through 8,064 points of lights that change colors as the music does. Composed of 19 miles of multicolor string hung 12 feet high, Shawn Causey and Mark Daniell’s Sweet Spot makes for both a visual wonder and another great photo backdrop. Wonderspaces also offers two virtual reality experiences for visitors to enjoy, including a film of a truly out– of–this–world dinner party. Based on the story of Betty and Barney Hill, a couple who reported being abducted by aliens in the 1960s, attendees can experience firsthand the Hills’ journey to space and back in the world of VR.

Happy Hour: Mon-Fri 5-7 Lunch Special: Mon-Fri $9.95 Early Bird: Sun-Thur $11.95

An experience that everyone can enjoy, Wonderspaces connects the people of Philadelphia to extraordinary art. But don’t take my word for it—go and experience the magic of a visit for yourself. Tickets for Wonderspaces are available for purchase online and correspond to specific times and dates.

Location: 27 N. 11th St,

Philadelphia, PA (between Filbert and Market St, inside Fashion District Philadelphia)

Hours:

Monday, Wednesday, & Thursday: 12 p.m. – 10 p.m. Friday & Saturday: 10 a.m. – 11 p.m. Sunday: 10 a.m. – 8 p.m. Closed Tuesdays

Live music • Film • Dance • Theater Art Education • Community Born on the MOVE Jan 29 2020 @ 7:00 PM Mike Africa, Jr. shares the history of the MOVE Organization in an heartfelt slideshow presentation. The show will end with a description of MOVE’s plan for the future. The price of admission is $10-20. All proceeds beneﬁts the MOVE Activist Gallery. You can purchase advance tickets at: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/85081814999 The Gathering Jan 30 2020 @ 9:00 PM Admission: $3 before 10pm, $5 after 10pm The Gathering is the longest/strongest-running Hip Hop event in Philly. DJs spin all night, and there are open cyphas, a tag wall, and a graﬃti panel. West Philly Winter Swing Thing lesson and swing dance with Swing That Cat Jan 31 2020 @ 8:00 PM Tickets: $15 at the door which include the lesson There will be a dance lesson at 8PM and Swing That Cat will perform from 9-11PM. Swing That Cat is a cocktail of Jump Jive and Wail! Take Jump Blues, swizzle in Horny Swing, add a dash of Cabaret and splash of Bourbon Street. Advanced Discounted tickets are available at Ticketleap and through the Philly Fun Guide.

As an alcohol-free/smoke-free venue, The Rotunda provides an invaluable social alternative for all ages.

4014 Walnut • TheRotunda.org

JANUARY 29, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

F E AT U R E

You Are Not Alone

F E AT U R E

How group therapy at CAPS helps students find strength in connection and vulnerability

Chelsey Zhu I couldn’t stop biting my fingers the first time I went to CAPS. It’s a nervous habit I’ve had for as long as I can remember. I pick at the skin around my nails when I do my homework, send an important text, prepare for an interview—anything that makes me stressed, anxious, or afraid of failure. Going to CAPS for the first time last fall made me feel all three. As I sat in the lobby surrounded by stress balls and tissue boxes waiting to be called for my intake appointment, I felt like I’d failed college. “Chelsey?” I turned in my seat and saw my counselor waving at me. I followed him down the hallways and into his office, where he asked me to take a seat and answer some brief questions: name, year, major, home, family history. Then he asked me why I came to CAPS, and to my surprise, I started crying. My hometown and friends I’d known

for half my life were hundreds of miles away. After more than a year, I was still struggling with adjusting socially to Penn, even though it seemed like everybody else had already figured it out. I didn’t know how to balance school, work, and relationships. And despite having loving friends on campus, I felt incredibly lonely. My counselor recommended group therapy. I wanted to say no at first. I already felt so embarrassed talking about my problems to one person, and thinking about opening up to even more strangers terrified me. But group therapy turned out to be exactly what I needed to confront my issues with relationships and selfesteem. Sitting down with the same seven people every week gave me a comforting routine, time to reflect on my emotions, and practice supporting others in their struggles. I gained a lot from group, but the most powerful for

Michal Saraf 10 34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 29, 2020

Sophia Dai

me was the feeling of being less alone. CAPS has three different types of groups for students: workshops, support groups, and interpersonal growth groups (IGG). Workshops, which can range from a onetime meeting to a series over several weeks, coach students on developing skills to promote academic success, mindfulness, and overall wellness. Support groups run for the entire semester and focus on specific issues like grief or body image. IGGs, which also last for the entire semester, explore how each person interacts socially and discuss ways to improve personal relationships, allowing students to use the group as a safe space to practice connecting with others. Although all groups feature “some degree of sharing,” according to Michele Downie, group coordinator at CAPS, support groups and IGGs differ in goals and structure from workshops. Workshops typically have a more structured setup, with one or two CAPS staffers teaching specific lessons and leading discussions. They also vary more widely in participation. According to Downie, support groups and IGGs have only 5-9 students on average, and they follow a looser format led by the students. One or two therapists still act as leaders in the conversation, but “ideally with the support and IGGS, students should be doing more of the talking than the leaders,” says Downie. “It's not like each person has to speak each week, and you don't have 10 minutes that’s your time on the spot,” she says. “It mirrors how we engage in real life with people … There’s opportunities for people to build upon what each other is sharing and different experiences. It’s like real life but in a safe space where it feels like maybe you can take risks that you don’t feel ready for outside of the group setting.” Working with peers and taking risks, which can take the form of sharing a secret or asking for advice, are a few ways in which group provides opportunities

that are not always available in individual therapy. Senior Clinical Director Michal Saraf believes another benefit is meeting people from different backgrounds who may provide unique perspectives to certain issues. Mirroring the diversity of experiences at Penn, students in group often come from varying cultures, nationalities, fields of study, and even age groups, as students from many schools and many stages of education all find help at CAPS. “I think it helps people to understand that there's very rarely a right way to manage an emotional challenge or a life challenge,” Saraf says. “And I think sometimes among Penn students, there's a thought of, ‘Am I doing it the right way?’ Group is a great invitation to see that there are many ways, and you have to find the right way for you.” And unlike individual therapy offered at CAPS, which is “brief ” in nature due to the high volume of students needing counseling, group programs happen every semester, and there’s no limit to times you the number of times someone can participate. Downie says she has seen students stay in the same group for two or three years at a time. “Changing how we are and how we engage is not easy,” says Downie. “I like to think of [group programs] as opportunities for continual growth in those spaces. From semester to semester, students return, and they sort of build upon the work that they did in previous semesters.” My therapist recommended that I join an IGG. My first session was incredibly awkward. Five other students, our two group coordinators, and I filed into a room and sat in a circle facing each other. I avoided eye contact with the person across from me. After introductions, our coordinator explained that we would lead the conversations at each meeting, deciding what topics to cover and for how long. “So what do you want to talk about today?” she asked us.

Michele Downie Silence. Nobody wanted to go first. In the hour-and-a-half we were there, there was probably more silence than actual words. As I stepped through the glass door and onto Market Street after the meeting, I thought, What if this doesn’t work? I went back the next week. And the next. And I actually learned to love the silence. Outside of group, I constantly worried about what I said to people, how I said it, and whether people cared. Through group, I had a set time every week to reflect on how I was feeling, and I didn’t feel like I had to say things exactly the right way—or say anything at all. Silence was freeing. Without outside pressures, the other students and I actually worked up the courage to talk surprisingly quickly. In a space where I didn’t have to hide my feelings or fear being judged, I could give voice to thoughts I’d always been too afraid to say out loud: that I was an uninteresting person, that my friends didn’t like me, and that I didn’t belong at Penn. And saying them out loud made me realize they only had power in my head. The people in group sympathized without judgement, and they assured me my greatest fears weren’t my reality. I remember that I used to be really uncomfortable with the idea of therapy. I’d always thought my problems weren’t real, and that if I told anyone, they would say I was sad over nothing. I felt

Sophia Dai

guilty asking for help because I thought I didn’t deserve it. Group therapy helped shift my mindset. Instead of walking around with a hundred different worries in my head, I could let them go and listen as

You are not alone. We all have these struggles, and we are trying to get through them as best as we can.

other students say they found it hard to meet new people, start conversations, and maintain friendships. Realizing he wasn’t the only person struggling was one of the biggest benefits of group for Bryan Denq (C ‘22). He was a first semester freshman when he saw a poster in his dorm advertising Discover Your Well, a weekly workshop that uses positive psychology to help students “build optimism and hope,” “experience positive emotions,” and “nourish selfcompassion.” “Like most students, I come from a very stressful background,” he says. “Most people had to work really, really hard to get there, and I was one of those people. And to be frank, I did not want to relive that high stress level lifestyle again here at Penn.” Bryan hoped to better equip himself for a positive college experience through the workshop. He and three other students learned about mindfulness and self-esteem from two CAPS staffers before transitioning into a discussionbased format every meeting. Although he initially felt uncomfortable sharing personal stories in a group setting, Bryan says being able to relate to other people was a powerful experience. “When I interact with most people, they think they are the only ones who can be suffering, like everyone else seems to be having a good time and managing their own workload,” he says. “On the other hand, I can't seem to handle what I'm doing right now. But going to these group workshops just opens SEE CAPS PAGE 12

others around me related to my experiences. And being able to listen to and support others in their struggles made me feel less guilty about taking up space. I got to help others at the same time they were helping me. Most importantly, group therapy made me realize I wasn’t the only person at Penn who felt lonely. This isn’t a huge revelation, but viewing other people’s lives from the outside, especially through Instagram posts and Snap stories, had convinced me that almost everyone around me had a nonstop social life. For the first time, I heard JANUARY 29, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 11

F E AT U R E

Bryan Denq your eyes, saying, ‘You are not alone. We all have these struggles, and we are trying to get through them as best as we can.’” Although the workshop was especially helpful to him as a freshman, Bryan believes that anyone, even seniors and postgraduate students, can benefit from being in a group like Discover Your Well. More than a year later, he still incorporates the lessons he learned about stress reduction, grit, and perseverance into his daily life. But despite the benefits of group and its similar effectiveness when compared to individual therapy, Downie and Saraf agree that it’s an “underused” resource at CAPS due to a few common misconceptions. “I think the first misconception is that group is not a good form of treatment or a good form of thera-

1 2 34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 29, 2020

Sophia Dai

py,” Downie says. “There's a lot of research that for years, like decades of research, indicating that group is at least as effective as individual. And for certain things, particularly for certain age groups, like teenagers and college students, it can actually be more effective.” Downie also believes that people are afraid of going to group because they think they have to share extremely personal experiences, even though there is no actual expectation for them to do so. “I think it's actually very important for students to feel like they can take things at their own pace when they come into group and have control over how much they disclose, what they share about themselves,” she says. “It's a much slower, more comfortable process that is really very self determined.” Group therapy’s open and infor-

mal structure has helped me and many others manage our emotions better, but I want to make it clear that group therapy isn’t an end-all cure-all. For a while, I still went to individual therapy to sort out issues I wasn’t comfortable bringing up to the group. And even after attending a semester’s worth of meetings, I still worry too much and find it hard to stop comparing myself to other people. But even though it didn’t fix all my problems, it gave me the tools I needed to manage them. Now I’m better able to identify maladaptive and irrational thought patterns, and I have more experience opening up to strangers. Group therapy was a powerful reminder that I wasn’t alone, and that problems are much, much smaller when you talk about them with other people.

ST YLE

Benny's Diner Set to Bring All Day Breakfast to Penn Street sat down with the co–founders of Benny’s Diner to get the low–down on Penn’s newest restaurant. Hannah Lonser

et ready, breakfast lovers. This semester, Benny’s Diner will officially open its doors in Houston Hall, bringing with it a variety of homestyle breakfast items. The best part? Their dishes will be served all day long for whenever that craving for chocolate chip pancakes strikes. And, as one of ten Penn Student Agencies (PSA) businesses, Benny’s is run and staffed entirely by students. Co–founders Michael Warren (C ’21) and Jazzy Ortega (E ’20) didn’t always dream of starting a business during their time at Penn. For the two of them, the inspiration to open a food service business here at Penn took form in an unexpected way: a pizzeria. Both active members of PSA, Michael and Jazzy attended the 2019 Student–Run Business Association Conference, where they watched a presentation by Loyola University Chicago students who had opened a pizza restaurant on their campus. “[Initially], we just joked about it,” Jazzy recounts, but on their trip back to Penn it became a little more serious. “We started running ideas through our heads and thinking, ‘Wow, it would be really great if we could have this! Penn doesn’t have anything like this,’” Michael adds. The Penn community asked, and Benny’s Diner will deliver with a host of classic breakfast favorites. “We haven’t yet finalized everything, but we’re definitely trying to keep it in the scope of

omelets, waffles, pancakes, hash browns. Hopefully in a more customizable way where you can change your toppings, change your fillings,” Michael states. But the Benny’s Diner team is bringing more than just delicious breakfast food to Penn—they’re also offering up unique employment opportunities. “Being part of PSA, we’re able to hire entirely students, offering that work–study experience,” Michael notes, “Nowhere else on campus can you have the experience of learning how to cook and working in a restaurant.” While Benny’s Diner will be located in Houston Hall in the space previously occupied by Paris La Petite Creperie, they will not be accepting swipes or Dining Dollars as payment, a move that the Benny’s team believes is in the students’ best interest. “I have personally been advocating for us to not really do it because of how much extra it would cost us, and we do want to be able to keep the menu affordable. We would probably have to hike up prices to be able to make a profit if we did accept dining dollars,” Jazzy explains, “But we do accept all other forms of payment: PennCash, credit or debit, cash.” In the meantime, the best way to get updates on the happenings at Benny’s is to follow their social media pages. “Definitely follow our social media over these next few weeks because we will not only be posting updates on the space itself but also on menu items,” Michael says.

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FILM & TV

Dolittle: Another Amazing Cast Trapped in Hell Together

Anne Marie Grudem

Pirates, dragons, and anal ﬁsting—oh my. Harshita Gupta

olittle begins with a lovely animated clip that quickly fleshes out a tragic backstory for Dr. Dolittle, injecting quick and underdeveloped emotion into the story. Not only that, but it quickly fridges Dr. Dolittle’s wife, Lily, establishing why he’s a sad hermit in the movie's exposition. Perhaps if Dolittle had simply been this animation about Dr. Dolittle and Lily exploring the world and rescuing animals, it might have actually been enjoyable. The thing is, Dolittle isn’t offensive to the eyes or sensibilities like Cats. It's just entirely forgettable, sacrificing quality because it's meant for children. There's no redeeming facet to the plot, no heartwarming moral or teaching. Ultimately, Dolittle is a movie that fails to come together, foregoing character and narrative to connect a series of disparate plot points. The film shifts from a comedy and action to a pirate film and then a dragon–filled

fantasy. The aesthetic is oddly anachronistic, set in Victorian England, yet all of the animals retain modern, often American, accents. Dr. Dolittle is introduced as a strange mix of Tarzan and a Disney princess being dressed by animals. Robert Downey Jr. gruffly mumbles his way through the script with an unidentifiable accent that seems to shift from scene to scene (apparently, it was supposed to be Welsh). The animals and the humans exist in what feels like two different films, because the animals are actually occasionally funny. Kumail Nanjiani as an anxious ostrich and Craig Robinson (The Office's Darryl Philbin) as an angry squirrel are the only notable performances. The human characters are bland, and there are no main female characters who aren’t animals—and, if this wasn't already implied, none of them are well–developed. The entire film lacks a sense of whimsy and magic, something

that should have been easy to inspire in a movie about talking animals. It was hardly funny, though many lines were delivered with the cadence of a joke. Maybe the well–rendered CGI and cheap laughs will keep children focused on the screen, but, for adults, the film fades into the background almost instantly. Except for one scene. A climactic emotional moment occurs when Dr. Dolittle finally reflects on his all–consuming grief over his wife’s death ... by talking to a dragon. Of course, the dragon is widowed and in pain, proving to be an easy way to pull the movie and its ham–fisted theme about grief together. But instead, Dr. Dolittle realizes the dragon has an anal blockage and ends up fisting her as she farts in his face. The whiplash following such an emotional scene almost gave me brain damage, especially because the rest of the movie avoided such cheap, disgusting gags.

The thing is that Dolittle wasn’t a heinous cinematic tragedy—at least those get talked about. It was almost something worse: a very boring movie, a forgettable remake that didn’t need to exist. With this in mind, it’s shocking to see just how star–studded the cast is, especially among the voice actors. Critically acclaimed actors like Emma Thompson, Rami Malek, and Ralph Fiennes, among many others, provided their considerable acting abilities to this thoroughly mediocre film. This is a recurring trend among objectively bad animated films. Cats is still burned in the retinas and brains of all who watched it, but, despite everything wrong with it, perhaps the most surprising is how many amazing actors are in it. We’re talking Dame Judi Dench, Idris Elba, and Ian McKellen amongst younger stars. The same thing happened with more traditionally animated films like Sausage Party and The Nut Job.

All of these films boast almost absurdly overqualified casts and low ratings, either among audiences, critics, or both. For animated films, especially with large voice–acting casts, big names are no longer an accurate way to assess the quality of a film. Perhaps stars are more amenable to take on work in animated films, especially in voice acting positions, because it is a comparatively low–risk venture (though not in the case of Cats, whose cast and crew are still working to distance themselves from the film). After all, if the film is a hit, stars will be associated with extremely popular characters, with the chance to make money from sales of merchandise, like toys. If it’s a flop, most people tend to forget about the name behind the animation. However, if award–winning actors do this work out of love for the children who will end up watching the film, it is simply tragic that they end up signing on to low–quality, doomed productions.

JANUARY 29, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 15

The

FILM & TV

Gentlemen

i s a C r u d e C r i m e C o m e dy Guy Ritchie's latest gangster ﬁlm is full of cursing and rude humor.

uy Ritchie has returned to his roots. After his slightly peculiar live–action remake of Aladdin, it was unclear if the director would go back to his classic, comedic, fast–paced style of film as aptly displayed in the Sherlock Holmes duology or the funny spy action thriller The Man from U.N.C.L.E. Within the first five minutes of Ritchie’s latest film, The Gentlemen, it becomes clear that this is Ritchie back in his old groove—almost immediately, a character calls another a “deluded shit–eating cunt,” threatens to physically harm him, and then shares a drink in his living room.

The Gentlemen is the story of Mickey Pearson (Matthew McConaughey), the kingpin of a marijuana empire and the self– proclaimed “lion of the jungle” amongst the English elite. The tale of his rise to fame and current troubles are narrated by the irritatingly charismatic Fletcher (Hugh Grant), a sleazy reporter who has been sent to sniff out the details of Pearson’s business for a dramatic cover story. However, Fletcher is trying to make a greater profit by revealing the details to Pearson’s second–in–command, Ray (Charlie Hunnam), forcing Ray to pay him a few million bucks to keep his mouth shut and not destroy Pearson’s

by Anna Collins

carefully cultivated business. Fletcher breaks into Ray’s home, sits him down for a glass of bourbon, and begins the blackmail. Since it's Fletcher telling the story of Pearson, the film takes on a meta–textual cinematic quality. Fletcher has evidently written a screenplay detailing Pearson’s life and frames the story as a movie in retelling it to Ray. Fletcher has a flair for the dramatics, and he enhances the story and the violence, much to Ray’s annoyance. When Ray tries to correct him, Fletcher replies that “every movie needs a little action.” When Fletcher tells a story incorrectly, the movie “rewinds” to replay the moment as it actually happened.

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This clever film–making choice allows the movie to be outlandish and heightened with little care for reality, since, in fact, it’s all an over–dramatized retelling of events. Fletcher’s narration over the entire film creates an exciting, sometimes racy commentary, keeping the adventure moving forward and the audience always in the know. It's important to consider just how British The Gentlemen is. The humor style itself, often focused on outlandish cusses, comedic framing of violence, and quick, overlapping dialogue, has become a trademark of Ritchie's. Characters call each other “cunts” with little hesitation or provocation. There's an extended reference to PigGate, showcasing a character getting manipulated by a group of gangsters after they’ve drugged him up and filmed him having intercourse with a pig. To some, this style may seem alienating, but fans of Ritchie will enjoy The Gentlemen as much as any of his previous works. That said, the lengths to which this off–color humor goes is questionable. Dry Eye, played by the Malaysian–English Henry Golding, gets a number of jokes hurled at him through Fletcher’s narration based on his race. He's called a "Chinaman" half a dozen times, though Fletcher says that it's impossible for anybody to tell what country he's from. Matthew, who is Jewish and aided by his “Mossad Crabs,” also has a number of quips at his expense. The trope of a wealthy Jewish man controlling business

is called upon by Fletcher multiple times. While these quips seem to be in the crass style of British humor (Fletcher’s insults are certainly tongue–in–cheek), their presence is a little odd in a film that's mostly just about a white guy running a weed empire in England. While Pearson is clearly the protagonist of the story, the smaller characters are more interesting than our lead. McConaughey is strangely uncharismatic in a film where his charm ought to be up to eleven. His wife Rosalind, the “Cockney Cleopatra to [his] cowboy Caesar,” played by Michelle Dockery, is underutilized, apart from one wonderful scene facing off against Dry Eye. Yet, most interesting are Fletcher and Ray, both with some untold backstories that we never quite get to see, always in the background but never themselves explored. Despite any maturity in film– making techniques—this movie seems more elegant and well– executed than Sherlock Holmes in terms of cinematography and editing styles—the humor is far from grown–up. While the plot is interesting and the movie keeps its audience aware and intrigued for its runtime, the lack of focus on certain characters and the excessive unsavory jokes make some parts of The Gentlemen harder to stomach. If you can sit back, ignore the smutty insults, and enjoy some good old–fashioned British humor, then this movie will be your perfect match.

ARTS

Karyn Olivier’s ‘Everything That’s Alive Moves’: An Exercise in Memory This ICA exhibit constructs a space where spectacle is expected, but intimacy is essential.

Adriana Brusie

Amanpreet Singh

hen I first stepped into the Institute of Contemporary Art, I was handed a fresh, bright red carnation and a pin topped by a pearl bead, which I chose to attach to the top left side of my shirt. This carnation, or May 12, 1985, is one of six works in Karyn Olivier’s Everything That’s Alive Moves, part of the ICA’s three Winter 2020 exhibitions. In 1907, carnations came to represent Mother’s Day. According to the placard, Anna Jarvis had campaigned for this day of recognition “to make men and women realize their individual responsibility to right the wrongs of motherhood and childhood, not only in the home, but also in the industrial world,” since 1905. With this in mind, the carnation turned personal and was chosen in honor of her mother. Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, Mother’s Day holds additional significance. MOVE, a black liberation movement founded in West Philly in 1972, was subject to frequent police violence due to their anarchro–primitavism, or the political belief that modern capitalism has obliterated social progress. On May 13, 1985, a police helicopter bombed the MOVE compound, killing 11 members, including 5 children, and fires from the bomb destroyed 65 neighboring houses. The police had issued eviction and arrest warrants to MOVE the previous day—Mother’s Day. Wearing the red carnation while learning this felt surreal. White carnations meant that your mother had passed away, while red carnations were worn

if your mother was alive. Olivier’s choice to give red carnations instead of white felt purposeful, for it represents a celebration of life and motherhood while also recognizing those who had died on Mother’s Day. An item of commemoration in the midst of destruction. Everything That’s Alive Moves takes a critical look at monuments and how they interact with people, political histories, and communities. The exhibit focuses on the raw, emotional power of monuments and their inherently political construction, noting how they sometimes operate in opposite ways. While monuments are often viewed as grand and imposing, Olivier’s work also explores how public spaces and commemorations can impact individuals and communities intimately. The gallery collection spans the first floor of the ICA, which is the perfect size to house four large sculptures and the space needed to sit with their implications. You have the space to circle each piece and examine their details. The exhibit constructs a space where grandeur is expected, but proximity is necessary. The collection is made up of three existing works and three new ones developed between 2018 and 2019, when Olivier spent a year studying public spaces and ruins in Rome. Despite the movement and reshaping of old temples, walls, and monuments, the city’s history remains evident, giving Olivier inspiration for the current exhibit. One of the works Olivier began during this time is Moving

the Obelisk. Designed to emulate the process museums and galleries go through with actual artifacts, this work features the dismantling of a cardboard obelisk at the American Academy in Rome and the subsequent reattaching of said object in the ICA itself. Originating from Egypt, obelisks have often been presented as gifts, sometimes through theft, to institutions all around the globe. This artistic practice represents the conquest inherent in the colonial era. The obelisk itself is presented in its full form, much like how one would see it in a museum

collection, but the full story is captured by the accompanying video. In 12 minutes, Olivier dismantles and transports the obelisk. Olivier then cuts it into sections with harsh scissors, only to later reassemble it with plastic zip ties. While it seems almost absurd to watch this process happen to dirt and cardboard, it seems heartbreaking to think of important monuments dissected so clinically and casually. In the voiceover, Olivier probes at this practice and asks, “What has been left behind? What legacy is lost?” Two existing exhibits Olivier

added to this collection are Car Cover and Export Shoes and Fortify. Car Cover and Export Shoes features shoes piled up under a Mercedes car hood. The shoes are only held in place by the hood, and the tension in the work is palatable. Fortify is a wall that rises to the ceiling of the gallery. Within each layer of brick and mortar, clothes and undergarments are layered in, and from one side it looks like a cascade of garments. The clothes and shoes that make up each of these works are SEE ICA PAGE 18

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varied, representing a variety of colors and textures that range from animal prints and glitter to the sturdy neutrals of work pants. Who wore these clothes? What did their lives look like? How do their stories play into the creation of this monument? The deliberate ambiguity of the exhibit creates endless questions, and perhaps the point is that they remain unanswered. Both sculptures are somewhat overwhelming at first glance. Despite being made up of ordinary items, each structure represents something larger than life. These remnants of a past life evoke the feeling of sacrifice and make the viewer question the costs these monuments to history require from our society. Olivier’s exhibit is titled Everything That’s Alive Moves. While moving through the gallery, I wondered what exactly that meant. All of the works move in some way. Each constructed, transported, and reflected the tensions beneath each surface, tying together the mix of stories that make up each moment. Every monument has existed in the past, the present, and the future, moving through time and space. While monuments tend to immortalize one story, Olivier invites us to celebrate the different experiences that make up history. After all, as Olivier herself has said, “I heard someone say that a monument reads like the end of the sentence. But no, no, a monument should be the beginning, where you start to ask the questions.”

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