Film

There are mainly four reasons women have their heads shaved in films: 1) toughness (“Alien 3”, “G.I. Jane”), 2) illness or scientific experimentation (“Life in a Year”, “Stranger Things”), 3) rebellion, counterculture or villainy (“Mad Max: Fury Road”, “Guardians of the Galaxy”) or 4) mysticism (“Dr. Strange”, “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell no Tales”). Of course, some of these reasons may overlap, but usually bald women in film are depicted as an abnormality, as a product of trauma, as the result of an extraordinary and life-changing event that catapults the plot. Why is getting a buzz cut for a woman a decision that needs to be justified and have a deeper meaning or rationality? Why does society feel the need to point it out publicly, to joke about it? Why people tempt to question the sanity or sexuality of a woman who decides to wear short or no hair? Are women supposed to have long, silky hair in order to be beautiful, feminine or just not weird? But most importantly, how does the film industry handle it? The normalization of western beauty standards might be being reinforced (imposed) by the way bald women are often portrayed in movies.

Adam McKay, one of the great modern comedy feature writers (Step Brothers, The Big Short, Anchorman), has stirred up controversy with his latest Oscar nominated feature, Don't Look Up. In a world that appears to be going more and more insane with each passing day, the premise of Don't Look Up should be the type of concept that resonates with the majority of the population. And looking at its success with the Oscar nomination and its popularity on Netflix, clearly it did. It narrowly missed the streaming service's record for the highest watch time of a film in its opening 28 days, at 360 million hours.

So then, how does a film this so well-perceived by the Academy and popular with the masses manage just 55% on Rotten Tomatoes, 49% on Metacritic, and a relatively underwhelming 7.2 IMDb? The feature isn't perfect, and perhaps the star-studded cast and wealth of talent behind the scenes had some expecting the impossible. But gripes over story and weren't what prompted such an adverse response from reviewers. Something else that's rubbed a portion of viewers the wrong way. In creating this satire, Adam McKay poked the bear and pissed off the very people he's trying to appeal to: climate change deniers. Negative reviews of this film almost always circle back to the same critique, which is the perception that McKay is attempting to preach true knowledge to his (it's not exclusive to them, but for simplicity's sake) conservative audience that they are laughably naïve and easily swayed by politicians that would sacrifice them in a heartbeat to turn a profit.

To come to a conclusive judgement on whether Don't Look Up hits or misses the mark of a great satire, we must do an objective deep dive into its character. Does it hit too close to home for people to accept, or is it simply so absurd that we can't help but laugh at it, and not in the way McKay intended?

In “Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl” (2003), the apple that Captain Sparrow bites in front of Barbosa does not serve alimentary purposes. This is done to humiliate the pirate because he is not able to taste any food due to his curse. This apple is, in a way, wasted food after one bite because Barbosa throws it away. However, Barbosa carries an apple with him to eat once the malediction is over. The movie ends with the uneaten (wasted) apple falling from his dying hand, but it appears again in the next movie, “Dead Man’s Chest” (2006), when he finally chomps on it with arrogance. An apple is a cinematic device to show the audience that the eater in question is an overconfident villain, a maverick badass or an arrogant person. Examples of this are Draco Malfoy in “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” (2004), Jerry Dandrige in “Fright Night” (2011), or Ajax in “Deadpool” (2016). The trope of the bad guy eating an apple has been pointed out in movie analyses, but it would be more interesting to explore the idea of wasted food, apples being the favorite food characters bite only once and then throw them away. Lex Luthor does it in “Smallville” (S01E02), and also Professor Colan in “Transformers: The Revenge of the Fallen” (2009). Is there a consequential reason for this beyond the mere trope?

Morbius is the superhero film released by Sony as part of Sony's Spider-Man Universe. It grossed 73.4m in the US and Canada and 90m worldwide. At release it finished first at the box office, which is not unusually for any superhero film, but then experienced a drop of 74% to be the second-worst superhero movie behind only an obscure tentpole superhero movie from 1997 called Steel. The critical response to the movie has been overwhelmingly negative with 3.8/10 from Rotten Tomatoes and comments such as "critically bad" from Variety. The negative reception spread quickly across the internet creating an ironic meme, which somehow led to Sony deciding to re-release it to 1,000 theatres on June 3rd, during which it made $310,665.

What is most confusing is the manner in which both the fans and Sony have responded to the release. The sour critical reception seems to have bolstered a collective "hate watch" that is generating revenue for Sony. The company, which seems unconcerned by the negative response appears to have taken the influx of internet attention as a positive and decided to re-release the film to cinema. So what happened?
Is the Sony team so out of touch with its audience that it truly believed that the reception was positive, even though box office numbers clearly indicated otherwise? Was it an act of cashing in on internet popularity? Was it the belief that enough people would pay to "hate watch" it again?
Was the movie that bad? The critics are critical, but aren't they always? Is this so terrible that it deserves the derision it is receiving, or is this an example of the toxicity of the internet where everyone loves to do nothing more than hate together? Should this level of response be lauded or declaimed?
An interesting case study to social responses to film.

Top Gun: Maverick finally hit theaters after a pandemic-induced delay. The film is filled with nostalgia for fans of the original, and also carries some new material with a distinct 21st-century feel for its newest generation of fans. One such instance of this material is female pilot Phoenix, played by Monica Barbaro.

In an interview, Barbaro stated that she enjoys Phoenix's character, particularly that she is not a love interest for anyone, and that she is one of Maverick's top co-pilots during the central mission. However, she is still the lone female pilot with any significant dialogue or character development in the film. Is this realistic considering the type of films the Top Gun franchise contains? Is Phoenix still a good representation of females in male-dominated fields, particularly the military? How would the movie have been different had she had more screen time? Discuss.

In contemporary Athens, the protagonist, Yorgos, is a tormented young man on the verge of famine. He's ostensibly educated and cultured yet separated from family and friends. What sets this topic noteworthy is that it is symbolic of times of crisis, which put many individuals in tough situations. Lyzigos, the film's director, refers to his work as a psychological case study of the crisis. Though the film's plot is around a personal story, it has societal implications. Yorgos' personal history is kept hidden for the duration of the film; we can only see his behavior in unpleasant situations along with his ambiguous motivations. As a result, the film serves as a useful illustration of how situational factors shape people's behavior regardless of their personal identities, backgrounds, or histories.
After addressing the film in general and numerous key sequences in particular, all in the context of a situation in which humans' basic needs are being mistreated, the author may mention and discuss some psychological experiments, one of the well-known of which is the Stanford Prison Experiment. It was created to see how situational circumstances affected participants' reactions and behaviors throughout a prison simulation. Another example is the Milgram Experiment, which deals with a setting in which volunteers are directed to obey authority. Although psychological studies are not essential, they may provide factual evidence for the idea that situational conditions can influence people's behavior regardless of their identities! Finally, the contributor can ask a serious question about the interplay of personal and situational factors: at what point does the impact of situational factors become dominant? Aren't there reasons linked to a person's own characteristics, such as how reasonable or impulsive he is?

The recent Disney / Pixar film Turning Red has been widely celebrated not only for being enjoyable, but for showcasing a touching and realistic portrayal of teenage girlhood, with all its joys and sorrows. However, it also sparked an immediate negative response from a wide variety of critics saying they felt the intended audience was "too narrow" or "not relatable enough."

Women and racialized people have had to watch films intended for white men for as long as the medium has existed, and still enjoy movies without being the exact target audience. What is it about movies intended for other audiences that make otherwise enjoyable movies, such as the delightful Turning Red, so uncomfortable for the white male audience?

Can authors and auteurs play with the past without perpetuating ignorance and false narratives within our history. Take the lack of political stance in Marie Antoinette (2005) for example and the films dismissal of Marie's involvement in the French Revolution.