赛事资讯 - 第 43 页 - New York Times Writing Contest

Synecdoche, New York – Charlie Kaufman’s Global Oracle

Matthew Mandel, age 16

As the directorial debut of Charlie Kaufman, notable writer of such universally praised movies as “Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind” and “Being John Malkovich,” “Synecdoche, New York” stands as Kaufman’s first opportunity to step out of the writer’s chair and take the reigns of an entire theatrical release, giving him full artistic license regarding the film’s story line, characters and overarching theme. Kaufman took advantage of this through his commentary on the mind-set of the information age and where society is headed into the future. “We’re all hurtling toward death, yet here we are for the moment, alive; each of us knowing we’re going to die, each of us secretly believing we won’t,” says Caden Cotard, a fragile, anxious playwright, and the protagonist of “Synecdoche, New York,” played by Philip Seymour-Hoffman.

In the film, Caden is awarded a MacArthur grant, which allows him to finally produce a masterwork which allows him to portray a pure representation of his inner workings (much like Kaufman with this movie). Unfortunately for Caden, this feat will cost him his career and his concentration, as he attempts to recreate every real-world conflict with thousands of actors and scenes within the play. All the while, he deals with issues of romance, fatherhood and aging, fully aware of the results of his every decision and the inevitability of death. Charlie Kaufman utilizes this deeply cognizant character to reflect not only himself, but also everyone living in the information age.

In this all-too-nearing future, constant access to public opinion and social ridicule leaves Caden overly self-aware, to the point where he questions his every move and action in the entire movie. He allows his eye for perfection within his play do a number to his physical health, neglecting his humanity for the sake of that which he wishes to share with the world. Could this, too, be the fate of humanity? Doomed to inevitably create our own ideal worlds, where all conflicts reflect our own perspectives, to a degree of tunnel vision wherein we begin to disregard our surroundings? This corresponds both with the director and users of social media, as posts and statuses may be perfected to portray to the world one’s best self, whether or not this may be their candid self. A book could be written on the detailed level of allegory utilized in this film, but the best place to begin searching is within the title “Synecdoche, New York.” Caden creates his own synecdoche, or a part meant to represent the whole, within his uncannily intricate depiction of the world at large. One thing is for sure, Charlie Kaufman’s 2008 treasure is sure to perplex, and allow for some deep introspection and self acceptance.

Falling, Failing, Flying

Rachel Liu, age 13

“Will Grayson, meet Will Grayson.”

The authors David Levithan and John Green (infamously nerdy YA authors of the century) piece together the confusion of meeting someone else with your name and a hilariously realistic comedy featuring a big gay guy, his best friend, another gay guy, and the most fabulous play to ever grace the high school stage.

Will 1 is stuck. He’s stuck in school, life, and also with Tiny Cooper, who is his (only if you must) best friend. He copes by following two simple but catastrophic rules: 1 —Don’t care too much. 2 —Shut up. His views on Tiny are also simple: “Tiny Cooper is not the world’s gayest person, and he is not the world’s largest person, but I believe he may be the world’s largest person who is really, really gay, and also the world’s gayest person who is really, really large.”

Then there’s Will 2: alive, but somehow not; seeing, but somehow not. He’s “constantly torn between killing myself” and “killing everyone around me,” but surviving, solely depending on his friend Isaac for comfort.

It’s their job to turn each other’s lives around by meeting in an abandoned corner tucked away in Chicago.

There’s something magical about the book: making friends and living inside the moment and taking a risk and the feeling of being a part of something. At the same time, it’s not all rainbows and neon colored unicorns galloping across the pages. The two authors illustrate that with love comes pain, and maybe more love, and more pain. It’s a dance the characters do around happiness: it doesn’t last forever, just like Schrödinger’s Cat (another feature in the book). You either have happiness, or you don’t. But to find out, the two Will Graysons along with their friends take a leap of faith across the pages: through fights, discoveries, and the ups and downs of life.

Love is an omnipresent thing in the book. Tiny loves love. He falls in love too easily, and it’s both his strength and weakness. Will 2 doesn’t believe in love. Will 1 falls in love. Tiny sings about love in his play. But throughout the book, none of them know what it’s really about. And that’s O.K., because as Tiny said, “Just fall for once. Let yourself fall!”

Because if there’s one thing I have learned in this book, it’s that falling doesn’t mean failing. As Will Grayson 2 said, “the world is more like try-error-try-error-try-error-try-error-try-error-try…at least fifteen more rounds…then try-error-try-and finally —it.”

And it will come and hit you one day, brighter than anything you will ever see, because you will get a happy ending out of falling, and you won’t break: you’ll fly.

Futurity': Innovative Exploration of the Civil War

埃里克·法伯（Eric Farber）在康奈利剧院（Connelly Theatre）的“未来”（Futurity）中。信用朱丽叶塞万提斯

Toby Berggruen, age 15

Imagine a man born in the Civil War who lives to see the first men walk on the moon in 1969. A fictional correspondence between a Union soldier and the first computer scientist. A steam-powered brain that brings world peace. That is the challenge of the play “Futurity,” a strange alchemy of music, history, fiction and philosophy. The premise may be absurd but the questions are urgent and real, as pressing today as they were in the 1860s.

Presented at the intimate Connelly Theater on the Lower East Side, this co-production between the Soho Rep and Ars Nova opens in the thick of the Civil War. “Futurity” tells the story of Julian Munro, a fictional soldier portrayed by its creator, César Alvarez. Through Munro, we delve into the brutal realities of wartime America, and the prescient imagination of a lone soldier. Finding himself in the midst of a world abound with pain and suffering, Munro begins to imagine a solution to human conflict, a mechanical machine that will bridge the humanities and sciences, accomplishing world peace. In his search, he begins a correspondence with Ada Lovelace, a remarkable mathematician played by the forceful, exuberant Sammy Tunis. The sagacious brilliance of Lovelace seamlessly meshes with the idealist Munro, who exudes hope and creative energy. The two grapple with issues both personal and universal as they embark on a journey into an opaque realm of invention and morality.

Mr. Alvarez deserves much praise for his impassioned performance; his display showcases wit, confidence and rich voice. The play’s music combines powerful folk song with the edge and nonconformity of a David Byrne song. Its lyrics are themselves masterful — aphoristic, poignant and true — profuse with existential questions such as, “Is morality made of information?” Directed by Sarah Benson, all aspects of “Futurity” mesh together with ease and intensity, combining effortless choreography and rich set design.

“Futurity” asks questions, questions that make us think deeply about who we really are. They are certainly too vast to list, but one question keeps ringing in my mind: How to solve unsolvable problems? Is it possible to solve the unspeakable evil of our world? How? Through a synthesis of the perfection of the mathematical world and the depths of art, as “Futurity” suggests? As the General touchingly reminds us, “I believe that this body is all I have, and that it’ll take more than a war to make it safe.” What will it take to solve racial inequality? Not just a war. “Futurity” combines a vast plethora of subjects with sensitivity and depth, from art, to science, to philosophy. It directly tackles notions of morality, time and singularity — to name a few — and leaves us asking more questions than it answers.

第二届2016学生年度评论大赛获奖名单

信用。。。理查德·福尔曼/米拉麦克斯

我们连续第二年挑战青少年走出去，体验他们熟悉的文化作品，然后为我们的学生评论比赛写下他们的反应和意见。超过1，250名学生提交了参赛作品。

学生可以选择《泰晤士报》评论的任何类型的创意作品，因此您可以在下面找到从“洛丽塔”到 K-pop 的所有内容;碧昂斯的“柠檬水”到优步;“卢克凯奇”到手工甜甜圈。

恭喜我们的 10 位获奖者、24 位亚军和 28 位荣誉奖，按字母顺序排列如下。您会在名称列表下方找到发布的获奖评论。

获奖评论

Abigail Brunn, age 17: “‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’: Tackling Bigger Monsters”

Maya Charlton, age 16: “Listening to The (Not So) Modern Lovers Forty Years Later”

Andrew Chung, age 16: “The ‘Wonder’ of Minimalism”

Gabriel Gonzalez, age 16: “432 Park Avenue — A Splinter in the Sky”

Morgan Hickman, age 17: “Lolita: Beauty Versus Crime”

Avery Kim, age 17: “Gimme Danger, Gimme Great Films: Both at the IFC”

Ruiyi Li, age 18: “‘Catch-22’: A War on Our Conscience”

Libby Lee McDaniel, age 17: “No Country for Old Men, or Anybody for That Matter.”

Ben Miller, age 16: “Cooking Mestizo”

Madeline Polkinghorn, age 17: “Book Review: Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt”

亚军

Amelia Bertaska, age 17: “The Partly Cloudy Patriot”

BSArul, age 16: “Where History Ends Up: A Review of ‘At Home’”

Denise Camarillo, age 17: “A Taste of the Andes”

Ian Cameron, age 14: “Schindler’s List: Tension, Repulsion, Bitterness, and Pride”

Hannah Cho, age 14: “Frankenstein’s Message From 200 Years Ago”

Eve DeAmbra, age 17: “A Plant Grows in Brooklyn”

Matt Frattura, age 17: “A Film Review: ‘The Accountant’”

Alex Frendt, age 17: “Why ‘9’ Is Absolutely Worth Your Time”

Sophie Frieden, age 16: “Oppositional Enlightenment: A Review of Jhumpa Lahiri’s ‘A Temporary Matter’”

Sarah Hanson, age 17: “Reflection in the ‘Black Mirror’”

Matt Kinloch, age 18: “‘Arrival’ Movie Review”

Alexander Leo, age 15: “Laziz Kitchen: An Oasis of Flavor in A City of Salt”

Tim Mikulski, age 17: “Naf Naf Grill Surprises With Simplicity”

Emma Miller, age 17: “Amanda Knox: A Social Critique”

Bela Omoeva, age 14: “‘The Stranger’: A Meditation on the Nature of Existence”

Nandi Ndoro, age 15: “Black Girl Lemonade”

Kate Patalino, age 16: “Uber Car Services”

Rose Paxon, age 14: “Green Day Started Their Career With a ‘Bang’ and Added Two More With Revolution Radio”

Charlotte Robbins, age 15: “Coloring Book Shows Chance’s Switch from Los Angeles-Style Partying to Louisiana-Style Praying”

Meg Schwartz, age 17: “‘The Hole’: A New York City Gem”

Randall Seder, age 17: “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World”

Khalil Siddeeq, age 14: “‘Luke Cage’ — A Hero for Hire”

Demetrios Ventouratos, age 17: “If You Yearn for Greek Food, E Taverna Is Your Place”

Ye Bin Won, age 17: “Hollywood’s Satan: The Surprising Depth and Creative Potential of FOX’s New Member”

荣誉奖

Will Armstrong, age 17: “Wind, Sand and Stars”

Jackie Ayers, age 15: “Black Pink in Your Area”

Eric Ballesteros, age 16: “Getting Groovy in the City Club”

Ishita Bhimavarapu, age 14: “Stranger Things: Horror, Mystery, Sci-Fi and Nostalgia”

Jean Cambareri, age 16: “Me and Your Mama Review”

Sydney Crawford, age 16: “Josey Records Leads Vinyl Revival”

Ally Crumb, age 16: “Kate McKinnon’s Hallelujah”

Catherine Dehaemers, age 17: “Sway, Swish, Splash: ‘The Dory’ by Edward Hopper”

Takanga Feimoefiafi, age 15: “Anderson Paak Review Through Malibu”

Naiem Gafar, age 17: “The High Line: Where Sustainability Embraces Rich History”

Marco Garcia, age 17: “‘We Got It From Here … Thank You 4 Your Service’: A Tribe Called Quest’s Final Chapter”

Lauren Ismert, age 17: “Cocktails and Breakfast: A Perfect Mix”

Moriana Jaco, age 16: “A Seat at the Grammys: Solange Knowles Sings Boldly in Her Triumphant Return”

Josh Karas, age 16: “‘Saint Pablo’ Review”

Ridhi Shashi Kumar, age 16: “‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’: Probably More Useful Than We Thought”

Milton Joonhee Lee, age 16: “Oden Restaurant: Value in Authenticity”

Brianna McAvey, age 14: “Addicted to ‘Go Ask Alice’”

Sabina Mehdi, age 19: “TILT’s Enchanted Promenade: The Streetlights of Wonderland”

Neve Polavarapu, age 17: “‘Sweet/Vicious’ TV Show Review”

Skye Richmond, age 16: “To Crutch or To Not Crutch, That Is The Question”

Paige Ritter, age 17: “Interview With a Serial Killer”

Ava Rossides, age 15: “A Heroine Soars From the Steppes”

Sadia Saba, age 17: “Gantry Plaza State Park”

Erin Schultz, age 16: “Sigur Rós’s Real-Life Soundscapes”

Julia Therrien, age 14: “‘The Other Wes Moore’ Will Leave The Readers With a New Life Perspective”

Tucker Tull, age 18: “Skyrim Special Edition Review”

Sydney Ward, age 15: “‘Flowers for Algernon’ Book Review”

Sophie Zimbler, age 15: “‘Black Mirror’: A Terrifying Look Into What Could Be Our Future”

评委: Amanda Christy Brown, Caroline Crosson Gilpin, Michael Gonchar, Shira Katz, Katherine Schulten and Kate Spence-Ado.

Book Review: Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

Madeline Polkinghorn, age 17

There are certain books that conjure up a world in which the reader becomes so invested the final page feels like a tearful goodbye. Frank McCourt’s 1996 Pulitzer Prize-winning memoir, “Angela’s Ashes,” is one of those extraordinarily rare instances of literature.

Born in New York but raised in the slums of Limerick, Ireland, McCourt lived a childhood of near constant hunger, disease and unimaginably abject poverty. The desperate financial and political condition of post-Civil War, early 20th-century Ireland serves as the story’s main cultural backdrop. Malachy Sr., the McCourts’ father and a barely functioning alcoholic cursed with a Northern Irish accent, would often spend the entirety of the family’s welfare checks at local pubs. This left Angela, the family’s matriarch, to fend for herself; resorting to charity organizations and outright begging to support her children.

Thematically, “Angela’s Ashes” tackles vast ideas like religion and poverty with a sense of immense ease and, in some cases, profound hope. The reader gets to witness a vivid, gradual chronicle of McCourt’s religious evolution and relationship with the Catholic Church, which serves as a metaphor for McCourt’s ultimate coming-of-age and progression into maturity. The Church, an entity initially idolized by McCourt, ultimately serves to be a disappointing institution of exclusivity and disappointment. The starving McCourt family is frequently turned away by the Jesuits, who live in luxury and comfort despite their ostensible spiritual glorification of poverty. At one particularly heartbreaking moment, wherein McCourt is literally shoved out of the door by a brother, Angela proclaims to her son that he is to “never let anybody slam the door in your face again.”

This idea of Frank resisting the limitations and prejudices that surrounded his impoverished upbringing is traced throughout the memoir by slowly accounting McCourt’s endlessly painful road to immigrating to America. McCourt reiterates the importance of education and intellectual fulfillment regardless of one’s circumstances, remarking that “you might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace.”

The mastery in “Angela’s Ashes” lies in McCourt’s ability to make the tragic comedic, the unrelatable accessible. Without this, the story would lose its ingenious complexity of emotion and read like a series of obituaries; unmitigatedly depressing and impossible to comfortably digest.

Instead, McCourt manages to adroitly counteract the inexplicably miserable condition of his life with wit and approachable candor. This wit is not forced; McCourt never denies the heartbreaking nature of his childhood. It is seamlessly and subtly weaved throughout the fabric of the story, transcending the rigid barriers of genre. It is neither tragedy nor comedy, nor even tragicomedy; it simply is. This brilliant, jolly rendition of sadness is perhaps illustrative of the perpetual, historical condition of the Irish: downtrodden, hopeless, and dejected, but always to tell a joke and share a pint.

Cooking Mestizo

Ben Miller, age 16

Sometimes the name says it all.

Painted eight feet high on the back wall of Silver Spring, Maryland’s La Malinche is the restaurant’s namesake, a beautiful Nahua princess who aided the Spanish in their conquest of the Aztec Empire. Though lauded by history as the conjoiner of Spanish and Amerindian culture, La Malinche is reviled by many Latin Americans, denounced as a traitor who abetted the oppression and extermination of their ancestors. But within the confines of this tapas spot, past troubles are pushed aside in favor of small plates which effortlessly fuse Hispanic cuisine of the old and new worlds.

Founded by three brothers in November 2012, La Malinche impresses from first glance. Its warm color scheme and heavily decorated walls evoke the rich, historic spirit of Seville, from which tapas originate. Simultaneously, the restaurant’s décor, showcasing Central American art and imagery, reminds guests of the equally forceful presence of the new world in Hispanic culture.

La Malinche’s bicultural ambience perfectly prefaces its tapas. Given the restaurant’s diverse menu of meats, vegetables, and seafood, it is almost imperative to try it all. Luckily, La Malinche offers a $20 all-you-can-eat lunch special, offering an affordable means of sampling all the restaurant has to offer.

While La Malinche offers capable renditions of both Spanish classics, including pan catalana and tortilla española, and Latin standbys, like fried yuca and empanadas, the restaurant truly shines when blending both cuisines. The highlight of the menu is carne asada, grilled skirt steak topped with guacamole, onions and green peppers. The cilantro and coriander of the guacamole complement the traditional Spanish seasoning of the steak, creating a complex, layered taste which mandates a second helping. Likewise, the patatas bravas, fried wedged potatoes, are elevated through a distinctly Mexican chipotle aioli, which adds nuance to the typically crispy but bland Spanish dish. Other standout plates include the Mejillnoes al Vapór, steamed lemongrass mussels with a fresh Mediterranean flair, and the grilled asparagus spears, which are seared to a light char and smothered in salt and olive oil.

For all its success, certain menu options fall flat. The albondigas, traditional Spanish meatballs, are dry and over-seasoned, creating a musty taste. Similarly, the chorizo and pico de gallo are plainly underwhelming. Beyond the food, La Malinche appears chronically understaffed, leading to forgotten orders and habitually empty glasses.

Despite the hiccups, La Malinche offers an enjoyable culinary experience. By the time dessert (warm churros and buoyant caramel flan) is complete, a diner will have partaken in a unique cross-cultural dining experience. As the restaurant’s name promises, La Malinche presents an enjoyable blend of Spanish and Latin culture, though one decidedly less violent and controversial than its titular historical precedent.

No Country for Old Men, or Anybody for That Matter

Libby Lee McDaniel, age 17

What do you do when you’ve stolen millions of dollars and are being chased by a serial killer who wants that money? You run. In the film “No Country for Old Men,” this is exactly what Llewelyn Moss does. Set in 1980s Texas, Moss stumbles across a drug deal gone wrong while on a hunting trip. Among the carnage, Llewelyn finds a briefcase full of cash. Of course Llewelyn takes the money, but this does not end his story.

Adapted from Cormac McCarthy’s novel, the Coen brothers come together to create a spectacularly original film. Loaded with talented actors, Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin and Kelly MacDonald being a few, this movie is a cinematic masterpiece. Suspenseful, violent and poetic, “No Country for Old Men” poses the question of morality itself. The movie seems to transform itself from being singularly a “chase” movie into something that is bigger than itself: a social commentary on the nature of violence.

The film opens with a monologue from our main protagonist, Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, played by Tommy Lee Jones. Scruffy, smart, intuitive, and on the chase after Moss and Chigurh, this sheriff stands as a symbol in the film’s major theme. Jones is so fitting to this character; it is hard to believe he is not actually a sheriff. Not to anyone’s surprise, Jones’s acting is impeccable in “No Country for Old Men.”

In “No Country for Old Men,” Moss is simply a character in the wrong place at the wrong time. Little does he know that stealing the money found would cause him to be chased by the merciless Anton Chigurh. Josh Brolin plays the simple cowboy role perfectly. Although simple, Brolin brings out the cunning in this cowboy. His wife, Carla Jean, is played by Kelly MacDonald. MacDonald depicts Carla Jean flawlessly as well, as a strong, faithful, stubborn woman.

A psychopathic, serial killer takes form in the character Anton Chigurh. Played by Javier Bardem, Chigurh’s character doesn’t believe in rules, but only in fate. With his twisted principles, Chigurh is willing to bargain your life with a flip of a coin. Bardem achieves this astonishing depiction of Chigurh with a dreadful haircut, a captive bolt pistol, and a mysterious persona. Chigurh, being the antagonist, is an awesomely terrifying creature.

A seemingly cat-and-mouse movie, in which the cat and mice never truly meet one another, “No Country for Old Men” is an epic tale. What makes this film so great is that it never outright makes a comment on morality, or violence, or any of the underlying themes of the film. It is up to the audience to decipher its meaning, and that may be different to each viewer. Without a doubt this film is clever, original, and deserves recognition for its beauty.

Catch-22’: A War on Our Conscience

Ruiyi Li

Set on the small fictional island of Pianosa, where the 256th squadron is stationed, “Catch-22”, a gloomy, comic, preposterous World War II novel written by Joseph Heller 55 years ago, confronts us with chaos and asks us to overcome it each in our own way.

Captain Yossarian, a cynical, young bombardier, has no problem being an antihero. With his goal of “living forever or die in the attempt,” he actively engages himself in efforts to get grounded or sent to hospital, but Catch-22, the imaginary rule of the 256th Squadron, the omnipresent double bind, always stops him at the last minute. If he is crazy, rule Catch-22 states, he does not have to fly more missions; but if he applies not to fly missions, he is not crazy. “That’s some catch, that Catch-22.” Even Yossarian respects its ingenuity.

Following Yossarian’s grotesque journey out of the war, I find myself frequently confused and challenged by Heller’s sharp, quizzical comments.

“Anything worth living for is worth dying for,” Nately says.

“Anything worth dying for is worth living for,” the old man from the brothel says.

Conversations like these tear open my preconceived ideals of justice and crime, bravery and cowardice, love and hate, and make me think more than twice about what’s right and what’s wrong.

The characters, too, seem to be the embodiment of conflicting qualities. Milo, the considerate, affectionate mess officer, ruthlessly accumulates wealth for his syndicate under the mask of patriotism. Orr, a small, simple-minded pilot, has a disastrous record of plane crashes, which turn out to be practice for his final escape. Is he good? Is he evil? Is he crazy? Is he not? Even the simplest questions have no simple answer for these men and women living in the upside-down world so close to our own.

By throwing us into a chaotic ocean of confusion and uncertainty, “Catch-22” helps us learn to swim in it. It also inspires me to see the world beneath its appearance, where the real-life Catch-22s exist. As a Chinese in America, do I stay in my own culture or try to integrate into another that I may never fully understand? Do we choose to be disheartened by the thorny problems of contemporary society or pretend to have solved them by moving up the “satin-ribbon bombing line” on the map? After witnessing the war’s mercilessness and struggling through internal conflicts, Yossarian is firmer than ever in his will to survive. After experiencing “Catch-22,” literary or real, we are called to strengthen our own character by trying to answer the hardest questions and making the toughest choices.

Watch out! Catch-22 is always there to mess with your best-laid plans.

Gimme Danger, Gimme Great Films: Both at the IFC

Avery Kim

Hipsters, college kids and seasoned New Yorkers huddle nightly outside of Manhattan’s IFC Center, an independent cinema, located on Avenue of the Americas near West 3rd Street. A retro-style black and red marquee resides above the single box office. “Now Showing” posters line the IFC Center’s exterior and exhibit the eclectic assortment of international, experimental, documentary and classic films shown at the iconic Greenwich Village theater.

Once a Dutch Reform Church in 1831, later a second-run film house known as the Waverly Theater in 1937, the IFC Center was birthed in 2005 with a screening of “Me and You and Everyone We Know.” Though modernized and commercialized, the community feel of the multiplex thrives. Cinephiles from all walks of life continue to come together and admire the art of the moving image.

On a cold November evening, a diverse crowd waited in line at the box office. I stood in the queue, the illuminated Empire State Building glistening from a distance in my peripherals, amused by a handwritten sign in the IFC’s window proclaiming “[their] shirts go to 11!” (alluding to Reiner’s “This Is Spinal Tap”). Craving a rockumentary, I purchased a ticket to “Gimme Danger.”

The aroma of cigarettes from the street dominated until I opened the theater’s door — a total immersion into buttery, fresh, hot popcorn. After handing an usher my ticket for entry, my body involuntarily waltzed over to the snack stand.

Despite the IFC’s expansive menu, adorned with organic popcorn, hot teas, Jacque Torres chocolate treats, Melt ice cream sandwiches, and Popsicles from a local favorite, Popbar, I opted for traditional Sour Patch Kids.

The concession vendor was quaint, but kitschy and trendy, nonetheless. A vintage popcorn maker sat behind the clerk, featuring golden kernels exploding on-site.

Theater 3, where “Gimme Danger” screened, was smaller than average, but allowed for a more intimate experience. The leather seats that stippled the theater were plush, buoyant, wide and cloudlike.

The lights dimmed and an IFC-sponsored message enveloped the screen: “No texting, no smoking, no talking,” it started; “No clowns,” it continued with other quirky choices; “No bad movies,” it ended.

Trailers followed. No two genres were alike.

Finally, Iggy and The Stooges appeared on screen, and I knew that “Gimme Danger” had begun.

The film, being a cinematographically inspiring Jarmusch documentary, I would definitely recommend. I would also encourage others to take a journey to the IFC, pick a movie from the carefully curated collection, and appreciate it or hate it or have some reaction to it.

Accessible by trains to West 4th or Christopher Street, heterogeneity is the norm; the IFC Center is in the soul of Greenwich Village, one of Manhattan’s last cultural hubs. It reels in people of all backgrounds and hones in on inclusivity with all-gender bathrooms.

Lolita: Beauty Versus Crime

Morgan Hickman

I had been wanting to read “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov for quite some time, and often found myself picking it up gingerly along the fiction aisle at Barnes & Noble, spreading my hand over the racy cover while flipping through the pages before letting it nestle back on its spot among the shelves. Knowing the controversy surrounding it, the book itself became this center of mystery to me and formed this reputation in my mind as the forbidden fruit of literature. Beckoning me with its provocative pages and promise of unrequited love, curiosity finally got a hold of me and I found myself up at the register, clutching the novel bashfully to my chest.

On the first page I experienced syrupy-sweet poetry, a siren song for a lost love — “light of my life, fire of my loins” — I became a part of Humbert’s seemingly innocent desire — lost in a eulogy of ashen lust. Then, as the story progressed, what simple sweetness that had emerged on the early pages, soon turned dark as I realized Humbert’s rather alarming past. Confused as to where his own illegal desires come from, he contributes it back to his sexual awakening in his childhood, involving a girl who died shortly after their acquaintance. This view darkens further as the reader discovers just how Humbert spends his time: stalking children in the park, engaging in sexual acts with young prostitutes, and even acquiring a wife in which he abuses verbally and physically.

I found the perception of the story that I previously held was completely false — revering a plot which follows a man with a demented mind-set that allows him to perform illegal acts on behalf of his unavoidable desires for “nymphettes” — labeling him as a pedophile and criminal. These desires run his life, meaning everything he does in the novel, every move and waking breath, is performed to reach his goal of satisfying his own lust.

Even as I am writing this, I am finding it hard to admit what Humbert had done, to call it like it really was — I found myself torn between the poetic phrases in the novel, and this sickening plot. But I think this perfectly explains what Nabokov wanted to portray — a broken man, with his incredibly abusive tendencies but also this overwhelming desire in which he seems to have little control over. One realizes when reading, that the desire expressed for Lolita on the first page was driven by his pedophillic tendencies, but made stronger by his loss of her — and the loss of her innocence toward the end of the book, focusing only on the absence of her from his life — instead of what caused the absence itself.