MUSIC Amber Cherry (CAS ’26) captures the magic of alt-accordionist Squeazy E. B4
FEATURE A retreat causes Jack Willis (SFS ’26) to reflect on the benefits of silence. B6
COMEDY Elizabethe Bogrette (SFS ’27) praises ‘Get on Your Knees’ by Jacqueline Novak (COL ’04). B7
February 9, 2024
Welcome to The Lincoln Experience Meet the team of students behind Georgetown’s hottest Asian fusion pop-up restaurant. Jasmine Criqui
Senior Guide Editor
ILLUSTRATION BY: LINCOLN LE/THE HOYA
@LABONNEVACHE/INSTAGRAM
La Bonne Vache’s mousse au chocolat with chantilly cream, cacao nibs and chocolate pearls wowed Jordan Guzzi (CAS ’26).
RESTAURANT
La Bonne Vache Est Très Bonne Jordan Guzzi Hoya Staff Writer
The Georgetown restaurant frontier is like a phoenix: when one restaurant, such as the beloved deli Booeymonger, meets its eventual end, a new restaurant will rise from its ashes and unfurl its wings so patrons can delight in a brilliant brasserie. La Bonne Vache, or “the good cow” in French, is a casual French bistro that sits on the northwest intersection of Potomac and Prospect streets. This quaint spot aims to offer traditional French entree dishes, with a specific focus on burgers and sandwiches, at an affordable price — most menu items are under $12. This eatery is one of many French restaurants flooding the nation’s capital, with multiple local competitors, such as Lucète and Brasserie Liberté, also cemented in the Georgetown neighborhood.
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While the menu boasts an impressive array of sandwiches and burgers, it also offers a wide range of hors d’oeuvres and additional dishes to choose from. To get an approximate feel of the menu’s capabilities, a friend and I decided to tackle an appetizer, two burgers, a plate of fries and a dessert. Our first dish of choice was the gougeres: gruyere cheese puffs served with a whipped paprika cream cheese accompaniment. Typically, I tend to view hors d’oeuvres as a palette transition, a chance to tell yourself, “Hey, let’s ease into the prospect of a good meal.” The gougeres lived up to this idea, as they were incredibly light and perfectly paired with the whipped paprika cream cheese’s slight kick. Following this dish, we were both hungry for more and eager to continue exploring the tastes of France. When it came to the main course, we decided to each try a different kind of burger.
I ordered the truffle et brie burger, and my friend ordered the steak au poivre burger, appos, both of which were small enough to be considered sliders. Good things await those who devour small morsels, though, as these burgers surpassed my wildest expectations. I had never thought to put brie on a burger prior to eating here — but now, all I can envision is a nutty truffle aioli enveloping the slice of the rich cheese melting on my perfectly cooked burger patty. One would think that all fries are just fries, and there’s nothing to gush about; this is where I have to cue the extremely loud buzzer signifying how incredibly wrong that is. La Bonne Vache’s pommes frites remained hot and crispy — the hallmark of any good fried potato — even after sitting on the table for over 10 minutes. Somehow, the garlic aioli that they were served with was even better. I am no stranger to garlic:
I enjoy eating it raw and have eaten almost every form of it. I am used to places touting their garlicky items, only for them to appear as garlic whispers at best. On the contrary, this aioli practically screamed garlic. In fact, I’m sure people across the Potomac heard how much garlic there was. As the number of fries dwindled, my friend and I frantically fought to feast on every last spoonful of that delicious sauce. To top it all off, the dessert was a perfect ending to a satisfying night. The mousse au chocolat was a heavenly spread, both in flavor and in texture, of dark chocolate, chantilly cream and crunchy chocolate pearls. Similar to the hors d’oeuvres, this bookend dish was incredibly bright and left us feeling comfortably full instead of inducing a 15-minute food coma. I cannot lie, discovering that dining at La Bonne Vache did not break the bank also helped comfortably settle my stomach. If you’re looking for a casual dining experience filled with quick, high-quality bites, let “the good cow” moo its praises and guide you over to La Bonne Vache.
THEHOYA.COM | FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024
LINCOLN LE/THE HOYA
Agedashi eggplant, lightly fried and served in a dashi broth with daikon radish and green onion, proves a fan favorite at The Lincoln Experience.
RESTAURANT
The Making of The Lincoln Experience Jasmine Criqui Senior Guide Editor
A cursory look at Google Maps lists Trap Manor — 1400 35th St. NW — as a historic landmark, and photos of the building’s classic red brick exterior indicate the same. But those who open the reviews will see a different story begin to form, with glowing comments from Georgetown University students about the food, service and venue. “The mocktails flowed, the music played, and we found ourselves lost in a dizzying array of dishes,” reads a particularly florid review from Dashiell Barnett (SFS ’25), while Alara Karahan (SFS ’24) praises the “curated five course menu from Georgetown’s best taught chef.” The chef in question is Lincoln Le (CAS ’24), a government major by day and the mastermind behind The Lincoln Experience, an Asian fusion pop-up restaurant that operates out of Trap Manor, by night. If prospective customers are able to beat the online waitlist, they can partake in a five-course, prix fixe dinner with a paired lychee mocktail for a
suggested donation of $40. Full disclosure: Lincoln Le (CAS ’24) is a deputy blog editor for The Hoya. I caught up with Le between his 6 p.m. and 8 p.m. seatings to find out more about what it takes to create a pop-up restaurant of this scale from scratch. The living room of Trap Manor has been transformed by floral tablecloths and flickering faux candlelight, and framed posters above the fireplace thank customers for visiting The Lincoln Experience. When I compliment Le’s graphic designer, he tells me that two of the posters are actually his own artwork, and the others feature photos from the very first pop-up he did with family and friends. After the family and friends night, news of the pop-up primarily spread through Instagram and word of mouth. One of the people present at that defining event was Ailin Le (MSB ’27), Lincoln Le’s younger sister and frequent sous-chef. Both siblings grew up cooking, and when her brother brought up his idea for a pop-up, Ailin Le was in. “I remember he texted me one day, and he was like ‘Hey, I’m going to do a pop-up dinner with my
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024 | THEHOYA.COM
friends, can you help me work it? I’ll pay you,’” Ailin Le told The Hoya. “Like, I thought it was just going to be a little dinner party with friends, but it’s scaled up a lot more than I imagined.” Riya Maheshwari (SOH ’24) has been friends with Lincoln Le since they were both in sophomore year, and when he asked her if she would be interested in helping out as a server, she readily agreed. “It’s really fun to see him be able to bring his dream into a reality, and I just have a really good time serving other people,” Maheshwari told The Hoya. “There’s even people who I served that one night that will say hi, and it’s just so fun to see people on campus kind of joined by this very unique experience.” The first pop-up gave Lincoln and his crew the opportunity to iron out wrinkles in the cooking process and schedule for the evening, including by spacing the sittings out to two hours. “The very first night we had the two sittings only an hour and a half apart, and we quickly realized that was way too short. People need time to eat, and sometimes we need buffer time in case something
goes wrong,” Ailin Le said. “One night, the dumplings just weren’t cooking and that took an extra 15 minutes more than it was supposed to.” Chicken dumplings are the third of the five courses, which Lincoln Le creates from scratch and serves in a mixture of soy sauce, black vinegar and sambal with garnishes of sesame seed and green onion. Like all items on the menu, the dumplings have a vegetarian alternative that guests can request when making their reservation. The first two dishes are already plant-based: lightly fried eggplant in a dashi broth with daikon radish and a halved, steamed bok choy drizzled with homemade chili oil. Ailin Le, Maheshwari and I were in agreement that the agedashi eggplant is a standout dish. “I can drink that broth for days,” Maheshwari said. “Like, behind the scenes I’m like ‘Lincoln, can I just have a bowl of broth?’” For Ailin Le, the dish is personal as well as delicious, characterizing it as a take on the agedashi tofu at Hanabi Ramen in Clarendon, Va. “They didn’t invent agedashi tofu, we’ve had it at other places, but that’s just our go-to spot for it here,” Ailin Le said. “The first time that I visited Georgetown I got Hanabi, the first time I was here without Lincoln I got Hanabi and then when my parents moved me in for the first time, I got Hanabi.” Shaking beef, the main course The Lincoln Experience served last semester, also started with a family tie. “Shaking beef is something my mom makes at home; everything else was kind of something I’ve had to explore and experiment with,” Lincoln Le told The Hoya. “They all have ties to Southeast and East Asian cooking, which is predominantly what I eat at home. The flavors are familiar, and if my mom were to try it, I think she would like it a lot.” This semester, Lincoln Le has swapped the shaking beef for lemongrass beef, just one example of The Lincoln Experience’s efforts to adjust and adapt over time. In fact, one of its most iconic traditions, which happens during the dessert course of black sesame and coconut milk ice cream, started as a mistake. “We forgot to take the ice cream out to thaw on the first night, so since we didn’t have enough time to prepare everything we were just like ‘Okay, Lincoln, why don’t you just go out there and serve it?” Ailin Le said. “And then we realized it actually worked out, because they get to talk to the chef and he gets to interact with all the attendees.” The Lincoln Experience is currently taking reservation requests for Feb. 11, Mar. 18 and Mar. 24, and interested parties can get the latest updates from @ lincolnlle on Instagram. “It’s only going on for a few more months before Lincoln graduates, so if people are thinking about it, I would say totally go for it,” Maheshwari said. “It can’t be compared to restaurant dining. It’s kind of its own thing.”
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AMBER CHERRY/THE HOYA
Squeazy E and his accordion dazzle the crowd at the Galactic Panther art gallery Feb. 3.
MUSIC
Squeazy E Performs a Squeeze Boxing Match at the Galactic Panther Art Gallery in Alexandria Amber Cherry
Deputy Guide Editor
Last Saturday night in the heart of Old Town Alexandria, Va., the Galactic Panther art gallery held what the owners have dubbed a “(Squeeze) Boxing Match.” The eclectic space hosts events ranging from open mics to moon rituals to workshops on the art of sipping tea. As my friends and I found our seats among the colorful artwork, the other patrons seemed to know each other for the most part. This microcosm of the greater Washington, D.C. area almost makes up its own subculture of the funky arts scene amongst the 35-and-up crowd. Alt-accordionist Squeazy E was up first. To get him on stage, two of the members of another band performing that night — one looking like David Bowie pre-“Ziggy Stardust” and the other post-“Ziggy Stardust”
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— started singing the theme from “Rocky” a cappella. The rest of the crowd joined in, a sort of spontaneous show of community. Squeazy E toggled between his original humorous songs and some more traditional ones with inspiration from klezmer music — Ashkenazi traditional music from Central and Eastern Europe — as he was in a klezmer metal band in college. Squeazy E started with a song self-described as “a dark mechanical Pinocchio gone wrong,” which was written for the last Galactic Panther exhibit, which had a circus theme. Squeazy E also adapted Bo Burnham’s “Welcome to the Internet” to play on the accordion, altering some lyrics and the structure of the song to best fit his accordion performance. The tune resembled the tuba-heavy songs of VeggieTales, a popular early 2000s children’s Christian TV pro-
gram, and “Weird Al” Yankovic parodies. His set ended with his strongest original song, “Hair in My Soup,” on trichophobia — the fear of hair. Throughout the song he would list all the things he wanted to do but interrupted himself with, “but…ahhh there’s a hair in my soup,” and then would change the location of the unwanted hair with something that rhymes with the previous verses. Rarely were any two lyrics the same. Squeazy E’s songwriting was impeccable and leaned into the absurdity of not only the accordion but also of the world we currently live in. “Hair in My Soup” perfectly explains the inhibitions irrational fears bring to our lives. The way he doesn’t take himself seriously at all is refreshing and allows for this free exploration to create his own genre, klezmer-accordion comedy. However, he doesn’t sell himself short,
instead the intermittent “ahhh” in “Hair in my Soup” was a cathartic release of fear and frustration at his trichophobia. It was clear the only reason Squeazy E learned the accordion was for himself. That did not stop him from sharing his talent with the world. The measure for success for any piece of art should be its ability to evoke human emotion, but often the joy from humor is overlooked, with musical comedy seen as a lesser art form. However, musical comedy is just a different art form and should be measured on different metrics. It invites the odd to revel in their weirdness. Though one could see Squeazy E as simply a hobbyist with an accordion performing a concert for charity, the rawness of his performance made the Galactic Panther an even more microcosmic celebration of uniqueness.
THEHOYA.COM | FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024
REEL DILEMMA
The Modern Problems of the Cinema Industry Preston Shirazi Guide Columnist
Have you ever scrolled through IMDb’s top 100 movies and noticed something peculiar? Only a handful from the last decade made the cut. Sure, you might think it’s just a matter of taste, but there’s more to it. Between 1960 and 2016, the number of movies released annually in the U.S. skyrocketed from 100 to a whopping 750. Yet, the newer gems are noticeably absent from the all-time greats list. Why this cinematic drought? According to a 2023 Rasmussen Report poll, 42% of people believe movies have taken a nosedive in quality. Forget the intricacies of film ratings; the trend is clear. It’s not just your imagination — there’s a shift in the air. The shift towards unoriginal content, driven by economic considerations on a global scale that not only dominates traditional theaters but is amplified by streaming services, creates a cinematic environment that prioritizes quantity over quality and risks sacrificing the distinctive creativity that once defined the industry. We’relivinginatechwonderland.Thankstorapid advances in the film industry, movie editing has grown into a digital medium that can bring magic to the silver screen. Despite these advancements, our movie experience hasn’t soared to greater heights. Christopher Nolan’s “Interstellar” black hole scene took months to render in 2014; today, it would be a
breeze. The amount of advancement in computer technology, particularly in graphics processing units (GPUS) and central processing units (CPUS) has allowed studios to make life-like imagery in a cheap, quick and reliable manner. But does it translate to better movies? Not really. In the age of streaming, our screens are flooded with choices. But before you get excited, let’s take a cursory look at where the 750 movies released in 2016 are available. Only around 100 were shown in theaters. The cinemas are losing their appeal, with a 50% decline in attendance over four years. The movie market is now a digital realm dominated by Netflix, Hulu and their ilk. But here’s the snag: subscription-based platforms are more concerned with quantity than quality. A glance at IMDb ratings for Netflix originals reveals a sea of mediocre films. Gone are the days when you paid for a single movie in a theater; now, streaming services aim for “just okay” content. They’ve ditched unique plots for a slew of cookie-cutter storylines. Originality is at an all-time low, and the graph of good movies needs help to keep up with the influx of mediocrity. However,thatisnottosaythatstreaming services are all bad. “Roma,” the Oscar-winning 2018 film, likely would never have seen the light of day had Netflix not funded the project. There would simply be too much risk to take on an art film discussing class and race taking shape in Mexico to ever be produced. By having such a large library, streaming services have the potential to give directors an incredible amount of creative freedom, potentially
ON YOUR RADAR
setting new cinematic standards in the industry. Unfortunately, stories like the success of “Roma” are not representative of what the streaming industry aims for when producing its films. But what about the theaters? Aren’t they the bastions of original, quality cinema? Think again. Franchise films, sequels and remakes have become the norm. Since 1993, sequels and remakes have shot up by 700%. In 2021, 44 out of 91 global blockbuster films were unoriginal offerings. Why? It’s a cost-effective strategy for studios. Repackaging what worked before is easier, safer and cheaper. Disney, in particular, has mastered the art of remaking animated classics into liveaction hits. The 2019 remake of “The Lion King” grossed nearly $1.7 billion worldwide by simply being an incredibly nostalgic film that pandered to both the new generation of Disney-goers as well as the adults who had seen and fallen in love with the original. The movie was good because it already had the formula to be good. The first one was amazing, so the same thing repackaged was almost guaranteed to do well. Original content is riskier, and studios are not keen on taking chances when the bottom line is at stake. The international box office is another player in this cinematic saga. In 2019, the United States and Canada contributed less than 13% to the global box office revenue. Over 70% came from the international market, shaping studios’ decisions. Filmmakers tweak their creations to cater to global audiences, often at the expense of creativity. Altering plots, changing filming locations and even revising
By Elizabethe Bogrette
ARTS
ACTIVITY
V-Day doesn’t just have to be about storebought flowers and candy. Make this year special by crafting something yourself. Come down to the Maker Hub on Lau 1 from 3 p.m. to 8 p.m. Feb. 13 for some creative fun. The Maker Hub will provide all the materials needed to make your own bracelets and cards for your friends and loved ones, so grab a coffee from Midnight Mug and get to crafting.
Do you want to give a friend or loved one a gift they’ll never forget? Take the opportunity to make your very own candle Feb. 14 at 6 p.m. at the Bryant Street Market. The event will run for about two hours, allowing you to learn different techniques to make your own aromatherapy gel wax candle. No experience is necessary, and materials are included with the price of a ticket, so take some friends to experience this fun workshop.
MAKE YOUR OWN CANDLE
CRAFT ON CAMPUS
@GUMAKERHUB/INSTAGRAM
@BRYANTSTREETDC/INSTAGRAM
NEIGHBORHOOD
FALL IN LOVE WITH GEORGETOWN
Who needs an S.O. when you could fall in love with our city instead? Just a few minutes walk from the gates, many shops on M St. will be running a “Love, Georgetown” promotion Feb. 7 to 14. Promotions will include deals on Valentine’s Day-inspired treats, such as rose lattes at Cafe Georgetown, heart-shaped pizza at Manny & Olga’s Pizza and Valentine’s bonbons at Petite Soeur. Once you’ve had your fill of food, head over to Crumbs & Whiskers from 7 p.m. Feb. 13 and 14 for a purr-fect party to end the day.
characters to avoid offending specific markets have become standard practice. Despite these challenges, the movie industry is booming. Valued at nearly $95 billion in 2022, it’s estimated to reach $170 billion by 2030. So, why should we care if movies aren’t what they used to be? Martin Scorsese once questioned the purpose of film franchises, likening them to AI-generated content. What’s the value in consuming something that’s created, consumed and forgotten? Movies aren’t just entertainment; they’re an influential part of our culture. They tell stories that shape our perspectives and emotions. By sacrificing creativity for a formulaic approach, we risk turning cinema into a mere consumable. The art of filmmaking lies in taking risks, pushing boundaries and embracing the imperfect. Taking risks is what makes movies great. Stanley Kubrick, arguably one of the greatest American directors in history, before making what many consider to be the greatest film of all time — “2001: A Space Odyssey” — made “Fear and Desire,” a movie which he himself regretted making. Failure comes from seeking perfection and coming short in the movie industry. By settling for mediocrity and blandness, we trap ourselves in an endless, miserable loop. If we settle for mediocrity, we lose the essence of cinema as a source of inspiration. As consumers, we hold the power to demand more than the mundane. Let’s celebrate risk-taking, encourage creativity and ensure that cinema remains a source of magic rather than a forgettable pastime. It’s time to demand a return to the golden age of storytelling.
FILM
SEE A NEW MOVIE Valentine’s Day is about so much more than love and romance. Five new movies are premiering at AMC Georgetown on Feb. 14, and there is something for everyone to enjoy. Among them are “Madame Web,” the new Marvel movie starring Dakota Johnson and Sydney Sweeney and “Bob Marley: One Love,” a musical/drama about the life of acclaimed reggae star Bob Marley. But if a little bit of love is more your style, “Anyone But You,” a rom-com set on the sunny beaches of Australia, returns to the silver screen for @CAFEGEORGETOWNDC/INSTAGRAM their Valentine’s Day Encore.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024 | THEHOYA.COM
IMDB
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KAYLA CROSS/THE HOYA
Willis (SFS ’26) visited the farmhouse at the Calcagnini Contemplative center in Bluemont, Va.
FEATURE
Meditations, Reflections on Silence Executive Editor Jack Willis (SFS ’26) shares his experience from his retreat at the Calcagnini Contemplative Center in rural Virginia and what it taught him about the benefits of silence and reflective thoughts. Jack Willis
Executive Editor
In one of my earliest memories, I am at the park with my cousin. We climb far above where little kids should find themselves onto an awning overlooking a sea of taupe mulch. “Jump,” she says. And I do, falling weightlessly through the air in a silence that I can still feel, even now. The next moment I can remember is ear-piercingly loud, as my discordant wails reverberate in the arms of my teacher. I soon returned to school with a blank new canvas wrapped around my arm, eagerly awaiting a mosaic of names to be scribbled onto it. Many things have come in between these memories and the present — most of which I have long since forgotten — but this I know: I moved from preschool to kindergarten, got my first speeding ticket and signed up for a silent retreat in rural Virginia.
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Perhaps if I brought my toddler self with me out here, he would run around in the quiet and clean air, arm held in a cast, shouting aloud those divine revelations that have come time and again to four-year-olds, begging to manifest themselves in words — on a plane, in a restaurant, sitting in church. Though I am silent as I write now, I remain unconvinced that much has changed. I am still climbing plastic walls, sitting on grand ledges, embracing the thrill of leaping off and seeking solace after slamming into the ground. Granted, the playgrounds I find myself summiting now look much different. I go to Lau at four in the morning and let my self-respect give way to a primal desire to finish the last page of an essay. I sit in class and mindlessly submit internship applications. I rush through a meal at Leo’s or a workout at Yates so I can get back to whatever other awaits.
But here, on a chilly February night in the Blue Ridge Mountains, my mind wanders to the vault of stars that cover the sky, and there is — at last — no other. Only the same constellations that the first humans saw hundreds of thousands of years ago; a starry night mirroring the ones that inspired the brushstrokes of van Gogh. How rugged and wild, I think to myself, that I am but a dot in the same universe. Forgive me for so easily forgetting that I have slept under these same stars every night of my life. Such things are, after all, often obscured here at Georgetown University, whether by the orange Washington, D.C. skyline or the fluorescent lighting of the library. In the silence here, I remember this and much more that so regularly slips my mind. That each day is an adventure, for one. That when I drink coffee with milk, I think of my grandmother. That a wealth of knowl-
edge lies at my fingertips because we are here, at Georgetown, surrounded not just by the chaos of a never-ending midterm season but by good and life-giving things that resound with ancient wisdom and resonate in modern ears. Of course, that can be found in rich, wonderful noise: over a lively dinner with a friend you haven’t seen in far too long, or in an engaging lecture that captivates you in a way you just can’t quite explain. It can always be found too, though, in silence. When we put our laptops down and meander through the winding shelves of Lau in the middle of the night, filled with miles of books, or when we wake up a few minutes early to sit on the front lawn or in Dahlgren Chapel. As twenty retreatants, including myself, heard this past weekend at the Calcagnini Contemplative Center, reflections in silence uniquely equip each of us to harvest the tools that allow us to live our lives authentically. Pockets of quietness — on the bus, walking to class or eating breakfast — are opportunities to let reflective thoughts enrich our days, even if just for a moment. Through the stillness offered at the retreat, I looked many places: inward, at myself; outward, at nature. At the swaying trees reminiscent of a line of students waiting for coffee, and at the bushy-tailed squirrels whose scampering sounded like the ruffles of books shuffling in the time before class begins. In this, I am reminded of a poem written by Gerard Manley Hopkins, a 19th-century Jesuit, and shared by Fr. Gregory Schenden, S.J., the director of Campus Ministry, at the retreat. I have parsed together several different lines. “As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same. Crying What I do is me: for that I came.” There, in those moments, echoes reverberated of the same community, enriched by individuality, that brings so many together on the Hilltop. To hear such things, you often must hear nothing else at all. It was this I first learned on a playground 15 years ago and once again gazing at stars and sycamores.
THEHOYA.COM | FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024
IMDB
Jacqueline Novak (COL ’04) takes the stage in the new Netflix special ‘Get on Your Knees.’
COMEDY
‘Get On Your Knees:’ A Sharp-Witted Comedic Masterpiece On Netflix by a Georgetown University Graduate Elizabethe Bogrette Guide Deputy Editor
“Get on Your Knees,” a new Netflix comedy written and produced by Georgetown University graduate Jacqueline Novak (COL ’04), has broken the barriers of feminine purity culture while simultaneously offering a dazzling 90-minute performance of poetic verbosity. The special begins with Novak entering the stage with an enthusiasm that continues throughout the entirety of the show. She opens by stringing together her personal narratives regarding sex, providing poetic justice to traditionally stigmatized language. Yet, throughout her performance, which is more akin to the one-woman show she adapted it from than other comedy specials currently on Netflix, she crafts a multilayered argument against the purity culture that is so prevalent in our society today. She works these concepts into her act effortlessly, with so much nuance that, throughout the first few minutes, the viewer does not register
the inherent details of her true argument. What might appear to be a raunchy comedic monologue disguises a biting explanation of the lengths that women will go to to protect the interests of men, down to the language used for heterosexual sex. Through her challenges to the form, she dissuades viewers from simply accepting words and phrases with misogynistic undertones. By twisting and contorting these commonly ignored patterns, Novak calls attention to the way women use language in a performative way, not just to appease the male ego but also to romanticize their shortcomings. Over the course of an almost cyclical 90 minutes, she returns to this theme again and again through retelling her own life experiences. She discusses bending over backward to protect her ex-boyfriends’ feelings, essentially embracing their faults as poetic justice. Yet, by the end of the production, she realizes that her continuous efforts have not only gone unnoticed but that her partners never try to protect her feelings. Novak never comes across as anti-male but instead as a sexual being who can approach
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024 | THEHOYA.COM
these complexities with a hilariously unbiased lens, simply calling it like she sees it, so to speak. She emphasizes full authenticity, which translates into the undertones of women’s role in modern sex and the lack of reciprocity from their partners, throughout her act. Novak never positions her logic about inherent inequality as an anti-sex argument or herself as an activist for puritanical values. Instead, she encourages listeners to embrace their experiences, taking advantage of the excitement that comes with intimacy. If anything, her entire performance is a love letter to her sexual experiences, looking back at them as memories that changed her perceptions of the world and of herself. Novak speaks with an air of spontaneity as if she is simply engaging in a spirited conversation with her audience. From her constant movement on stage to her animated speech, she can weave complex themes of confidence, self-hatred and philosophy together as if they are simply coming to mind, making the entire set impossible to ignore both as a treatise and a comedic set. This type of comedy special stands alone
in the scheme of the current, more classical stand-up productions on Netflix. Often, these other comedians focus more on loosely correlated sets regarding a multitude of topics, whereas Novak is able to revolve around a continuous subject, tying in both anecdotes and literary references to keep the audience entertained. This is, to say the least, a fresh take for Netflix, and a step in the right direction for appealing to new viewership. Novak graduated from the College of Arts & Sciences in 2004 after working in an improv comedy troupe with other comedic big names like John Mulaney (COL ’04) and Nick Kroll (COL ’01). She references Georgetown briefly during her production, saying, “I ended up at a Catholic-ish college,” where she worked on poetry and creative writing. Overall, this special is not only a groundbreaking comedy but a true philosophical argument on the performative nature of straight-cisgender sexual experiences. Now more than ever, these types of social commentaries are vital to exploring new ideas on sex and gender roles, which Novak does exceptionally throughout this performance.
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FEATURE
One Side Then, Both Sides Now: Joni Mitchell’s Performance Offers a New Perspective at the 2024 Grammy Awards Jack Willis
Executive Editor
Enthroned at the center of a mosaic of apostles and courtly observers, Joni Mitchell radiated the aura of a Byzantine empress as she performed at the 2024 Grammy Awards amid a shimmering haze of golden chandeliers and a woodwind ensemble. Rich hues of yellow, orange and brown enshrouded Mitchell and her entourage in the mystic vein of a prophetess of old — and looking at events, I’m not convinced she isn’t one. After a brain aneurysm in 2015, only a miracle would suggest even the mere possibility of Mitchell speaking or walking again, much less performing live in front of music’s biggest names. Not to mention, taking home a tenth Grammy. The trajectory of her career represents a powerful rise from difficult circumstances; she suffered from polio as a child and later had to give her daughter up for adoption. Her albums at first stuttered, then soared.
It may come as no surprise, then, that strength was evident from the first sounds that pass through Mitchell’s lips, even all these years later, as she began with the iconic introduction of “Both Sides Now”: “Rows and flows of angel hair / And ice cream castles in the air.” The quick, upbeat tempo with which she once delivered these lyrics has by no means disappeared. Rather, it has evolved into something profoundly becoming of the sage role Mitchell has assumed in the music industry. Taylor Swift, the woman of the night (decade?), has said Mitchell’s “Blue” (1971) is her favorite album, and the likes of Lana del Rey and Phoebe Bridgers have cited Mitchell as an inspiration. Moving into her signature delivery — poetic and profound, like a sorrowful songbird — her embattled lyrics take on a different meaning than they once did. Listening to a twenty-something deliver profound life advice is almost paradoxical; it often shifts the focus of a piece to its lyricism and instrumentals instead, if for no other reason than the
CROSSWORD
general association of knowledge with age. As conventional wisdom would have it, even Mitchell, whose life at 30 was already filled with profound sorrow, suffering and love, could not possibly have known “both sides.” Perhaps, then, it was just one side that she knew back then, even if she knew that side very well. Now, in 2024, she continues in song, delivering classic lines like “So many things I would’ve done / But clouds got in my way” with poignant, forlorn head shakes and sideways glances. The focus is now shifted: at 80, what would she have done? The visuals, sounds and even the aura of Mitchell practically beg the question: What do I do? What can I do? Her regal presence — rare and miraculous — almost feels as though we are before a divine authority; like little children before Jesus, we are desperately curious. Alas, Mitchell answers with an admonition that, in her youth, sounded more like a reflection. “And if you care, don’t let them know / Don’t give yourself away,” she sings. And we listen.
This is apparent in the tears of Meryl Streep and Beyoncé, and from my own interpretation: This is true, Mitchell says; this is what I have learned. She is punchy, too, in a manner that is thrilling and understated all at once. Her lyrics, much like her, have evolved, and she lets herself reflect that. On Sunday night, “Say I’ve changed” was “Joni, you’ve changed,” a simple shift in syntax that invites listeners into her personal experience that has been at times scrutinized, assumed and judged. All eyes on her, Mitchell reaches a crux as she delivers her thesis: “Some things lost, but some things gained / From living every day.” Life is give and take, and up and down, she says; it is what we make of it. A million different lessons can be drawn from just these few words. What, though, is living every day? If we look at her life, it is persisting every day, inquiring every day, creating every day, challenging every day. Just the same, she repeatedly asserts that she really doesn’t know life — at all. I’m not convinced.
By Amber Cherry
This Week’s Theme: References Your Dad Would Get 1
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1. Popular Southern dish 6. Totally tubular 7. The end of a shoelace 9. Key and _____ 10. You get these kinds of mesages when you have a hold on your registration.
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Last issue’s solutions 1
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1. Unit of snow, or to become drowsy 6. Passage between rows of seats, as in a theater or airplane 7. Abbr. for Maryland sports team 8. Bread crumb variety 10. Text messaging services, abbr.
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1. Conditions that may follow storms 2. Smallest U.S. state, by area 3. Unique book IDs 4. Unit of snow, or to cancel plans 5. Ultimate end, as per Aristotle 9. Morning hour, abbr.
THEHOYA.COM | FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2024