Miami students are accustomed to the tables set up by various campus organizations on the second floor of Armstrong. Most of them are advertising or fundraising, and many students quickly walk by avoiding eye contact, not wanting to be interrupted on their way to and from class.
It's 10 a.m. on a Saturday and I am bear crawling in a circle around an acting studio with my favorite professor, 12 other students and a certified clown.
The 1990s cult classic "Cruel Intentions" started streaming on Netflix last Friday, allowing viewers like me to witness the film for the first time. I was completely shocked by its stepsiblings-running-a-sex-bet-to-get-in-each-other's-pants narrative, and wondered whether the film could have been made this year.
As the lights went down on the 90th Academy Awards this past Sunday evening, one thing was certain: Women in Hollywood mean business.
"Red Sparrow," the latest Jennifer Lawrence vehicle, is an espionage thriller with a bland plot and very little in the way of thrills. It's a film with a lot of production value that merely puts a glossy sheen over a story so trashy it ranks with gorefests like "Hostel" and other smut. Mindless and limitlessly cynical, its only saving grace is that eventually, it ends -- though it makes us wait an excruciating 140 minutes for the sweet release of credits.
The gray and blue stone shoots out over the tops of the uniform orange shingles of Bruges' buildings. Equally beautiful, yet somehow out of place, St. Salvator's Cathedral towers over the carefully crafted, old-timey Bruges like a grandfather sitting next to a 20-year-old with full makeup, striving to look old enough to get into a bar. The authenticity sometimes missing in the tourist packed streets oozes off of the cathedral.
We are in the midst of a new era of science fiction.
The Academy Awards are about winning, or so some say. They are about honoring those who have worked hard to get there. They are about celebrating movies. But more importantly, the Academy Awards are about celebrating and inspiring others.
As anyone who watched the 90th Academy Awards this past Sunday can tell you, I take awards shows way too seriously. For me, the Oscars is like watching my favorite team in the World Series 24 times, and every other nominee is the Yankees. This is what was going through my head for some of last night's biggest awards:
One of the few drawbacks of living during peak TV is facing the harsh reality that with so many great shows, many will also be cancelled. With that spirit in mind, here is my impassioned plea for you to watch five shows so they don't meet that fate. Hopefully, you watch them because I convince you that they're all wonderful comedies which deserve loyal and enthusiastic fandoms. Then, once viewership spikes due to the massive popularity of this list, I will get to see another season of many of my favorite shows:
A chilling wind whips two solid red flags across the faces of the marchers. Adorned in rainbow flags, anti-hate t-shirts and stern faces, Tristin Leavitt and his allies band together in the annual Unity March.
Decked in paper ribbons and filled with people in ornate robes of pink and gold, the Shriver Center Heritage Room was unrecognizably festive last Saturday. It played host to a celebration called Shinnenkai, which roughly translates to New Year's Party. The event was a collaboration by Miami's' Japanese Culture and Language Club, Taiko Drumming Club and Anime Club.
The fun the cast of "Bend, Tear, and Spindle" had in staging its performance was contagious as their obvious joy spread throughout Wilks Theatre on opening night.
Your roommate booked a cruise to Cancun. Your sorority sister is headed to Breckenridge to hit the slopes. Even your Stats professor is bragging about their planned trip up to Windsor to win big at the blackjack tables.