Reverie Spring 2023

REVERIE

SPRING 2023

Letter From the Editors

In the summer of 2022, the three of us came together to start a magazine centered around arts appreciation in all its forms. Living in a busy college environment, we are surrounded by all sorts of creatives who produce and engage with amazing work. This magazine was formed to give them a space to slow down and discuss, celebrate, and critique the art they’re passionate about. It’s hard to define what art is and this di culty is exactly why, to quote our mission statement, it “requires more than just passive consumption.” We believe it requires immersion, a reflective experience where one is absorbed and completely lost in thought: a reverie.

After months of meetings, spending hours in bedrooms, co ee shops, and zoom calls, we finalized our vision for a new home dedicated to the fruitful discourse of everything from music to film to literature. We are so grateful for all we have learned and we are so proud of the final product.

To our writers, editors, designers, and everyone who helped with the production of our first issue thank you. Thank you not only for your commitment to working for Reverie, but also for your love of art and the sincerity with which you express this passion. We know there are countless other ways to spend your time and for you to collaborate with us means the world. And to our readers, thank you for supporting us and we hope you enjoy the brilliant work of everyone involved.

With love, Sofia, Mateo, and Alexis

What If I Enjoy Critical Analysis and Being a Hater?

Why I Am Now Wary of the Word ‘Fun’.

BY DANIELLE MOMOH

Fun. Seems like a simple enough word. It looks di erent for each person you’ll ever meet. Even the most jaded college student with a trenta of cold brew in their hands and a look of hell in their eyes saw, felt and understood fun on tawdry weekends in their past. When it comes to movies, TV shows, or any sort of media, most people see ‘fun’ as a positive descriptor. It’s not a word that’s loaded with any pitfalls or hidden meanings at least not usually. So why is it that when I do my daily doom scroll on my favorite internet hellscape twitter anytime I glimpse the word fun, I instinctively flinch? I half shut my eyes, bracing for the impact of what is sure to be the worst opinion I have ever seen in my life. Why is it that seeing the phrase “let people have fun!!!” or its even more dangerous and tired accomplice “let people enjoy things,” incites a terrible rage within me? Because, like most initially innocent things, the internet has taken ‘fun’ a step too far. They assign ‘fun’ to pieces of media that anyone might have slated, using it as a cure all for any mediocre to genuinely shoddy piece of media that has caught social media’s attention for five minutes. And I for one am sick of it.

Before getting into the twisted psyche of the faceless twitter users that peddle this phrase up and down an already ravaged timeline, it’s important to know thine enemy. When it comes to the types of media that are pointed to as an example of ‘fun,’ there are always repeat o enders. These are the types of movies or TV shows that people seem most eager to point to and scream “turn o your brain!”

First on the lineup are Marvel movies. The MCU has dealt the film industry and film culture an intelligence blow, the repercussions of which cannot be overstated. But their harshest impact has been on people’s ability to discern, or more accurately, people’s desire to discern a good quality movie from a bad quality one. Every single time a new MCU film or one of their quasi-important TV shows releases, half of the world rushes to proclaim it as another momentous entry into a world that is stu ed full of momentous entries already. They convince themselves that a lazy addition to an already bloated cinematic universe is not only groundbreaking, but the epitome of fun. Aliens, infinity stones, billionaires playing dress-up, actual gods; no matter how poorly these are packaged, it is more important that we see 34 post-credits scenes that set up their next random miniseries. Marvel has convinced so many people that this is what a good time at the movies is. I’m sure there was a time that the MCU was interesting, thought out, perhaps even good. But that time has long passed, while its staunch supporters still number in the millions. With plot lines that make little to no sense, jokes that consistently fall flat, and directing

Zendaya and Tom Holland as MJ and Spiderman in Spiderman: No Way Home (2021): Sony Pictures.

that well… have you seen Spiderman: No Way Home? Despite all this, the slightest critique of a scene’s lighting or costuming or blocking, earns you a reply section that looks like a war zone.

The onus is not all on the MCU though. No, the issue is more pervasive than a superhero brand. Many forms of media get this treatment just for the simple fact that they are popular and liked by many people. Some big-budget movies get a blind-to-all-flaws treatment, bypassing a quality check by way of sheer cash inserted into the project. A very recent example is Top Gun Maverick. To be fair, I have not seen the film and frankly I have absolutely no plan to. But, watching the pushback to people calling out the film’s intense US military propaganda made my head hurt. Fans of Maverick rushed to the internet to gush about Tom Cruise single handedly bringing back movies, with explosions and shirtless beach scenes galore. The swoop of the government sanctioned killer pilots was lauded as the most exhilarating thing put to screen in a long time, and that those complaining about the propaganda should just relax and have fun.

Has ‘fun’ gone so far as to cancel out the fact that the US military has committed so many atrocities that one would need libraries full of books to properly document them all? The film received millions of dollars of equipment from the Department of Defense and the original 1986 Top Gun even accepted script changes from the department. Calling out the military propaganda in these movies isn’t detailed analysis: it’s common sense. Unfortunately, this situation is not unique to movies about fighter pilots. Media that uncritically pushes moral reprehensibility is frequently shoved in the “it’s not that serious” box, attempting to seal up any further critique of that person’s current favorite movie or tv show. Calling out how disconnected the Marvel franchise seems ever since Iron Man famously snapped his fingers can earn one a dogpile of “don’t take it so seriously!”. Attempting to defend it by saying it doesn’t matter isn’t a defense at all. Rather, it reveals more about the person that says it than the piece of media that they’re trying to save.

The word “fun” is not just thrown around in a conscious e ort to upset the pretentious art lovers (me) of the world—no matter how much it may feel like that. What reasons could they possibly have? For one, no one wants to feel stupid just because they enjoyed a show with less than an 80% on rotten tomatoes. If avoiding this means having to downplay the seri-

ousness of having great art, perhaps it’s not surprising that so many people push for enjoyment over quality. After all, what you like does say a lot about you. People who genuinely love Harry Styles’ acting are not exactly who I’d want to be friends with, and honestly if you said to me with a straight face that you thought Thor: Love and Thunder was the best movie of 2022, I’d maybe avoid you for the rest of my life. This is not to say I cannot empathize with the fear of being called stupid on the internet just because you like a certain Netflix TV show. I just dont think rallying against the concept of good things is the best way to avoid this.

Perhaps I have hit on the feeling of avoidance and guilt, but in the wrong avenue. When they pull out the phrase “let people enjoy things” the way I would pull out an especially handy swiss army knife, it could be to fight o the impending quandary within themselves for enjoying something with i y ethics. Just as frequently as bad quality movies are defended, ones with problems beyond odd lighting choices are as well. There must be a lingering feeling of wrongness when one defends Sam Levinson’s 456th nude scene in Euphoria of a girl who is canonically a minor. Telling everyone (and thereby yourself) that nothing on screen is serious allows one to avoid thinking about why you don’t have a problem with something. This is a more egregious reason, and one that is even harder to bring up online. How do you tell someone they are trying to avoid self-reflection because of their opinion on the latest Netflix

“They assign ‘fun’ to pieces of media that anyone might have slated, using it as a cure all for any mediocre to genuinely shoddy piece of media that has caught social media’s attention for five minutes.”

Tom Cruise in Top Gun Maverick (2022): Paramount Pictures.

mini-series? But no possible justification frightens me more than the simple possibility that people don’t care about good art, or even worse, they don’t see any of the media they consume as art in the first place. Is it that people who are constantly championing “fun” don’t care about the quality of what they enjoy because they see film as, essentially, the same as a redbull ad? That, unlike the other two reasons, keeps me up at night.

Okay, full confession: I have used the word fun before. That’s because in spite of all I could say, it is true: some movies are fun. Take Sucker Punch, aka Zach Synder’s attempt at girl power. It’s a film that’s so obsessed with almost upskirt shots of girls who are burlesque dancers/mental institution patients it forgets to have a single non 2-D character. Despite this, (and the fact that without slow motion the movie is about 15 minutes long) I have a great time watching Sucker Punch. To use the dreaded word again, it’s fun. But the fact that I enjoy watching pretty girls wield swords doesn’t make me want to seriously defend the movie’s quality. I frequently joke that Sucker Punch is so misogynistic it swings round to being feminist, but I don’t actually mean that. My fear is that people on social media do. The obvious rebuttal is that no one on Twitter is ever being serious but the e ects of this laissez-faire attitude towards art has shown up in more places than my cursed timeline.

Marvel is partly able to get away with their increasingly low quality films because of this “who cares” mindset. This downward spiral isn’t just a bloated and overly comfortable franchise losing its already weak footing, it’s an issue a ecting real people’s jobs. According to an anonymous Vulture report, The MCU has become a no-go for many VFX artists. The cinematic universe’s increasingly poor special e ects stems from their disrespect of the people who create what is (at this point) 90% of what you see on screen. It frequently accepts low starting bids from visual-e ects houses, leading to severe understa ng on large projects. Several artists attest to not being given enough time to work on projects, and being forced to make major changes mere weeks before a release date. To make matters even worse, it is not uncommon for a visual-e ects house to be blacklisted from all future Marvel work if these impossible demands are not met.

Despite this, when this news broke and there was urging for VFX artists to unionize, several people still didn’t see the problem. So what if they’re overworked? Who cares how movies look?

It’s not like they’re an audiovisual art form or anything. When people cry and state that all art should be fun, that it shouldn’t be taken so seriously, they’re also saying all the work and hopes that people put into even a single frame of a given film doesn’t matter. Truly caring about art and caring about people aren’t two separate things. You can’t have one without the other.

What’s especially odd to me is the idea that without shutting o your ability to think critically, it is impossible to watch and read or consume any art happily. This is blatantly not true. There is quality fun to be had and it frankly makes me sad that people seem allergic to it. Pretending that a movie has to be surface level to incite any sort of pleasure is not only false, but an insult to one’s intelligence. Om Shanti Om is not only one of the most fun musicals I have ever watched in my life, but it’s also a deeply clever one. It centers around Om, a struggling D-list actor. He is killed as a result of a deeply suspicious film-set fire, and is reincarnated as a nepotism baby. After realizing that his past self’s death was not an accident, he sets out to seek justice for himself and his great love who perished in the same fire. The film strikes a balance between making fun of the industry it’s in and expressing a deep love for it. Its commentary on ego, nepotism, and celebrity culture is so layered, with references to the Bollywood industry simultaneously flying over my head and springing up in my mind fully realized. And it has a full ten minutes where Shah Rukh Khan is shirtless and soaking wet. I do not have to shut o my brain to enjoy something so obviously great.

As someone whose college major involves analyzing media, I can understand wanting to give yourself a break from the hard stu . I know not everyone watches The Witch or First Reformed to unwind, but that’s not what the use of ‘fun’ is about. It actively discourages thinking about any media that you come across, which is not only dangerous but literally impossible. Analysis is not just pausing frame by frame and writing down the significance of the light’s angle on cobblestone. I hate to break it to the anti-thought crowd, but even thinking someone looks nice in a show is a form of analysis. You call into

Shah Rukh Khan and Deepika Padukone in a still from Om Shanti Om (2007): Red Chillies Entertainment.

question the makeup being used, the way the person is lit on set, the very acting that contributes to the idea of “looking nice.” That’s not to touch on one’s own notions of what nice looks like, or what the word nice means generally and specifically for them. In a way, deciding not to “think critically” about a piece of media is the harshest critique of all.

Honestly, I think the real reason “sometimes I don’t want to think about what anything means” and all tweets similar to it get so much support is because there is a notion that analysis takes away enjoyment. They think criticizing things takes all the joy away from something, but consider this: analysis is a joy in itself. In fact, I would say it’s one of the keenest joys I’ve ever known. Taking something apart, seeing its insides, why it works, how it works, why it doesn’t and then putting it all together again is akin to magic for me. Turning something around, attempting to view it from a di erent perspective is my way of appreciating art, of showing that I care enough to look deeper. When I rant about the pacing of a prequel series or gush about the use of color in a French musical, I am not forcing myself to do so. I am having fun.

"When I rant about the pacing of a prequel series or gush about the use of color in a French musical, I am not forcing myself to do so. I am having fun."

DESIGNED BY MADI KOESLER

Emily Browning in Sucker Punch (2011): Photograph: Clay Enos/Allstar/Warner Bros.

Following the release of Mac Demarco’s 2019 album, Here Comes the Cowboy, critics responded with overwhelmingly lukewarm reviews. A far cry from his critically-acclaimed debut project, Salad Days, the “Chamber of Reflection” singer delivered a disappointing performance throughout the album’s 13-track run.

Pitchfork reviewer Sam Hockley-Smith said, regarding the album: “It sounds nice, but for a lot of its runtime, it also sounds like DeMarco is exhausted, like he’s ready to move on and try something new but is trapped in a creative holding pattern.” With Demarco the poster child for the Indie genre at the peak of his popularity, it seems as though he has reached artistic stagnation.

This is not an isolated phenomenon. Lorde’s Solar Power, Weezer’s Black Album, Rex Orange County’s Who Cares?, and Ed Sheeran’s (Equal) are a few of the recent projects that have been released to mixed reviews. It seems as though Indie music exists as a paradox, running contrary to other mainstream categories.

Indie fans tend to ‘gatekeep’ artists, hoping to obscure them from the public eye, fearing that mainstream success will undermine the sound of their favorite mid 2000’s experimental shoegaze albums. This behavior comes from the fear that popularity will ruin the quality of this music. We’ve all seen or heard some form

of “X artist is really underground, you probably don’t know them;” though it is a bit exaggerated, the sentiment behind this joke indeed rings true among the Indie community.

Fans hide their favorite artists to maintain the intimate, homegrown atmosphere within their respective spaces. As a small artist, the interaction and engagement with fans is much higher than those that have ‘made it big.’ Thus, the niche communities pushing quasi-religious worship between Indie fans and artists leads the desire to preserve some form of covert mystique.

The essence of the Indie genre lies in the ‘independent,’ nature of the music and the artists behind them. Independence, in this context, refers to a complete severance between the music produced and any form of commerciality.

The metric indicative of “Success” for an Indie artist, therefore, does not lie in fame, fortune, and international fandom. It rather lies in the dedication and esteem of their listeners. This is where Indie music diverges from the mainstream; Indie music, and the surrounding community, prioritizes the preservation of musical integrity quality over quantity.

The above-listed albums are only a few examples of the consequences of mainstream appeal. Though this is not a new concept, this issue requires further exploration. Are popularity and music quality inversely related?

Indie/Pop Are Mutually Exclusive

BY AUBREY HOES

Across the board, the opposite seems to be the case. Common sense tells us that if something has a broad appeal among large populations, then there must exist some inherent value. The rap genre is a perfect illustration of this idea. Within the rap community, some of the most popular names (Jay-Z, Nas, Lil Wayne, Notorious B.I.G.) are lauded as some of the most skillful rappers in the 50-year history of the genre, despite mainstream success.

So why is the opposite e ect true for Indie artists? The issue lies in commercialization; mainstream appeal stands as the antithesis of the very definition of Independent music. Some of the biggest names in the genre have seemingly sold their sound for radio edits and increased album sales, at the expense of creative freedom and obscurity–trading o the quality of their brand, sound, and their fanbase.

International pop-star Ed Sheeran serves as the perfect case study for this analysis. Sheeran swiftly reached stardom in 2011 after the release of his debut album, (Plus) an assault on “Music industry conformity,” as per Guardian author Alexis

Petridis. The project had sold almost 1,000,000 copies after three months, receiving triple platinum certification. Sheeran’s popularity has only continued to grow since his initial release. Currently, the “Shape of You” singer receives over 78 million monthly listeners on Spotify, cementing himself as one of the moststreamed artists in the world.

Sheeran’s initial album was met with high-praise; metacritic granted Plus with a ‘metascore’ (compilation of critic reviews) of 67, and a user score of 7.7/10. According to reviewers, Plus remains his most successful album. Following international recognition, Sheeran has released three other studio albums: Multiply, Divide, and Equal. However, the quality of each successive project seemed to diminish in quality as Sheeran’s signature British-folk sound grew stale. The artist’s bold and visceral storytelling in songs like “A Team” provided a fresh perspective within the Indie scene.

Unfortunately, Sheeran ultimately failed to evolve as a musician, sliding into the formulaic behavior apparent among many mainstream artists, leading him to create Equals, a universal-

ly-panned album released in 2021. A dilution of Sheeran’s earlier sound, Equals stands as the husk of a decent pop album with the echoes of genuine emotion. Singles like “Shiver” display generic pop synths coupled with ambiguous lyrics, though one could use this language to describe any Ed Sheeran song released in the past six years.

Ed Sheeran isn’t the only example of commercial dilution. Weezer one of the most distinguished Indie groups of the genre–has also experienced a similar trend among their discography. Following the release of their debut, The Blue Album, their sophomore project, Pinkerton, and their junior LP, The Green Album, all of which were certified platinum, Weezer had a rmed their influence over the saturated 90’s Indie rock scene and the alternative music scene over the next decade.

With three critically-acclaimed albums already produced, Weezer had reached the peak of their popularity. With the pressure to produce, the band struggled to recreate the prior success of their early work, producing lazy, uninventive follow up works such as

Maladroit or Make Believe. Though the group attempted to break away from their mold, the lackadaisical and apathetic nature of their subsequent albums grew tiresome for fans. The band is still somewhat successful today, but their sound has completely changed from the pop-punk days of “Buddy Holly” or “The Good Life,” and the band has since been unable to reach the heights of their initial successes.

As a more contemporary example, Alexander James O’Connor, better known as Rex Orange County, rose to fame in 2017 after the release of his first studio album, Apricot Princess. In the same year, O’Connor was featured on rap superstar Tyler the Creator’s album, Flower Boy, further propelling him toward stardom. Previously, the “Best Friend” artist had a rather small following on Spotify, and he’d carved a niche among his peers within the lo-fi/ bedroom pop subgenre. O’Connor’s heavy use of orchestral production along with the support of his sunwashed lead guitar was entirely unique yet retained a certain amount of comfort and familiarity that resonated with listeners.

Though the trajectory of Rex Orange County’s career is yet unknown, it appears that it is trending similarly to those listed above. The artist’s 2022 release, Who Cares?, asks the question to which fans have been eagerly waiting to hear the answer. Who Cares? is simply a continuation of his previous two LPs, though with increased production quality.

O’Connor’s inclusion of the string section in almost every single song on the tracklist, though charming in previous projects, has now overstayed its welcome. Though the album

provides some notable performances from the artist, particularly on tracks such as “Shoot me Down” or “Who Cares,” the rest of the project is balanced out by its overall uninspired and disingenuous ‘feelgood’ attitude. In his most recent release, O’Connor unfortunately falls into the unfortunate pattern: In order to replicate success, replicate the sound. Though this may have initially worked, these monotonous and inauthentic imitations fail to hold up under a microscope of millions of listeners worldwide. Ultimately, the discon-

nect lies in the failure to evolve with the fans and with the genre.

Rex, Sheeran, and Weezer had all signed to major record labels prior to their ascent to popularity. Unfortunately, commercial music is a product in its basic form. Profit incentive clearly seems to be a detractor to artistic creativity, though this may not be entirely the fault of the artist.

Record labels tend to force lengthy and limiting contracts upon their signed artists, restricting the creative voices, budgeting, and ownership rights to their music. In essence, record labels are a business, and it is the contractual obligation of the musician to produce a product that is financially viable for the label; this often means that creativity and originality may be hampered in the process, due to the demand for mass appeal and advertisability.

Profit incentive does not have a universal adverse e ect on music quality. However, it is the unique appeal of the Indie genre that runs contrary to that of commercial pop. Experimentalism and the mystique of the

obscure are what draw such dedicated listeners to the genre.

Unfortunately, for many artists, producing music independently can prove to be an unsustainable practice. According to a study conducted by MIDia research, Indie artists, on average, yield over $12,000 in annual income, while those who have been signed to a music label net almost double this amount.

Additionally, 59% of Indie artists responded that they were frequently worried about their financial situation, while only 48% of label artists reported the same. Thus, the trajectory of Indie artists entering the mainstream may be inevitable, as the creation of art for the sake of it-

self in a capitalistic society is clearly not economically feasible.

There exists a fine line between Indie praise and mainstream popularity, forming an unquantifiable plateau to the level of success that enables an artist to maintain their music quality. Locating the balance between the two may be the key to the successful development of an Indie career. Artists such as Beach House, Arctic Monkeys, Bon Iver, and a slew of others on the list of most streamed indie artists have been able to preserve the integrity of their music throughout their career, permitting a lasting longevity within the genre.

Though these artists may have become widely known, their music never reached the radio-hit status, therefore retaining some form of esotericism. Indie critical acclaim and lasting power can be attributed to pre established sound. Arctic Monkeys, Bon Iver, and Beach House had all produced critically-acclaimed bodies of work, along with established discographies prior to their success.

The di erence in their trajectory lies in the creative preservation of their music. Consistent experimentalism along with constant adaptation to the tastes of the listeners allowed these groups to maintain the engagement of dedicated fans while simultaneously ensuring that their music remains fresh and original. It is the massive, instantaneous rise to success, however, that leaves artists without a clue of how to proceed sonically, breeding artistic stagnation.

Popularity and Indie music do not go hand in hand, but with a caveat. It is possible to maintain success without selling out. Establishing a sound prior to success is the way to best preserve music

quality. Though gatekeeping may be a successful strategy, responsibility ultimately lies on the artist to determine their fate. Unfortunately, finding artists that have been able to balance sound and success is a rarity. So hold on tight to your copies of Favorite Worst Nightmare and Teen Dream, because it all gets worse from here.

After writing this article, news broke that Rex Orange County has been charged with multiple counts of sexual assault. The inclusion of any discussion regarding the artist is in no way an endorsement of the actions that have been alleged. Reverie Magazine outright condemns this behavior, and we are deeply saddened by these revelations.

Hemp Against Hegemony

BY ELLA WILLIS

LA natives Henry Gibson and William Simon, on their mission to make the world think differently with their hemp-based T-shirt company, Jacaranda.

Their radical rejection of the mainstream is seen explicitly in their creative expression. Eye-grabbing doodles with intricate detail that are in some ways reminiscent of Ralph Steadman’s ink-splattered illustrations in Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Others are more simplistic, fine lined sketches like the people with dog’s heads playing frisbee under the clouds that read “If Dogs Run Free Why Can’t we?” Their art fully commits to a rejection of authority and conformity, encouraging the viewer to think independently. “Our designs are meant to provoke thoughts that people might not usually have and then they can just go wherever they want with those thoughts. It’s not meant to tell you what to do, it’s just meant to be interpreted however you like,” said Gibson.

Jacaranda’s original design depicts four hands each with legs and an eye in the center. It simply states “yes. no. why? because.” With these four simple words, they take the view-

er on a philosophical journey of questioning to arrive at the conclusion of peacefully living with chaos or uncertainty.

In another design, the front left chest taunts “I can see through you” with a graphic of a person looking down at a hole in their stomach and a sun smiling while channeling rays through the cavity. Simon told me that this shirt is “more or less checking people and making sure they aren’t putting up a front or facade and are staying real and authentic. If I’m about to start talking to someone with that on their shirt it might make me double-think: am I about to say something I truly mean?”

Staying true to their commitment to individuality, a blank T-shirt will be o ered in the first drop in November 2022. “We also don’t want to restrict people,” Gibson said. “If they want to tie-dye or come up with their own designs for the shirts we really want to just give them the platform to do that. While we need a platform to get our mes-

While most of their peers spend their weekends playing beer pong and being hungover, these college students are on a radical clothing crusade to make the world more sustainable, open-minded, and less technologically dependent.

William Simon, Henry Gibson, and Milo Evaschen began collaborating on their sustainable clothing brand, Jacaranda, this Spring. Their name is inspired by the abundance of Jacaranda trees in their Los Angeles neighborhood and staying local is core to their mission: “Our hemp is grown and processed all over California, our clothing and screens are manufactured in Los Angeles Fashion District, and our shirts are pressed and packaged in a backyard in the Valley.”

The trio spends hours musing

philosophically under the blazing Southern California sun. The Laurel Canyon Dog Park serves as their studio, where the trio ponders the detriment of ego, the lessons to be learned from dogs and the importance of constantly questioning the everyday patterns, truths and realities society blindly accepts. Their ruminations are intended to inspire Evaschen to work on an illustration for their latest T-shirt design. Fueled by Simon and Gibson’s dialogue, the aromas of cannabis and the occasional dopamine boost from their dog, Poppy, the trio has collaborated on over 15 T-shirt designs thus far.

“I think the hippies were right and we’re here to further their agenda,” Simon told me from his surf-board shed turned silk screen studio.

sage across to the public, other people might need that as well.”

We see this clarity in their design too. “We wanted a hand-drawn feeling, not machine-made. There’s care and love put into these shirts. The designs are drawn by hand. We printed the shirts by hand,” Gibson said.

The collective’s zany designs represent a refreshing approach to a clothing company in 2022, one that pushes back against a commonly accepted dependence on consumerism, the types of social media that enable it, and the defeatism shared by many young people today. Their work presents itself as a transparent voice in fashion. A voice that recognizes the absurdities of our contemporary society, the pitfalls people are likely to fall into and the subsequent attempts to overcome them.

Their avant-garde approach is not a part of some disingenuous attempt to relate to a wider audience but rather is informed by their own confron-

tational experiences with reality. The team lives and breathes this authenticity. “Essentially I learned that I don’t know what I don’t know,” Simon said. Rejecting the mainstream has also led them to be able to incorporate their appreciation for the environment in their work. “Had I not questioned cotton as a material, I would’ve gone my whole life thinking that it was ok and that I wasn’t negatively contributing to the earth,” Simon said. “It’s all about not blindly sticking to something that might be harmful despite us not knowing it and remaining uncomfortably comfortable.”

A conversation with a taxi driver drove them to hemp as the primary fabric for their clothes. Simon was wearing a T-shirt that espoused a silly eco-friendly message, prompting the driver to educate him on the disadvantages of cotton. Shortly after this encounter, the collective researched more sustainable materials.

William Simon for Jaracada Hemp Clothing: Photo courtesy of Ella Willis.

“Hemp sequesters carbon; it’s literally solving global warming. I didn’t know that until that taxi driver challenged me” Simon said. “Why is that not a known fact, why is that not common knowledge? What can we do to get the ball rolling?”

This dedication to sustainability is representative of a wider phenomenon today: companies attempting to combat climate change. Starbucks eliminated plastic straws in 2018, plantbased fast food is now o ered at fast food chains all across the U.S., and Ford even introduced their electric F-150 earlier this year. Last month, Patagonia CEO founder Yvon Chouinard chose to transfer ownership of his company to a non-profit organization in the latest example of what the New York Times calls his “unconventional spin on capitalism.” Staying true to their easy-going, joie de vivre approach to business, Simon added, “hemp also immediately stood out to us because we’re stoners.” There’s even talk of Jacaranda eventually growing and processing their own hemp linen.

Destigmatizing cannabis and psilocybin is also a recurring theme within their art. In one shirt, the collective goes as far to declare: “Responsible Mushroom Use Will Save the World.” Gibson and Simon sincerely hope to raise awareness about the benefits of the very substances that inspired the values and philosophical foundation for their start-up. Another thought-provoking graphic depicts a figure hunched

over, enclosed in a bubble of electricity looking at their phone, ignoring a small, simple flower on the ground beneath them. “Your Screentime is Your Demise,” the shirt proclaims.

In a subtle protest to the hegemony of social media marketing, Jacaranda’s bio reads “don’t look at this page get o Instagram now it’s a trap.” To advertise that their brand is in alignment with their values, the collective is conducting a guerilla marketing campaign, starting by slapping 10,000 stickers all over the city of Los Angeles. “We want people to be out in the world and see our stickers, scan the QR code and come to our website through them,” Gibson said. “You have to be rewarded for being present and mindful; you wouldn’t be able to see these if you were on social media,” Simon added.

The collective espouses an unsurprising rejection of mainstream marketing under capitalism; “I’ll see an advertisement and I see who they’re targeting. They’re putting me into a group and this is what they’re trying to tell me, this is how they’re trying to make me feel and believe,” Simon said. “We’re trying to take a di erent approach to that; we’re staying a little more authentic to ourselves which in turn is an open more transparent website, mission and company. We’re literally telling people we have 500 shirts we need to sell. Once we sell 500 shirts we’ll then be able to expand into other areas. We’re trying to keep people involved and have them on board.”

Directly inspired by Patagonia’s earth tax in which the company donates 1% of sales to grassroots environmental organizations, Jacaranda pledges to donate 3% of their profits to Tree People, the largest environmental organization in Southern California. They also plan to host beach clean-ups and trail restoration events and use water-based inks that are less harmful to the planet.

On their commitment and value to benefiting the planet, Evaschen said, “we all live here so we might as well take care of it.” Their respect for the natural world further reveals itself in the T-shirt titled “What’s Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander.” “It’s a commentary on hunting,” Simon said, “If the hunter can kill the goose then the goose can kill the hunter.”

When asked about the long-term goals for combatting the trials and tribulations of late-stage capitalism, Simon said, “we want to be an ecosystem rather than just a machine. Once we get this up and running, it’s then a platform to start combining powers to accomplish more positive change. A restaurant can sell thirty of our shirts in exchange for catering a beach clean-up. We’re trying to use our units as payments in exchange for services and maybe there can ultimately be a system where customers can buy like that but right now we’re just trying to get 500 shirts out.”

DESIGNED BY THEO MILLER

Henry Gibson (left) and William Simon (right) for Jaracada Hemp Clothing: Photo courtesy of Ella Willis

She’s Everyone’s Mother

BY BEN ROLDAN

Awhole decade has passed since Hildegard of Bingen, a legend to those of the Catholic Church, was given the status of Doctor of the Church. Her name was primal to the cult of the Church for another 800 years, having lived and died in what was the Holy Roman Empire from 1098 - 1179. The passion for her Canonization was motivated by a strong scholarly following as well as her contributions to several fields of study. In the silence of death she waited for eight centuries. To those interested, she could be a reflection of what patience and perseverance look like for those quiet toiling religious women in the domain of robed men.

To me, she resembles and is consistently, albeit unconsciously, echoed in the imagery of the “religious” purgatory that trans women also face in their on-screen depictions. The drama of Catholicism does not just obviously

This is an allusion to the next frontier of criticism: Tiktok, Twitter, and Letterboxd. Respectively, in this descending fashion as well. And within this group of online spectators with an Opinion and a Phone: the queer commentators and queer content consumers with even more perspectives and a lot of chatting to do. O the top, I mean to consider that frivolous joy is appreciated by these new sectors of art digestion. The brilliance of this particular audience is their frequent enjoyment of convolution and spectacular campiness. My criticisms are formed by this phenomena, at times echo it, and at other times are at odds with it. Here is the documentation of a series of speculations, hopefully something that can be built upon.

Pose has been the gem of FX since its debut. A major, and well-documented turning point of Queer culture, both in the time period it

to two particular storylines. The first is Blanca’s (played by the under-appreciated MJ Rodriguez, a spark of fire in the acting world) ascension to House Mother, what is so frequently shown to be a status of power and cultish fabulosity to the few gleaming children out in the world with a sense of culture. The second is about Angel (Indya Moore), a sex worker and Blanca’s daughter as she navigates her unconventional (and oft-unequal) relationship with Stan (Evan Peters), some white boy corporate businessman.

After Stan meets Angel, Pose depicts that tenuous moment for a young woman: the allure of falling in love. But, it is artificial from the onset her “falling in love” occurring only because Stan solicited her for sex. The obvious third dimension that she is a trans sex worker, and that every moment of love involving men is also often interlinked with that of a

ensnare those who are unholy in the eyes of prejudices and bigotry woven into the fabric of the community, its texts, and its sages, it also lends a metaphor to the current depiction of long, quietly toiling women in the queer community. The trans women of now, as their lives are half-shown in films and TV, also have to wait patiently for their own canonizations. In the slim canon of media wherein there might be o erings for transfemme storylines and characters, many things emerged to me.

When you separate actual form from a mythical line of morality (or “progressive” elements), you will find that trans women are frequently deified, and saddled with the restraints of a sexless maternity. This, however, much like the in-flux nature of queerness, can’t be pigeonholed or defined. In the films, A Fantastic Woman (2017), and My Tender Matador (2020), as well as the TV Show Pose (2016-2021) I found that so pressing is the subject matter, and so varying its depictions, the conversation of this cannot be narrowed to a single, wrapped-in-a-bow revelation. Audiences are owed consideration, especially in this conversation on art and its ramifications.

depicts and now in the “contemporary age.” This feeling of “separation” from the 21st century gave TV a gasp of fresh air from 2018 forward. It still even now relishes the fact that most people don’t fucking know about the 80s and 90s, Madonna being a touchstone for Voguing (not at all in its naissance, but in its exportation to White audiences) is hilarious now because it shocks the youth of today. And yet, Pose is one of the actual brilliant works that has a nostalgia-driven emotional core but with authenticity. At times what becomes an ode to an era also superimposes and hugely amalgamates the trans women who stand out from the main cast. They are resistant to the tides of change because change frequently involves the co-opting of their culture, the death of their people, and the fast montage-like pace of dissolving their own personal romances. Where season 1 and 2 could specifically invest much more time is in the day-to-day life instead of leaping forward in months and years that see the ebbs and flows of Blanca’s House while Elektra altogether loses all authority and power. Brilliantly, Season 1 has an intense devotion

fall in self-respect and autonomy. The scenes depicting sex work edge a dramatic realism, giving the women a sense of dignity and power while emphasizing the emotive sag of their shoulders in the aftermath, and coloring their faces and spaces with seedy green and red lights. The depiction is not sanctimonious. Angel’s work feels depraved without completely tossing her spirit out of the door.

As this man o ers her a restricted “freedom” and their “love” develops, the whole point becomes that Angel still has a myriad of choices. She banks on her stunning looks not out of vapidness but out of necessity and a knack for keeping herself protected. Her tongue is sharp and capable of transporting her and elevating her just as much as the stunning glint of the Ballroom spotlights on her gorgeous face. She has nerve. Emergent and brilliant nerve. And, as she decides for herself that she can’t be with someone in between two worlds hers being the one so negatively connoted she decides that to be a part of Blanca’s house is to pick elevation and higher standards for herself.

But her relationship with Stan is probably the most complex to my theory, with some online writers emphasizing that she is emblematic of a trans sex worker’s consistent need to be at the behest of men who can maintain their own social status and power while isolating trans women from all public (“The Fetishizing of Black Transgender Women in ‘Pose’”). In this way Pose is interested in the shackled Magdalene (not the nun) through Angel, she is caught in a long-purgatorial relationship with a cis man until she falls in love with another male love interest with much di erent approaches to her that are more respectful. Angel’s storyline is just like her namesake: a bit more transcendental, and very similar to the final piece of media I analyze.

Blanca’s storyline is most vital because it follows a woman frequently at odds with other trans women on the basis of not “passing.” She takes the route of Motherhood, and is frequently saddled with this throughout the show. It sucks to be at odds with Elektra and Candy and women with moxier and foxier energies. What is also di cult to grapple with: whether the show is also ok with this. She manages to set up a household that is stable for the next few years (or decades? Past the middle of season 2, Pose gets a slideshow-like approach to time: we’re backwards, forwards, in the breach of Time and Space, all at once) and this becomes the core detail of her character. Such pales in comparison to the way in which she helps Damien (Ryan Jamaal Swain) and Angel, her adoptive children, become a brilliant and passionate dancer (this falls apart) and a cover girl (this falls apart as well), respectively. She thus is relegated for most of the first two seasons to a sort of thankless status and the only character who, thankfully, does not volatilely change with each episode.

In comparison, Elektra (a Dominique Jackson so transcendental in a tempest of emo-

tion and brilliant sardonic magic, and with cheekbones higher than the heavens) has literally dozens of jobs and positions. Her major emotional revelations in which the audience can even attribute the word “pity” to her character come very infrequently in Season 1. She is only given the grace to be multi-dimensional in season 3, where she reunites briefly with her pitiable birth mother. This scene is crucial to the show and brings the multi-dimensionality that this huge ensemble script can deliver, but struggles at times. As well it breaks a sort of trend of having her be the hero of the hour and the strength of the community, Elektra outside of this world has a whole reason for her poise and unshatterable stature. She will never be a woman bent over because she’s seen this firsthand from her “mother.” Still, sometimes Pose makes its trans women archetypal and unchanging. A stoic Elektra in the beginning is also a stoic Elektra at the end, and in a way, this is another type of Sainthood. This is not to say the women don’t experience change, it’s just not a hyper-focused emotional study. When we root for a certain character, there is no reason not to. These things, and many “holes” you can find if you spent enough time on any piece of media, are also just the byproducts of a solid show entering di cult and wholly new territory. The show does so much for the gorgeous aesthetics of ballroom culture and the mechanics of all this insider-drama. It gives a necessary education on this moment of time too, and with an approach I would love to add has such an authentic cast and crew. It is freed from previous works steeped in white ownership and surveillance, see: “Is Paris Burning” from bell hooks’ Black Looks. But all in all, Blanca needed to be more fucking selfish, Elektra more emotionally nuanced, Angel not be punished by the mechanics of the show, and Candy (the wily fighter who became a fan favorite thanks to Angelica Ross’s dy-

namism and sickening performance) not be fucking dead . Or, maybe there just needed to be a smaller main cast and less time jumps!

In the same aesthetic domain of flamboyance and brilliant theatricality, Una Mujer Fantastica (A Fantastic Woman) resides. A Chilean film following the slogging aftermath of the death of a trans woman’s lover, her deterioration and attempts to conceal her relationship to the man is confusing but truthful. She refuses to tell the honest bare reality of his death to the o cer who harasses her, the restaurant manager who overly-interrogates her, and the ex-wife of the man who violently reduces her to her past form: perceived as a man who was never man. And why? Because it preserves her dignity and keeps her safe. But, no matter her attempts she cannot hold back so much anger from these same purported “truth seekers,” incredibly contradictory and a fascinating idea the film plays with. She is something of a righteous liar, and is brilliantly portrayed as an unassuming and undesiring hero, someone who simply wants to sing and voice her emotions lying deep in the base of her heart.

Our first view of her is in the middle of a song, interestingly enough as a commercial singer at a restaurant similar to Rainforest Cafe. She is brutally attacked by her lover’s infantile son, almost run over by him again, but barely raises her voice until the very end. This film, an articulate character study, does so much right by having these characters be peripheral, not only because of their unbearability but also because of her autonomy and established interiority. So brilliant does the ending parallel the beginning because it reminds us that we carried our own preconceived notions of her and she stunningly defies them. She is both a fantastic woman and also just a woman, rising not to anyone’s set challenges but to those of her own heart.

Fantastic Woman marries theatrical motifs with the magical realism of the region (Chile and Colombia) to consider the psychic and physical battle transgender women must endure. But it considers, however, that they are not just sadly enduring but also active participants.

A brilliant scene showing the palpably false illusion of a hurricane-force wind almost knocking her o her feet as she walks forward seems like it could be a cheap nod to her “strength.” But, it also serves to show the heightened emotionality in the reservoir of trans femmes, the onslaught of humanity not being enough but nature, and the mundane everyday life also coming by at all points. During another scene in a club, she sees the ghost of her deceased lover and finds herself in the middle of leading a huge dance number with gleaming sparkly jackets. Her body leaps into the air like a performer from Early Hollywood defying the odds, brilliantly magical in her refusal to accept the laws of physics.

The deft layering of this: sequences of high surrealism and the performance of Performance, all serve to demonstrate an already challenging notion of the transcendence expected of her. In her heart and mind, she is a divine powerful spirit, capable of captivating audiences. But outside of it, she is entrapped by the notion she not only has to pass as cis-woman, she has to excel so intensely in the feminine form for those

subjugating her so that she IS a Fantastical one at that. It stresses that for the queer and the transgender individual, the realm of the dream, bereft of actual materiality and solidness, is where they lay in residence at all times. Where they have to lay in to survive. For the audience of herself, the audience of people, and the audience of the film.

I would like to return to her expected transcendence. Simply, A Fantastic Woman does not have the bones or interest in maternity. This is brilliant. Because why would she be a mother, spiritual or literal, when she’s just beginning a Fantastic journey? Also, it does not go valleys-deep into topics that Pose (uniquely, as I previously pointed out) considers such as inter-communal pressure and violations by other transgender people or queer identities. This is simultaneously a relief and a shortcoming. Film needs a main character, so I am told, and because of this, the story makes the choice to center one fantastic woman. She is not the representative for us all, she does share obvious commonalities, and her acutely carved out path could also just be an indication of Chilean society. She is a very small minority, actively out and about, living a life that is far from clandestine or reclusive. So the film gives her autonomy and a story free from the frequent farce contexts other queer media give to transgender women. But it does not give a glimpse into the frequent inter-communal bullying and di culties surrounding issues

like “passing,” whether as female or as male or as frequently idiotically jested about appearing as “non-binary or they/them” today.

In a way, it seeks freedom from that and gives that back unto its viewers. Also, it still has similar constraints. Danielle is forced by the camera so frequently to endure torture it begs to be asked what are the lengths that the film will go to document this? In this way Pose trades in a less harsh pornography of what trans women endure (although its swift killing of Candy is a strange thimble in the show). And this is not the only qualm that might come out of A Fantastic Woman, where Pose aims for a communal experience and weaves in the experience of black and brown women negotiating the dominant heteronormative and eurocentric “look” of a “real woman.” A Fantastic Woman is slightly narrower. It looks for a maverick trans woman, one who could be interpreted as a rather no-frills woman simply wanting peace. It gives her a painful and slow yet rebellious canonization, and on the other side, Pose tries for a variety of di erent paths and pursuits for all of its women and characters. When they rise it is beautiful and when they fall it is so breathtakingly arduous, but only one character (Blanca) is really relegated to a sort of canonization, one of patience and maternity.

My Tender Matador, follows a woman who finds a Chilean revolutionary, Carlos, in the midst of him and his fellow reds sowing the seeds of revolution. Unnamed and simply referred to as “La Doña,” she lives in a gorgeous yet slightly decrepit second floor apartment on the outskirts of the capital. Both of them are slightly untethered, and unlabeled. She has a community of fellow travestis the term for femininely presenting people assigned male at birth many of whom perform highly detailed embroidery work for women of families with strong connections to the dictatorship. Because of the reclusive nature of her location, and the infrequency of her demographic to cause trouble, Carlos asks to have meetings in her space. These moments hurt more than the actual police and military o cials of the dictatorship: the condescension and hypocrisy of the socialists planning to overthrow Pinochet coming in, leaving so much rubbish in her home and treating her so disrespectfully.

The frequent violent stares and exclusion of cisgender women are the movie’s greatest feats. The depiction of those who should so

intensely feel the violence are now so eager to pass it down to others. As the movie progresses, La Doña’s love for Carlos does too. It’s clear he doesn’t love her yet he seeks an intimacy with her that feels unfair and mean. With her innocence and her heartbreaking desire for love she is actually a rare depiction of women in general: someone not looking for the future but for now. She reflects those who know they are relegated to the back but are not interested in the concept of the front. She wants him because she needs his love. She is pitiable because she decides this for herself. And brilliantly, she is so apolitical and proud of it because in the face of these rebel leftists, she actually has the most to fucking lose. She helps them with their revolution. She is a fortress for their secrets and meetings. And when it all falls apart, they kidnap her and take her far away to “protect” her. When she is brought to the beach where Carlos is, he o ers her the chance to come to Cuba and regroup, possibly to manipulate this woman for his personal socialist machinations. She stands in front of him and tells him that she does not have friends, only lovers.

With a lilac sky behind her and the sound of pounding water, she stumbles, bedraggled, at-a-loss for words and her heart threatened to be torn asunder. O -screen: a man who could love her if he tried, trudging o (never the real focal point of this story) in pursuit of some ideological war, isolated from la gente, the real people it claimed to be in favor of. For once with the slant of the frame, a trans woman is one and the same with the pursuit of the flesh. She is bitter and pathetic, ungraceful and humane; her entire story is aggravating and maddening. That she could love him even till the end is not the ending we wish for but the truth and an unfinished finale to a narrative not looking to serve condescending justice or package her tale of woe for progressive pity. She was a person unto herself altogether. So sure, till we leave her story, that her craving for love and her support of Revolution could be one and the same. She withstood isolation in her own home out of selfishness. And fuck. It is beautiful to see a Woman be selfish. Oh may they always be given the chance to be miserably, blissfully selfish.

DESIGNED BY THEO MILLER

How Doechii Transforms The Meaning of “Bitch” in Her New EP

You might have heard her unique voice trending on TikTok or seen her wild and artistic fashion choices on the red carpet, but the studio is where Doechii shines. In her music, she goes by many names: Swamp Princess, The Don Diva, Doechii with two IIs, and most recently addressing herself (and other alter egos) as a “Black Bitch”. In her most recent EP, She/ Her/Black Bitch, Doechii makes the genius decision to turn disdain into an accolade, knighting herself with this brash label to embrace her Blackness. On each track, she demonstrates how versatile her skills are, switching from slow jams to flashy bars. In doing so, she transforms the meaning of “bitch” and paints a vibrant story of her time in the music industry as a Black woman.

Swamp. This is the start of Doechii’s story, patting herself on the back for not only making it out of the muddy, murky, conditions of the “Swamp,” but also owning it and rubbing it in her opps’s faces.

BY IMMANUELLA GABRIEL

Making quite the entrance, “Swamp Bitches” demonstrates Doechii’s growth as an artist, finding her own style through her roots and musical inspirations. Throughout the track, her inspirations are self-evident, reloading Nicki Minaj’s iconic Roman persona and being as unapologetic and profane as Azealia Banks. Thus, Doechii transforms herself into the “Don Diva”. Using vulgar imagery, she says eyebrow-raising lyrics like “I piss fifties and leave the seat up” as well as acknowledging her beginnings as “Doechii Bottom Feeder.” She’s rich and famous now, and she’s proud to flaunt it! So proud that she makes a song for all her haters, to kiss her ass and watch her revel in her self-proclaimed kingdom: The

Whatever you may call them - the envious, the lames, the nobodies, the haters Doechii refers to them simply as “bitches.” The lames get shouted out over 18 times on this track with Rico Nasty joining in on Doechii’s brutal honesty, and man does it hurt. Doechii and Rico take turns throwing punches at these bitches, saying things like “n*ggas smoke dick, cause Doechii too blunt” and “I wish death to all you bitches.” It was already brilliant to collaborate with the Black punk queen herself, but to use “bitch” in a way that was most likely used towards her when she was at her low was even more genius. Keeping the same energy now that she’s at an all-time high, “Swamp Bitches” is for the low down, dirty bitches that would probably pine for Doechii’s attention now.

“Bitch I’m Nice” is the second track of Doechii’s EP and the scene is set. Thanks to the visualizer, this song takes place on Doechii’s road to stardom, showcasing her sold-out performances and pop-star lifestyle. She makes outfit changes, gets all dolled up, and rolls out on stage to spit vile words at welcoming audiences. This is a classic hype song to assert herself as “that bitch.” If it’s not already evident in the visuals, then it definitely is in the lyrics - this might be the

most technical track on the EP despite it being one of the shortest. In just a little over a minute, the diva flexes her impeccable ability to switch flows, utilize her breath control skills, and of course, deliver clever bars. Let’s be clear though: this is nothing to her. She even says it herself: “No sweat, I’m the heavyweight champ,” solidifying her mastery.

If any of the bitches from the previous track were still doubting her, they definitely aren’t now. In this song, she specifically uses “bitch” in a demeaning and condescending way, specifically targeting people that think they’re the shit. No longer are these people losers or lames, but now they’re her rivals. Like a true southern woman calling her frenemy “hun,” Doechii calls her possible equals “bitches.” There can only be one and according to her, “when the bitch send shots, I whip it and I’ma duck it.”

In the third track and climax of this story “Bitches Be,” Doechii takes a bit of a turn. With the reality of fame rearing its ugly head, she starts to feel low. Despite constantly being surrounded by people, Doechii dives into the dangers of her psyche, overthinking and dosing herself with the pleasures of this rockstar world to cope. Repeating tragic lines like “Fading (slow), faded (slow), I’m drinking (slow), Oh, I’ve been thinking (slow),” she internalizes her detachment with her environment and stifles a cry for help. Here we see Doechii more

vulnerable with herself, making “Bitches Be” a sad diary entry.

The bitches Doechii refers to in this track, however, are not limited to others she turns inward and includes herself. This is the first time she feels like she has become one of the people she worked so hard not to be. In this all-time low, she is everyone but still no one, stating “all of these bitches be me.” It’s completely contradictory, and yet, it speaks thousands of words: the diva has surpassed the lows of bottom feeder and has simply sunk, like a fallen angel. She’s gotten so wound up in the glory of it all but is convinced it’s fine and is just “taking it slow.” Towards the end of the song, however, we see her self-identify with her toxic surroundings, and take accountability. She acknowledges the constant dishonesty around

her and decides to be better, saying “Bitches be talking, ain’t got nothing in common.” At the bitter end, we see her separate herself from her environment and walk away from a destructive path.

The more upbeat “This Bitch Matters,’’ however, highlights the fallout of Doechii’s fall from grace and her choice to rehabilitate herself. Instead of being brutally honest towards her haters, she’s brutally honest with herself. She tries to extend herself grace and ask for help, speaking in third person when referring to herself as “this bitch.” This grace is seen in the chorus as Doechii says, “This bitch needs more loving, needs more hugging…this bitch cold, but this bitch matters.” It is in this falling action that we see Doechii resonate the most with her identity: freeing herself from the expectations of being a Super Black Woman, she

is vulnerable and vocal about her issues. She relies on other Black women to guide her through her aimlessness, and while it remains a daunting, independent journey, she prefers it over a purposeless one as outlined in “Bitches Be.” This is a love letter to herself and her situation, no matter how hard it may be.

In the final part of this story, we go back to where we began: on a high. Doechii’s last song “Persuasive” with SZA, is an epic tale of a much needed girls night out, a form of recovery from the last two tracks. This collab oozes femininity and flirtation, and is sealed with a kiss with a (not so hidden) analogy: weed. As seen in “Swamp Bitches,” Doechii compares herself to smoking a blunt, something n so n uncomfortable and scorching. This time around, however, we see this comparison in a more positive light as

she emphasizes the intimacy and sexiness of Mary Jane. She says, “she’s so persuasive, that marijuana, she’s so flirtatious,” appreciating the feeling of ecstasy she gets from smoking and having an unforgettable night. Purposefully, Doechii only uses the word “bitch” three times as she’s surpassed the need for it: she’s at an all time high (literally), living her life, and enjoying it. How does it feel to be that bitch? At this point, ask Doechii.

BY MADI KOESLER

“This bitch needs more loving, needs more hugging…this bitch cold, but this bitch matters.”

DESIGNED

Doeichii for MTV: MTV.

BY WALTER NELSON

Phenomenon: The Wits and Tricks of Jordan Peele’s Nope

Nope, Jordan Peele’s third horror film was released on July 22nd, 2022. Coming o the heels of the critically acclaimed films Get Out and Us, Nope had high expectations from critics and Peele fans alike. With its no-spoiler advertisement campaign, Keke Palmer’s highly anticipated performance, and Peele’s noteworthy resume, the film was set up to be the year’s biggest critical darling. Unfortunately, Peele’s shoulders couldn’t hold up to the heavy expectations—or at least some will believe.

Nope follows two siblings, Emerald Haywood (Keke Palmer) and Ottis James (Daniel Kaluuya), on their family ranch as they begin to notice supernatural occurrences a ecting human and animal behavior. When they notice a cloud-like UFO in the sky, they attempt to capture proof of its existence on camera. Simultaneously, Ricky Park (Steven Yeun), the owner of an adjacent theme park, tries to profit from the mysterious spectacle with a live show.

On its surface, Nope reads like a movie about UFOs and alien invasion of earth. Divided into five di erent chapters, the story makes its way through tales of the past and the present, highlighting the mystique & darkness of this supernatural presence throughout multiple generations. At times, it can feel disjointed and a tad bit messy, but I would argue that this is Peele’s purpose. His first trick: a disjointed and jarring story progression that forces you to dig a little deeper, but not too deep. Personally, this trick worked perfectly because it allowed me to think about the layers of the movie instead of settling for an easy ending. Thinking about the movie through di erent perspectives is way more compelling to me than expecting an “answer” from the film’s plot. Interestingly though, this trick is one of the main reasons this film disappointed in comparison to his previous endeavors.

Thematically, Nope lives in a completely di erent world than its predecessors. Get Out is an atmospheric, unsettling, and subversive horror that highlights a disturbing view of liberal racism in America. Peele creates and subtly hides this film’s horror beneath a polished facade and excites viewers with a shocking, but crowd-pleasing ending. Similarly, Us is a spectacle of psychological torment and thrilling nightmares that ends with a chilling, but yet again, crowd-pleasing plot twist. Both movies were positively received by horror fans and critics alike.

Notice a pattern? Both of these films were thrilling, atmospheric critic darlings that ended with a plot twist that simultaneously surprised and pleased fans. For Nope, the exact opposite is done. Through its storytelling, the film forces you to delve increasingly deeper as the story progresses. However, Peele doesn’t necessarily create a hole that is impossible for viewers to climb out of. In fact, the storytelling and thematic progression give you the perfect opportunity to climb from the depths of the “dense” plot and create your own meaning. Most viewers, however, want to be pulled out of the rubble and given the answer through some thought-provoking plot twist. For better and for worse, this did not occur. Leaving the audience to fend for themselves was both a genius, well-thought-out idea and a risky audience disappointment. In an interview for Empire Magazine, Peele states himself that the film is about “spectacle [and] the dark side of our relationship with spectacle.” This quote alone, in my opinion, reveals something crucial to understanding the overall reception of the film. The film’s ending, and the origin of the story displays society’s obsession with things we don’t understand, things that are visually striking and mentally jarring. The spectacle is the unimaginable UFO in the sky,

“

The film’s ending, and the origin of the story, displays society’s obsession we things we don’t understand, t hings that are visually striking and mentally jarring.”

but it’s also the expectation that viewers had of this film. Everyone wants an explanation for the phenomenon, for anything out of the ordinary. In the same way, everyone wants an explanation for the purpose of the UFO in the air, an explanation for the significance of the chimpanzee scene, and an explanation for why Peele didn’t tie up every loose end in the story with an unexpected ending. To me, that’s the spectacle Peele is talking about. It’s also the reason why fans weren’t fully pleased. They want this spectacle of a film to be explained to them without any critical thinking on their end.

While looking at reviews of this film, there’s a clear inconsistency between audience reviews and critics’ reviews. A lot of moviegoers complained on Twitter and Rotten Tomatoes about the movie’s confusing ending and expressed their disappointment with the overall plot. Film critics, on the other hand, cited the genius of Peele’s genremelting, mind-bending third horror film. A.O. Scott from the New York Times cites that Nope is more at home with its “idiosyncrasies and flights of imagination” and calls it “less polemically pointed” than his previous films. Understanding the simple di erence between this film and his other films is the main thing that divides Nope’s viewers. His first two films, Get Out and Us, take viewers through a whirlwind of emotions before shocking them with an intense turn of events. Meanwhile, Nope forces viewers to deal with the consequences of their own fantasies and imaginations in order to find any sense of resolve. This is the key di erence that divides viewers.

It makes sense though. I can admit, I also left the movie theater a bit perplexed and unexpectedly underwhelmed after my initial watch. However, after taking a few days to think about it, I realized what Peele wanted us to realize. Yes, this movie is about capitalism. Yes, it’s about the power of cinema. Yes, it’s

about surveillance, race, and exploitation. But its main purpose is to spotlight spectacle, both for viewers and for Peele himself. Although my initial viewing of Nope ended with two of my friends saying it was the worst movie they’ve ever seen, I genuinely believe that the mixed opinions about this film are because of the expectations viewers created for themselves about the movie. Of course, Peele has a hand in his own reception. And of course, sometimes people are simply not going to like it. But I do think people didn’t give this film the chance to truly seep in. Thinking at the movie theater may sort of defeat the purpose of a relaxing Friday night bender. But, I personally think any Peele film is worth the thought. Regardless, he’ll always have a trick or two up his sleeve. It’s up to us to decide if we want to take the time and e ort to make our way through layers and layers of complex storytelling. Let’s hope for Peele’s next film, everyone will take the time to think before they dismiss a spectacle as big as a Jordan Peele film. I know I will.

Blood rain on OJ’s house from Jordan Peele’s Nope (2022): Universal Pictures.

DESIGNED BY KIRA AJAS

The Train That Brought The Warriors Home

An argument for public transportation

BY GRACE O’BRIEN

There is nothing quite like the commute home on the train after a long day. You’re tired, your feet hurt, and you’re probably hungry. Not to mention, there’s a finite time to relax since you have to stay at least mildly alert and present so you don’t accidentally miss your stop. The desire to be home is powerful. Almost powerful enough to make someone take for granted the beauty of public transportation.

I believe taking the train is beautiful. The melancholy shriek of the wheels, the mysterious puddles, and the unplaceable smells. For the price of about two dollars and seventy-five cents, you get to go anywhere in your city of preference. The train station is the only place that arguably every person in a city has been to at least once. A train is a meeting place, and one could even say a marketplace of ideas for society. Public transportation is and should be for the collective.

There are plenty of types of media that feature and champion the institution of public transit, such as Speed (1994) or Sheena Easton’s “Morning Train (Nine to Five).” However, my personal favorite is Walter Hill’s 1979 classic film, The Warriors, which serves as a fitting piece of art in support of accessible public transportation. If you are not familiar, the titular gang descends on a twisted odyssey through the New York City underground in order to make it back to their home turf in one piece. It’s a gritty take on the Hero’s Journey, laden with nerve and grown men wearing vests. I highly recommend it, but in the meantime allow me to give you the rundown. (Spoilers ahead, obviously)

The Warriors opens shrouded in the darkness of Coney Island. The only light comes from the windows on a distant train before the title card appears. The first look we even get at the complete ensemble of the Warriors is within a subway car. They pile in and spread out;

clearly comfortable and in their domain. This is intercut with a montage showcasing every gang in the city dressed in their distinct colors all taking the train. One gang leader purchases a score of tokens for his colleagues and puts one coin in for each member as they walk through the gates one by one. These gang organizations don’t abide by the common laws of the land, but they respect the sacred institution of public transportation. This commute en masse is thanks to the leader of the biggest syndicate in the city, Cyrus, who calls upon every gang in the city to put aside their di erences and come together under one umbrella. His message of collectivism manages to resonate and miraculously everyone seems to be on board—until he is shot dead by another gang, aptly called the Rogues. A symphony of mayhem ensues as everyone scrambles in the confusion leading to the Warriors being blamed for Cyrus’ murder unbeknownst to them.

The Warriors’ leader, Cleon, is killed as they escape and his stoic second-in-command, Swan, decides that the only choice left is to go home. They establish the platform at Union Square as their rendezvous point—their beacon if they lose sight of each other. The train is intangibly attached to their survival. Ajax, a brash and volatile Warrior, challenges Swan’s leadership by chirping, “Shit. I bet you can’t even find the subway.” In this situation, leading means serving as a shepherd to the flock and navigating the course home in the face of adversity. Tensions rise between the two until they notice the train they desperately need to catch is arriving. In the face of disunity, the train serves as a gentle reminder of the bigger picture.

The Warriors then begin their mad dash to make the train, narrowly evading another gang’s wrath. They jump over the turnstiles and sprint onto the platform before making it to

the safety of the train car. Without making this train, the film would have ended in a mere 27 minutes. The Warriors would have gotten their heads bashed in and the credits would roll. Yet, thanks to accessible public transportation, they managed to survive their first trial.

The train itself is a character in the film. An elusive, yet familiar face. The doors shutter open to a welcoming refuge despite the trash and gra ti adorning the seats. The Warriors don’t seem to mind, though. They relax in the train car like one would in a conversation with an old friend. The train serves as a gentle protector with it’s metal shell shielding them from the horrors of the night.

In addition, the train physically and symbolically moves the plot forward. The subway is considered the central nervous system of New York City, stringing the characters of this film along. Moments of life and death occur on the train tracks. There’s a glimpse of hope, as Swan shares a momentous kiss with Mercy, a stray who managed to tag along on their escape. Their relationship is full of tense uncertainty with each upholding walls around their true feelings. Mercy pushes, Swan pulls, and they make one another dizzy. Behind them, a train flies by illuminating their silhouettes and as it passes— they break apart. The screams of the subway drown out all of the static surrounding their feelings as they come together for a brief moment.

Later on, they are beaten and bruised on the train sitting directly across from a couple returning from prom. The wealthy, clean couple are a mirror of Swan and Mercy in another life with more opportunities. Mercy, in a moment of insecurity, fixes her hair but Swan grabs her hand as a tender gesture of support and reassurance.

On the other hand, the train acts as a great equalizer. An unlucky Warrior, Fox, falls to his demise on the tracks after a skirmish with an o cer. The poor guy gets killed by the very thing supposed to be his salvation. The Union Station was supposed to be a safe haven, but it becomes a battleground when a gang on roller skates pursues a lone Swan (they have their own method of transportation— how fun!). Climatically, the Warriors reunite and defeat the roller skaters in a brutal fashion. This time as they run into the train car: there is no laughter, no joy, and no celebration. They have lost half the arsenal they arrived with. They slump onto the dirty orange seats as the whooshing of the underground lulls them to sleep.

Obviously, transportation is quite di erent today as opposed to 1979. I mean, the Warriors could have simply called a couple of Ubers or taken a ride on a Citi Bike back to Coney Island if this happened in 2022. Innovation in transportation has elevated itself in various ways for the individual, but the subway is tried and true for the greater good. Yet, there are problems that need to be

“These gang organizations don’t abide by the common laws of the land, but they respect the sacred institution of public transportation.”

Micheal Beck as Swan in The Warriors (1979): The Warriors (1979).

addressed with public transportation in the US. The lack of funding and infrastructure has created a dependency on cars and 45% of Americans do not have access to public transportation, according to the American Public Transportation Association. America is eons behind the innovation found in the United Kingdom’s or Japan’s metro systems, and it could be argued it is because we care too deeply about the individual as opposed to the collective. The idea that we can simply “pull ourselves by the bootstraps” out of hardship permeates to this day. Individualism is a deeply American concept and even spurs the action in The Warriors. The leader of the Rogues, Luther, kills Cyrus not because he disagrees with him, but because he selfishly thought it’d be entertaining to cause chaos. It is ironic that the Rogues’ preferred method of transportation is in a beat-up car when every other gang that agreed with Cyrus’ message took the subway. The Rogues with their gra ti-strewn jalopy refused to join the collective and work towards a better future; they are stuck driving in a dying relic of the past.

Public transportation is vitally important for survival. While the Warriors needed it to escape death, everyday people need it to live. It is a tool to get people to work, to school, to their communities, and to their homes. Cars are not easily a ordable and at times not practical, which makes the growing dependency on them even more frustrating. It is a shame that in the self-proclaimed “greatest country in the world” there is a deficit of accessible, safe public transportation for its citizens. I don’t mean to romanticize the MTA because, obviously, it has

its issues. However, these issues can be remedied through the funding of the institution. Beyond cleaning and renovations, there should be fair wages for the workers. Fares should be equitable and accessible for everyone. The Warriors made it back home from New York City, but who’s to say they would make it back if they lived elsewhere?

Terry Michos as Vermin in The Warriors (1979): The Warriors (1979).

Acknowledgements

Chief Editors

Alexis Puthussery

Mateo Da n

Sofia Marin

Layout Designers

Kira Ajas

Madison Koesler

Sofia Marin

Theo Miller

Cover Art

Saoirse Killion

Social Media

Alexis Puthussery

Juliana Sena

Print Writers

Aubrey Hoes

Ben Roldan

Danielle Momoh

Ella Willis

Grace O’Brien

Immanuella Gabriel

Walter Nelson

Online Writing Team

Aubrey Hoes

Danielle Momoh

Simona Zaunius

Donors

Aidan Puthussery

Allison Stone

Aubrey Hoes

Bella Soto

Bill and Geri Brehm

Ella Willis

Fernando Figueroa

Grace O’Brien

Hana Yoo

Jia Jin Li

Joanne Kang

John Hoes

Julia Samuels

Kim Erdman

Mary Le

Nadeen Abouzahra

Natalie Lileks

Nicole Valdes

Ramone Vargas Eugene

Samantha Bañal

Sarah Hong

Sierra Hoes

Sujata Puthussery

Shaju Puthussery