In summer 2020, I witnessed the eerie formation of a narrative: the sensationalized focus on the police officer that little matched the masses’ sentiments regarding prisons. There was lots of “ACAB!” and little “Prisons are obsolete.”
It’s the quality of so much sorrow held at the brink that attracted me to "BoJack Horseman." It’s brilliant, at once both witty and belly-laugh silly, and often capable of being shockingly real.
I remember burying the seeds every time I ate an apple. They never grew into apple trees. I remember going to the airport for fun. I remember, on Thompson Street, the moment they called the 2020 presidential race. I remember the way my childhood home smelled when it was completely empty.
At a 1949 science-fiction lecture, the prolific pulp writer Lafayette Ronald Hubbard—L. Ron, for short—opined that, “Writing for a penny a word is ridiculous. If a man really wants to make a million dollars, the best way would be to start his own religion.
If disasters harm humanity, what is the purpose of creating more disasters in fiction? A case study of the Japanese science fiction story that has been adapted nine times since its release as a novel in 1973.
Museums are tied to the interests of their funders and the power structures of their governing bodies, creating an impossible-to ignore-tension between the institution and the often radical artists showing their work within the institution’s walls.
The fourth installment of "A Seat at Our Table," featuring “Breaking the Stigma: Black Mental Health Narratives in Film” by Andrea Maia, “Black Trauma and Resistance in Film: A Characterization of Police Brutality” by Cecilia Innis, “The Magical Negro Trope in Literature and Film” by Sydney Cusic, “Black Women and Liberation in Blaxploitation Films” by Louis Tambue, and “Portrayals of Black Masculinity in ‘Paid in Full’” by Michael Flom.
How do the film's varying portrayals of Black masculinity fuel the idolization of each of the three main characters?