分类： 赛事资讯

In a magical world of shapeshifting snakes and pilfering platypi, could humanity pose the greatest threat? For indisputable philanthropist and quintessential Hufflepuff, Newt Scamander, the theory seems all too plausible. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” transports devoted fans and muggles alike into a new realm of witchcraft and wizardry. A story of preserving wildlife, challenging governmental influence, and embracing individuality, the fantastic film seems to have an unexpectedly realistic edge.

Set in 1920s New York City, “Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them” creates a magic of its own. Bustling streets, towering skyscrapers, and mustard-topped hot dogs immerse viewers into the uncharted universe of early 20th century America. J.K. Rowling, the reason for Harry Potter’s existence and sole screenwriter for the film, adds her own twist — the unlikely protagonist himself, Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne). Scamander, joined by comical no-maj, or non-magical person, Kowalski (Dan Fogler), and ambitious witch, Tina (Katherine Waterston), travels throughout the city, from Macy’s Department Store to goblin-owned speakeasies. But there’s a catch: Scamander, avid lover of all fantastic beasts, has brought some creatures along in his suitcase. They, too, have decided to explore the city — on their own.

Scamander’s subsequent journey is not only one of recovering creatures; it is one of discovering himself. Like a selfless and loyal Hufflepuff, Scamander fights to defend his beasts from “millions of the most vicious creatures on the planet — humans.” He defies orders from an oppressive government — Rowling’s version of Potter’s Ministry of Magic, the Magical Congress of the United States of America — to protest the state of creature rights. He mentors a young wizard, freeing him from suppression and the puritanical grasp of an anti-wizardry organization, the Second Salem Preservation Society. He exposes the man whose bleached blonde mohawk and infamous name appear on every magical newspaper throughout the wizarding world.

The beauty of the film is not found in Rowling’s shy protagonist or his boy-next-door British charm. Nor is it found in the brilliant cinematography behind window-shopping monkeys and Arizona-bound dragons. It is found in Scamander’s attempts to save his creatures and friends from the world’s most terrible beasts — humans. With the help of an otherworldly cast and captivating story line, “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” transforms a fantastic tale into a modern social statement. No magic needed.

Theodore Sakellaridis, age 15: “Cuphead: A New Take on the Past”

Olivia Roark, age 15: “‘Mean Girls’ Finds a New Medium”

Elizabeth Puthumana, age 16: “The Heart of a Lion”

Taylor Pitzl, age 16: “Mother! Doesn’t Know Best”

Elizabeth “Betsy” Kim, age 18: “Death and Deep Questions in ‘Dunkirk’”

Cameron Kaercher, age 17: “Baby Driver — ‘He’s a Looney. Just like His Tunes.’”

Kaitlin Jones, age 16: “You’re Getting Warmer: A Review of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’s Ninth Studio Album”

Betsy Jenifer, age 18: “Ten Days in a Mad-House by Nellie Bly: A Chilling Peek Into Madness”

Reed Holland, age 14: “‘Your Fathers, Where Are they? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever?’ Raises More Questions Than it Answers”

James Heffner, age 18: “Dancer in the Dark: The Musical Against Musicals”

Konrad Fondrie, age 18: “In Wonderland, an Impossible Permanence”

Jackson Edwards, age 17: “A One-Woman Show: Sarah Huckabee Sanders Shines in the White House Press Briefing”

Archie Barnes, age 14: “Wu-Tang Clan: The Saga Continues”

Laura Angulo, age 16: “Origin by Dan Brown — The Existential Questions of Humankind”

Guy Anello, age 16: “The Science of Everything”

荣誉奖

Joanne Yang, age 14: “Fetish Review of ’Fetish’ by Selena Gomez”

James Wilt, age 16: “The T-Rex Cafe, Somewhere You Can Really Sink Your Teeth Into.”

Samantha Vatalaro, age 17: “‘Humanz’ After All: Gorillaz’s New Album and Dancing Through the Darkness”

Nandini Talwar, age 17: “Rain: A Thought; A Squall”

Simon Sweeney, age 16: “Our Kingdom for a Horse: Peter Shaffer’s Equus in Pittsburgh”

Sophie, age 16: “What Is a Feminist Anyway?”

Cate Schultz, age 15: “Chance the Rapper: An Artist Who Redefined His Artist”

Elena Seaholm, age 16: “‘Baby Driver’: A Thrill Ride From Start to Finish”

Kendall Rogers, age 16: “The Most Empowering Game of Truth or Dare”

Lily Meyers, age 14: “Love and Loss”

Claire Lewing, age 16: “The Making of Modern Art”

Ridhi Shashi Kumar, age 17: “‘Before the Flood’: Icebergs Are No Longer Leonardo DiCaprio’s Foes, but His Friends”

Mary Hudak, age 15: “The Masterpieces of Myrna Minnis”

Nicole Guittari, age 17: “Once Was Enough”

Zac Gill, age 15: “Brockhampton: Not Your Average Rappers”

Maeve Donovan, age 14: “Feeling Invisible in ‘Because I Am Furniture’”

Arianna Coan-Prichard, age 16: “The Anomaly”

Emily Bukaty, age 15: “Ellen’s Stardust Diner: An Aspiring Broadway Singer’s Dream Come True”

Jonathan Badonsky, age 16: “‘Loveless’: the Anti-Romantic Comedy”

Hannah Babcock, age 16: “Hauntingly Beautiful”

As minority groups feel increasingly insecure, there’s been a trend for artists to churn out superficial albums that receive praise for their sheer mention of race, gender or sexuality. Real representation of insecurity ought to be messy, just as is the subject itself. Dev Hynes’s third album, under the alias Blood Orange, perfectly encapsulates this dilemma through his politically-charged lyrics and beats reminiscent of the ‘80’s. Titled “Freetown Sound,” Hynes pours his thoughts into the project, making for a raw and hypnotic depiction of identity.

Fans of Hynes will see similarities to previous projects in his powerfully-subdued lyrics, but “Freetown Sound” creates a listening experience far different from the alt-pop boppy anthems of prior albums like “Coastal Grooves.” In Freetown, tracks are broken up through conceptual interludes, like the messy and atmospheric album opener “By Ourselves”. The track features no clear hook and a layer of vocals that creates a state of confusion, setting the perfect tone for the tracks to come. Before ending, the last sentiment of a sample of black slam-poet Ashlee Haze’s “For Colored Girls (The Missy Elliott Poem)” echoes “there are a million black girls waiting to see someone who looks like them” as the statement trails off in free-jazz, clearly leaving the listener who’d come for Hynes’ classic ‘80’s dance beats somewhat confused. However, this album is not just for the abstract-minded listener; one can certainly look to the track “Best to You” for the same blast-with-the-windows-down sensation that might have drawn them to Blood Orange in the first place. And even so, the politicization of the tracks is not so far-fetched to no longer be enjoyable; the track “Desirée,” despite being adorned with samples from queer-minority cult documentary “Paris is Burning,” still manages to flow beautifully in a more conventional sense.

Not only is the album compositionally vital, it really does sound good; it arguably features Blood Orange’s best vocals yet, with his range on full display in “EVP.” In this and other tracks, the heart-thumping rhythm of the gated reverb creates an air of ‘80’s nostalgia. And yet these appealing rhythms have a purpose, as their inspiration draws on a decade filled with immense identification struggle in the midst of political and social turmoil, honing in on Hynes’s own story. Of the problems he addresses — those based on his experiences as a queer black male — none are given clear-cut solutions. There is no one specific question posed by Hynes on these 17 tracks; to most genuinely represent these issues, Hynes proves that there can’t be, given all of their complexity, confusion and frustration.

New Jersey isn’t famous for astounding artistic works, but sometimes art doesn’t need to be good to draw attention. Consider Congo the chimpanzee, whose paintings sold for over $20,000 and were proudly displayed by Pablo Picasso. If there’s an architectural equivalent of this, it is certainly the Meadowlands Xanadu. At least Congo didn’t need billions of dollars, seventeen years, and two other chimpanzees to complete his project.

Xanadu, located in East Rutherford, New Jersey, was first drafted in 2002 by the Mills Corporation, which was known for large malls with an abstract or modern style. Within five years, Mills had gone bankrupt and the property was sold, but not before they could bestow upon it their signature bizarre architecture and color palette. The mall changed hands a few times and remained at 80 percent completion until 2017, and it is now projected to open in 2019.

Visually, the most egregious of Xanadu’s many design flaws is the color scheme, which at least takes on the uniquely New Jersey look of a pile of Cape May cottages after Hurricane Sandy. Some sides of the mall have a seemingly random array of white and blue, giving it the appearance of a large cargo ship stacked with shipping containers. Other walls are painted with alternating stripes of yellow and maroon, which closely resembles rust and gives the building a decrepit air. Some walls aren’t painted at all, and a stark contrast is formed between the Brutalist look of the concrete and the otherwise chaotic palette. With these features combined, Xanadu actually resembles nearby Newark harbor, which is brimming with fading cargo containers, rusty barges, yellow marsh grass and unimaginative concrete.

Unfortunately, it is difficult to fully grasp Xanadu’s interior design without trespassing, but if the outside is any indicator, it is certainly doozy. The building has a nearly triangular shape with one parking garage in the middle and three surrounding it, meaning traffic in the area, especially with MetLife Stadium next door, will be a nightmare. Frankly, the best thing about the design is that the mall will never run out of parking spaces, considering it has over 28 lots and four garages. The open triangle shape also doubles the amount of time required to move from one side of the building to the other (assuming shoppers don’t want to dodge the aforementioned horrendous traffic on foot). Xanadu may even have problems on a purely structural level, as several serious cracks appeared following heavy snow in 2011.

To summarize:

There once was a mall named Xanadu.
Fans of its style were few.
It had costs astronomical,
ugliness comical,
and design by Mr. Magoo.

“The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.” ― Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

I have been properly bewitched since this October. That is to say, absolutely and hopelessly bewitched: ever since the infamous Cirque du Soleil hurricaned into my life. One moment I was bitterly cursing into my mittens, in line behind another hundred grumpy individuals huddling away from the biting West Coast wind. And the next, I was stepping into a steampunk fairy-tale world all underneath a soaring depthless black. The hextech lights, the swinging music, the fantastical costumes all featured in Kurios: Cabinet of Curiosities; they brought me back to my sci-fi fantasy-loving, 10-year-old self once again, even before the performance began.

Beyond amazing tricks and illusions, I found myself entranced by the interactions between the stage and audience. Cast members would chaotically pile themselves on platforms to entertain each and every section of the crowd, creating a hectic yet festive merrymaking for all. Some performers would venture into front rows to bug or play with children. It is an intimate exchange where the entertainers visibly feed off the enjoyment of the audience. I personally fell in love with the live singer Eirini Tornesaki, whose ghostly and captivating voice accompanies most of the scenes in the show.

However, I cannot properly recreate the experience for you — because that is what it is: an experience. But know when the show begins, you will hear a chime. The numbers on a clock above the stage, previously unnoticed by the audience, starts revolving at a slow, dreamlike pace. You will hear gears groaning and machines sputtering to life. Suddenly the lights turn off and a hush settles over the gathered crowd. It’s 11:11, with no indication of daytime or nighttime, and the circus has arrived.

The ephemeral atmosphere will coax you from reality and completely consume you. When the half time gives you a brief respite, a haze lingers in your mind. And when the show ends you will find yourself in middle of the cold, cold parking lot, wondering if it really happened or not. You understand one thing though. You hope that the circus will visit you again; you hope to see it in your dreams.

The year is 1973. A highly publicized tennis match, “The Battle of the Sexes,” is aired between incendiary sexist has-been Bobby Riggs and young up-and-comer Billie Jean King. The media circus of blatant chauvinism surrounding the match quickly fades, as King wins against Riggs in three sets, shattering a glass ceiling for female athletes and putting an end to the outrageous gender politics of the era. Or so it was thought.

Contrast 1973 with 2016, where competent, experienced Hillary Clinton loses the presidential election to Donald Trump, a demagogic businessman who exploits institutionalized sexism in order to draw greater crowds. One of the final glass ceilings suddenly becomes that much harder to reach. And the world’s assumption that modern sexism is ending comes to a screeching halt.

It is this brave new world in which “Battle of the Sexes” (the movie) debuted, eight months after Trump’s inauguration. Through no fault of its own, the film loses its resonance, as an ending that was clearly intended to be a victory lap in a Hillary Clinton presidency becomes merely a wistful memory.

Don’t misunderstand me. If one were to keep a checklist of everything that makes a movie conventionally “good” — the acting, the direction, the script, the pacing — it would fill out every single one of those boxes. If one judges the film based solely on artistic merit, it is a resounding success. But the agenda that it clearly tries to push here appears unrealistic.

King (Emma Stone) takes center stage, working with a group of all-star female players to close the gender wage gap while simultaneously struggling with her own sexuality. Riggs (Steve Carell), by contrast, is a washed-up former tennis player and gambling addict who finds himself once again drawn to the court. In order to gain attention, Riggs makes inflammatory statements about women to any media outlet he can find, and challenges multiple women to exhibition matches in order to “settle the debate” about female athletes.

Stone and Carell both give measured, capable performances, and the film is that much better for it. It tackles and takes sides on major issues. But the film loses its impact when it begins portraying sexual discrimination as something ridiculous, a museum relic that children and mothers can point to and laugh at before moving on down to the Jim Crow selection.

Our current politics don’t reflect an end to sexism but a resurgence, as abortion policy and women’s health initiatives are now dictated by committees of white men. “Battle of the Sexes” is a victim of bad timing, released in a world where its gender politics border on fallacy. Through little fault of its own, it appears hopelessly out of touch.

Arnav Prasad, age 17: “‘Universal Paperclips’: The Rebirth of a Classic Video Game Genre”

To the adroit gamer, one all too familiar with the dynamic gameplay, lifelike graphics, and intricate plots of popular gaming franchises, Frank Lantz’s “Universal Paperclips” surrenders visual complexity for conceptual depth.

For much of recent video game history, the “clicker” format, where users repeatedly press the screen through the entirety of the game, has condemned itself to short-lived, viral streaks — think “Flappy Bird” or “Subway Surfer.” Dismantling the monotony of clickers, “Universal Paperclips” represents the next step in the genre’s natural evolution. The routine imagery of sex, violence and profanity that permeates classic prestige games is lost on “Universal Paperclips.” In its replacement, the game capitalizes upon numbers, their ubiquity, and their power in a world cast in their image.

Beyond a plain opening interface, the basic clicker game transforms itself into a profound narrative of an easily recognizable reality. Centered around a harmless paperclip manufacturing business, the premise of the game is simple: sell paperclips to maximize profits. With a click of a button, the user, who comes to represent artificial intelligence, begins a storied journey to develop an evermore seamless paperclip factory. With skilled manipulation of the price, pace of production, and stocking of paperclip inventory, the user rapidly cultivates their own financial power. As paperclips convert to available funds, the user unlocks myriad potential upgrades that promise the expansion of the business. From allocating computational power to “interpret and understand the human language,” to inheriting an algorithmic hedge fund, to investing in the exploration of the universe for novel paperclip material, the versatility of paperclips and its associated economy sees no virtual bounds.

The immersive game exists at the intersection of subtle cultural commentary and mindless time-waster. At its core, “Universal Paperclips” is simply another browser game. Yet, beyond its literal focus on paperclips, the game warns of a problematic breed of artificial intelligence that champions earnings at the expense of morality. Perhaps, artificial intelligence will risk the world order to promote its overarching goal of paperclip mania; or instead, humankind will gradually succumb to the tumultuous rigors of the vast paperclip economy. In a technological age marked by supercomputers and the like, “Universal Paperclips,” in the face of its perceived simplicity, acts as a timely reminder of how artificial intelligence blurs the boundary between object and life. In short, the artistry of game derives from its asking of how society must grapple with computers’ expanding control over the ethical ambiguities ever so prevalent in the world. Thanks to Frank Lantz and his innovations, at least everyone now knows to take their paperclips a little more seriously.