Category: Media

Image made by Laura Elizabeth Hand, CC’19

Content Warning: sexual assault

As everyone reels from the news about Harvey Weinstein, the question of inequality for women in Hollywood finds itself once again at the forefront of conversation. Behind the camera, women are coming forward with stories of sexual assault, and we’re finally engaging in a conversation that should have begun years ago. But… what about in front of the camera?

In her acceptance speech at last month’s Emmys, Best Actress winner Nicole Kidman explained that she and Reese Witherspoon produced Big Little Lies to create “more great roles for women.” She was met with thunderous applause acknowledging her role in Lies as “great.” But I was lost.

Over the summer, I binged-watched probably hundreds of episodes of television and saw every movie in theaters. And there were, indeed, great female roles. Elisabeth Moss’s Offred was a strong feminist, Kimmy Schmidt made her way to college, Wonder Woman dominated at the box office, Anne of Green Gables made a triumphant return to television, and the women of This Is Us, Veep, The Crown, and so much more were complex and inspiring.

But when I turned to Kidman’s Big Little Lies, I couldn’t help but gasp at the tireless repetition of sexist tropes and same old plotlines. For those who don’t know, Big Little Lies follows four different mothers in an upper-middle class suburban town. Madeline, played by Reese Witherspoon, is the town gossip and an overbearing and self-centered mother. Jane, played by Shailene Woodley, is a single mom, new in town, with a troubled past. Her son, Ziggy, gets into trouble with Renata Klein, the hard-working businesswoman whose daughter claims Ziggy hurt her. And Kidman’s character, Celeste, is a stay-at-home mom who’s hidden the truth about her abusive husband for years.

If you look at the logline, you may buy Kidman’s claim about “great roles for women.” Save for perhaps Witherspoon’s one-dimensional character (who’s literally portrayed as if Elle Woods just grew up a tiny bit), the rest of the women indeed seem complex. But rather than focusing on the crux of the women’s troubled stories, the show spends the bulk of its time rehashing the fight  fight between Jane and Renata’s children. While the fight begins with a serious accusation, before long it becomes clear that Ziggy didn’t hurt Renata’s daughter, and that the fight has spiraled into an all-out war over who works harder: the working moms or the stay-at-home moms. By the end of the first episode, everyone in town has taken sides, and suddenly it’s like you’re watching a glorified version of a middle-school cat fight, but with birkin bags instead of friendship bracelets.

The subplots are equally uncompelling, and wouldn’t pass the Bechdel Test if you gave them all the leeway possible. Madeline can’t seem to get her new husband to get along with her old one, or convince the town to let her put on a production of Avenue Q. These are ridiculously privileged problems, yet the show makes them out to be as dramatic as the abuse Celeste is experiencing at home. Madeline finally connects with her teenage daughter by admitting that she cheated on her new husband. Oh great, isn’t that wonderful motherly guidance? Meanwhile, Renata doesn’t have sex often enough with her husband, and her poor daughter can’t get enough kids to come to her million-dollar birthday party.

But while all this is happening, the only two characters with the possibility for a compelling subplot also fall short. A few episodes into the series, we learn that Jane was raped and she fears that Ziggy will inherit his father’s violent tendencies, but this intriguing storyline barely gets any airtime. Celeste finally works up the nerve to go to a therapist, and the show’s only truly “great” female moments are in Kidman’s painfully accurate portrayal of a woman struggling to come forward about abuse. When Celeste finally decides to leave her husband, the depiction of women on the show finally feels empowered.

But within one episode, everything swings back again. In the final scene, at a ridiculously over-the-top school function, Celeste’s husband discovers she’s leaving and starts to hit her. Coming to her defense, Madeline, Jane, Renata, and one other woman hit him back, and we learn that Celeste’s abusive husband was the man who raped Jane all those years ago. Finally, the women accidentally push him over a cliff and kill him. It was an act of self-defense, and the audience breathes a sigh of genuine relief and hope for Celeste’s brighter future.

But then, they deny the murder. In talking to the police, not one woman comes forward with the truth. He simply fell, they say. In talking to the police, not one woman comes forward with the truth. Why? I’m not sure. In their silence, the women of Big Little Lies end their show not with a message of the importance of speaking out for victims of abuse, but of the harmlessness of staying silent. Suddenly, everything about the showKidman’s character and even Jane’s intriguing subplotseems far too convenient. For Jane, the question of her own PTSD and her son’s violent tendencies are suddenly resolved. And true, it seems like Celeste was about to finally stand up and leave, but by choosing to kill off the abuser, the writers eliminate the incredibly difficult period abused women struggle through, physically and emotionally, to take that step away. If this were a real woman, Jane’s and Celeste’s  struggles would not be over with a timely shove off of a cliff and a promise to never speak of it again. Abuse lives with people forever.

The show ends with a reconciliation. Like they’re in middle school again, Madeline, Jane, Celeste, and Renata are suddenly friends, joined together with a secret. But let me put it plainly: abuse is not a cute little secret you share with your friends. Abuse is not a problem that deserves less screen time and the same dramatic emphasis as does the question of whether to put on Avenue Q. Abuse is real, abuse is terrible, and abuse doesn’t resolve itself that easily.

Big Little Lies took home five Emmys this year. In her acceptance speech, Nicole Kidman said that the show helped “shine a light” on abuse. Maybe, but the small light the show shines is not enough. The women in the show aren’t “great”: they’re simple, naive, entitled, and don’t reflect the true complexities that women like Celeste and Jane (or even real-life Madelines) face every day. And in an industry where actresses experience sexual harassment every day and a world where men like Harvey Weinstein find success, Hollywood needs to do better.

So yes, Ms. Kidman: you’re right. Hollywood does need more great roles for women. But I’m afraid this wasn’t it.

Noticed in the early afternoon yesterday, students have discovered a new website titled “Fuck Spec“, a  website that currently has only one article. Said article is a copy of an op-ed posted by Meghan Brophy in the Columbia Daily Spectator entitled “Don’t just be a spectator” and includes annotated comments mostly criticizing and trivializing points made in the article. Brophy, a sophomore at Barnard, responded to the website criticizing her piece by posting a meme in the columbia buy sell memes Facebook group.

Brophy post regarding the FuckSpec website.

 

Advertisements have also been spotted throughout campus promoting the website.

A flyer spotted announcing the “grand opening” of Fuck Spec.

While many commenters suspected the site to be created by Bwog, known for its Fuck Spec stickers,  a writer from their team confirmed to The Lion that they are in fact not the owners of the website. A search by our team also found that the domain is in fact not owned by Bwog.

 

Know who the creator(s) of Fuck Spec are? Send in a tip by emailing us at submissions@columbialion.com

 

Image via Stocksnap

It’s finals season, which means it’s time to pull out your finest procrastination techniques. For those of you who have little success with this throughout the rest of the year (I’m looking at you, Butler all-nighters), I’ve put together a little how-to for you, focused on the best way to procrastinate: film.

1. Re-watch the classics:

There are some fantastic new titles on Netflix these days, including the classic Forrest Gump, Diane Keaton’s Something’s Gotta Give (fun fact: my mom based our kitchen off that movie), and the tear-jerking Schindler’s List. On Amazon, you can laugh at Caddyshack, delve into the world of Indianna Jones, or dance along to Footloose. If you’re looking for a two-hour study break, I’d definitely recommend watching one of those great films.

2. Binge a comedy:

If you haven’t watched all of Friends in one full reading week, do you really go to college? And if you have, have you done the same with Seinfeld, How I Met Your Mother, Arrested Development, and 30 Rock? By the second season of each, you can just leave it on on the background of your computer while you “work,” and the jokes will just soak into your skin like delightfully comforting rays of sun.  

3. Watch a chick-flick:

I know, I know, you’re too mature for the ridiculously over-dramatic and non-realistic world of chick-flicks. But let me tell you, there’s nothing as comforting as taking a break from your hours of studying to watch Jay Mohr win Jennifer Aniston’s heart in Picture Perfect, or listen to Hugh Grant’s deliciously attractive accent in any of his films. I’m telling you, chick-flicks will make you smile, and I have a feeling you haven’t been doing enough of that this week.

4. Head down to Broadway:

Yes, it’s reading week, but it’s also one of the only times you’re in New York without class, so take three hours to go downtown and see a fantastic Broadway show. This month, Matthew Perry is making his playwriting debut in The End of Longing, and shows like The Lion King, Wicked, and The Book of Mormon are still going strong. For cheaper tickets, check out off-broadway’s Avenue Q or The Fantasticks, which closes this month after over 50 years on the stage. (Protip: download the app TodayTix or head over to the TKTS booth for discounted prices).

5. When all else fails, watch The West Wing:

It’s the greatest show to ever be on television. You’ll thank me.

Have a great summer, everyone! Keep on watching!

Yael

 

Hello Columbia! My name is Remi (CC’20), and I’m the Creative Director for the Lion. I turned eighteen a few weeks ago, I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and I really love cats. One week ago today, I got a press pass to Bacchanal, and here is what went down.

No, this is not me pretending to write for Buzzfeed. Okay, maybe it is. Don’t judge. I’m fulfilling a fantasy, okay?

No, this is not me pretending to write for Buzzfeed. Okay, maybe it is. Don’t judge. I’m fulfilling a fantasy, okay?

Wednesday night before the concert the Bacchanal e-Board invited us press pass holders to discuss logistics (at like 11pm – and I had an exam the next morning, whoops). There were four of us: the Lion (me), Bwog, Spec, and something they called the “Bacchanal Press” which I’m pretty sure was them hiring CPS photographers to get their own pics of the event. The press pass gave us access to both the ‘private’ viewing areas directly to the left and right of the stage on Low steps in addition to the regular mosh pits (on map labelled “Front Viewing Areas.” We were also told we’d be given limited access to the middle aisle in front of the stage for a few minutes per act to get some close up shots.

Image courtesy of the Bacchanal e-Board.

Image courtesy of the Bacchanal e-Board.

We were told that last year, the Bacchanal committee only gave out one press pass, which they explained to us was a total disaster in that the individual was backstage very drunk and made the committee look terrible. As a result, Public Safety significantly limited our access to the middle aisle area this year. On that note, only myself and the Bwog rep showed up to that first meeting.

The day of the show, we met at the side entrance to Low at 9:30 am to pick up our wristbands and purple press passes.

They used my I.D. photo. Ew, am I right? Look at that shine.

They used my I.D. photo. Ew, am I right? Look at that shine.

I went up to hang on Low steps at around 12pm, in preparation for the show to start at 12:30pm. The show actually started at 1pm, but they kept telling us to advertise a 12:30pm start to get people to show up.
The first act was a student opener, Battle of the Bands winner THOU SHALT NOT Entertainment (made up of Vanessa Chadehumbe, Tarek Deida, and Jenny Goggin). Before the show started, Vanessa complimented my blue lipstick. I was in a little bit of shock! She’s a pretty rad person and super nice, you guys. When you’re rich and famous, please remember me and hire me to be your photographer! –sobs

These guys know what’s up.

These guys know what’s up.

Let the show commence! THOU SHALT NOT did an amazing job, even if there were only a dozen spectators on either side. There was a student group as backup dancers who were also pretty spectacular. Unless told otherwise, you definitely would’ve thought they were a professional group. Check out their Soundcloud here.

Jenny Goggin of THOU SHALT NOT.

Jenny Goggin of THOU SHALT NOT.

Vanessa Chadehumbe and Tarek Deida of THOU SHALT NOT. So fierce.

Vanessa Chadehumbe and Tarek Deida of THOU SHALT NOT. So fierce.

Next there was about a twenty minute break before the second act: Mykki Blanco. For those who don’t know, she is a poet, rapper, and activist originally from California. During her performance, she got the audience to chant phrases like, “Protect Trans Women,” and “Protect Black Children.” Very Columbia.

Goddamnit, CAVA, messing up my perfect shot. Mykki still slays, though.

Goddamnit, CAVA, messing up my perfect shot. Mykki still slays, though.

It was honestly wild, though. About a minute into her performance, she leapt off the stage, jumped three fences, and took a stroll down College Walk. The other photographers and I were clicking away literally running after her. It was the first time I’ve ever felt very ‘paparazzi-esque,’ but it was fabulous. She then ran across the railings leading towards Low; you could practically feel Public Safety having a panic attack.

Lol wut are you doing?

Lol wut are you doing?

 

You go, Glen Coco. You live your best life.

You go, Glen Coco. You live your best life.

Next came D.R.A.M. (Does Real Ass Music; real name Shelley Marshaun Massenburg-Smith). You may know him for his song Broccoli featuring Lil Yachty, which was nominated for a Grammy Award last year. The crowd was starting to seriously pick up at this point, and the atmosphere reeked of stale alcohol and low expectations. The pens were pretty much filled by this point – there were girls sitting atop shoulders above the crowd; a steady thumping as the audience jumped up and down. The lawns, of course, were packed, their residents either not possessing tickets or unable to be bothered to get swept into the crowd of sweaty, drunk teenagers. Sticky!

Yass.

Yass.

D.R.A.M. got the crowd pumped up!

D.R.A.M. got the crowd pumped up!

Things got a little hazy. The DJ Almand came on and gave a steady performance of his own techno / rap mixes, and kept changing into wacky costumes with each song change.. Despite the stupor, you definitely got the sense that everyone present was having a pretty good time. Lines to get into the pens snaked around the corner while popcorn and Rice Krispie squares were being given out by the handfuls. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get any clear shots of Almand due to the Bacchanal committee sort of forgetting about us press people? It’s all good; poor guys, they seemed so stressed. Almand’s music was great, though, and he really engaged with the crowd, coming down off the stage and taking selfies with the crowd. At one point he took someone’s phone and took a picture onstage with the crowd!

Aluna Francis of London-based electronic duo AlunaGeorge.

Aluna Francis of London-based electronic duo AlunaGeorge.

I texted them halfway through AlunaGeorge and they were able to let in us. She was so much fun: the perfect concluding act! I don’t feel like that many people were familiar with her songs, but they were catchy, lively, and caught on quickly with the crowd. The viewing areas were super packed, and there was a lot of wild fist pumping going on. I saw a lot of glitter. There was enough glitter for a lifetime…

And the crowd goes… WILD!

And the crowd goes… WILD!

During her last song, she invited a bunch of people from the private, Low steps viewing areas onto the main stage. I, unfortunately, was not among such elite ranks, and had been taking pictures from the crowd. Oh well! It was super cool to see normal people having some fun onstage – and a very nice closing touch. I actually wasn’t there because I lowkey got tired right before the end and went back to my room to destress. I live in John Jay, and have a nice room facing Low – and was able to get this pretty nice shot of the end of Bacchanal!

Yeah, my view’s pretty swanky. I stuck my camera lens out the tiny amount we’re allowed to open our windows.

Yeah, my view’s pretty swanky. I stuck my camera lens out the tiny amount we’re allowed to open our windows.

My thoughts and reflections?

Overall, getting ~backstage access~ and a ~special pass~ was pretty fun. 9/10 dentists would recommend. If you have the opportunity to get special access to Bacchanal another year – whether that might be being apart of the planning committee, or for one of the publications or performance groups, I’d check it out. It let me experience the event in a really special way, and I’d definitely be open to doing it again. It got me out of my comfort zone, which is what college is all about!

Bacchanal itself was pretty cool! It was my first, and a good first, I think! The music was great, I loved the student openers and the craziness of some of the performers. I’ve never been that much of a party/concert person, but I feel more open to them now after forcing myself to go to Bacchanal.

Whether you got to be apart of the crowd, casually observed from the lawns, or flaked altogether, one thing is sure – Mykki Blanco’s green hair slays for centuries.

~
If you liked these photos, click here to see the full album on the Lion’s Facebook page, all personally shot (unedited – I ain’t got time for that!) by yours truly.

Image via NBC

I’ve been thinking a lot about NBC lately. I’m directing Neil Simon’s Laughter on the 23rd Floor this semester (shameless plug: come see it this weekend!), a hilarious and partly-true comedy that discusses the network’s decision to cancel the 1950’s SNL-like sitcom Your Show of Shows. In the play, NBC is depicted as a money-hungry corporate machine, and I’ve wondered about this every night when I finish running the show with my cast and return to my apartment to watch one of my many shows on none other than nbc.com.

Is NBC still a money machine? Some evidence would suggest that this remains the case. Take Dick Wolf, the procedural drama king, for example. He’s best known for SVU and Law and Order, but when he created Chicago Fire five years ago, he tapped into a niche market. A show about heroic firemen and women had everyone’s attention, and I was right there with the masses as we rooted for everyone at Firehouse 51– for Severide to defeat his drug addiction, for Casey and Dawson to finally get together, for everyone at the firehouse to save another life. At its beginning, Chicago Fire was extraordinarily entertaining, heart wrenching, and even inspiring (in 2013, I witnessed a car crash, and the first thought that ran through my head was to call 911 because I felt like I trusted the fire department more than I ever had before).

But then Chicago Fire took on a ridiculous plotline– Lieutenant Matt Casey was in a constant fight with crooked cop Hank Voight– and I literally cringed every time Voight took the stage. His character was completely unlikeable, and even since his spinoff Chicago P.D. began that year, I have yet to find a single reason to root for this abusive policeman. But I’ve been forced to watch Voight every week because I want to keep up with Chicago Fire, and crossovers are happening too often to ditch one of the shows.

In 2015, Wolf, always one to build on a franchise, added Chicago Med to the mix, which has surprisingly turned into the best in the Chicago series. Med’s staff has some of the most insightful characters of the whole Chicago franchise, and by now I really only watch any of these shows to see how Sarah helps her mentally ill patients, how Will continues to defy hospital policy, how April deals with her tuberculosis. But again, if I ever want to keep up with Med, I have to watch Fire and P.D.

About a month ago, Wolf iced off the cake with Chicago Justice, of which I could only get through two horrifically written (and acted) episodes before finally giving up. I get it– Dick Wolf wants to make more money– but is it really worth sacrificing this much quality? Chicago P.D. and Chicago Justice are probably two of the worst shows on television right now, and it’s an embarrassment to NBC to continue airing them.

Then again, NBC isn’t all that bad. They still produce Saturday Night Live, the best sketch show to hit TV since Sid Caesar’s Show of Shows itself. They host Late Night with Seth Meyers, The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, and The Voice. They were home to some of TV’s greatest shows like 30 Rock and The Office. And their biggest hit this season, This is Us, was exceptionally well-done. They thrive when they air comedies and variety shows, and for years Dick Wolf has been their go-to drama man.

NBC’s newest show, John Lithgow’s Trial & Error, also holds promise. I’ve only watched the first episode, but it left me laughing and wanting more. Whoever’s idea it was to pair Lithgow with Glee’s adorable Jayma Mayes deserves an Emmy for that alone. I wasn’t floored with laughter, but I was left hopeful, and the artistry behind the show made it clear that the producers weren’t in this for the money.

So I don’t think NBC has a money problem– I think they have a Dick Wolf problem. Maybe this time he has pushed the line between quality and quantity too far– and is on the verge of ruining NBC for everyone.

 

The Must-Binge List: After learning about the foundation of Mormonism in my religion class, I’m now three seasons deep into HBO’s Big Love, which follows a polygamist family in their daily lives. It’s a relatively old show, made especially poignant now by lead Bill Paxton’s recent death, but its messages still hold true today. While it has its ups and downs (you’ll have to bear with them as they drudge through the middle of Season Two), the show’s overall depiction of true human emotions is definitely worthwhile. Paxton plays the role of father/ husband/ patriarchal authority perfectly, and his three wives (played by Jeanne Tripplehorn, Chloe Sevigny, and Ginnifer Goodwin) are equally impressive. Where other actors in the show lack (see: Amanda Seyfried as the painfully whiny daughter), the four leads are fantastic. My Grade: B

 

P.S.– Laughter on the 23rd Floor is playing Thursday, April 6th at 9pm, and Sunday, April 9th at 2pm and 7pm in the Kraft Center!