09-21-06 THE EYE - Columbia Daily Spectator

BEYONCE’S RAGE, JUSTIN’S EGO, AND WHY AMERICA NEEDS POP
MATT DAMON AND LEONARDO DICAPRIO!• FEAR OF FOOD
the eye
COLUMBIA ON THE STREET
VOL I, ISSUE 3, 9.21-27.06
WILL NYU ECLIPSE
COLUMBIA?
THE RISE FROM COMMUTER CAST-OFF
TO DREAM SCHOOL
the eye
Cover Story
A&E
[email protected]
http://eye.columbiaspectator.com
Job
Tim Shenk
Adam and Eve
Julia Israel, Julia Stroud
Cain and Abel
Jason Kim, Sumana Rao
Moses
Risa Chubinsky, Xiyin Tang
Golden Calf
Alex Gartenfeld, Jennie Morgan
God Hates Laughter
Shannon Donnelly, Dan Haley
Jonah
Sally Cohen-Cutler
The Whale
David Ehrlich
Delicious Manna
Miri Cypers
Joan Osborne
Elizabeth Wade
Ten Commandments
Hillary Brody
Leviticus
Elizabeth Case
Noah’s Ark
Brendan Ballou, Paul Barndt,
Liz Brown, Jen Spyra
The Apostles
Ariel Bibby, Adam Brickman,
Max Foxman, Swetha Regunathan
Nietzsche
Bee Shaffer
Jebuz
Ian Corey-Boulet, Amanda Sebba,
Whitney Alexander, Kaitlyn Gaynor, Laura
Seidman
Samson
Matt Franks, Robin Yang
Lazarus
Kibby McMahon
10
Film
Four stars for Jesus
Camp’s kids
12
Music
Cutting pretension
with a knife: blogs
13
Food
Scared? Why food
freaks you out
Eyesites
This week is the
Best Week Ever!
15
ROLLING EYE
14
Close Calls
How to stay “safe”
in NYC
07
Urbanities
Gomorrah
Carly Isman, Matt Franks, Robin Yang,
Emily Greenlee
Satan... Just Kidding
Jake Olson, John Mascari
Steve Moncada
If you have questions, comments, complaints, or letters to the editor, e-mail Tim Shenk, editor in chief, at
[email protected]. You can also call us at
(212) 854-9547. To place an ad, call (212) 854-9558.
“We can say ‘fuck’? This changes everything!”
©2006 The Eye, Spectator Publishing Company, Inc.
No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without
the express, written consent of the editors. All rights
reserved. The Eye is published by the Spectator Publishing Company, Inc., every Thursday during the fall
and spring semesters, except during examination and
vacation periods. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
fuck fuck fuck. Rut.
04
05
Feeling sleepy? Find solace and a snooze at any
of these spots for an urban (and public) nap.
Yes, we’re part of the Ivy League, and, yes,
we’re New Yorkers, but are we really the snobs
everyone thinks we are?
Rest Stops
Everyone’s a Little Bit Elitist
From the Editor...
I
have nothing against Facebook. In fact, before writing this column, I went on Facebook. I checked out the boring updates on News Feed, looked over recently updated
profiles—the usual. It was a fun time. Really, I have nothing against Facebook.
So when I say that if I see one more article about Facebook my brain will instantly collapse into itself, causing a horrible implosion that may destroy the island of Manhattan, it’s
not because I don’t like Facebook. It’s because in the last year, particularly since the News
Feed debacle/apocalypse, approximately infinity bazillion articles in Spectator alone have
been written about that infernal Web site. I know. I counted.
Some readers may note that in last week’s issue this magazine ran an article about
Facebook stalking. “How,” this annoyingly thoughtful reader may ask, “can you reconcile
the two?” I have two responses. (1) It was a good article. (2) Shut up. Mostly, I’m relying on
that second response. It also applies to anyone who wants to say that, by writing an article
about how nobody should write articles about Facebook, I’m actually writing an article
about Facebook. Just shut up. And to those who would point out that telling readers to
shut up twice in one paragraph constitutes verbal abuse, I ask that you please be quiet.
Sure, Facebook is one of the most popular sites on the Internet. Sure, it can occasionally
be useful. Sure, it can also be harmful, especially in a not-getting-a-job-because-your-potential-employer-saw-that-you-are-vice-president-of-the-“We-Love-Reefer-Club” way.
This makes it kind of interesting. That’s all.
And yet, the articles keep coming. Partly, I suspect, that’s because some of the people
most likely to obsess over Facebook are writers. Particularly at Columbia, intellectuals—or,
more accurately, given that this is Columbia, people with pretensions to being intellectuals—love that Facebook. They can broadcast their erudition to the world through a carefully chosen selection of favorite books/music/films, even if that Village Voice internship
hasn’t exactly panned out yet. Or, better yet, they can prove their superiority to the whole
process with a charmingly incomplete profile, or a cripplingly ironic anti-profile. For those
who think of self-creation as an artistic process, Facebook provides an irresistible canvas.
Hence, the obsession.
Which is a shame, because the combination of narcissism and ditsy gossip-mongering
intrinsic to Facebook is antithetical to what the life of the mind at its best should encourage. Even though Mark Zuckerberg claims that his goal in creating Facebook “was to help
people understand what was going on in their world a little better,” the lodestars of all
Facebook-related activity are always your friends, your profile, and, above all, yourself. Superficiality and amour de soi have their, admittedly super-fun, place. But they’re ultimately
limiting. (Man, this high horse I’m sitting on is fun to ride.) Maybe people would have a
better grasp of this if they spent less time obsessing over Facebook.
LISTINGS
FILM
♦
MUSIC
FILM
CONVERGENCE CULTURE
A conversation between Henry Jenkins
and Steven Johnson, two of the nationʼs
most incisive and influential thinkers
about media, technology, and culture.
Followed by a book signing and reception.
Wed., Sept. 27, 7 p.m.
35th Avenue at 36th Street, Astoria, (718784-4520), Cost: $7.50 for students.
movingimage.us
MUSIC
NORTH BY NORTHEAST
Canadian Music for Trumpets and
Rhythm. A collective event featuring
original compositions by both trumpeters as well as works by noted Canadian
composers.
Thurs., Sept. 21, 7:30 and 9:30 p.m.
116 E. 27th St., (212-576-2232), Cost:
$30 in advance, $35 at the door.
jazzstandard.net
A TRIBUTE TO LAWRENCE WILLIAMS
Marcus Belgrave, Sean Jones, and Greg
Glassman with Dave Pier on piano, Danton Boller on bass, and Quincy Davis on
drums.
Fri., Sept. 22, 7:30, 9:30, and 11:30 p.m.
116 E. 27th St., (212-576-2232), Cost:
$30 in advance, $35 at the door.
jazzstandard.net.
♦
THEATER
♦
FAVOURITE SONS
Homegrown and timelessly rock and
roll, Favourite Sons share the bill wtih
Snowden, the Head Set, and the White
Rabbits.
Fri., Sept. 22, 10:30 p.m.
217 E. Houston St., (212-260-4700),
Cost: $12.
‘RELATIVELY SWEET’
Steven Bernsteinʼs Millennial Territory
Orchestra performing Don Cherryʼs music.
Sat., Sept. 23, 7:30, 9:30, and 11:30 p.m.
116 E. 27th St., (212-576-2232), Cost:
$30 in advance, $35 at the door.
jazzstandard.net.
YAMAHA SEMINAR DAYS
Free master classes and a concert: Music
for Solo Trumpet and Trumpet Ensemble
II.
Sun., Sept. 24, Master classes from 3:305 p.m, Concerts at 6 p.m.
The Yamaha Artist Services Center, 689
Fifth Avenue, (212-576-2232), Cost: $10.
DAVE DOUGLAS & GRAHAM
HAYNES
Dave Douglas & Graham Haynes play the
small group music of Don Cherry.
Sun., Sept. 24, 7:30 and 9:30 p.m.
116 E. 27th St., (212-576-2232), Cost:
$30 in advance, $35 at the door.
jazzstandard.net.
FONT MUSIC AT JOE’S PUB
Sun., Sept. 24, 9:30 p.m.
DANCE
CAMILLE’S
1135 Amsterdam Ave. (116th St.) 212-7492428. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Pastas, sandwiches, burgers, salads, ethnic specialties.
10% off dinner with CUID.
BAR
PORKY’S
55 W. 21st St. 212-675-8007. Tuesday Night:
the biggest college party in NYC. $1000 cash
blast. With CUID: $5 hamburger w/fries; 10¢
wings.
THE UNDERGROUND LOUNGE
955 West End Ave. (107th Street/Broadway).
212-531-4759. Drink specials all night every
night. Happy Hour: 5-8 pm + Late Night Happy
Hour: Midnight-2 am. Kitchen open to 2 am every night. 10% off all food w/CUID.
BARBECUE
RACK & SOUL
2818 Broadway. (109th St.) 212-222-4800. Eatin, take-out. Free delivery. Authentic southernstyle pit barbecue and soul food. Catering.
CAFE
CAFE FRESH
1241 Amsterdam Ave. (121st St.) 212-2226340. Natural & organic cafe. Pan-American
cuisine. Coffee, tea, home-made desserts.
MAX CAFFÉ
1262 Amsterdam Ave. (112rd St.) 212-531-1210.
Fine coffee, espresso, tea, and baked goods in
a relaxed setting.
CHINESE
COLUMBIA COTTAGE
1034 Amsterdam Ave. (111th St.) 212-6621800. Sichuan & Shanghai cuisine prepared by
Chef Xu of the famous JinJiang Restaurant in
STYLE
The Public Theater, 425 Lafayette St.,
(212-239-6200), Cost: $15.
www.joespub.com
HOWIE BECK
Torontoʼs best kept secret will perform
at the Living Room in celebration of the
release of his self-titled, third full-length
album.
Mon., Sept. 25, 7 p.m.
The Living Room, 154 Ludlow Street
between Stanton and Rivington streets,
(212-533-7235), Cost: $10.
LEE SCRATCH PERRY
Lee Scratch Perry will be performing
at CBGBʼs to promote his latest album
Panic in Babylon and to celebrate the last
week of CBGBs; Dub Is a Weapon will
also be performing.
Mon., Sept. 25, 8 p.m.
315 Bowery between First and Second
streets, (212-982-4052), Cost: $42.
narnackrecords.com
EXIT CLOV
EXIT CLOV is an engaging pop band
recognized as one of the hottest groups
in Washington D.C. Fronted by multiinstrumentalist,
Taiwanese-American
twin sisters, Emily and Susan Hsu, who
harmonize, play violin, keys and guitars,
Exit Clov is captivating.
Mon., Sept. 25, 8 p.m.
Mercury Lounge, 217 E. Houston St.,
(212-260-4700), Cost: $8.
THE REWINDS
RESTAURANTS
AMERICAN BISTRO
♦
Shanghai. Visit www.campusfood.com.
ZHONG HUA
854 Amsterdam Ave. (102nd St.) Tel: 212-8647997; Fax: 212-864-3238. Phone/fax orders.
Eat-in, take-out. Free delivery. 10% off for Columbia students & staff with ID (min. $20 order.)
CUBAN
CAFE CON LECHE
Two locations: 726 Amsterdam Ave. (96th St.),
212-678-7000; 424 Amsterdam Ave. (81st St.),
212-595-7000. Authentic Latin cuisine. Free
delivery. Special lunch menu. Free delivery.
DINER
WEST WAY CAFE
2800 Broadway. (109th St.) 212-932-9059.
Break-fast, lunch, dinner, weekend brunch.
Fresh juice bar.
ETHIOPIAN
AWASH
947 Amsterdam Ave. (107th St.) 212-9829589. Vegetarian and non-vegetarian specialties. Half-price entrée Mon-Thurs w/CUID
when you purchase 1 entrée of equal or lesser
value.
FRENCH
CAFÉ DU SOLEIL
2723 Broadway. (104th St.) 212-316-5000.
French bistro. $9.95 Lunch Special. Outdoor
terrace. Free deliver. 20% off w/CUID (Eat-in,
dinner only, after 8 pm).
MÉTISSE
239 W. 105th St. (B’way/Amsterdam.) 212666-8825. Excellent food, moderate prices.
Free delivery. 10% off w/CUID.
GREEK
SYMPOSIUM
544 W. 113th St. (B’way/Amsterdam) 212-
♦
MUSEUMS
The Rewinds, a young pop-quartet from
Birmingham, is Spin.comʼs “Band of the
Month” for September. Spin.com wrote,
“Their self-titled debut bursts with Superdrag-and Sloan-inspired upbeat power
pop.”
Wed., Sept. 27, 9 p.m.
150 Attorney St. at Stanton Street, (212388-0077), Cost: $8.
THEATER
THE FAKE FRIENDS TOUR
Two solo shows join forces to become the
greatest night of comedy ever. UCB performer Alana Harrison serves up a slice
of “Paincake,” while her best fake friend
Braeson Herold explains why “Everybody Wants a Piece of Braeson.”
Sun. and Mon., 8 p.m., Sept. 24-Oct. 23.
The Red Room Theatre, 85 E. Fourth St.
between Second and Third avenues, third
floor, above KGB Bar, (212-868-4444),
Cost: $10.
smarttix.com.
DANCE
ONGOING SERIES: RAW MATERIAL
With Amy Chavasse, Tze Chun, Evangelos Poulinas, Donna Scro Gentile, and
Freespace Dance.
Thurs., Sept. 21, 8 p.m., Fri., Sept. 22, 8
p.m., Sat., Sept. 23, 8 p.m.
Dance New Amsterdam, 280 Broadway,
second floor, (212-625-8369), Ext. 205,
Cost: $17, $12 members.
865-1011. Authentic Greek cuisine—the best in
town. Low prices, warm ambiance, garden dining. Open 7 days.
ITALIAN
MAX SOHA
1274 Amsterdam Ave. (123rd St.) 212-531-2221.
Fine home-style Italian cuisine. Reasonable prices. Casual dining.
REGIONAL
2607 Broadway. (99th St.) 212-666-1915. Cuisine from many regions of Italy. Saturday and
Sunday brunch.
SEZZ MEDI
1260 Amsterdam Ave. (122nd St.) 212-9322901. Brick oven. Full bar. Private party room.
Catering available for all occasions.
INDIAN
INDIAN CAFE
2791 Broadway. (108th St.) 212-749-9200.
Lunch, dinner. Eat-in, take-out. Free delivery.
Large party orders welcome.
TAMARIND
424 Amsterdam Ave. (81st St.) 212-712-1900.
Eat-in, take-out. Lunch, dinner. Catering. Fast
free delivery.
INDIAN WRAPS
ROTI ROLL
994 Amsterdam Ave. (109th St.) 212-666-1500.
Indian style wraps, South Asian finger foods.
Spicy & non-spicy. Free delivery (min. order
$12).
JAPANESE
OSAKA
854 Amsterdam Ave. (102nd St.) 212-8646869. Fax: 212-864-3238. Phone/fax orders.
Sushi, tempura, bento boxes. Eat-in, take-out.
Free delivery. 15% off for students & staff w/
03
CUID (min. order $20).
TOKYO POP
2728 Broadway. (105th St.) 212-932-1000. Bistro Japonais. Authentic Japanese cuisine. 20%
off w/CUID (eat-in, dinner only, after 8 pm).
KOREAN
MILL KOREAN RESTAURANT
2865 Broadway. (113th St.) 212-666-7653. Authentic Korean specialties. Lunch specials. Free
delivery.
SOUP
THE SOUP MAN
2873 Broadway. (112th St.) 212-665-5519. Fabulous soups, salads, wraps, paninis, smoothies,
Crema Lita®. 10% off with CUID.
SOUTHERN
SPOONBREAD TOO
366 W. 110th St. 212-865-6744. Real homestyle Southern cuisine. Smothered chicken,
BBQ ribs, seafood gumbo, banana pudding.
Free delivery.
SPECIALTY COFFEE
OREN’S DAILY ROAST
2882 Boadway. (112th St.) The best cup of
coffee in NYC. Coffees from around the world.
Special coffee of the day.
THAI
LIME LEAF
2799 Broadway. (108th St.) 212-864-5000.
Thai and Continental cuisine. Free delivery.
Catering available.
THAI/JAPANESE
BLUE ANGEL
3143 Broadway. (Tiemann/LaSalle) 212-2228666. Pan-Asian dishes. Sushi bar. Live music.
Back to school special—10% off w/CUID. Free
delivery.
PAID ADVERTISEMENTS. TO ADD YOUR RESTAURANT TO THE LIST, E-MAIL [email protected]
urbanities
Come Rest Thy Weary Head
In search of the perfect bed away from home? These cozy nooks provide ample
shut-eye for the sleep deprived
By Maxwell Foxman
In Your City
WAGNER PARK
NYPL MIDTOWN
LIBRARY
METRO NAPS
West of Battery Place
455 Fifth Avenue
For locations visit metronaps.com
Bedding Pick the Zen Garden, benches, or the well-
kept grass in front of the Jewish Heritage
Museum.
04
The hard chairs and desks may be a little difGet your own personalized, cushioned, and
ficult to get used to, but they’re convenient for isolated New Age pod that will remind you of
the constant work addict.
some sci-fi movie isolation.
Beauty
Perhaps nowhere else can you watch the
Aside from maybe Low, few libraries are able
sunset without worry of reprisal in this stylish to compete with its neo-classical marble and
Battery Park City Spot.
high ceilings.
Hours
The park is good for after-morning jogs and
late-summer sleeps, but not too late, as it’ll
soon get cold on the Hudson.
Cons
Few and far between. Battery Park City’s High Unlike some of its counterparts, NYPL’s main
Rises provide more than enough noise proof- branch is so big that you are bound to remain
ing.
unnoticed.
The beds speak for themselves, but get added
benefits like music, lotion, etc., for your midday nap.
Unfortunately, a napper is confined to the
Not good for an evening nap, but stores are
library’s hours—from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. on Mon- open Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to
day, Tuesday, and Wednesday, and from 10 a.m. 6 p.m.
to 6 p.m. on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.
Aside from the worry of spending $14 for
your own perfect 20-minute nap, very little.
Score
On Your Campus
LEWISOHN
LAWN
The quad provides a perfect grassy knoll for a summer day, and even a
statue to sleep on. Sure, you may be looking at one of Columbia’s boring buildings, but the abundance of trees provides wonderful shade
for the prefect napping condition. Avoid people who prefer to play
than nap, as the games of Frisbee and frequent smoking may interrupt
your attempts at perfecting your sleeping skills.
HARTLEY-WALLACH SKY LOUNGE /
WIEN LOUNGE
Many comfortable couches and nicely designed rooms can be found
in these two dorms’ main lounges, where you can guarantee lots of
quiet and few disturbances from other people. Open 24 hours, these
peaceful venues are ideal for prolonged slumber, and the occasional
not-so-amateur piano player provides the perfect sleep experience.
Push two of the surprisingly comfortable cushioned chairs together
to form a bed in this popular spot for professional nappers. For those
not so jaded by late-night orgo study, Butler Library still stands as a
beautiful, airy, and well-temperatured napping headquarters. Unlike
some of its city counterparts, Butler is luckily open 24/7. If you won’t
be distracted by kids gabbing or watching movies on laptops, you are
the perfect candidate for a nap here.
PHOTO BY ELENA LAGOUTOVA
BUTLER LOUNGE
urbanities
It’s Lonely at the Top
The clearest sign of being one of the elite is pretending you’re not
I
By Elizabeth Brown
PHOTO BY LINDA CARRION, ILLUSTRATION BY SHAINA RUBIN
t isn’t hard to see why New York has a reputation for elitism. Without a doubt,
it’s New Yorkers who live for the best, the finest, and the fastest. We love our
tasty bagels, chic fashion, and rich people. In other words, we love ourselves.
Combine “New Yorker” with “Columbia,” and there are even higher odds for
a reputation of elitism. After all, Ivy League schools are hives for big brains and
even bigger intellectual egos. Yet Columbians claim a departure from the usual
stereotype of the Ivies because, for better or for worse, New York is our backdrop.
We talk Nietzsche as deftly as we dance in downtown bars. We hail cabs like Carrie Bradshaw and take the subway like Bloomberg. Well-rounded, ambitious, and
gregarious, we’re the cream rising to the top of the world, or at least that’s what
everyone tells us.
Yet, though we might like what they have to say, we can’t ignore the connotations of egotism and elitism that come with being a Columbia student. It’s simply
too difficult for us to be kings of the world for long, and, stripped of our crowns,
some of us feel injured by the assumptions provoked by these burdens of elitism.
So, as an educator, a breeding ground, and a business, what does Columbia do to feed our elitism?
Some students feel institutional pomposity may, in fact, undermine the educational value of the Core Curriculum. “Columbia
definitely feeds into the elitist attitude,” notes Michaela Bamdad, CC ’08. “So many people—students and faculty—make
jokes about how the Core will allow us to impress anybody at a
cocktail party, no matter what topic is raised.”
To Paul Sonne, CC ’07, it isn’t up to the institution to fight the elitist label. “It’s about individual attitudes and interactions, and teaching students humility. But how do you do that, after all?” Unless
students prefer learning humility over the intoxication of prestige
and impressiveness, you don’t.
Chris Darby, CC ’08, sees the city as a way for students to hide
from the elitist stereotype. He sees New York, not in terms of selfcongratulating superlatives, but as a counteraction to elitist labels, because when we look out the window, we see busy streets and cultural diversity, rather than manicured lawns and Lauren Bush. “Personally, I think
of [elitism] in terms of New England old money, which makes Columbia
a pretty convenient school in terms of elitism. It’s a bit more a code word
since it’s not, say, Harvard.” Sonne agrees: “Hey, look on the bright side. At
least we’re not Princeton.”
But not being Princeton doesn’t notarize our claim to be less elitist (though it
may allow us to be less preppy). Unnamed, or even unintentional, elitist attitudes
invite plenty of resentment into an elite community. As Sonne observes: “You’re
not going to win any points trying to argue that Columbia isn’t elitist. It’s a matter of presenting yourself in a way that doesn’t rub things in other people’s faces.
So maybe the potential for resentment is a good thing—it might keep bragging
students in line.”
Still, Columbia is considered elite for a reason, beyond the word of bragging
mouths. Bamdad is in her fourth semester of the Writing Program, which regularly boasts accomplished authors and editors among its faculty. She says, “It’s
really exciting to take classes with people whose books you’ve read. And definitely
impressive.” That word stops her before she adds, “I even feel self-conscious saying
things like that—that Columbia, or the education I am getting, is impressive—because I know the assumptions of elitism and general arrogance.” Bamdad’s selfconsciousness points to a common desire to be proud of our opportunities while
at the same time avoiding furthering elitist perceptions. “While I find it really
obnoxious for people to name-drop their school and expect the name itself
to command respect, there’s no point in being ashamed about it,”
she says.
But that’s a fine line to walk, considering we all know that stepping onto name-dropping turf quickly makes us look egotistical.
The same goes for anyone who complains about the burden of a
stereotype that, in the end, has its rewards. As Darby says of a Columbia education, “The cultural capital benefits far outweigh any
emotional burden one would have to suffer being labeled elitist.”
According to him, Columbia’s good reputation, not its elitism, is
what will stand after graduation.
In fact, arguing the unfairness of elitist labels might make the
arguer look that much more elitist. Playing victim and disregarding how sweet most of us have it actualizes the stereotype.
In Sonne’s words, “Let’s face it, most of us got pretty lucky in
life, whether it’s having enough money to pay for private college,
having the brains to get in, or both.” Hopefully, this kind of
self-awareness is something that New York and Columbia
can both teach us.
“There is always going to be resentment,” he added, “and
sometimes maybe it’s justified, and we should learn how to deal
with that. That’s a pretty small price to pay for what we’ve got.”
05
urbanities
The Best Phone
Call of My Life
Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio dish
about their new film, The Departed
Both of you have taken roles that challenge the ideas of identity and reality.
What is that like as an actor?
Matt: Well, from a place of storytelling, it’s a good way in. You’re always going to
have to come up with some sort of conflict and a character that either learns or
moves on. Having someone grappling with and dealing with identity is a meaty
way to make that come about. Ultimately, at our age, identity issues are what people are struggling with. You’ve already reinvented yourself a hundred times by the
time you graduate college, and you go off into the world and do it there again.
Leo: It really presents a challenge as an actor—you’re going through your own
personal traumatic considerations as a character, but you don’t want to relay that
to people in the audience. We gravitate toward those characters when we read
the scripts, because they’re not one-note performances.
What kind of preparation did you do for your roles?
Matt: Being pulled over on the Mass. Pike a few times was the extent of my experience with the Boston Police. So, I went on a ride-along and I felt like I was
in that Michael J. Fox movie [The Hard Way], saying “Hey guys, can I get a gun?”
And they were just like, “Shut up. No.” But I did listen in on a wire and go on a
drug raid of a crack house.
Leo: A lot of my preparation work was done with a guy in Los Angeles from
South Boston who knew that crime underworld and all those stories. That place
is kind of a microcosm of storytelling—everyone knows everyone’s business. The
stories are really in the cobblestones there.
Both of you are veterans of the awards season and Oscar buzz. How do you
feel about that in the context of The Departed?
Matt: We have a joke that there’s Oscar buzz over our conversation right now,
about everything we do. It’s really just the marketing machine behind movies and
definitely not something we set out to do, ever. It’s tough enough to just keep
working, so you try to make decisions that keep you with great directors and in
roles that keep you challenged. The rest is pretty much bullshit.
CINEMASTRIKESBACK.COM
06
About an hour after I learned I would be part of The Departed college teleconference with Matt Damon and Leonardo DiCaprio, I realized that eventually I would
have to stop jumping around and giggling and actually prepare some questions.
Fortunately, I had help. My roommate suggested: “Are you aware that you are fulfilling my girlhood dream?” My brother tried: “How about them apples, Matt? Did
you ever let go, Leo?” Sadly, I did not get my turn to ask a question. However, for 25
dreamy minutes, the actors answered questions from ten other college journalists
about working with Martin Scorsese, challenging roles, college, and Boston. The
Departed comes out on Oct. 6. See you at the first showing; I’ll be swooning in the
first row.—Sally Cohen-Cutler
in focus
DOWNTOWN
UPRISING
How the most progressive college in New York evolved from a
near-bankrupt campus to every high schooler’s fantasy
PHOTO BY NEAL AMIN
T
By Brendan Ballou
he April press release read like University President Bollinger’s worst
nightmare: “Jeremy Waldron will join the New York University School
of Law faculty in fall 2006.” He is “one of the best political and legal
philosophers of our time,” it asserted.
Only four years ago, Waldron was bestowed the esteemed title of University Professor by Bollinger, Provost Alan Brinkley, and Columbia’s Board of Trustees. But
following conflicts concerning class loads and the dean’s election, Columbia lost not
only a leading theorist in his field, but a recognizable face and marquee name.
For nine years, Waldron had lectured from one of the most popular podiums at
the Columbia Law School. As he has aged, he has grown in presence, allowing his intimidating intellect to settle into a confident yet approachable mien. The professor’s
matted hair faded into gray, but the promontory of his deep brows served as a stark
reminder of the inkwell that fueled his piercing pen. In Waldron’s short tenure at
Columbia, he had quickly spawned lively traditions, such as when students would
place kiwis on his podium in honor of his New Zealand provenance. While his serious intellectualism was distinctly Ivy League, students’ tendencies to joke with the
professor hinted at an unmistakable accessibility in his character. Perhaps his departure was inevitable. Perhaps someone of his demeanor was destined for a New
York university emblematized by a downtown scene rather than foreboding marble
pillars. After all, the professor had turned down offers from Harvard and Princeton,
universities surpassing Columbia in the realm of formidable academic prowess.
With Waldron’s choice of NYU, however, the hierarchy of what defines a university’s desirability appears to be shifting.
Brian Leiter, who maintains an online directory of law school rankings, wrote that
Waldron’s move would “sustain NYU’s position as the strongest law school in jurisprudence in the U.S.”
Richard Revesz, dean of NYU’s Law School, went even further, declaring to the
New York Observer: “I think any objective observer would say that we now have,
sort of across the board, a faculty that is stronger in many, many more areas [than
Columbia’s], and that is very exciting.”
PRE-CHIC DOWNTOWN
espite recent nostalgia for the downtown aesthetic of the 1970s, the arts actually flourished in that decade amidst a haze of poverty, drug abuse, corruption,
and inadequate sanitation. The city flirted compulsively with bankruptcy and the
streets teemed with backpack thieves. This was not the place for happy-go-lucky
Midwesterners.
Likewise, before NYU and Columbia could kick off their long-standing beauty
competition, the schools and their host city had to shake off a rather terrifying image.
NYU survived by selling itself off. In 1973, President James M. Hester sold the
school’s Bronx campus for $60 million and cut the engineering department. Four
years later he sold the Mueller Macaroni Company for $115 million, a gift given to
the school in the 1950s.
“Twenty-five years ago, we had just gotten enough money to extricate ourselves
from the brink of bankruptcy,” NYU’s chairman Martin Lipton told the New York
Times in March 2001.
NYU’s less than impeccable history and more than troubled financial situation
hardly helped the school’s academic offerings. Reporter William H. Honan of the
Times wrote in 1995:
“New York University was what college-bound students from New York regarded
as a safety school, fourth or fifth on their application lists. If you didn’t get into Cornell or Brandeis or Brown University, you could always commute to NYU.”
Desperate times called for desperate measures. To properly tap New York’s resources, NYU very quickly invested its money, presaging the miraculous growth that
was to gild its streets in the ’90s.
CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE
D
07
in focus
08
It’s just a lot cooler to hang out on the steps in Washington Square Park (above)
than on the ones in front of Low Library.
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 7
When most schools look to expand they invest in their endowments. Yielding
three to five percent interest, these investments are traditional, reliable markers of a
university’s fundraising success. Perhaps even more importantly, witness Harvard’s
$25.9 billion and Yale’s $12.9 billion—endowments factor into ranking and index
prestige. To finance its Manhattanville aspirations, Columbia seeks to raise $4 billion.
Without a clear legacy, NYU was free to take the less traditional routes, and,
rather than expand its relatively meager $1.55 billion endowment, the administration concentrated 85 percent of funds on campus improvements, scholarships, and
faculty. Six-hundred million dollars renovated and expanded the campus, buying
apartments, offices, and nightclubs at a time when prices were only beginning to
creep from their basement prices. Another $109 million was spent on scholarships,
bringing higher caliber students to the university who might otherwise have opted
to attend the public CUNY system.
The rest of the funds bought 88 new faculty chairs. President John Brademas selected a handful of departments in which the school could excel, particularly in the
humanities, where departments can be expanded faster and cheaper than in the sciences.
For young, creative professors, NYU’s lack of a brand name became a massive
craft project. Unique, ambitious intellectuals flocked to the prospect of “being part
of a new venture,” explains Stephen Schiffer, chair of the philosophy department.
NYU’s strategy involved prospecting for pedagogical wunderkinds. “Often schools
will wait until someone is famous before hiring them,” says Mark Gertler, former
chair of the economics department. But NYU bit the bullet: “The focus was on
bringing in people who were before the peak of their career.”
Gertler noted the almost maternal pride that professors could gain from their successes, saying “a lot of the traditional departments have been able to live off the fact
that they are at famous universities... whereas we’ve had to build it on our own.” And
according to Schiffer, the university’s rapid growth facilitated further expansion:
“Once you get one or two people, there’s kind of a snowball effect.”
For decades, NYU was the school for self-starters. By the 1990s, NYU’s rise could
be traced to one of the world’s largest alumni networks for a private university, and a
highly distinguished Board of Trustees.
Notable trustees included life-long New Yorkers, students smart enough for the
Ivy League but who had sought to save money by commuting to NYU. They were
bright, ambitious, self-motivated, and indebted to NYU, becoming chairpersons of,
among other companies, CBS, Solomon Brothers, and JP Morgan. In 1984 the board
exercised its considerable power over the city and university alumni to launch an
ambitious 15-year $1 billion fundraising campaign. They met their goal five years
ahead of schedule.
By 2004, its cornerstones laid, NYU could afford to streamline its hiring process.
Professor Waldron would prove a particularly shining addition to the trophy chest.
NYU UP-AND-COMING
owntown” connotes a social history and a lifestyle, one that both fed and was
fed by NYU. Though NYU’s investment in the humanities was in part due
to its relatively low expense, the school’s targeted programs cultivated NYU’s liberal
bohemian reputation.
The campaign has triumphed unequivocally. Since 1991, undergraduate acceptance rates have fallen from 65 percent to under 30 percent.
At the same time, New York has experienced unprecedented growth. Former
Mayor Rudulph Giuliani sanitized the streets while tourism increased. Sept. 11,
2001, brought New York back into the American fold. Wall Street victors are moving into buildings built by celebrity architects.
NYU has simultaneously become upscale, raising the question of which came first:
the prized university or its hip college town? The philosophy department is ranked
highest in the country; the undergraduate business program holds at number five.
NYU’s faculty includes 22 members of the Academy of Arts and Sciences and three
Nobel Prize winners.
Having achieved prominence in the humanities, NYU has penetrated the sciences,
growing expensive and exhaustive programs in astrophysics, plastics technology,
and plant genomics. For this purpose, the school has raised $1.1 billion.
Real estate has long been one of NYU’s most prized holdings. Currently, the school
is gutting 12, 14, and 16 Waverly Place, moving the economics and politics departments to a new building on Mercer Street, and renovating 75,000 square feet of the
main library. The philosophy department will move into a building renovated by
architect Stephen Holl and the university faculty will settle in a building designed by
IM Pei, architect of the Louvre Pyramid.
Installed in 2002, NYU President John Sexton cut the deficit in part by raising
tuition 6.3 percent and slowing hiring. But as in the 1980s, NYU embarked upon
another aggressive fundraising campaign. In 2005, Sexton announced at a black-tie
gala featuring Billy Joel that the school planned to raise $2.5 billion in seven years.
The goal dwarfs those of many of its competitors, including the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s $1.5 billion, Dartmouth’s $1.3 billion, and University of Chicago’s
“D
NYU NUMBERS
300%
In 2000, applications increased by over 300
percent from 1991, while acceptance rate declined by 29.3 percent.
29.3%
Though 60 60%
percent of incoming freshmen come
from outside the tri-state area, NYU maintains
its identity as a commuter school, with 60 percent of its student body living off-campus.
60%
15 percent of incoming freshmen come from
15%
one of New York City’s five boroughs, and 25
percent from one of 17 surrounding counties.
25%
The Princeton Review ranks NYU as secondmost accepting of gay and lesbian students out
of all universities in the United States.
gay and lesbian
Hollywood
NYU counts Hollywood household names Alec
09
Baldwin, Angelina Jolie, Adam Sandler, and
Martin Scorcese among its alumni.
trasting statistics are meant not to demean current students, but rather to illustrate
the changing demeanor of NYU’s student body. Thirty-thousand bright-eyed Michiganders transplanted to New York City do not an avant-garde society make.
THE SECOND COMING
YU’s current prominence in New York academia offers much to the city, even
to Columbia.
Former Columbia president George Rupp blushed to the Times, “I am delighted
with NYU’s progress,” he said. Students and professors in the city can only bolster
New York’s intellectual status, he concluded, saying, “It reflects the resurgence of interest in New York City that we are all seeing, as more and more of the best students
and faculty come here.”
Despite any misgivings Columbia students might have conceding their superiority,
Professor Gertler emphasized the holistic benefit to New York:
“I would only want to emphasize that there are now many positive spillovers between the Columbia and NYU economics departments, making New York overall
a force in economics. I would expect these mutual benefits are arising with other
departments as well.”
Two prestigious New York schools will also facilitate joint hiring of married professors, Professor Gertler speculated.
In recent years there have been joint seminars between Columbia’s and NYU’s
business schools, computer science departments, and math programs, among many
others.
Competition is almost certainly a healthy ward against complacency. Higher application numbers can only signify greater exclusivity and higher admission standards.
A strong set of universities can only spawn academic opportunities in the city, as well
as more chances for collaboration. And with the 2006 Princeton Review survey listing
three New York schools (of five total) under the honorific “Great College Town,” it remains to be seen whether New York will prove more “great” or more “college town.”
Despite the hyped competition for professors and students, the NYU and Columbia law schools have consistently collaborated. In addition to offering classes to
students from each other’s schools, the deans of NYU and Columbia Law teach a
seminar together. Best of all, Waldron’s current lecture welcomes both Columbia
and NYU students.
NYU may be in the limelight, but for now—the loss of Waldron aside—Columbia students don’t seem to mind. After all, it gives us all an excuse to hang out
downtown. —Additional reporting by Alex Gartenfeld
N
PHOTO BY NEAL AMIN
$2 billion. Furthermore, the campaign will finally build an endowment. $200 million
will hire 250 new faculty members.
Tuition now rivals the Ivy League at $33,420, with room and board adding another
$11,780. To one extent, the price hikes are essential to the effort to expand without
an endowment. NYU has run an annual deficit of $70 million a year from a total
budget of $1.2 billion.
Hiking prices also carries a psychological component, consciously allowing NYU
to cater to an elite clientele.
Quite deservedly, NYU’s administration prides itself on the manner in which it
mastered the university system. Former university president Jay Oliva told the Times
in March 1995, “We have changed from a commuter school whose entrance requirements were in the medium range into a national university whose students
come from all over the country and the world.”
Indeed, commuter students who once saw NYU as a safety school now beg for
spots in one of NYU’s luxe residential suites on Water Street.
With that degree of institutionalization, NYU has gone from ingenue to insider.
But with NYU making all the right moves, what happens to the lefty?
NYU alum Michael Agovino wrote recently in the Times: “I didn’t feel as if NYU
was my school anymore... When I pass by the college these days, I see a place that
seems increasingly a bastion of wealth and privilege.”
For some, the problem is that NYU matches its downtown environs all too well.
There are few abandoned lots and warehouses into which NYU can further expand. The school’s most recent project, a 26-story dormitory, has drawn fierce criticism for its location directly next to St. Anne’s Church near 12th Street, not to mention NYU’s abrasive and aggressive public relations assault.
More strikingly, the real estate developments that so profited NYU as a landlord
have also evicted SoHo’s artisanal workshops for boutiques, turned the Lower East
Side into a commuter bar, and upgraded the West Village to a giant bistro. All but
the established or rent-controlled artists and intellectuals have moved out. It’s hard
to imagine that only ten years ago actress Chloe Sevigny was discovered gawking at
real punks in Washington Square Park.
In 2002, the infamous Palladium nightclub became NYU’s new athletic center, the
dancefloor dug out to make room for a swimming pool.
And though it would be ludicrous to complain about safe streets, security has also
made New York safe for NYU’s monotonous expansion to take hold. In 1990, 60
percent of the university’s students came from New York. In contrast, 70 perfect of
students arriving this September came from outside the tri-state area. These con-
film
Reel Views
In 1971, the U.S. government did not want
you listening to John Lennon. Now our embarrassing waywardness is the subject of a new documentary, The U.S. vs. John Lennon, an inspiring,
though not entirely newsworthy, look back at the
Nixon administration’s gripe with the beloved
Beatle.
Lennon calls on a diverse throng of politicians, activists, and friends of Lennon to recount
the musician and the era (late ’60s to early ’70s)
that influenced each other. The interviewees
include a mix of respected and controversial
figures including author Gore Vidal, Black Panthers cofounder Bobby Seale, and—yes, that’s
right—news personality Geraldo Rivera. Not to
be outdone by this all-star cast, Yoko Ono receives the greatest amount of screen time, personalizing the footage of Vietnam War newsreels
and archived Lennon interviews with anecdotes
about the musician’s life. Indeed, the film’s strongest moments include scenes of quiet affection
between the dynamic pair.
But Lennon falters with its focus on the U.S.
government’s monitoring of Lennon’s political
activities and its failed attempt to deport him in
the early ’70s. Maybe it’s because wiretapping
has lost all its shock value, but the evidence of
the government’s actions against Lennon and
Ono is not exactly juicy material for conspiracy
theorists. Unfortunately for the film’s audience,
the government’s attempt to create distraction
from an unpopular war and a corrupt administration—accomplished here by vilifying an
outspoken rock star—sounds more typical than
shocking.
What the film captures beautifully is the true
nature of Lennon’s subversion. Subversion for
Lennon meant picking up a guitar, not picking a
fight. That the government feared him is of little
consequence. What is more important, and why
the government feared him at all, is that millions
of people responded to his message. Footage of
thousands of war protestors singing “Give Peace
a Chance” has stunning relevance for today’s
world. In sharing scenes like this, The U.S. vs.
John Lennon reminds its audience that Lennon
belongs to the revolutionaries, the peacemakers,
and the dreamers of every generation. As Lennon revealed to us, a simple song has the power
to rattle governments, move people to tears,
and maybe even change the world. —Bethany
Schaid
When Pastor Becky waves a hand over her laptop and
asks Jesus to bless her PowerPoint presentation, it is clear
that some things are very different in North Dakota. But,
after all, this is Jesus Camp.
Pastor Becky, one of the subjects in Heidi Ewing and
Rachel Grady’s documentary, Jesus Camp, works for the
appropriately named “Kids on Fire,” a summer camp for
Evangelical kids. A sort of Christian Carrot Top, Pastor
Becky spices her sermons for children with catchy visuals
and props. She leads a cast of born-agains that includes
Levi, a boy with a mullet and a penchant for preaching;
Rachael, a fidgety girl who darts in and out of the frame
while spreading the Word; and Tory, a home-schooled,
Christian heavy-metal fan, who confesses that sometimes
she “dances for the flesh” rather than for Jesus.
Inextricably entangled with its subject, Jesus Camp
presents Evangelism as a curious anomaly within the human race. The fanaticism connected to the religion is evidenced in the tear-stained faces of guilt-ridden children
repenting for their sins. The scenes in which the children
speak in tongues are entrancing, as well as a disturbingly
foreign image for those unfamiliar with the religion.
Of course, Evangelicals are an easy target for the liberal academics who seem to populate most high-profile
documentary crews. Since everything is based on faith
rather than fact—currency for the educated—they seem
to represent the antithesis of the intellectual.
Still, the subjects are mystifying in their repetition
of rhetoric and unwillingness to admit motives. The
adults’ repeated denials that their actions are politically
charged—despite scenes in which they pray for a cardboard figure of President Bush, give children plastic
models of tiny fetuses and embryos, and hold a vigil for
the confirmation of Justice Alito—elicited the greatest
scoffs and mutterings from the audience.
Perhaps attempting to do for religion in politics what
Al Gore did for global warming, Jesus Camp is a fascinating but uncomfortable look at what could happen if
America continues on its current path. Ending with the
chilling declarations from leaders that “Liberalism is
dead” and “Let the church rise,” Jesus Camp may prove,
for some, to be the scariest movie since An Inconvenient
Truth. —Emily Rauber
The “Kids on Fire,” cried for
weeks after “Fundamentalist
Metaphors Applied Literally Day”.
Finally, an
animated
film without
any talking
animals or
narrative
quality.
After decades of study, historians still
don’t fully understand why Nixon rejected
Lennon’s re-design of the American flag.
Director Christian Volckman and motion
capture animator Marc Miance have created
an entirely new genre of animated film: the
moving graphic novel.
Aesthetically, Renaissance is a dark and
uniquely stylish picture, but this showpiece
lacks the same level of substance in its plot and
dialogue.
The story is comparable to a classic film
noir of the 1940s and ‘50s, and the characters
are all familiar archetypes - the victim, the introverted detective, the distraught friend, and
a line up of the usual suspects.
The futuristic Renaissance follows the case
of a Parisian kidnapping victim, Ilona (Romola
Garai).
Ilona works for Paris’ largest company, Avalon, which boasts its discovery of eternal youth
and beauty. Barthelemy Karas (Daniel Craig)
is the cliche detective—quiet but stern—who
takes Ilona’s case, all the while developing
romantic relations with her distressed sister,
Bislane (Catherine McCormack). As the witnesses drop like flies, Karas is thrust into an
investigation infused with corruption, crime,
and ethical conflicts.
The high contrast, black and white illustration is unquestionably the film’s defining
quality. The animation utilizes stark light and
shadow to enliven the dynamics, emotion,
and drama, cohering into a brilliant and artistic representation of a futuristic Paris. In this
dystopia, modern eyesores are piled atop Paris’
ancient and notable architecture, hauntingly
rendered by the animators.
With a surprise ending, Renaissance keeps
its audience attentive through the fairly quick
pace and nouveau medium, even in spite of the
film’s labored dialogue that does everything it
can to make the film as uninviting as possible.
Sporadic and awkward pauses in discourse
remove the viewer from the otherwise enveloping scene.
Regardless of the occasional holes in plot
and the unoriginal story, however, the creators
of Renaissance succeed in producing a visually
dazzling piece of art.—Mariel Villarreal
(FROM TOP TO BOTTOM) MAGNOLIA PICTURES, LIONS GATE FILMS, MIRAMAX FILMS
RENAISSANCE
>>
>>
JESUS CAMP
>>
10
THE U.S. VS. JOHN LENNON
music and
film
Getting Away With (Celebrity) Murder
By Annie Berke
T
his fall, old Hollywood is where it’s at—you have the fabulous gowns summer of ’69. What neither Hollywoodland nor Dahlia will do, however, is
and the hopping parties, and then you have the bloated, disembow- shed any light on either case or make any real assertions as to these victims’
eled corpse which somehow makes the glamorous setting even sexier. In demises.
Which isn’t to say that the films were produced for that purpose. Rather,
the past few weeks, Miramax and Universal have presented us the two most
the whodunit of it all seems secondary in Coulter’s film,
gruesome murders in Hollywood history, with the
and barely tertiary in De Palma’s. So why are these very
films Hollywoodland and The Black Dahlia, respecsimilar films being produced in the first place if the
tively. The trailers promised us the inside scoop on
murders themselves are only slightly more interesting
these closed cases, but unfortunately, neither film dethan those on the 10 o’clock news? Sure, the rampant
livers.
success of the CSI franchise is one factor, but there is
Hollywoodland entertains several possible suspects
another, more intangibly self-conscious motive behind
in the murder of George Reeves, TV’s original Supertheir creation.
man, but seems to settle on his death being a suicide.
Never before have celebrities felt more like cultural
What the film doesn’t tell you is that Reeves attemptcommodities
than human beings. While the stars of
ed suicide twice before being found dead in his bedHollywood’s
Golden
Age brought such idolatry to a
room after a party. What director Allen Coulter does
plateau,
the
relentless
stream of minutiae that is the
make abundantly clear is that Reeves, at the time of
Internet
has
rendered
our
collective perspective more
his death, was completely washed-up. Adrien Brody
detached
than
ever.
We
gawk
when they wed, point
is completely wasted in the role of the detective, too
in
their
presence,
and
seldom
mourn
when they die.
tortured by his own personal demons to shower, and
We’re
not
stricken
with
grief
when
they
pass, but inoverall, the film refuses to answer the only question it
sets out to ask, that is, what happened to Reeves.
trigued by the details of their passing—added layers to
The Black Dahlia, on the other hand, does solve
the enigma at the core of celebrity itself.
the case, but all the characters are fictionalized, and
Perhaps awareness of this phenomenon has seeped
the film was only inspired by the Black Dahlia case.
through the Hollywood ranks to the point where the
What proves uninspired is the film itself, a ridiculous In Not Another Teen Movie Mia Kirshner ego-driven town has felt the need to use that fact to
thriller with an even more ludicrous and confusing
its advantage, dredging up these negligible stories to
fetishized shit. Now she’s starring in it.
denouement. It is not Brian De Palma’s finest hour.
affirm the safety of their individual legacies
He counts on his audience being titillated into distracOr maybe, in a more optimistic light, the real reation by the noir-ish details—Josh Hartnett’s character puts his hat on for a son we want to know who killed Short or what happened to Reeves is bepost-coital snuggle—and the gory image of a murdered starlet. Dahlia does cause there exists a kind of justice independent of our legal system. All these
not even touch on reality, instead borrowing from real-life news stories to years later, maybe what we want is for things to be set right so life does not
lend the story some seedy realism. Unfortunately, De Palma does not ac- seem quite so random and terrible. But, while Hartnett’s character, Bucky
complish this feat nearly as well as, say, Spike Lee in Summer of Sam, a film Bleichert, asserts that “nothing stays buried forever,” perhaps these highly
which deals very little with actual murders and more with Brooklyn in the revisionist portrayals are simply digging deeper holes.
Sounding Off in the Blogosphere
ULTRAGRRRL.BLOGSPOT.COM
How does an emo-loving Jersey girl become a symbol of both everything that’s right and wrong with the New York hipster scene? For Sarah Lewitinn, also known as Ultragrrrl, this particular rise came about at least partially due to her blog, which champions cute animals, the downtown scene, and, oh yeah, music. Unlike most music blogs,
Ultragrrrl’s charm (or problematic nature, depending on who you talk to) is rooted in Lewitinn herself, who is equally likely to describe her nasty bout with the stomach flu
as she is to deconstruct the appeal of the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs video. All this attention is a double-edged blade, of course—“At this point, my skin is so thick, I’d probably
be bulletproof if you shot me,” she said in an interview—but, unlike many other music blogs, Ultragrrrl attracts a young female audience, many of whom breathlessly defend
Lewitinn in her blog’s comments. This “flabbergasts” Lewitinn, but isn’t surprising given the stereotypically male-dominated indie world. Lewitinn is what these girls want to
be when they grow up—after-party-attending, record-label-owning, endearingly open, and, most importantly, ready and willing to play with the big boys. —Casey Acierno
WWW.BROOKLYNVEGAN.COM
The L is a very slow train, but BrooklynVegan will make your nightly—make that daily, even thrice-daily—trip into Brooklyn worth it. Blogger Dave (he insists upon anonymity) has created a cleanly laid-out site to collect MP3 leaks, tour dates, box set releases, and blog meta-criticism, delivered with knowledge of the scene and occasionally sharp
wit. Featured bands range from local to international, though you’ll be hard-pressed to find an unsigned name. Dave has recently expanded his empire, sponsoring shows and
offering interviews with an ambition that exceeds the typical blogger’s stay-at-home aesthetic. Updating sometimes at four minute intervals, no obstacles hold this blogger
back. Of course, the requisite problem of being the most established Brooklyn blog is that Brooklyn, with variable self-awareness, prides itself upon on its grassroots bohemianism. Besides, veganism is hardly a way of life made for the streets. But when it comes to meaty indie rock stories, nothing beats BrooklynVegan. —Alex Gartenfeld
YOUAINTNOPICASSO.BLOGSPOT.COM
UNIVERSAL PICTURES
You Ain’t No Picasso differs from the usual snarky indie music blogs because of its genuine excitement for the music. Reading YANP is like hearing your best friend gush
about his new favorite band, if your best friend is an unassuming music geek. Missing are the snide remarks about “sell-outs” and sarcastic commentary on pop culture, and
YANP tries its hardest to describe the music accurately. Unfortunately it does not always succeed, sometimes posting bizarre and vague descriptions of “slice-of-life songs of
a quality that seems to escape most contemporary bands.” Let’s just chalk the long-winded explanations up to enthusiasm, which YANP’s isn’t lacking. YANP keeps readers up to date on lesser known favorites such as Bishop Allen and the Features, but its name-drops don’t drip with pretension. Furthermore, YANP provides interviews with
indie mainstays including favorites such as We Are Scientists and Final Fantasy. Often, nationwide tour dates are posted for its geographically diverse audience. Other extras
include concert and festival coverage, including Bonaroo and Intonation. YANP is refreshing in a culture where irony and nonchalance are in. —Lucy Tang
PRODUCTSHOPNYC.COM
The concordance of music and politics has, at this point, become a cliche. The revolutions of the ’60s are synonymous with the advance of rock music, and even P. Diddy
joined the chorus with his “Vote or Die” shirts. Product Shop NYC ports this tried-and-true connection over to the blogosphere. First established as a music news and
“what’s up in New York blog,” one of its strongest points has always been spreading unsubstantiated rumors about secret shows and afterparties. Recently, however, PSNYC
has evolved into a three-pronged assault on youth culture that also features a fashion blog and a college blog. PSYNYC’s flagship made the most dramatic change—what
was, in the past, a comment or two on political issues has evolved into a component of its coverage equally as important as music. For the liberal indie kid (two terms that go
together like Britney and K-Fed), PSNYC provides one-stop shopping for photos of the latest Sufjan show and highlights from the underground media. —Casey Acierno
11
music
(Sexual) Healing With Justin
Timberlake
Hell Hath No Fury Like
Beyoncé Scorned
By Bryan Mochizuki
By Margaret Eby
12
ustin Timberlake’s new album, FutureSex/LoveSounds, is very good, for at
least three obvious reasons. First, the J.T./Timbaland combination is the
most unbelievably charismatic singer/producer pairing since J.D. first came
out with Usher (not that this should be news to anyone after “Cry Me a River”). Second, there’s an interlude called “I Think She Knows” that’s better
than almost any song this year. Third, “Chop Me Up,” the Three 6 Mafia collaboration, is on the same cheeky-rap level as ’NSync’s “Girlfriend,” and yet it
bangs like a Jeezy song, which is, by definition, mindboggling. There are also just as many reasons why
this album isn’t anything more than a very good
album—dud slow songs, a Will.I.Am production,
and a song called “Losing My Way” that sounds
like Bernie Taupin after watching too much of The
Wire.
The musical quality of this album, however, is
only one level—ideologically, there’s an entirely different set of criteria, one that the
album both fulfills and surpasses. It may
be only a very good piece of music, but as
a piece of pop, it is truly great. This has
something to do with Timberlake and
something to do with Timbaland and a
lot to do with Sept. 11, 2001, and our
current culture of healing.
The last five years have made it
glaringly clear that America inherently needs catchy, formulaic, uplifting music—U2, “Stay Fly,” The Killers, and especially American Idol, a
show that attracts more viewers than
a presidential election with the simple
goal of listening to bad versions of pop
standards.
And now, at the end of those five years,
we have “SexyBack,” currently the most
played song in the country, and perhaps,
by pop standards, the greatest single in
the last five years.
Even if you haven’t really heard it, you
most likely still have. Your little sister’s
bringing sexy back. Your uncle’s bringing
sexy back. The guy at the hot dog stand?
Yeah, him too. Many people in this country currently believe that they are each
individually bringing back the sexy, and
while some say this ironically, I think most
people, on some level, consider it a duty.
A song like this would not have done
well a year after Sept. 11. Back then, Justified, chock full of lyrically doting singles,
was at the top of the charts, and for good
reason. Back then, people wanted their
music to comfort them, to make them feel
loved. But now we’re post-Kelly Clarkson; we’re done, for the time being,
with being smothered (almost exclusively the result of James Blunt). Now
we want to feel empowered and that’s what “SexyBack” does. It’s self-centered
and affirming. It conveys confidence and capability, by way of Timberlake’s
coked-out-Stuart-Smalley chorus. It’s as uplifting as any single post-Sept. 11,
and it’s even more, because it completely reconfigures pop’s lyrical registry
to be as ruthlessly cocksure as possible—that’s a value that we Americans, for
the most part, love.
The entire album doesn’t play like this, and that’s probably a good thing.
But a lot of it does. On “SummerLove,” Justin “can’t wait to fall in love” (“with
you” plays like an afterthought), and on the title track, he gets didactic on
why a certain “she” wants in his jeans. And thanks to Timbaland, these songs
sound even better than “SexyBack.” J.T.’s in a position that no one’s known
since maybe Michael Jackson—he knows he’s the best in the game, he’s got
an album to prove it, and he’s rolling with the new Quincy Jones. But really,
is that a problem?
I
f Beyoncé’s last album was about being dangerously in love, her
new one is about being just plain dangerous. Though recent rumors of Jay-Z’s unfaithfulness with the barely 18-year-old Rihanna are unconfirmed, it’s clear throughout Beyoncé’s new album,
B’Day, that she is pissed about something. Her video for “Ring the
Alarm,” the second single from B’Day, features Beyoncé throwing
herself at walls, screaming, “I’ll be damned if I see another chick
on your arm!” Beyoncé’s ragged vocals, coupled with the scenes of
police forcibly restraining her, confirm beyond a doubt that she’s
taking the aggression in her previous work to a whole new level.
Either that’s real anger in her eyes or Beyoncé is a much better
actress than Goldmember led us all to believe.
Relationship troubles aside, Beyoncé’s collaborations with Jay-Z
have proved fruitful for her in the past. “Crazy in Love” was the
undisputed ruler of the radio airwaves in the summer of 2003. The
horn sampling and Beyoncé’s melodic tones thrown up against the
rhythmic punch of Jay-Z’s rap were both risks, but, as record sales
and the adoring worldwide public confirmed, the departure from
Beyoncé’s Destiny’s Child-persona resulted in nothing but good
things.
This is why “Déjà Vu” is such a disappointing first single. It
smacks of safety—the very same horns and cooing vocals against
a rougher rap beat which were so successful in “Crazy in Love”
are reused in a way that makes them fall flat. B’Day has nothing as
strong as “Baby Boy” or “Crazy in Love” on it. That’s the bad news.
The good news is that other than that curiously weak single,
B’Day is a fairly solid pop-R&B album. From the danceable handclaps and vocal acrobatics on “Get Me Bodied” to the delicious
funk samples in “Suga Mama,” Beyoncé sings the shit out of every
song.
On the celebrity gossip front, the rest of the album does nothing
to discourage rumors of Jay-Z’s infidelity, addressing everything
from leaving an ex-lover’s stuff in a box in “Irreplaceable” to asking
why he lied instead of just confessing in “Resentment.” Tabloid fodder aside, Beyoncé’s soulful crooning is at its best here. Supposedly
based on sentiments that she wished her character Deena could
better express in the movie Dreamgirls, these tracks are the album’s
most vulnerable point. Sandwiched between the frenetic grooves
of “Green Light” and the clubby “Check On It,” Beyoncé pulls off
the ballads with both style and soul.
What B’Day boils down to is a tight, energetic album with songs
so catchy you’ll sing them in your sleep. It’s not all pop and it’s not
all R&B, but it’s sure as hell
all Beyoncé.
(LEFT TO RIGHT): JIVE RECORDS, SONY BMG ENTERTAINMENT
J
food
You Are What You Don’t Eat
Bananas never looked so scary...
By Lydia Ross
I
t may seem bizarre that a passionate and voracious eater who has written for the food section of
Spectator for two-and-a-half years would have grown up petrified of food. For the majority of
my life, I had an extremely limited diet. From kindergarten through sixth grade, I chose to eat
the same lunch every day: a small container of mom-made tuna, a bag of Ridges potato chips, sliced
cucumber with no skin, and a cookie. The only thing I ever drank was cranberry juice mixed with
soda water (the “Mommy drink”). For dinner, I ate plain pasta, broccoli tops (my only vegetable), and
either chicken tenders, chicken breast, or thinly sliced ham, followed by a small bowl of Haagen Daaz
ice cream. Eating out was anxiety inducing, as I never wanted to venture beyond the comforting security of pasta, no butter please, sauce on the side. I felt physically revolted whenever my parents asked
me to try what was on their plates. My mom called friends’ parents before playdates to warn them of
my behavior and ask that they not prepare some sort of exotic dinner for me. It was not until I was 14
that I began to break out of my patterns and to reject the familiar in favor of the new.
My story may be somewhat extreme, but it is by no means an uncommon tale. Many children grow
up on blonde diets, eating all white foods (pasta, bread, rice, etc.). But whereas some are picky eaters,
others have deeply ingrained physical and psychological fears relating to food. One example comes
from Nina Bell, CC ’07, who has a cousin deeply afraid of celery.
“Something about the negative calories really freaks him out. At the end of family lunches, we
often have cheese and celery and he covers his eyes; he can’t even look at it.”
Another student is so disgusted by ketchup that he can’t be near it and prefers it not to be on the
table. Max McCurdy, Medicine ’10, has a sister “who would only eat eggs if they were dyed another
color, usually pink, and had sprinkles put on top of them.”
The fear of certain foods, labeled food phobias,
Where do these phobias come from? Professor and psychologist Patricia Stokes tells us that hucan develop during childhood and continue
mans have two kinds of fears, innate and learned. “There are certain things we’re programmed to
fear,” she explains, “sharp edges, for example.” Food aversions or food phobias, on the other hand,
throughout a person’s lifetime.
are learned fears. Food phobia is likely related to what Stokes calls neophobia, or fear of the new. As
children, we tend to stick with the familiar. Once we develop habits, it is hard to change them. In general, we default towards the familiar.
Professor Stokes explains, “If we find a certain food or food routine that we like, we will stick to it until we either can’t stand the food in question, or somehow
are introduced to something new that becomes the next routine. The habits we develop in childhood are likely to stick with us. One traumatic experience can
shape an entire lifetime of food aversion.”
Merrell Hambleton’s, CC ’08, story supports Professor Stokes’ explanations. “I really hate fruit,” Merrell admits. A general aversion that began in kindergarten, her disgust is most acute with bananas. “I can’t really be around bananas. I gag at the smell of them. My mom would eat them with her cereal at breakfast,
and I couldn’t be at the table with her. It’s been like that as long as I can remember. People love to torture me by forcing me to consume bananas. My mom, for
example, would make me milkshakes that she said were vanilla, but were really chock full of the nasty fruit. One time at my friend’s house, she took an overly
ripe banana, snuck up from behind me, and smooshed it in my face. I was so afraid it would get in my mouth or that I would breathe banana up my nose, that I
couldn’t move. I made my way over to my friend’s sink, turned it on, and dunked my entire head under the faucet so I wouldn’t have to touch or smell the residue
on my face or hands. Immediately after that, I took a shower.”
Merrell does not foresee her fear of bananas being resolved in the future. Professor Stokes also explains that positive and negative reinforcement can validate
food aversion or force us to overcome them. If we are taunted, like in Merrell’s story above, or allowed to maintain our food habits, as my parents did with me,
our phobias are validated and we are more likely to keep on believing that there is something intrinsic in food to be feared.
Most people have either had or know someone who has a food phobia. To an outside ear, the stories people share are often humorous, as people’s fears can
seem implausible or just plain silly. But know that however crazy your phobia may seem, it is not a joke, and you are not alone.
For a look at food phobia at its most extreme (and amusing), I encourage all readers to go to youtube.com/watch?v=HSCotdOh5WY. Pickles never looked
so scary.
A Sliver of Spain
Restaurant Review
By Johanna Smith
COURTESY OF NEW YORK METRO
Chickpeas have never resonated for me as particularly delectable comestibles. Something about their mealy texture, or
maybe their mellow beige flavor, turned me off—that is, until I tried the garbanzo fritos at Tía Pol, the Chelsea tapas bar.
One of the most pleasurable parts of dinner at Tía Pol is waiting for a table, as is invariably necessary. Fortified with a glass of
sangria or sherry and a terra cotta dish of those crispy, salt-and-paprika-sprinkled fried chickpeas, standing in the entryway
of this sardine-can-sized, brick-walled bar ceases to be a chore. Just stand back and soak in the pleasingly dim lighting, the
convivial din, and the charmingly scrawled wall of specials.
Waitresses describe these seasonal specials to stool-perched customers. A dish of whole green shishito peppers were indeed really simple and delicious, having been charred until they blistered. The menu balances more robust dishes with such
refreshingly muck-free offerings as marcona almonds, a dish of gildas, slithery white anchovies, pickled peppers and olives,
and plato de jamon redondo iglesias, a plate of translucent slices of Spanish ham. Navajas y almejas, clams and cockles, were
succulent, and a special of sepia, a squid-like fish stewed in tomatoes and red wine, was satisfyingly autumnal.
Unsure of which dessert to share, my table asked the waitress for her advice. She recommended the flan de naranja, which
she described as “very light,” unlike your average flan. Still, we weren’t convinced, having sampled one too many over-gelled,
sugar-heavy flans in our collective experience. We opted instead for
the torta de Santiago, an almond cake served with dolce de leche ice
Tía Pol
cream. Our ever-patient waitress returned with an order of the cake,
205 10th Ave.
which was moist and subtle, as well as a complimentary flan, which
between 22nd and 23rd streets
was indeed the more impressive of the two desserts. Delicately panna
(212) 675-8805
cotta-like, it quivered in its pool of fresh orange syrup, bearing little
resemblance to flans of yore.
Tia Pol serves food from a variety of
regions in Spain and is considered one
of the best Manhattan tapas bars.
13
THE ROLLING EYE
Thus Spoke Dan
NYC SURVIVAL GUIDE:
COLUMBIA EDITION
Another Columbia Night
(The Poor Man’s Tucker Max)
By Dan Haley
Every year, Columbia dumps a bunch of pasty, defenseless nerds into the
middle of Harlem. When the most prevalent campus drug is an ADD medication used to cram a few extra hours of studying into every night, you’re
probably not dealing with the most street-savvy New York residents. Contrary to our blase exterior, the Rolling Eye staff cares about you, the reader.
After all, who will be left to read our page if you all end up chopped into
bite-sized pieces? So here are a few city-living tips to keep you safe until
you decide to transfer to Brown.
1
When riding the subway, keep in mind that occasionally a homeless
person might ask you for spare change, push you into the path of an
oncoming train, or stab you with a knife or power saw.
There is, of course, nothing you can do about this, but it’s just good to keep in mind.
2
The iPod’s distinctive white earbuds are to muggers what shiny objects
are to crows—irresistible.
You could always swap out the white earbuds for nondescript black ones and enjoy
your iPod relatively worry-free, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, try using the
white earbuds with a cheapo knockoff MP3 player. This way, you retain the glory of
owning a status symbol and suffer no real loss if you get robbed. In fact, you and your
mugger will probably share a hearty laugh over how you fooled him!
3
Wear Columbia apparel whenever you venture out of Morningside
Heights.
If you can dress head to toe in CU logos so that everyone knows you’re new to New
York, all the better. The criminal element never picks on poor defenseless touristtypes.
4
Whenever possible, avoid Midtown.
This has nothing to do with safety. It’s just good advice.
5
The best defense is a good offense.
Cultivating an offensive smell or look is a great way to ensure that potentially harmful
people steer clear of you. Notice how the Post’s headlines never read: “Feces-encrusted
ranting maniac attacked in Central Park!” And you can put your Columbia training to
good use. First, simply extend your too-busy-to-shower midterm/finals hygiene habits
to the rest of the year. And we think you’ll find that a calculation of how much you’ll
owe in loans post-graduation will be enough to bring about a psychotic break from
reality (complete with awesome foaming-at-the-mouth action). The city streets are
teeming with crazy people—you can’t beat them, so you might as well join ’em.
Of course, even following all of these suggestions is no guarantee that the
cops won’t find your torso in Queens, your arms in the Bronx, and your skull
being used as an ashtray by a Williamsburg hipster. But such is the price of
an Ivy League education in a locale slightly more scintillating than Hanover,
N.H.
—Shannon Donnelly
Western Knowledge Man
ILLUSTRATION BY SHAINA RUBIN
WRITTEN BY DAN HALEY
14
As an upperclassman, I feel I’ve
an inalienable right to the youngest ladies at our university. For two
years I watched older dudes siphon
off most of our women without so
much as a “thank you” or an apology for knocking over a tray of
drinks onto me. Still I persevered,
knowing our day too would come,
that we would live off the fat of the land and bang hot Westchester girls in our spacious Watt singles. Well, I live in Wien,
but dammit, I won’t give up the other half of the dream.
I convinced my friend NeedsToGetLaid to crash freshmen
orientation with me. At first he was skeptical, saying things like
“It didn’t work the last time” and “I really don’t want to be dialing up prostitutes at 3 a.m. again.” But my optimism won him
over.
We skipped the orientation events and fast-forwarded to
the bars and the frats. There were women everywhere so I just
started with the girl in front of me. We flirted and she introduced me to her friends who were all quite happy a junior was
paying attention to them. Then the girl asked me, “So, what are
you doing here?” Somewhat drunk, I gestured to the throng of
girls packed all around and said, “I came for this!” Apparently,
that was the “sketchy” answer. She stopped talking to me and
moved her friends across the room.
After that debacle, NeedsToGetLaid and I regrouped (which
is to say, drank more) and headed out to the Heights. We started
flirting with some freshmen, one of whom, a short, curly-haired
redhead, asked us to lift her onto the table.
NeedsToGetLaid and I exchanged glances. Why not? So we
hoisted Red up onto the table. For future reference, the Heights
does not have very large or stable tables. We didn’t take this
into account.
Red stood up and started dancing; she was pretty drunk and
listing from side to side.
“Fuck yeah, Columbia! Class of 2010 represen—”...and that’s
about the point when the table flipped sideways, pitching Red
headfirst onto the floor.
We helped her up, but things just weren’t the same. Maybe
it’s because Red had a growing welt on her forehead and her
friends wouldn’t stop calling me a “stupid douchebag.” Yeah,
that was probably it.
Outside the Heights, I spied some freshman girls in tube tops
and miniskirts.
“Would you girls like to go to 1020 with us?”
“Absolutely not,” the girl nearest me said.
A first-year absolutely refused me in front of her friends. I
had been skank-served! NeedsToGetLaid was laughing, and I
should have recognized this as a sign, a call to cessation of further activities. Or at least, a cessation of further drinking. It was
neither.
I don’t remember how the rest of the night went. There’s
something about consuming over 14 drinks in a single night
that causes me to black out for several hours. The next morning
I surveyed the damage; it had all started off so good, both of us
juniors in a room full of freshmen girls... what happened? My
orientation Disneyland turned into... another Columbia night.
eyeSITES
9.21.06>>9.27.06
BEST WEEK EVER
VH1
FRI., 11 P.M., REPLAYED ALL WEEK
After taking a summer hiatus—a little contradictory, seeing as the title
purports that this show airs weekly—Best Week Ever returns with its
signature snide commentary on the
previous week’s events. Asking the
question, “Who had the best week
ever?” anyone from Lindsay Lohan’s “hospitalizations” to some guy
caught bringing liquids onto a plane
are free reign for the comics. They
only wish they weren’t on vacation
when Steve Irwin met a stingray. Or
when Pluto lost its planetary status.
Because you know Pluto and stingrays were definitely each having their
best week’s ever.
JACKASS: NUMBER TWO
As the preview so kindly reminds
us, the first Jackass reached “a new
low” and was a “grotesque spectacle.”
So clearly—according to the way
American culture works—a sequel
was inevitable. Johnny Knoxville,
Bam Margera, and the other boys
perform stunts that no one else born
with the proper amount of brain cells
would ever actually attempt. Which
of course means that frat boys everywhere will promptly challenge each
other to insanely stupid and ridiculous events after viewing this “film.”
Thank goodness we don’t have real
frats here, or we could be in for some
real trouble.
>>
>>
THE DORM ROOM
DIET: THE 8-STEP PROGRAM FOR CREATING A
HEALTHY LIFESTYLE PLAN
THAT REALLY WORKS
>>
UNAUTHORIZED MUSICOLOGY
OF BEN FOLDS
WEST 37TH STREET BETWEEN NINTH
AND 10TH AVENUES
7 P.M.
$20-$35
Broadway stars like Rent’s Anthony
Rapp and Daphne Rubin-Vega take on the songs of singer-songwriter-piano
player Ben Folds in a one-night only performance. Folds, who has rocked the
suburbs a time or two in his day, would be a treat to see live. As are Broadway
stars, but usually when they’re singing about things like “La Vie Boheme” or the
fact that “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist,” not about “being male, middle class, and
white.”
15
“CÉZANNE TO PICASSO: AMBROISE VOLLARD, PATRON
OF THE AVANT-GARDE”
THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART
FIFTH AVENUE AT 82ND STREET
FREE WITH CUID
You finished art history and thought
you would never have to step foot in
another art museum again. So what are
you doing in New York City? The turn
of the 20th century was a time of unparalleled creativity, and these works
still cause a stir. Head to the Met and
figure out what made these works so
controversial in their day. Or, if nothing else, at least figure out what drove
Van Gogh, another of the included
artists, to cut off his ear. Because that’s
not something you hear about all the
time.
>>
MON., SEPT. 25 AND TUES., SEPT. 26, 8 P.M.
ROSELAND BALLROOM
239 WEST 52ND STREET
$37 ADVANCE, $40 DOOR
So Jack White decided he was sick of
the whole “Meg’s my sister, no she’s
my wife” confusion, and now they’re
on a break. As a result, White has time
for his new project, the Raconteurs.
Maybe you saw them every two minutes during MTV’s Video Music Awards?
Yeah, they were the “house band,” that rambling, incessant banging noise that
meant a commercial break was on its way. Maybe they’ll sound cooler in their
own element. Or maybe we’ll soon hear the White Stripes Reunion Tour.
>>
THE RACONTEURS WITH DR.
DOG
DAPHNE OZ
$16.95
Because a book is going to stop us from
eating French fries at JJ’s or having unlimited trays of pasta at Hewitt and John
Jay. Especially when it comes from a
Princeton student. This book claims to
teach the real way to prevent packing on
that dreaded “Freshman 15”—don’t skip
breakfast, fill your plate with a variety of
fruits and vegetables, and stay away from
late night pizza. But as smart Columbia
and Barnard students, we already knew
that, right?
>>