Intercut Issue 14

ISSUE FOURTEEN

INTERCUT Issue Fourteen

WRITING STAFF

Abby Glassman

Owen Wiley

Oluchi Chukwuemeka

Phuc Ngo

Sam Goodykoontz

Giovanna Vitale

Eden Blakemore

Josie Schiff

Kaden Miller

Milly Berman EDITORS

Katherine Ball

Nora Sherman

Talia Antell-Proulx

Sloane Dzhitenov

Giovanna Vitale

Nicole Lee

Cecilio Munoz

EDITOR IN CHIEF

Sloane Dzhitenov

MANAGING EDITOR

Owen Wiley

FINANCIAL MANAGER

Haden Embry

CREATIVE DESIGN

Arla Hoxha & Noelle Schultz

SPECIAL THANKS TO Kelsey Onyia, Mahek Uttamchandani

CFilm, SBC, and Qualprint

THE FIRST RULE OF THEATER CAMP: NO TEAR

STICK.... 8

Abby Glassman

TONIGHT GET READY TO FLY, AN ODE TO THE VIRGIN AMERICA FLIGHT SAFETY VIDEO.... 12

Owen Wiley

INCONSISTENCY IN WWE STORYLINES: A REVIEW OF

THE BLOODLINE ... 18

Oluchi Chukwuemeka

THE SOUND AND THE FURY: A PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING MANIFESTO. ... 20

Phuc Ngo

LIVING ON THE TRAUMA FLOOR! AN EXPLORATION OF THE REALITY OF THE HIT SERIES DANCE MOMS... 26

Sam Goodykoontz

GETTING HAIRY: FEMININITY AND ITS AESTHETICS ON TV.... 34

Giovanna Vitale

THE DECREASED QUALITY OF TEEN TELEVISION IN THE STREAMING ERA .... 38

Eden Blakemore

ITS ALWAYS SUNNY : EDUCATION AND ENTERTAINMENT THROUGH AMORAL CHARACTERS .... 44

Josie Schiff

OBSESSING OVER THE OBSESSORS: UNDERSANFING ROMANTIC OBSESSION IN THE STUDIO ERA .... 48

Kaden Miller

OBJECTIFYING THE OBJECT IN GRETA GERWIG’S BARBIE.... 54

Milly Berman

DEAR READERS,

Do you remember what it was like to be in high school? What about that sleepaway camp you went to fve years ago, never to return again? Or what about being a kid, seated in a packed fight headed across the country, excited for the vacation days stretching out ahead of you?

I remember when I frst started writing about flm. I was midway through high school and, like everyone else my age, knew very little about who I was; in those years, you have the kid you used to be and the adult your parents want you to be, but only a vague outline of who you might like to be now. All I really knew, in many ways, was that I loved movies and I loved writing. When I came to Wesleyan, ready to begin discovering who I really am, these bullet points were at the forefront of my mind. It is only natural that, the moment I spied Intercut’s description at the virtual club fair (thanks, 2020!), it would feel somewhat like destiny.

As such, I am absolutely overjoyed to introduce you to this semester’s edition of Intercut. Te role of “Editor-in-Chief” has been a dream years in the making, and I am honored to fnally take the helm in my senior year at Wesleyan. Over the summer, we have revitalized our publishing process, with clearer guidelines, a lengthier writing sched-

ule, and the introduction of reviews, a new article format for Intercut. If you ask me, it really shows: Issue Fourteen has been one of our most heartfelt editions to date. From not one, but two spirited odes to professional wrestling, to a slew of articles reminiscing on bygone eras–fight safety videos, summer camps, childhood viewings of It’s Always Sunny–to a series of insightful articles dissecting gender identity and femininity, this issue is packed with strong voices illuminating the drivers behind their passion and humanity. For me, it resonates most strongly with what writing has always meant to me–a way to shape my own singular identity.

On behalf of all of us here at Intercut, I invite you to enjoy Issue Fourteen and stroll down memory lane with us, in all of its sentiment, enthusiasm, and talent. It has been an absolute pleasure watching the work of our writers, editors, and artists come together over this past semester. I hope the fnal product moves you as much as it does me.

With love,

Sloane Dzhitenov, Editor-in-Chief

First Rule of Teater Camp: No Tear Stick

By Abby Glassman

I went to theater camp in the summer of 2019 at Northwestern Uni versity, after an old camp counselor of mine promised me it would change my life. The theater kids who attend the program are commonly known as “Cherubs,” and if you murmur the name amongst any group of liberal arts students, you’ll never hear the end of it. Last year while living at 54 Home Avenue, three out of five of my housemates had been Cherubs the year before me. The program lures all kinds of theater kids–the triple-threat conservatory bound ones, those who’ve never heard a non-musical theater song, the competitive dancers who don’t sing, the competitive singers who don’t dance, and the ones who are just trying to hold onto the feeling for a little longer. I identify with the latter. I went to see Theater Camp this summer at AMC The Grove in sunny California, and sat between two of my dearest Cherub friends. Grace sat to my right, Jake on the left. We shared an extra large Diet Coke and a jumbo box of popcorn.

Theater Camp is a bittersweet mockumentary that feels like a slice of home to any viewer who grew up performing. The film opens with a montage of archival footage from Ben Platt’s childhood–before knowing his fate as a Tony winner and global sensation for his uniquely angelic voice. In several of the clips, he is accompanied by early childhood friend/co-writer/ co-director of the film, Molly Gordon. So, although the plot is fictional, its foundation is built off of their real dynamics and memories. In this story, the audience is asked to imagine that the clips of Platt (Amos) and Gordo

Me & some Cherubs on Lake Michigan

(Rebecca-Diane) take place at the drama institute called AdirondACTS, a summer camp in upstate New York for aspiring young stars. Amos and Rebecca-Diane are returning decades later as the directors of the camp; they’ve graduated from the role of camper, and they’re onto better and bigger things. Broadway hasn’t quite worked out (...yet). They’re back and ready to impart their wisdom (and potentially to find some validation). Welcome to the world of professional theater where only a handful of talented people make it to the top, and the rest are left searching for some sort of sign that it was all worth it.

While at Cherubs, I was in Claire Barron’s play Dance Nation , which follows the story of an ambitious pre-teen dance troupe planning to take over the world. In order to tap into our 13-yearold selves, we were asked, in so many words, to strip down to our most vulnerable selves. We screamed words like “pussy” while making eye contact with ourselves in the mirror. Although we had only known each other for a brief week or two, we quickly learned a dance that required us to surrender to each other’s movements, gliding across the floor and finding ourselves

This is a tale about how far theater people will go to safeguard the thinthey are most passionate about. It’s the blind leading the blind at Camp AdirondACTS before the summer even begins when founder and director, Joan, is sent into a coma after a strobe light knocks her in the face while attending a show featuring one of her campers. I mean, how else would a theater camp owner end up in a coma? As devoted camp enthusiasts like Amos and Gordo, alongside those less familiar, such as Joan’s son Troy, step up to preserve the camp, a host of previously ignored, smaller issues come to light. The film effectively captures how this drama unfolds within intimate theater settings–during performance, as well as off stage. In a rehearsal for the final performance of the summer, Gurbo and Platt dramatically launch themselves onto the stage mid-scene after they suspect that one of the young actors is using a tear stick, or tear generator, to make herself cry. “Mackenzie, I’m not mad. I’m just furious,” Platt says. “Your tears should come from within… not from some emotional grenade you’ve smuggled in.” The directors kneel down and cast a glance upward at the little girl with shame. Over–the–top dramatic sequences like this grant the audience the

freedom to nudge their neighbor’s arm and erupt into laughter–on the surfac because it’s funny, but on a deeper level because this intensity in theatrical settings is so familiar.

I am reminded of the times at theater camp when the lines between reality and the stage blurred, like when preparing for Dance Nation , we were tasked with writing letters to our middle school selves, sharing whatever wisdom we felt was necessary. Some of us prepared them for ugly periods, while others warned about more intense topics like heartbreak and body image. We cried, screamed, and eventually erupted into hysterical laughter. In that space, it’s the only instance I can recall where it felt completely acceptable not to discern whether I was embodying myself, my character,

or perhaps a fusion of both. Regardless, whatever I was doing felt real. It might sound clichéed, but that’s precisely what Gurbo and Platt meant when they swore that tear sticks were trouble, because the truth is, the best part about theater happens when we aren’t pretending. That’s something all theater kids can agree on.

What remained of my jumbo popcorn was rained down on by tears of laughter and nostalgia.

When I left Jake and Grace that night, I said goodbye to them for the summer. But I know that the next time I encounter a Cherub, there will be magic again, and when that happens, I’ll be able to hold onto the feeling for a little longer.

Theater Camp (2023), dir. Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman

Tonight, Get Ready to Fly: An Ode to the Virgin America Flight Safety Video

BY OWEN WILEY

It’s November of 2013. You’re eleven years old, flying from San Francisco to Los Angeles with your family to go visit your grandparents for Thanksgiving. You stop at the Mexican restaurant in Terminal 2 before going to your gate. As you wait for Virgin America Flight 1092 to begin boarding, you bury your head in Rick Riordan’s The House of Hades . You’ve just found out that Nico is gay.

At long last, it’s your turn to board, and you enter the plane, marveling at the purple lighting and soft instrumental music playing in the background. Taking your seat, you fasten your seatbelt and return to your book.

Everyone is seated and it’s time to watch the Flight safety video. You’ve flown Virgin America before so you know what you’re in for: a cute animation with some silly jokes to try to spice things up–mildly entertaining but generally unimpressive.

Shoo-ah, shoo-ah (ooh)

Shoo-ah, shoo-ah (ooh)

Shoo-ah, shoo-ah-da!

The screen lights up as a low-angle tracking shot follows two flight attendants briskly pulling two suitcases down an abstracted airplane aisle. As they turn away, they reveal two dancing attendants flanking none other than Todrick Hall (of American Idol , YouTube, and Drag Race fame).

[HALL]

I got some safety tips that you got to know And trust me it’s something that you want to hear

A nearly hidden cut punches in on Hall and his posse as he begins to sing. Moving forward in a reverse tracking

This time, though, there’s something different. Energy begins to pulse around the plane, emanating from the tiny screen in front of you. From black, you hear music: two pickup notes played on a fuzzy electric guitar lead into a bright D chord. Then come the voices.

shot, Hall et al. enter into an abstracted cabin that now has seated passengers who seem confused, yet intrigued by this sudden musical display.

[FLIGHT ATTENDANT 1]

So honey zip your lips and enjoy the show Before we move into the stratosphere

At the end of this line, the camera cranes upwards in a physical manifestation of the airplane’s ascent “into the stratosphere.” At this point you are absolutely floored. Your previously low expectations have been blown through the roof. You can’t wait to see what’s next.

[HALL]

So won’t you…

[ALL]

Whoo!

[HALL]

Buckle your seatbelt, put it on tight and keep your—

[ALL]

Whoo!

[HALL]

In that chair until we turn off that light

You already have your seatbelt fastened so you have nothing to worry about on this front. The tactical self-censorship of the lyrics doesn’t fool you; you’ve heard the word “ass” before.

[HALL]

Turn your electrical devices off as fast as you can

[FLIGHT ATTENDANTS]

And whatever you do!

[HALL]

Don’t make me ask you again

Hall takes a cell phone from a nun, who looks justly annoyed, but quickly surrenders to Hall’s charms and begins dancing as the song enters the first chorus. Your eyes remain glued to the screen.

[ALL]

So tonight, get ready to fly ‘Cuz we’re gonna live it on up in the sky (whoo-oh!)

Virgin America knows all the places you wanna be

Fly away with me, fly away with me, yeah

At this point the cabin is full of passengers dancing in their seats and performing tricks with their inflight safety manuals. Little red booklets are twirled, clapped, and shuffled, and Hall and company dance down the central aisle. The pop-rock style and catchy lyrics threaten to stay in your head for the whole flight. You succumb to the music as it flows through your body, energizing you in ways you never thought possible.

[SPOKEN, FLIGHT ATTENDANT 2]

For the .001 percent of you who have never operated a seatbelt before... Really?! I mean, it works like this. Insert the metal end into the buckle until it clicks and…

At this point you begin to lose some interest. You know how to operate a seat belt; you put yours on nearly fifteen minutes ago, for God’s sake. Why did they stop singing and dancing? But wait one second, something new appears to be coming…

[RAP, CHILD 1]

Yo, yo, yo!

Now that you’re bopping your head to the rap scene

Three walls fall to reveal a young girl out of her seat and between her two parents. As she raps, she gestures intently with her arms and body to emphasize the lyrics. From the earlier rock style comes a more modern electronic rap beat.

[CHILD] (CONT.)

Now that your eyes are glued to the flat screen

If the cabin pressure’s changin’ You know that we won’t be leavin’ you hangin’

Pull your mask down first, don’t worry oxygen flows

Tighten the straps after placing on your

mouth and your nose

If you’re traveling with someone, like a child for instance

Put your mask on first before your offer assistance

The girl gestures to herself, aware that she is the child about whom she is rapping. Her parents put their own masks on and then help her with hers as she gives the camera an enthusiastic thumbs-up. In the case of an emergency, you are confident that you’d be able to operate your own mask. You’re a big boy.

[ROBOTS]

Now-now-now under your seat, there’s a life vest (life vest)

First class, it’s below your center armrest

Remove the pouch, tear it open, place it over your head

Are we coming in clear, did you hear what we said…

… Thank you for your attention, this robot rap is over

In a new space, there are five men in suits and sunglasses, clearly intended to be robots. They move rigidly and in sync. The music transitions to be completely electronic, almost in a dubstep style, and robotic sound effects are superimposed over the performers’ movements.

[SUNG,

FLIGHT ATTENDANT 3]

Just in case we must evacuate (ooh)

We’ve got a plan of attack (we’ve got a plan of attack!)

Four window exits on this airplane (over the wings)

Four exit doors, two in the front (and two in the back!)

We’re back in the plane, but now the seats are all facing in different directions.

Three flight attendants slowly dance forwards to the R&B style that the music has transitioned to. As the central attendant passes one seat, she grabs a passenger and flings him towards the camera. A small whooshing sound accompanies his scream as he rolls headfirst offscreen. You find this exceedingly and unnecessarily silly.

[FLIGHT ATTENDANT 3] (CONT.)

In the unlikely event we need to get you outside

Your exit is equipped with an inflatable slide

Each female attendant partners with a man and begins to tango seductively. The singing flight attendant steps towards a slide, which she gives a small push. The music pauses and an overhead shot shows the slide unfurling completely.

[FLIGHT ATTENDANT 4]

Only door slides can be used as a flotation device

And if you need to find the exit you just follow the lights

2013 Flight Safety Video, Virgin America

[HALL]

They’re at the base of the seats, they go from white and to red But keep in mind the nearest exit door may not be ahead

As Hall returns to sing, two men spider-dance backwards down the central aisle, moving solely on their hands with their legs suspended in the air. Side and over-the-top tracking shots paired with quick clapping in the music emphasize this impressive feat. It is at once disturbing and entrancing, and you find it difficult to look away.

[NUN]

So look around and let us just remind you [MAN]

The nearest exit might be behind you Yeah!

The nun sings in a nearly operatic voice prepared to sing the whole phrase. However, before she can finish, a large man approaches and takes her place. You expect his voice to be low and powerful, but instead he is a soprano who sings with a woman’s voice (you wonder if this has been lip-synced). As he hits his high note, he runs to the back of the cabin and stops under a door frame. He points upwards and poses as an EXIT light dings on right above him.

[SPOKEN, CHILD 2]

Ok, so, this one’s important for all you smokers out there. It’s never allowed here, so don’t you forget. Federal law prohibits tampering, destroying, disabling smoke detectors, so don’t touch that cigarette. Don’t you do it.

As you expected the earlier man’s voice to be low, you expect this young boy’s voice to be high. Once again, though, you’ve been duped. His voice is low and creamy, à la Ving Rames (although you don’t know who that is yet). The kid’s three-piece-suit and large sunglasses enhance the contrast between expectations and reality that is an essential theme of this whole piece.

The final portion of the video returns to speaking as the flight attendants begin their final cabin check. However, it appears there’s time for one last hurrah. The music slowly grows louder and the passengers hold their information pamphlets above themselves, gradually rising from their seats.

[HALL AND FLIGHT ATTENDANTS]

Thank you for flying Virgin America!

The camera cuts back to the full cabin. Two people run back down the aisle waving large red Virgin America flags. Hall and the flight attendants are once again dancing, and everyone else has joined them. The whole cast of characters – nuns, robots, children, contortionists – moves with unimaginable energy, culminating in what is quite possibly the greatest dance party ending of all time.

[SUNG, ALL]

So tonight (tonight!) get ready to fly (we’re gonna fly!)

‘Cuz we’re gonna live it on up in the sky

Virgin America knows all the places you wanna be

Fly away with me, fly away with me

Tonight, get ready to fly

‘Cuz we’re gonna live it on up in the sky Virgin America knows all the places you wanna be

Fly away with me, fly away with me, yeah

As the video ends, you know you have experienced something special, something that will stick with you for your whole life. A short four years later, Virgin America will be bought by Alas -

ka Airlines and cease to exist. You don’t know that though, and you rest happy knowing that, at least for now, upwards of 18,000 people a day will bear witness to the greatest film ever created.

18,000 people a day will bear witness to the greatest film ever created .

Inconsistency in WWE Storylines: A Review of the Bloodline

By Oluchi Chukwuemeka

From the rivalry between Shawn Michaels and the Undertaker to the evolution of the Shield, the World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) has had some high quality storylines in its day. Storylines represent a wrestler’s capacity to integrate themselves into a given role. With the execution of the relationships between wrestlers and the example of styles woven into matches, the storylines mentioned above are nothing short of legendary. With that being said, not every storyline is beneficial.

Jimmy and Jey Uso have been in WWE for a number of years, being a tag team up until September 2023.

Having been introduced as “The Usos” the majority of their lives, Jimmy and Jey know what it is like to feed off each other’s energy and how to wrestle in their respective mindsets. Although nothing breaks the bond of twin brothers, this was not evident in the storyline of the Bloodline.

The Bloodline is a group (essentially an alliance) that originally consisted of Roman Reigns, the current undisputed WWE champion; Solo Sikoa, cousin and self-proclaimed “street champ” of

WWE; the “wise man” Paul Heyman; the “Honorary Uce” Sami Zayn; and the Usos (brothers to Sikoa and cousins to Roman Reigns). Following the betrayal of Sami Zayn with a chair to the back of Reigns, the members of the Bloodline began to drop like flies. After constant (scripted) mistreatment by champion Roman Reigns, Jimmy and Jey Uso had enough and began to fight back for themselves, leaving the Bloodline altogether and ultimately making this storyline one of the most creative and famous storylines in WWE history. Until it began to make no sense.

Promotional photo, The Bloodline

After the breakup of the Bloodline, Jimmy and Jey Uso chose to continue tag-team action, with Jey pinning Roman Reigns for the first time in three years during a tag team match. You would think that with this momentum the Usos would be unstoppable, but WWE creative executives thought that it was best to split the brothers apart. My issue is not with the decision to make them split, as both brothers have expressed interest in fighting each other and making a name for themselves in the singles realm. My issue is with the way in which this decision was displayed on television. Instead of a slow segue, the split happened two weeks after the Usos left the Bloodline, when Jimmy interfered with Jey’s title match, making him lose against Roman Reigns. Following that, the storyline began to ignore the constituents that made it great in the first place, and it focused on the collectivism of the Bloodline instead of the individuality of both Jey and Jimmy.

The purpose of the Bloodline storyline was to elevate the singles’ careers of both Jimmy and Jey, and, furthermore, include a dose of technicality in

both of their wrestling styles. Instead of pushing Jey to become champion so that both brothers could experience a sense of self-direction, WWE chose to deliberately focus on the obsession with group culture. The WWE chose to fixate on having strong factions as opposed to individual characters – Jey moved to a different brand and Jimmy came back to the Bloodline (which obviously made no sense, as he recently/previously fought against them). One of the things that WWE has to execute better is the elevation of certain superstars. While I understand that Roman Reigns is one of the most decorated superstars of this time, his championship reign of more than 3 years is a bit excessive and does not give room to other wrestlers, such as the Usos, who have been working for years to get on top.

This review isn’t to completely dismiss the creative talent of WWE executives, but to spread awareness about the importance of representing all aspects of wrestlers in ways that are important to the character that they portray in the ring.

Te Sound and the Fury: A Professional Wrestling Manifesto

BY PHUC NGO

July 18th, 2005. In front of 62,000 people in a sold-out Tokyo Dome, Kenta Kobashi and Kensuke Sasaki do battle in the semi-main event of Pro Wrestling NOAH’s Destiny event. Eight minutes into the match, Sasaki has the upper hand. With Kobashi prone on the ground, Sasaki, instead of pressing his advantage, begins to goad Kobashi. He taunts, gesturing for Kobashi to get up. Slowly, Kobashi manages to get to his feet, but then chop, whip into the corner, bulldog from Sasaki, and Kobashi’s face slams against the mat. Sasaki goes for the pin1, and Kobashi defantly kicks out at one. He gets up, angrier this time, and Sasaki almost spurs him on, ofering two half-hearted foot jabs to the torso. Kobashi winces for a moment before snapping back and roaring in Sasaki’s face. And then, he delivers a knife-edge chop2 to Sasaki. Te impact of the strike is such that nine minutes worth of sweat fies like smoke of of Sasaki’s chest. Sound isn’t meant to travel well in a baseball dome, but we hear it nonetheless: the distinct thud-clap

of a well-delivered chop. “Again,” screams Sasaki, asking for another. And another. And another. Ten, after the fourth chop, Kobashi ofers up his own chest to Sasaki. Sasaki obliges. So begins one of the most famous sequences in professional wrestling history.

Kobashi and Sasaki continue going back and forth, chopping at each other. Te medley continues, sweat and thuds and claps and roars from both men, deep red welts beginning to form on their chests, for fve straight minutes, as the audience’s oohs-and-ahhs turn into a stunned hush and then into anxious anticipation, until Kobashi, taking a run-up and aiming more for the throat than the chest, fnally downs Sasaki. Kobashi collapses with the efort. Te audience goes wild with applause.

No single move encapsulates pro wrestling better than the knife-edge chop. Tereare two interconnecting properties that defne the chop itself: it is “fake,” and it is sensory.

1. In pro wrestling, a “pin” is a method of winning, wherein one wrestler keeps their opponents shoulders on the mat for three uninterrupted seconds.

2. A knife-edge chop is a simple maneuver wherein one wrestler, with a backhand swing, uses the palm of their hand to slap the chest of their opponent.

Understanding these elements will lead to a better framework for understanding pro wrestling, its distinct qualities, and thus its value as an art form.

Professional Wrestling as a Performing Art

Now, when I say that the chop is “fake,” I don’t mean to say that it is not painful. Tere is no way to get around the fact that being slapped on the chest hurts. Tere is no trick, no sleight of hand, no optical illusion that can render a knifeedge chop painless. Te taker simply has to deal with the pain. Tis fact, pain, stands for the rest of pro wrestling, too: wrestlers and trainers will always try to minimise damage, but beneath the canvas, a wrestling ring is wood and steel,

with very minimal spring. Pro wrestling hurts; that is undeniable. What I do mean when I say “fake,” is that you would very rarely, if ever, see the chop used in a “real” fght. No one in the UFC, or on any rung of professional or amateur martial arts, is going to try to execute a knife-edge chop. Te chop requires a sort of choreography, needs the person taking the chop to have their chest open and attackable, something that fghting stances in most martial arts do not allow. Not to mention the presence of gloves in most popular MMA rulesets, which signifcantly negate the efect of the chop. Yes, there are karate chops and such, but the knife-edge chop specifcally is not taught anywhere but in a pro wrestling dojo.

In this exact same way, pro wrestling is “fake.” It’s not necessarily choreographed – that would suggest that a match is always planned, designed, and rehearsed, which it is not – but it is performative and collaborative. Pro wrestling is, then, a form of performing art, similar to live theatre or dance. Tis, in my opinion, is the best way to understand and appreciate pro wrestling: not as a legitimate sporting contest or a simple simulation of a legitimate sporting contest, but as a performance with sporting elements. Tus, like any per-

Kenta Kobashi vs. Kensuke Sasaki, NOAH Destiny, Tokyo 2005

forming art, what’s most important for pro wrestling is not realism but believability: a play needs to invest its audience into its story and characters; a dance needs to engage some appreciation – aesthetic, emotional, or both – in its viewer; and a pro wrestling match has similar goals. Tis doesn’t mean realism – often understood as manoeuvres and sequences that resemble those from legitimate combat sports (MMA, BJJ, Olympic wrestling, and such) – in pro wrestling is useless: indeed, realism often complements believability. Nonetheless, in the same way that plays can jump around time or include fantastical elements, pro wrestling can stray from “realism” while retaining believability. Beyond illustrating the importance of believability over realism, the framing of pro wrestling as a performing art gives us a better understanding of the role of wrestlers. Tey are at once athletes and actors, presented as characters, each with their own mythologies in the ongoing drama of pro wrestling. By the time he fghts Sasaki, Kenta Kobashi was not just a 6’1”, 254 lb meatsack with a good bench press and a fearsome chop: he was an 18-year legend who had held multiple top-level championships. Most fans in the Tokyo Dome that day had a myth of Kobashi that would have been built from both his fake, in-world accomplishments and his actions in the real business side of

pro wrestling. Such is the way a pro wrestling audience regards a wrestler, and such is the way pro wrestling presents a wrestler.

Violence and Storytelling

Te knife-edge chop is a sensory experience. As earlier described with Kobashi–Sasaki, the chop is aural (those unmistakable thud-claps) and visual (the sweat fying, the welts forming), both in ways that simply cannot be faked. Te noise and the sweat has to come from the real velocity and impact of the slap, and the welts only form from the real rupturing of blood vessels in the chest. Te chop, and thus pro wrestling more generally, presents violence to an audience more directly than any other performing art. Teatre seems more willing to stage eroticism – a diferent kind of physical afect – than violence, as nudity and simulated sex in theatre are often much closer to “reality” than theatrical violence. Dance is certainly physical, and it can feel violent if so choreographed, but there is always a lack of tactility and intention that takes away from the pure presentation of violence.

Nowhere is the storytelling potential of violence better exemplifed than in the strike exchange. As the name may suggest, a strike exchange is a pro wrestling sequence signature to Japanese puroresu wherein two

(and occasionally more) wrestlers take turns striking each other, with kicks, slaps, punches, forearms, elbows, or, as in Kobashi–Sasaki, chops. Again, a strike exchange is “fake” in the sense that it is nonsensical in the logic of a “real” fght, but again, that’s not the goal of pro wrestling. A good sex scene is not jammed into a play simply because it is “realistic,” but because through it, character can be revealed and change can be charted. A strike exchange works similarly.

Kobashi–Sasaki exemplifes the possibilities of the strike exchange. Before the exchange, Sasaki is in control; arrogance pervades his every movement. Yet, instead of using his control to deliver more ofence and win the match, Sasaki starts goading Kobashi. He then actively chooses to give up his advantage to engage in a chop exchange: a tactically unwise move, especially against Kobashi, who was world-renowned for his chops. However, rationality was not Sasaki’s project. He takes unnecessary damage, yes, but there’s a greater purpose, one more important than simple victory, at work.

Tis was Kobashi and Sasaki’s frst encounter, and Sasaki’s frst appearance in Pro Wrestling NOAH. Before the match, Sasaki’s career had been defned by unbelonging. He trained and debuted in 1986 with All

Japan Pro Wrestling, but after a year with the company, Sasaki left with his trainer and mentor, Riki Choshu, to All Japan’s main rivals, New Japan Pro Wrestling. As an outside trainee, Sasaki was often overlooked by management, who saw bigger potential in the ‘ Tree Musketeers,’ three New Japan-trained talents from Sasaki’s generation that management had handpicked for success. Despite being in the Musketeers’ shadows throughout the early-to-mid-90s, Sasaki’s hard work and no-nonsense style made him undeniably popular with the fans. Sasaki became a regular name in the main events of New Japan’s biggest shows, and in 1997, he would win the IWGP Heavyweight Championship, New Japan’s top prize, for the frst time.

Sasaki would remain at the top of New Japan until 2002, when his mentor Riki Choshu was ousted from management. New Japan’s new regime then shook up the company and set it in a direction incompatible with Sasaki’s own vision and skillset. Meanwhile, Choshu had started gathering funding to open his own promotion, World Japan Pro Wrestling, to rival both New Japan and All Japan. At the end of 2002, Sasaki would resign from New Japan, and in early 2003, he would join World Japan to be its biggest star and main attraction.

As the year wore on, however, World Japan revealed itself to be a shoddily-run vanity project for Choshu, barely built to last in the pro wrestling world, let alone compete with long-established giants like New Japan. Choshu’s reckless management led to money problems. In response, Sasaki cancelled his life insurance and invested ¥5 million (around $75,000 today) of his own savings into the promotion. It wasn’t enough. By the end of 2003, Sasaki lost faith and left World Japan. Not only had he efectively bankrupted himself to save a doomed promotion, he also lost trust in the only constant throughout his career – his mentor, Riki Choshu.

2004, then, was a rebuilding year for Sasaki. As he said himself in an interview, after the World Japan debacle he couldn’t even aford to buy his son a toy. He started freelancing in both New Japan and All Japan, his name and credibility as a wrestler still thankfully intact despite the ashes of World Japan. By 2005, he had worked himself back into relevance in the wrestling world, but he still hadn’t settled: anywhere he went, he was the outsider. Highly popular and very well-respected, yes, but an outsider nonetheless. Tis was how he walked into the Tokyo Dome on July 18th, 2005 to face the ‘ace’ of Pro Wrestling NOAH, Kenta Kobashi: unsure of his environment and of himself. His project, then, wasn’t simply victory; he had to prove his strength and his worth to Kobashi, to NOAH fans, and to

himself. Tat’s his motivation for engaging in the chop exchange, or at least my reading of it.

Violence, then, presents Sasaki’s struggle. Someone who walked in as the outsider, who spent the frst part of the match playing up to his villainous role, acting arrogant and goading towards the home hero, Kobashi, slowly unveils himself as the chops wear on. Te pain, its reception and infiction, realizes the wrestlers’ inner tensions; by being at once material and medium, violence becomes a specifc kind of storytelling vehicle. With every bead of sweat that fies of his chest, every roar that he lets out in Kobashi’s face, the Tokyo Dome begins to feel Sasaki’s story.

Kenta Kobashi vs. Kensuke Sasaki, NOAH Destiny, Tokyo 2005

And this, the audience, is what gives true weight to pro wrestling. Tey cheer for both men like epic heroes; they gasp at each chop like it’s a dramatic movement in a tragedy. Every time there’s a pause in the rhythm of the strikes, murmurs wave around the arena: one of them is winded, one of them might give up the exchange. Like a sort of Greek chorus, the wrestling crowd gives the wrestlers context. If you –presuming you knew next to nothing about pro wrestling, much less the Sasakiad I’ve just summarised – if you just watched Kobashi–Sasaki, the audience would communicate to you the importance of the struggle. It is sensory information that can dramatically control an atmosphere in any performing art: nudity can create tension and discomfort and music can do all sorts of alchemy. Te image and audio of violence impress themselves upon the crowd, who then transmit the feeling to each other, to an outside viewer, and even back to the wrestlers themselves.

Sasaki ends up losing the match, but that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he was able to hang with Kobashi, so much so that Kobashi had to chop him in the throat, not the chest, to end the strike exchange. After the match, he and Kobashi shake hands and embrace, to the adulation of the Tokyo Dome. Sasaki grabs the mic and says, shortly, “Kobashi, thank you. NOAH fans, thank you very much. I felt great today.”

He, Kobashi, and the fans had all reached an understanding. Between Sasaki and Kobashi – mutual respect. Between Sasaki and the fans – mutual love. NOAH would become Sasaki’s home promotion from 2008 until his retirement, and in 2013, Kobashi would pick Sasaki as one of his partners for his own retirement match. To this day, the Kobashi Dome Match is Sasaki’s favourite from his whole career.

Sasaki’s saga is just one of the many that lead into and out of the match. Tere are other connected myths, each with similar depth, that I do not have time to go into: the formation and rise of NOAH, the state of the pro wrestling scene in mid-2000s Japan, Kobashi’s own history, and yet others that even I might not be aware of. Each of these respective myths give meaning to the violence, and in return, the violence synthesises all of them into one story – the match itself – a story that can be communicated to a new audience, one that may be entirely unaware of the myths that made it up, through the energy of the live crowd. Such is the particular beauty of professional wrestling. However, simply reading this article, even with the scant photos that have been included alongside, you cannot get pro wrestling. It is, after all, a sensory experience. It must be engaged with; it must be felt. Kobashi–Sasaki is as good a place as any to start.

Living on Te Trauma Floor!

An Exploration of the Reality of the Hit Series Dance Moms

By Sam Goodykoontz

I’ll be honest. I love Dance Moms. Te wild tale of how a seemingly average Pittsburgh dance studio rose to worldwide fame, alongside the ferocious temper and antics of instructor Abby Lee Miller, the petty drama between the moms, the godawful royalty-free music the girls danced to, and the obviously scripted drama with other studios, is always an exciting watch. But is it the “right” kind of exciting? Even though the show never fails to entertain, it has long been a subject of great controversy. Since its debut in 2011, people have criticized the show as being a form of televised child abuse, a reputation it unfortunately deserves. From the wrath of Miller (who recently bragged in an interview about putting dancer Mackenzie Ziegler under a 360 music deal when Mackenzie was only 10), to the pressure of competing each week, as well as the long hours of rehearsal (which dance mom Melissa Ziegler revealed in a podcast actually violated child labor laws) which the producers would lie about, the show has caused as much problems as it has entertainment. Both the girls and the moms have deep trauma due to their experiences on the show that many of them have had to receive therapy for. In many uncomfortable cases the cast was flmed having full-

on panic attacks. Most of the girls do not even dance anymore due to how awful their experience was. Tere have been numerous accusations against Miller of racism, classism, emotional manipulation, abusive behaviors, and inappropriate behavior towards children. She even went to federal prison for fraud and hiding money from the government! While many of these details were televised, the overall narrative of the show pushed that being on the team was a tough, rewarding experience and that those who left or were critical of the environment were ungrateful or combative.

Promotional photo, Dance Moms Season 2, 2012

So how do we deal with this moral dilemma? Te show is regarded as a cultural phenomenon and still has viewers since its end in 2019, thanks to streaming, and many scenes still frequently go viral on social media, so its impact is not going away anytime soon. While thrilling to watch, are we not perpetuating and supporting this horrifying experience for many by continuing to watch the show and continuing to give it traction? Tere is also the issue of people believing everything they see on television. Since reality television is not marketed as fction, people believe it is 100% factual. So if there is a storyline presenting a character in a negative way, or the Abby Lee Dance Company (or ALDC) as a top-notch dance center, or Abby as a tough-love misunderstood antihero, a lot of viewers will take what they see as fact. Tat is the trap of reality television: people think everything they see is how it actually happened, without understanding the magic of producing or editing. Are people morally wrong for still watching this show? Is there a morally right way of watching television?

I would argue no. As evidenced by the writers’ and screen actors’ strike and incessant TV actors’ podcasts, not many television shows or movies are made 100% ethically. Whether it’s kids’ television or educational programming or prime-time dramedy programs, there is often something problematic going on behind the

scenes, including long hours, manipulation and bullying from directors and producers, cheating writers and actors out of proper pay, or otherwise unsatisfactory working conditions. While a grim and pessimistic take, that is the reality of the entertainment industry. It’s not a moral place.

Additionally, a majority of the cast of Dance Moms have uploaded podcasts, YouTube videos, and interviews about their experiences and their reaction to scenes; it seems that even though the show was not a positive experience, many of them do not want to put the show behind them entirely. Also, the decision of what television is moral and good is not concrete. What can be considered “good” television in one generation can be considered unethical and deeply problematic in another. Just a few years ago, dancers all over the world wanted to be on Dance Moms, and some still do! If people want to watch Dance Moms, that is entirely up to them. However, there are still some things for the audience to consider while watching so that viewers are not so easily fooled by what the producers portray.

Reality television is never reality. Many viewers believe that since people on reality TV are not portraying fctional characters with diferent names, and the shows are set in real-life situations, that everything that happened is real. However, that is almost never the case. Dance Moms especially is a

notorious example of producer manipulation. One of the main instances of this issue is the “reality” of the competitions.

I say ‘reality’ in quotation marks because they were not real competitions, at least for the majority of the show. Te YouTube channel MackZBoss, which uncovers behind-the-scenes Dance Moms secrets based on production notes and competition records, revealed how in the frst few seasons, the competitions were real, but the producers would re-flm awards ceremonies to portray the awarding of trophies as different than they actually happened.

result, producers would host their own competitions, pay people to set up a competition, or set up “invitationals” for other studios to compete against the ALDC, which was actually an opportunity for the studios to be on television. Tese made-up competitions were judged however the producers wanted them to be, so if they wanted to portray the ALDC as a top-notch, consistently frstplaced studio, they could.

Tis led to many diferent competition programs banning the ALDC from their competitions. Miller’s membership with Dance Masters of America was also revoked around this time, accusing her of misrepresenting dance teachers and students. As a

Tis creation and manipulation of fctional narratives did not just stop at competitions. Tere have been countless instances of the cast revealing how the producers instigated drama and portrayed characters however they wanted. Brooke Hyland, who left the show in Season 4, often talks about how the show portrayed her as a moody, brooding teenager who hated everything when that was not her true personality at all. In fact, she claims that one day while flming the pyramid, a ranking of the dancers each week used by Abby which usually took at least three hours to flm, she was smiling the whole time–except for two minutes. Yet when the episode came out, the only footage shown of her during the pyramid was when she wasn’t smiling, because that ft with the narrative the producers created for her. Another example of this is Cathy Nesbitt-Stein, who was actually the frst person cast on the show, and the show’s main villain with her rival studio Candy Apples Dance Center. Both Cathy and the other

Promotional photo, Dance Moms Season 4, 2011

moms have explained that Cathy was cast as a villain role on the show, so all of the moments where she seems cartoonishly bad are clearly acting. Tis also extends to featured guests on the show such as Kaya Wiley, Jeanette Cota, and Jeannie Quinn, who all had valid issues with their treatment on the show, but were portrayed as ungrateful villains. Additionally, a common criticism of Cathy on the show is that after Season 2, she would bring in new dancers for her competition team from around the country who she’s never trained. Tis led to people both on and of the show criticizing Cathy of not being able to coach her own students. Yet as revealed through MackZBoss and other behind-the-scenes sources, Cathy made the decision to pull her daughter and her true competition dancers from the show because of the hate they were receiving–and still receive–from social media, and the rest of the dancers she had were given to her by the producers in order to create drama. In Season 3, for example, Cathy formed an allboys team, which is rumored to score higher in an attempt to keep more boys in dance, which would obviously creating drama. In Season 5 Cathy built a team from Abby’s rejected dancers from past auditions. Also, Abby would constantly bring in kids from around the country to dance on her competition team even though she has not trained them, starting in Season 3. Many of the moms and dancers revealed that the producers often would not let the moms leave

the studio or receive a paycheck unless they started a fght with someone. Often these fghts were instigated by a single text from a producer to a mom telling her to fght with someone.

Speaking of manufactured storylines, there are multiple examples of cast members obviously trying to not break the fourth wall in order to maintain the storyline. Some of my favorite examples are when new people from far superior studios appear on the show, saying that they want to receive “training from Abby,” which moms have said translates to “we want to be on television.” Abby also constantly explains the reason there is a large audience at competitions is because the dancers are “national champions” when it is really because they are on a famous television show. Te wildest example is the moms claiming they stay at the studio despite the hardships because “their kids want to be there” and “they’re part of the team” after a scene in which their kids have full-on panic attacks–while saying how much they do not want to be there. Tis translates to, “I am under a tight contract and I am legally not allowed to leave.”

Overall, Dance Moms is as fabricated and fctionalized as any scripted television show. So if you want to watch it because you love the drama or you want to see the dancing, go ahead. Just remember that what you are seeing is probably not what you are getting. Tis leads me to my consideration that while watching the show, viewers have to understand. Being aware of how negative the experience was for many is so important. Te show was not a positive experience for anyone. Te issue of the cast’s experiences is still relevant today, since Abby mentions in almost every

instance she can how ungrateful she feels the cast has been to her. She also insists that she made the dancers into stars and millionaires and that this excuses her foul treatment. While she did spend a lot of time, energy and money (a lot of which, of course, she hid from the IRS) on the show and on the dancers, she has also caused deep emotional trauma and distress. Also, it was actually the show that made the cast into millionaires, not Abby. Additionally, the girls are, at most, social media infuencers now, which Abby did not teach them how to be.

Abby Lee’s weekly “pyramid” ranking her dancers performance over the previous week.

KELSEY ONYIA

KELSEY

Getting Hairy: Femininity and Its Aesthetics on TV

BY GIOVANNA VITALE

In 2002, Felicity went of the air. Te early aughts were defned by cultural scandals, but the Felicity fasco in particular lingers in my mind. A beloved show about the titular character’s journey of self-discovery after high school graduation, its infamous cancellation was largely in response to Felicity’s haircut. Portrayed by Keri Russell, Felicity had long, golden, curly hair for all of Season 1, before she dramatically chopped

her locks during a climactic moment. As Amanda Foreman, Russell’s co-star, put it in a cast interview, “Way too many women are identifed by their vanity with their hair, myself included. And Keri went for [the haircut].” Not only do women have strong feelings about their own hair and physical appearance but audiences also develop connections with characters’ looks. Female characters in particular face extreme scrutiny and derision when it comes to their physical appearance. Tat explains why Felicity’s big chop led to not only a plummet in ratings, but years of criticism and even death threats for Keri Russell. As much as we’d like to believe we’ve moved on from the early 2000s misogyny that prompted such a dramatic reaction, the Felicity phenomenon still occurs with today’s female protagonists. Look no further than Euphoria’s very own Jules Vaughn.

In Euphoria’s second season, Jules (Hunter Schafer) debuts a new, blunt bob – a stark contrast from Season 1’s waistlength, blonde, and frequently dip-dyed hair. From “Fuck Anyone Who’s Not a Sea Blob,” a Jules-centered bottle episode

Felicity, Season 1

released “during the pandemic, we know that Jules yearned to experiment with her gender identity. As a trans woman, she explained that she’d been constructing her appearance not around what she loves, or what was most gender-afrming for her, but instead by what was most attractive to men. In the special episode, Jules discusses going of her hormones or otherwise changing her appearance in an efort to retake her power over her physical appearance and create her identity on her own terms, rather than the dictate of the patriarchal beauty standard. In one particularly striking line, she states. “I feel like my entire life, I’ve been trying to conquer femininity, and somewhere along the way, I feel like femininity conquered me.” Hunter Schafer served as a co-writer and co-executive producer on the episode, and discussed the writing process as a “lifeline” as she was dealing with depression. Te episode is clearly inextricable from her own personal experience of transfemininity.

When Jules cut her hair, it felt to me like a natural byproduct of her complicated feelings about her gender identity and expression. But as soon as I opened Twitter, I wondered if I was alone in this opinion. I saw countless people not only critiquing her new look, but even associating her supposedly morally reprehensible actions with her shorter hair. Tis is unsurprising: historically, femininity has always been as-

sociated with purity. Audiences yearned for the old Jules back, the one who conformed to male desire, pushed away her own needs, and wore her hair down to her waist. Jules has always been met with an undeserved amount of vitriol online, undoubtedly due to her trans identity. She is constantly referred to as the true villain of the show –which is particularly absurd considering that she shares the screen with true manipulators, and even sexual predators. After her haircut, the backlash to Jules’ character was only amplifed. Clearly, audiences felt some degree of ownership over Jules’ physical appearance, and felt betrayed when she began to move (even incrementally) away from hyper-femininity.

As a culture, we haven’t gotten any less shallow since the backlash to Felicity – as much as we’d like to pretend we’ve grown. Why can’t audiences love female characters who exist outside of conventional beauty standards? Take Girls’ Hannah Horvath (Lena Dunham), one of the most hated characters on the small screen in recent history. Hannah is depicted in unfattering clothes, positions, and yes, you guessed it –with a botched, DIY haircut. For many, Girls was refreshing due to Lena Dunham’s willingness to showcase the girls’ appearances in all of their many forms, sans airbrush – the good, the bad, and the ugly. But for others, Hannah’s appearance was absolutely

“ ”

I feel like my entire life, I’ve been trying to conquer femininity, somewhereand along the way, I feel like femininity conquered me.

unforgivable, and warranted endless scorn. Much has been made of Girls’ unwillingness to shy away from depicting Hannah in the nude. Girls’ detractors have called it gratuitous, but there isn’t a great deal more nakedness than other HBO shows – Game of Trones comes to mind. Girls is specifcally scrutinized because it uses the female body in a strikingly nontypical fashion. We’re used to seeing female nudity used exclusively for decorative purposes or to arouse and attract viewers; Dunham instead depicted nakedness in the everyday. Ultimately, some viewers just chafed at seeing the nude female body at anything other than a size 2.

Te antithesis of this can be found in 2020’s TV adaptation of High Fidelity. In High Fidelity we see Rob at her lowest: she sobs, she screams, and she gets her heart broken time and time again. Yet amidst all of her misery, Rob looks absolutely radiant and polished. Is this somewhat inevitable when you cast Zoe Kravitz? Of course. But the show’s refusal to make an efort to portray Rob in a more disheveled or unattractive light felt narratively incongruent. Her makeup, her clothes, and her hair remained alluring throughout the entire series, despite her emotionally fraught character arc. Part of High Fidelity’s appeal is undeniably in its romanticization of loss and romantic woe. If it all didn’t look so glamorous, would we have enjoyed the show so much? And if

Rob was played by someone we deem unattractive, would we still love her and want the best for her – even as she cheats on the love of her life and otherwise hurts those who care about her? I doubt it.

We give male characters signifcantly more space to exist in an unattractive or unpolished state. My hope for TV’s future is that female characters can begin to be constructed in similar ways. I want female characters to be able to fall apart and show it. Te aesthetics of emotional unraveling should go beyond runny mascara or cigarette burns; we should be able to see our

protagonists at rock bottom in a manner that can’t be romanticized or construed as alluring.

True depictions of pain and rawness are stifed by the expectation of beauty. Te burden of change is on both audiences and TV creators: in order to see stories that depict female characters that stray from perfection, we need to be willing to watch them. And when we do see them, they shouldn’t have to be accompanied by thinkpieces (much like this one!). Give me dishevelment and unseemliness; female-fronted flm and TV will be better for it.

High Fidelity, Season 1, 2020”

The Decreased Quality of Teen Television in the Streaming Era

BY EDEN BLAKEMORE

My favorite episodes of television have always been fller episodes. I like seeing the characters and relationships I love exist purely, without the need for moving the plot along. You spend so much time with the characters that they become friends. In the shows airing in the last 5-10 years there has been less and less fller. Gone are the beach and mall episodes. Television seasons have been shrinking, leaving less time for episodes that do more for characters than the plot. Leaving people like me, people who become overly attached to characters, deeply upset.

Tis epidemic is not widespread across all genres. It is teen dramas that are most adversely afected. Historically they have had longer seasons, and for good reason. Streaming has dominated this recent era of television. Almost every show is available on a streaming service; the era of network television has truly gone. Before the streaming era, shows needed to get an audience to want to tune in every week for a new episode but there was no need for a network to appeal to audienc-

es to buy their service. Seasons could be long because the longer a show is airing, the more chances there are for people to talk about it. Now streaming services need to give people a reason to buy a subscription for their specific platform. Tese companies found that you can appeal to a wider audience by creating two 10-episode shows instead of one 20-episode show. Tese two 10-episode shows cost the same to make as that 20-episode show but they can be two vastly diferent shows, gaining a wider audience overall. A couple of services do weekly releases. Sometimes this is because the show is not only available on the service. Tis is the case for the weekly releases on HBO Max and Paramount+, as their weekly releases are also being shown on network television. Another reason for this is going back to that prolonged interest and cultural discourse that comes with extended release dates. Te longevity of these shows is increased when you don’t drop the episodes all at the same time. One of the frst streaming-only shows to do this, especially geared towards younger audiences, is High School Musical: Te Musical:

the Series. Te Disney+ show released a new episode every Friday. Te new episode was talked about right until the next one dropped. I remember not being able to avoid the slew of posts and videos about the show online.

I don’t think that all shows should have longer seasons and when I say that seasons are decreasing I don’t mean for all types of shows. Some types of shows have always had shorter seasons. Te serious award-winning drama has consistently been around the 10-episode mark. Te frst season of The Sopranos was 13 episodes, Breaking Bad was seven episodes, and Te Wire was 13. Law and Order: Special Victims Unit premiered the same year as Te Sopranos and its frst season has 22 episodes. Not every show needs more than 10 episodes but in this current shift towards 10-episode seasons, the shows that do need more than 10 episodes aren’t getting them. Where I have noticed and been bothered by this absence the most is in the teen drama.

Gossip Girl is a perfect example of longform television. Its average season length is just over 20 episodes per season. It is also a great example of how shorter seasons are ruining teen dramas because it had a reboot with a 12-episode season. Te original Gossip Girl beneftted from having a 20-episode season because it allowed for more character devel

Poster, High School Musical: Te Musical: Te Series, 2023

opment and more 3-dimensional characters. Shows like Gossip Girl (soapy dramas) need long seasons. Gossip Girl was not groundbreaking or award-winning but the plot and characters were incredibly developed and had depth, gaining them a wide and devoted audience. In the new reboot, this is less true.

Te new Gossip Girl show premiered in 2021 on what was then called HBO Max, now just Max. It has 12 episodes with a new episode airing each week. I recently rewatched the frst season of Gossip Girl (2009) and of Gossip Girl (2021). Te new show does not need to be a replica of the frst but there is a clear diference between the two that connects to season length. In the original show, one of the charms was the relationship between Blair, Serena, Nate, Chuck, and eventually Dan, “the non-judging breakfast club.” We had scenes of their friendship throughout their lives, due to

the occasional fashback sequences that appeared in Season One. In the 2021 show that isn’t there. We are told that they are friends but we don’t ever see it onscreen.

Te show, like most teen dramas, follows a core group of friends: Julien, Audrey, Luna, Monet, Aki, Max, Obie, and Zoya. Within this core group, there are specifc relationships that are highlighted, specifcally the relationship between Zoya and Julien. Julien is the most popular girl in school but when her half-sister Zoya moves to New York and joins the school, Julien’s reputation and relationship get threatened. We are told that Zoya and Julien found each other online a couple of years earlier and have been texting each other nearly daily since. But once Zoya gets to New York there is only one or two scenes of them seeming fond of each other before they are at each other’s throats. Teir plot line is the A-plot

Promotional image, Gossip Girl, 2007

of the show, essentially becoming this show’s Blair and Serena. Zoya and Julien’s rivalry is the main focus of the plot for the majority of the frst season. It’s hard to care much about the downfall of their relationship because we hardly ever see why they are friends. It does not hurt when they are fghting when I have no reason to care if they are ever friends again. Something the frst Gossip Girl did is use the device of fashbacks to when Blair and Serena were friends to give weight to their rivalry and friendship but this Gossip Girl does not do that because it simply does not have the time to.

Another relationship in the core group

is between Obie and Aki. Tey are supposed to be best friends, having a unique relationship outside of just being in the same group of friends. Tis is only established by a few throwaway lines. Teir relationship’s true length is not expanded on until a later episode. Teir relationship only becomes relevant because they begin fghting. Tese fghts have little weight, or less than they should because the audience has never really seen them be friends. I don’t know why I should be upset that they aren’t talking because I never saw them talk in the frst place; it changes nothing. Tis lack of relationship development between characters hurts the show because these moments that should have high emotional depth fall fat.

Promotional cast photo, Gossip Girl, 2021”

If the show was given more time to develop these relationships, let them breathe, and have a bottle episode or two I don’t know if it would have gotten canceled. Not to say that this was the only problem the show had, but this problem is the one that stands out the most.

I have already established why production companies are straying away from long-season television, but these longer, older shows are incredibly successful on streaming, so why don’t streaming services invest in one? On streaming services, these long-form television shows have massive success rates. Almost all of the girls in my middle school watched every season of Grey’s Anatomy on Netfix. And if not Grey’s then it was Vampire Diaries or the original Gossip Girl. Te most recent streaming success is Suits Suits set a new streaming record for the most weeks at Number 1 when it reached 12 weeks at Number 1, as recorded by Hollywood Reporter. Grey’s Anatomy had 26.8 billion streams in 2022 as reported by Vanity Fair. Tese long-form shows have so much success because, for one, they never end. Tere is always another episode. Many people like being able to watch something for seemingly forever because there is a level of reliability. It also removes the need to scroll through Netfix every couple of months to fnd a new show. Also, these shows are extremely watchable. Tey often balance the plot and character amazingly because they had the time to do it. For a show in the age of the 10-episode format to balance plot and

Meredith Grey, Grey’s Anatomy, 2005-present

character in the same way they would have to reduce the intricacy of their plot-lines. A new teen drama that successfully pulls of the short season is Netfix’s Heartbreak High. Tis show efectively pares down the complexity of plot-lines and the speed at which plot-lines emerge and resolve to match its shortened season format. Instead Heartbreak High has a couple of diferent plot-lines, some getting more attention than others, but they last all 8 episodes. Te show can have these stories and characters be developed because they last longer, but overall there is less plot. Tis is one of my favorite new teen dramas and I would have loved to spend more time with these characters, but if we are going to have short seasons, I want them to be like that.

As much fun as I have easily bingeing these ten-episode shows, I am always left thinking about what could have been. How much more time could I have had with these characters, and how much more could have been done with them? And, when I’m left unsatisfied, I always find myself seeking out a show from the era of long-form television, a frequent revisit being the iconic One Tree Hill. So why not just bring long seasons back? The people clearly want it given the prolonged success of shows like Grey’s Anatomy, and I think that having fewer better shows would do everyone some good instead of the over-saturation of okay short-length shows.

Promotional image, Vampire Diaries, 2009-2017

It’s Always Sunny: Education and Entertainment Through Amoral Characters

BY JOSIE SCHIFF

I still vividly remember the frst time I watched It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I was around ten years old, and, for some reason, my parents thought it’d be a good idea to show me an episode before bed. However, my memory of the episode isn’t vivid because I found the show particularly moving or hilarious or smart. I remember it vividly because Frank Reynolds (Danny DeVito) threw a trash can at a homeless man he’d paid to fght him, causing a gruesome neck injury. Needless to say, it scared the crap out of me. I remember feeling so bad for that man and all the other people the main characters hurt: the women emotionally manipulated into sleeping with Dennis, the people in Frank’s sweatshop, the attendees of the fake baby funeral for tax benefts. Awful people doing awful things? Who in their right mind could enjoy a show where that’s the premise? Well, I guess one answer to that is me, right now. However, I would like to think this change is not because I somehow suddenly became a worse person or lost my morals. It’s because I realized that a show where the main characters are all amoral, selfish, narcissistic bigots ironically embodies a unique mixture of education and entertainment that one just can’t fnd in shows where

the main characters are decent people.

Often, when shows try to be educational in some way, they can feel preachy or superfcial, creating instinctual pushback in the viewer. However, the fact that It’s Always Sunny is trying to send a message by showing what one shouldn’t do rather than what one should allows the audience to be more receptive. Te show isn’t telling you what to do, it’s simply showing you terrible people and begging the question, Do you want to do what this character does? If you’re coming from a place of privilege in one aspect of your life or another, the show forces you to confront any biases you may have by mirroring them in the characters.

Now, I’m not trying to pass It’s Always Sunny of as an “educational show.” But I do think that it can be surprisingly illuminating for the very same reasons it gets pushback. Te gang are some of the most arrogant, idiotic, and delusional characters to ever grace the screen, but this makes it so that no one wants to watch It’s Always Sunny and identify with them. Charlie Day, a producer and actor in It’s Always Sunny, made a similar point when he said, “We’re able to keep doing what we’re

doing because the worse these people behave, the more the point of the storytelling comes across. If it’s missed, it’s missed. You can’t hold everyone’s hand.” Te extreme actions of the characters actually make it so that it’s more obvious that the show is satire. If these characters were more “moral,” the message of the show would be less obvious. Te ofensive actions of the characters would seem less intentional on the creator’s behalf, which could create confusion in the audience over whether the gang’s actions are endorsed or not. As it is, the more horrible and, frankly, pathetic they get, the more the viewer understands the show’s intention, and the more anyone who could identify with the gang wants to alienate themselves.

While It’s Always Sunny can create self-awareness in one liable to be an “oppressor,” it can also give marginalized individuals the space to process and laugh about what has been used to harm them in the past. While some could view laughing at serious issues as insulting, I don’t think laughter diminishes the importance of a situation. It can, however, diminish its power over you. Now, I am watching the show as a white woman, so I can’t speak for how this all works for jokes that focus on race – or frankly many of the numerous other issues the show contends with. However, I have found laughing at the blatant misogyny of the main characters to be strangely healing. In real life, we are – unfortunately – often exposed to people just like the characters in It’s

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Season 10, 2015

Always Sunny. However, unlike in real life, the show lets the viewer take back control. It’s Always Sunny lets the audience see people just like the ones who have potentially harmed them, except now it becomes clear how ridiculous and, honestly, sad those people’s lives are: pretty much all of the women Dennis believes he’s seduced just think he’s a creep, Dee has career dreams that have gone absolutely nowhere, Charlie eats cat food, etc., etc. Te characters perpetuating these messed up situations are so clearly unreasonable and ultimately just making themselves miserable that it creates a feeling of satisfaction in the viewer. We are not laughing with the characters, we’re laughing at them. Te viewer can see that the gang’s sexism, homophobia, racism, etc. (the list goes on…) really just stem from a multiple of insecurities and idiocies. Mac is homophobic partly because he is insecure about his own sexuality, Dennis harms others because “[he’s] got this giant gaping hole inside [him]. And [he’s] always tryin’ to fll it with somethin’,” while Charlie is just straight-up ignorant in general (Exhibit A: he burns trash to “recycle” it so the smoke becomes stars). Tese comedically extreme actions can serve as a gratifying reminder that people often act out in real life out of a place of, again, insecurity, patheticness, or ignorance.

One example of harmful behavior be

Promotional poster, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Season 14, 2019

ing shown as simultaneously dangerous and stemming from absurdity is Dennis’s system to emotionally manipulate women into sleeping with him – named the D.E.N.N.I.S. system after himself, of course. T ere’s a strange catharsis to the way his process of “Demonstrating value, Engaging physically, Nurturing dependence, Neglecting emotionally, Inspiring hope, and Separating entirely” lays out what is genuinely used to harm women while making the men perpetuating it seem absurd. I remember explaining a situation to my mom and she replied “It sounds like he’s D.E.N.N.I.S . system-ing you.” For a second I was shocked, but then I found it hilarious. She wasn’t entirely wrong, and putting it in such a ridiculous way made it seem much lighter without it making it seem like he was any less of an asshole.

In that moment, the show I had been shocked that my parents had shown me as a child had weirdly come in handy. I could f nally see the beauty of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia : its comedy makes reality feel lighter while still making the people perpetuating harmful behavior look like pathetic assholes. While It’s Always Sunny pushes the envelope, I think it’s often an envelope that needs to be pushed – both for those with privilege in their lives and for those with marginalized identities.

When you can see your own actions ref ected in amoral characters, it becomes instinct to want to change your behavior for the better. Plus, people are – unfortunately – going to continue to be assholes for the time being. You can either laugh or cry about it, and I’d rather laugh.

However, unlike in real life, the show lets the viewer take back control.

Obsessing Over the Obsessors: Understanding Romantic Obsession in the Studio Era

By Kaden Miller

Tere are a lot of movies with romances in them. With almost every movie having some kind of romantic element, even if the flm itself is not a romance, we’ve seen a couple’s love through almost every possible light –including the harsh, glaring light of romantic obsession. We might think of obsession as the unhealthy evolution of simply being in love, but this would then mean that the ultimate form of love would have to be unhealthy. We may also think of obsession as a possible side route that shoots of of a romance, particularly when one of the lovers is unwell. Regardless of how we defne obsession, and where it crosses over from love, popular cinema loves to tread and retread over diferent kinds of romantic obsessions, from Vertigo to Lolita to Fatal Attraction. And, though romantic obsession appears all over the place, I think it might be most interesting to look at the golden age of

Hollywood to fnd the roots of obsession in American cinema. Tis is not a hard task to accomplish: not only is the studio era fooded with romances, but many of them are drowned in male behavior that would easily cross the line into creepy obsession for contemporary audiences. I’ve selected three flms – Laura, Twentieth Century, and Rebecca – that each contain wildly diferent forms of romantic obsession: Laura is a suspenseful flm noir, Twentieth Century is a screwball comedy, and Rebecca is a mystery thriller. Te audience’s reaction to romantic obsession is very diferent in each flm, and I argue that the reason for this disparity all comes down to the presentation of the obsessor and the obsessee.

Laura is probably the most straightforward of the bunch. Sure, it contains three diferent obsessors, but they all function in the same way, and the audience interprets them in the same way. We learn frst of Waldo Lydecker, who is presented as the kind of boney old man that just immediately creeps you out (after all, we frst fnd him, surrounded by investigators, taking a bath). He continues to be a dominating presence in Laura’s life until he tries to kill her because of his insatiable desire for her to be only his. Shelby feels a bit classier to the audience – no doubt thanks to Vincent Price – but his repeated lying gives us the feeling that he’s ultimately out for Laura in a manipulative fashion. Finally, the only man that Laura’s involved with on an initially neutral level, McPherson, is eventually derailed

from his investigation because he becomes too engrossed in her beauty. All three of these men give us viewers the ick because, though they’re each a diferent kind of obsessor, they all share the same obsession – allowing their personal lives and best interests to be entirely sidetracked in the pursuit of Laura. Te flm even plays into this by attempting to lure us into the same web of obsession that McPherson falls into, as we’re bombarded with angelic imagery of Laura that depicts an otherworldly beauty and truly heavenly demeanor. She even keeps a painting of herself above her own freplace – a move that would usually provoke disdain from the audience, though Laura is so beautiful it doesn’t matter. By being taunted with a woman who is the incarnation of the stereotypical heterosexual male’s every desire, and simultaneously shown a parade of creeps that each would give anything for her, we’re given a very classical representation of obsession in Laura.

Twentieth Century gives us a completely diferent kind of relationship and a completely diferent kind of obsession. John Barrymore’s Oscar Jafe certainly has many spats with Lily, the object of his desire, though he never seems to wane from wanting her. Teir relationship seems more frightening even than that between Laura and any man, and we truly feel that they’re about thirty seconds away from killing each other (or themselves) at any point in the flm. Twentieth Century even provokes real undertones of spousal abuse as Jafe

spends the entirety of the flm domineering Lily’s life as much as he possibly can, or plotting a scheme to do so. Even his ultimate desire – the renewal of her contract to work for him once again – is eerily similar to a more typical abusive relationship in which the aggressor is pursuing marriage. As upsetting as the whole situation seems, Twentieth Century never plays as a tragedy of marital sufering but rather uses its obsession for hijinks. Te flm relies more on its goofy elements than its tragic elements primarily by manipulating our perception of Oscar Jafe. Director Howard Hawks has Barrymore crank his performance to ‘11’ here as he bumbles around dreaming of Lily, and because the flm doesn’t play Jafe’s character straight, we don’t fear for Lily as much as we do Laura in the face of her three schmucks. Furthermore, Lily is not a mere object of beauty that must be sheltered from the men around her – she can give as good as she gets. Typical for a Hawks female lead, Carole Lombard is as fred up as her male costar and, though Lily is ultimately bested, she continues to go round for round with Jafe for the duration of the flm. So, because we see Jafe as a bit of a goof and we know Lily can stand up for herself, the same fears we had for Laura’s safety can take a backseat to laughs.

Rebecca is easily the strangest of the bunch, and it focuses on a queer relationship – obviously a rarity for the studio era. Te portrayal of the obsessor and obsessee are also less neatly organized here, because the relation-

ship occurred before the flm began and the obsessee is already dead. To me, the version of obsession in Rebecca is less immediately disgusting than Laura and certainly less humorous than in Twentieth Century – instead, it’s immensely sad. Mrs. Danvers, Rebecca’s closeted lesbian lover and obsessor, appears hardened and cold after Rebecca’s death. Te order in which she’s kept Rebecca’s belongings, including her pillowcase, clothes, undergarments, and stationery is heartbreaking evidence that she’s entirely unable to cope with Rebecca’s passing. Furthermore, it’s implied that the flm’s ending – Mrs. Danvers burning down the massive home she and Rebec-

”ca had lived in – only happens because Danvers learns that Rebecca had been keeping her cancer a secret from her. Mrs. Danvers isn’t a creep or a goof, but just a lover in mourning. In fact, if we had seen their relationship while Rebecca was alive, I imagine that we wouldn’t even have the impression that Mrs. Danvers was anywhere beyond the usual bounds of love. I’m not justifying her actions against the second Mrs. de Winters, but her motivations are far less sinister than those of Waldo Lydecker or even Oscar Jafe. Furthermore, their relationship is especially tragic because we aren’t given a portrayal of the other half whatsoever. We know noth

Twentieth Century, dir. Howard Hawks (1934)”

Twentieth Century never plays as a tragedy of marital sufering but rath- er uses its obsession for hijinks “ ”

ing about Rebecca besides the subjective descriptions that certain characters provide late in the flm, but we’re not given anything substantive to understand Rebecca in an objective lens. Te lack of a physical obsessee for Mrs. Danvers to pine after gives us an almost pathetically sad impression of her that is a far cry from the prior flms.

Te specifc use of character, and the audience’s understanding of certain characters, can allow us to make two interesting hypotheses about the flms of the studio era. First, when it comes to communicating information with the audience in a world that didn’t view flm through an academic lens, I wager that flmmakers viewed characterization as a more sure f re way to express the themes of a f lm, and we see that in each of these examples. Because the three dopes in Laura are all identifably creepy characters, and they’re directly contrasted with an angelic woman of endless beauty, the flm’s commentary on romantic obsession is hard to miss. Similarly, neither Twentieth Century nor Rebecca are subtle about their expressions of obsession or how we’re meant to perceive Oscar Ja f e or Mrs. Danvers. T erefore, I imagine that these relatively straightforward portrayals of characters were essential in communicating the f lms’ ideas because of their ease of understanding.

But what are the implications of us -

ing this method of communication via characterization on how the studio era’s giants felt about romantic obsession? T e answer isn’t as clear-cut as I had thought it would be. Each of these three f lms share a single commonality in their impression of obsession – it’s not good. However, because of the variation in how obsession is depicted in these f lms, and even the variation in how obsession is depicted in the later f lms of the same f lmmakers (take Rebecca and Vertigo , for instance), there’s no singular conclusion that can be applied to the entirety of the studio era. Instead, I think that’s actually what we’re intended to see: romantic obsession is complicated, and it’d be unfaithful (and uninteresting) to see the same interpretation of it again and again on the silver screen. T ese f lmmakers knew how broad of a phenomenon romantic obsession is, and that by using characterization to express these di f erent kinds of obsession, they’d be able to thrill us, enrapture us, and stir us up in all the right ways. And they knew we’d be obsessed with their f lms.

Poster for Vertigo, 1958

Objectifying the Object in Greta Gerwig’s Barbie

BY MILLY BERMAN

Our culture is transfxed with the boundary between object and human – particularly, doll and human. Tis is why we have Chucky, M3gan, Annabelle, Life-Size, Toy Story, and Coraline, among many more. Te Barbie movie literalizes doll-to-human transition: cellulite and fat feet collapse the boundaries between dollhood (here, synonymous with perfection) and personhood. Te challenge that the flm encounters is trying to squeeze a narrative about womanhood into the encounter between person and nonperson. To what extent is an object able to negotiate questions that presuppose personhood, questions like the role of women in society? Te movie posits that dolls are at the very center of these questions, and that objects are a site where gender schemas are ‘played’ out and then refected back onto the real world. Te Barbies assume that they have solved sexism in the real world, while the real-life teenagers argue that Barbie has ruined the way women see themselves; the

foundation which all seem to agree upon is that dolls have shaped the culture around them.

Barbie is indeed shaping the world – but who is shaping Barbie? Te flm’s cop-out of an answer is Ruth, Barbie’s inventor and the benevolent ghost who returns to transform Barbie into a human at the faltering end of the movie. It leaves the viewer disappointed, because Ruth doesn’t have enough presence in the flm to feel like she is actually controlling the action. Her invention has expanded beyond herself, and her immortal (corpse) body resides trapped in an ofce building. Where, then, is the location of agency, in terms of Barbie’s form and function? Does Barbie (the doll, the object, or the “idea” as Ruth confoundingly calls her) shape herself? If Barbie made Barbie, then Barbie is the one to blame for all her impacts, good or bad, on society.

When Barbie becomes human

at the end of the movie, what she loses is her power. Te flm emphasizes the power of the object over that of the individual. Barbie in doll form is either destroying women’s self image, teaching women they can do anything, or (in the most literal sense) defeating patriarchy. In the end, Barbie is domesticated, reincorporated into the hegemonic ‘family’; her power is neutralized, and she is dethroned from object/ icon/doll to the more manageable (mortal) status of Woman. Barbie’s womanhood makes her an individual rather than a collective, and in the process of individuating, she loses her power. T e power of Barbie as an object is that she can be played with, animated, im person ated, automated, and hybridized. T e object can create meaning, absorb meaning, and re f ect meaning. T e non-human person is terrifyingly Other. T us there is the constant desire to make Barbie human and reinstate the boundary between human and nonhuman – in the f lm, to close up the portal between the real world and Barbieland and to make the dangerous potent hybrid into a (normal) human (total incorporation: to make the object a gynecological subject, a medicalized body).

Barbie (2023), dir. Greta Gerwig

Te problem of person/non

person hybridity is something the flm does not dare to leave unsolved. To not solve it would be to make Barbie a horror movie. In the TV series Servant, a reborn doll similarly problematizes the question of personhood. Te protagonist believes the reborn doll is real and that it is her own baby. One day, the realistic baby doll becomes a real baby. Here is where the horror of the show begins – what is so scary is the instability of the line between object and person. Barbie uses the same logic of horror but with a comedic tone, like when Weird Barbie stands in an inhuman split or when Barbie’s feet remain in the shape of her high heels. Tese moments incite laughter in the theater, but in diferent contexts could amount to body horror. Whether played for horror or for laughs, the common thread is our total discomfort with the power of objects and the mutability of personhood. Te work of the plot in Servant, much like Barbie, is to reinstate the boundary and to domesticate/ reincorporate those who crossed it.

Barbie and Servant both depict a close relationship between an adult woman failing at motherhood and her doll. In Servant, the mother’s infant baby died because of her neglect, and she turns to a baby doll in

order to forget her failure and recreate successful motherhood. In Barbie, Gloria’s teen daughter hates her, and she turns to playing with Barbies to relive her daughter’s youth. Failure as a mother means failure as a woman, and doll-play represents these women’s attempts to reclaim womanhood through fantasy. However, in doing so they disturb a double boundary: the boundary between object and person and the boundary between adulthood and childhood.

By failing at achieving appropriate femininity as a mother, these women fall outside of the bounds of normalcy, becoming grotesque. Te work of both flms, especially Barbie, is to reinstate the status quo by correcting the boundaries which these women and their dolls have crossed.

Boundary-crossing in these flms is always tied to womanhood, as the fgure of the monstrous female body is identifed with boundary-crossing non-personhood. It is Gloria’s inappropriate doll-play that breaks the boundary between doll and person and makes Barbie herself begin to transform into a person. Both Gloria and Barbie are involved in a mutually-bound boundary crossing. Barbie firts with the idea of the feminine monstrous, with Gloria’s dark and

By failing at achieving appropriate femininity as a mother, these women fall outside of the bounds of normalcy, becoming grotesque. “ ”

violent thoughts and Weird Barbie’s grotesque contorted body. Parallels between Gloria’s internal darkness and the condition of the dolls draw out the non-person status of women and the female body. For the men in Barbie, personhood proves easier to negotiate. Side character Alan notes that nobody would notice if he escaped to the human world, and quips that the band NSYNC were all originally Alan. Because the object-to-human transition is problematized for Barbie and Gloria but not for Alan, the movie’s central question of liminality is positioned as a uniquely feminine experience.

Barbie’s purported feminism is compromised by the nature of its engagement with boundaries and personhood. Its tendency to reify and support existing boundaries of animacy underlines the flm’s conservatism. In the end, Barbie left me wishing for a diferent fate for its titular doll, one that might reach for new possibilities.

Barbie (2023), dir. Greta Gerwig

THE END