Yes, yes, I know – floods, Nazis, everything is terrible right now. But you’d be forgiven for not being entirely in the loop; as I’m sure you all know, there’s been a recent major international event that’s been permeating our consciousness.
So, it’s been a week since Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life went live on Netflix. The internet has had a lot of opinions and emotions about it, and Boshemia babes Q and L are no different (E is still on Season 2, sweet summer child that she is. Oh the things you have to come!). We got together to discuss our fresh-off-the-box, knee-jerk response thoughts on the revival.
Young Jean Lee has brought to Washington, D.C. audiences a deeply perceptive, provocative play about race and identity during a time when this particular demographic— straight, white, male— is undergoing an essential investigation. Straight White Men is no base attack on whiteness and masculinity, nor a send-up of xenophobic caricature or supremacist stereotype, but instead a nuanced examination of the “well-meaning white man.” Presented by the Studio Theatre and directed by Shana Cooper, Lee offers a thorough exploration of privilege, ambition, and the lasting effects of white guilt.
Emerging from New York’s avant-garde, Young Jean Lee is no upstart playwright, boasting 12 produced works under her belt and touted by The New York Times as “the most adventurous downtown playwright of her generation.” A veritable force in the contemporary theater world, Lee is known for her daring voice and experimental style, notably so in her 2011 production of Untitled Feminist Show. Straight White Men breaks her practice of non-traditional storytelling to present a linear, naturalistic performance that seduces traditional theatre-going audiences [white, wealthy] into confronting often unspoken anxieties about race [their whiteness].
Boshemia writer L was lucky enough to attend an advance screening of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them on premiere night. This review is spoiler-free.
This evening whilst sitting in the cinema watching the opening sequence for Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, listening to the first bars of that all-too-familiar theme, I experienced a sensation I thought I had experienced for the very last time five years ago with Deathly Hallows Part 2; that goosebumpy, heart-fluttery, smile-twitching, thrill of watching a Harry Potter film for the first time. As the music swelled I could feel every single person in the room being swept back into that universe on a wondrous tide of nostalgia and anticipation, returning once more to that world which is so familiar and so comforting to generations of people. Only magic elicits that feeling.
Remember how in our last joint post, I said that I’d be making a more conscious effort to not consume media by dickheads? Yeah sorry, today we’re going to be talking about Rosemary’s Baby, directed by certified rapist Roman Polanski. Sorry guys. Spoilers ahoy! (But it was released in 1968 and is one of the most famous movies ever. Get with it.)
Rosemary’s Baby is one of the most chilling horror movies of the 20th Century. Mia Farrow excels as Rosemary, a young woman who moves into a swish New York apartment with her husband Guy (John Cassavetes). As nice as the apartment is, their new neighbours are a little too kooky for Rosemary to deal with. Luckily, Guy gets on with them wonderfully, and what ensues is a classic boy-gets-the-girl-impregnated-by-the-devil-to-further-his-acting-career-on-the-advice-of-Satanists. Classic. The majority of the movie is deals with Rosemary’s increasingly fragile state and sense of isolation as she looses control of this thing that’s happening to her own body.
As a pop culture junkie, I thought I may as well get some articles out of this crippling addiction. In Q’s Queue, we’ll be having a look at some of the hits, hidden gems and horrors found on my Streaming list, all through a feminist lens. Today’s venture: Don’t Trust the B in Apartment 23.
Apartment 23 recently dropped on UK Netflix and I could not be more stoked. I’ve long been a fan of Kyrsten Ritter, from her days as tragic junkie Jane on Breaking Bad, to her starring vehicle on Jessica Jones (both shows just happen to be available on Netflix. Catch up gang). Both shows highlight her dramatic chops, but in Apartment 23 she is straight up hilarious. Created by Nahnatchka Khan (Fresh Off The Boat, American Dad,) Apartment 23 tells the tale of June (Dreama Walker), a naïve Midwestern girl who moves to New York in the pursuit of a job opportunity. The job ends up being a bust, and she’s left homeless and penniless. Enter Chloe (Krysten Ritter) with a spare room and some seriously questionable morals. Along with BFF James Van Der Beek (James Van Der Beek in his best role), shenanigans ensue and gender stereotypes are broken. The show originally aired on ABC in 2012-2013, and for some reason, it never managed to find a devoted audience. After constant time-slot changes and episodes airing out of order, the show was mercilessly cancelled; now with Ritter’s increasing popularity, and the wonders of streaming, hopefully, it can find the audience it deserves.