In my first eighteen years of life, I managed to avoid all things "Harry Potter"
I pride myself on having generally good taste in comedy. I was raised on a steady diet of "Jeopardy," followed by "Seinfeld," during the weeknights of my youth. I have been known to check out numerous anthologies about the history of "Saturday Night Live" from my public library and thanks to many sleepless nights filled with Comedy Central stand-up specials, I have a well-developed understanding of the current comedy scene.
It was quiet Uptown. Traffic lights cast red-and-green glows over leftover rain pooling in the street. The sidewalks were empty but littered with evidence of the Miami student population's Saturday night: Jimmy John's and Bruno's receipts plastering the sidewalk, crumpled balls of aluminum foil and half-eaten bagels lying abandoned by the curb.
As an advocate for sexual freedom and expression, as well as a self-proclaimed sexpert, I am disappointed -- to say the least -- by the second installment in the "Fifty Shades" trilogy.
Jordan Peele is known as one of today's greatest satirists largely because of his role in the comedy duo Key & Peele and their much-adored, dearly-missed sketch show. But who says he can only be funny? In his writing/directing solo debut, "Get Out," Peele crafts a clever satire on race relations that fuses his trademark humor with bone-chilling horror.
Open on a shot of some sun barely peeking over a planet. Pan camera to reveal a space station floating nearby. Cue vague narration.
In Netflix's horror-comedy "Santa Clarita Diet," Joel and Sheila Hammond (Timothy Olyphant and Drew Barrymore) are realtors that have built a nice, if not routine, life in beautiful suburban California, complete with gossipy neighbors and an eternally ungrateful teenage daughter. That routine is quickly thrown out the window when Sheila begins vomiting an absurd amount, coughs up a strange red ball and falls unconscious.
Ross Tague and Corinne McGoldrick sat facing each other in their usual booth. They added their voices to the cacophony inside Pulley Dinner, talking about late night television. Both of them wanted to go into TV when they graduated. After talking for a while, they came to a conclusion that there was nothing like late night TV.
Future, "FUTUR"
Ever start watching a movie or TV show and realize you couldn't care less what happens to the main character because you're suddenly way more invested in the supporting storyline? With love in the air this week, here are a few couples who manage to be funnier, cuter and more loving than their film's main relationships despite considerably less time onscreen.
Migos, "Cultur"
By Kirby Davis, Entertainment Editor
By Haley Miller, THE MIAMI STUDENT
By Nina Franco, THE MIAMI STUDENT
By Devon Shuman, Culture Editor
By AJ Newberry, THE MIAMI STUDENT
The things we watched, listened to and streamed over winter break
By Ross Tague, THE MIAMI STUDENT
By Alison Perelman, Assistant Culture Editor