why so many students are in therapy—and why none of them talk

INSIDE THE MANIA OF A SETH FLAXMAN E-MAIL
CBGB: IT’S HISTORY! • HOW TO CHEAT ON JENNIFER CONNELLY
the eye
COLUMBIA ON THE STREET
VOL I, ISSUE 4 9.28.06-10.04.06
THE DOCTOR IS IN
WHY SO MANY STUDENTS ARE
IN THERAPY—AND WHY NONE
OF THEM TALK ABOUT IT
the eye
On the Cover
A&E
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http://eye.columbiaspectator.com
Camus
Tim Shenk
Sartre
Julia Israel, Julia Stroud
Kierkegaard
Jason Kim, Sumana Rao
Beauvoir
Risa Chubinsky, Xiyin Tang
Dostoevsky
Alex Gartenfeld, Jennie Morgan
Woody Allen
Shannon Donnely, Dan Haley
Freud
Sally Cohen-Cutler
Bergman
David Ehrlich
Broccoli, The Existential Vegetable
Miri Cypers
Miles Davis
Elizabeth Wade
Heidegger
Elizabeth Case
Merleau-Ponty
Hillary Brody
Hell Is...
Brendan Ballou, Paul Barndt,
Liz Brown, Jen Spyra
Other People
Ariel Bibby, Adam Brickman,
Max Foxman, Swetha Regunathan
Still Nietzsche
Bee Shaffer
Being
Ian Corey-Boulet, Amanda Sebba
Time
Whitney Alexander, Kaitlyn Gaynor, Laura
Seidman
Nothingness
Carly Isman, Matt Franks, Robin Yang,
Emily Greenlee
More Nothingness
Kibby McMahon
Pollock
Film
12
10
Your guide to the New
York Film Festival
Music
10
Will we miss CBGBs
when it’s gone?
Food
13
Get “waaaaasted,”
on the cheap
07
Analyze This
With college students flocking to therapy and psychologists’ phone
numbers filling up Blackberries, why are Columbians keeping mum
about their penchant for psychoanalysis?
Rolling Eye
Confronting a
roommate
14
Eyesites
Three guys who
look the same
15
Urbanities
Godot
John Mascari, Jake Olson
Steve Moncada
If you have questions, comments, 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)
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“Well, there’s one thing all his money can’t
buy—a dinosaur.”
©2006, The Eye, Spectator Publishing Company,
Inc. No part may be reproduced in part or in whole
without express, written consent of the editors. All
rights reserved. The Eye is published every Thursday during the fall and spring semesters, except
during examination and vacation periods, when
we party. Guests get head! Guests get head!
04
06
Why now may be the right time to update or toss
out that fake “novelty” ID.
The woman behind public art in New York reveals
how she transforms office buildings and city
transporation into gallery spaces.
A Dangerous Gamble
Learning to Look
From the Editor...
E
very aspiring intellectual should have at least one good existential crisis story. Maybe
they shouldn’t involve Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as mine does, but that’s really a matter of
personal preference. I was sitting in my room January of freshman year watching an episode
called “The Body,” the body in question being the recently deceased corpse of Buffy’s mom.
The episode deals with the repercussions of death, which turn out to be surprisingly boring.
Boring in that my-life-is-falling-apart-so-fast-that-I-don’t-have-the-tools-to-process-what’shappening way, but still boring. If you haven’t seen the episode, you should. Go borrow a
DVD or download it or something. Come on. I’ll wait.
..
Wasn’t that good? When I watched that episode for the first time, it was only the latest
in a series of fictional deaths that I had seen since I turned seven and my Dad showed me
Terminator 2. For some reason, though, this episode made death real to me. It was scary, even
scarier than watching Terminator 2 when you’re seven, which is pretty scary.
I spent the next nine months in an existential funk. Following the advice of friends, I tried to
read Sartre’s Nausea, a book that has a history of helping out mopey adolescents. By the time I
finished, I still didn’t feel different. Well, I kind of wanted to smoke cigarettes while listening to
jazz in cafes. But that was it. My friends were supportive, but even they got sick of my whining. By the way, if you want to read more about people who have actual problems, I suggest
skipping a few pages ahead to Paul Barndt’s fantastic cover story. Come on. I’ll wait.
...
.
Wasn’t that good? Now back to me. After nine months of alternating between moping and
hysteria, I found (godless) salvation in a rundown shopping-complex in Delaware. While on
vacation that August, I happened to walk into a discount bookstore where I found an existentialism reader on sale. I flipped around in the book and decided, for no good reason, to read
an essay by Camus called “The Myth of Sisyphus.” I read the book for an hour, put it down,
and realized that it had just changed my life. To oversimplify a brilliant essay, Camus argues
that death makes life absurd because it renders life meaningless.
That’s a good thing. “Turned toward death,” Camus writes, “the absurd man feels released
from everything,” He realizes that “the purest of joys” is “feeling on this earth.” If life has no
intrinsic meaning, it gives men license to do whatever they want with it. Awareness of death,
to rush headlong into cliché, is a prerequisite for living. At the very least, it should serve as a
reminder of how truly strange it is to be alive, which is why I spent a month after reading “Sisyphus” marveling at the miracles of, among other things, doors, parking lots, and silverware.
There may be other ways of adjusting to life in a world that has lots of death and no God,
but I haven’t found them yet. (I am in Professor Thurman’s Buddhism class now, which has
potential, but I should wait till the end of the semester before I say anything for certain.) If you
know about them, though, I’d love to hear it. Come on. I’ll wait.
RESTAURANTS
AMERICAN BISTRO
GREEK
CAMILLE’S
SYMPOSIUM
1135 Amsterdam Ave. (116th St.) 212-7492428. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Pastas, sandwiches, burgers, salads, ethnic specialties.
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544 W. 113th St. (B’way/Amsterdam) 212865-1011. Authentic Greek cuisine—the best in
town. Low prices, warm ambiance, garden dining. Open 7 days.
BAR
ITALIAN
PORKY’S
MAX SOHA
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.
REGIONAL
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
Shanghai. Visit www.campusfood.com.
ZHONG HUA
1274 Amsterdam Ave. (123rd St.) 212-5312221. Fine home-style Italian cuisine. Reasonable prices. Casual dining.
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.
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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/
CUID (min. order $20).
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.)
2728 Broadway. (105th St.) 212-932-1000. Bistro Japonais. Authentic Japanese cuisine. 20%
off w/CUID (eat-in, dinner only, after 8 pm).
CUBAN
KOREAN
CAFE CON LECHE
MILL KOREAN RESTAURANT
Two locations: 726 Amsterdam Ave. (96th St.),
212-678-7000; 424 Amsterdam Ave. (81st St.),
212-595-7000. Authentic Latin cuisine. Free
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CRÊPERIE
CRÊPES ON COLUMBUS
990 Columbus Ave. (108th St.), 212-222-0259.
Café, crêperie, ice cream. Major credit cards
accepted. Free delivery.
TOKYO POP
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.
DINER
SOUTHERN
WEST WAY CAFE
SPOONBREAD TOO
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.
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
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urbanities
Underagers Anonymous
When being caught with a fake could equal a night in jail,
what can we do to have a good time?
By Elizabeth Brown
Expiration date does
not overlap photo
Watermark
Date of birth
is in a
different
color
“Lic Type”
instead of
“Type”
04
R
FAKE
ejection from a bar—especially from a local one—is not without
an element of humiliation. Of course there’s a whole host of excuses that can transform the tale into a funny story. Consider, for
example, the bouncer sizing you up as too inebriated to mingle with the
people inside. A story like that implies that while you may have been turned
down at one place, you and your underage self had a fine time buying liquor
at some other watering hole. But then there are the less fun excuses, namely being cast out while stone-faced, sober, and bedecked in your favorite
duds due to a bouncer’s realization that your ID was counterfeit. Strike
you as familiar? Lately it’s happening more and more often in Morningside
Heights.
“The reasons why? I’m not really sure,” said Drew Hopkins, CC ’08. Regardless, for Hopkins and most of the underage student population, the end
result of the trend is the same. “It sucks for everybody—the bars, the people
who want to go to the bars, the ID-makers. It sucks for everybody but the
cops,” he said.
It was, indeed, a happy marriage that the home-wrecking NYPD soured
with its sudden adherence to stricter security laws of post-Sept. 11, 2001,
America. That seemingly innocuous seven-square-inch piece of plastic
now suggests more than a simple desire to drink illegally; owning a fake
ID is a bona fide threat to national security and to your permanent record.
Aspiring politicians, beware.
New York law actually treats possession of false identification as a felony
punishable with up to seven years in prison. Whether enforcement of this
law has been tightened with regard to students’ fake IDs is up for debate.
Students like Hopkins certainly think so. They say that cops have heightened the attention paid to fake IDs. On the other side of the fence are the
police officers, claiming that the city has seen a surge in fake ID use. One
officer solemnly reported, “There’s definitely been an increase in problems
recently. Plus we [in the local precincts] have a bigger responsibility because of all the schools around here.” Her colleague agreed, mentioning a
“whole unit dedicated to dealing with false identification.”
According to the two anonymous officers, strict door policies are crucial
if the laws in place are going to carry any weight. Yet Sarah Fisher and Mary
Rutledge, both CC ’07, said that harsh policies never affected them or anyone they knew during their underage years. The bottom line, Rutledge said,
was that “as long as we had something, even if it was bad, it was easy to get
into places.” As the two nodded their blond heads for emphasis, it became
apparent that perhaps this good luck stemmed more from bar admittance
REAL
practices than from loosely enforced laws.
Salima Eboo, SEAS ’07, is a young senior who has spent more years than
most as an underage Columbian. Despite her best efforts, she has failed to
find a guaranteed formula for deciphering when she’ll face a tough time at
the door. “It’s random. I mean, I’ve been going to Nacho’s every week since
sophomore year without a problem. Then last week the guy looked at my
ID and was like, ‘This isn’t you, get out of my face.’”
In fact, since the beginning of the school year, students everywhere have
felt the effects of what appears to be an increased police presence. In early September, undercover cops joined a party of Columbia kids at nearby
Soundz Lounge. They then confiscated a few IDs and issued a summons to
the bar’s owner as a few underagers managed to escape out the back door.
Hopkins even said that one cop recently sent his friend to jail.
“He was exiting a bar visibly inebriated and got stopped by a cop. He didn’t
know what to do in the situation, so he made the mistake of showing his
fake when [the officer] asked to see ID. So the cop nailed him for forgery of
a government document or something,” he said.
Despite the risk of a night in jail, many first-year students still don’t hesitate to buy fakes. A group of boisterous first-years insisted that campus
ID-makers, once part of a relatively booming economy, are now a rare find,
sending students as far as Chinatown to get IDs that scan in order to account for bars’ increased usage of scanning devices.
But while the IDs are out there, quality is still inconsistent. One student
says he has three because, “I just keep finding better ones.”
While the incident at Soundz Lounge could have been avoided had the bar
chosen to scan IDs, most bars in Morningside Heights, such as The Heights
and Nacho’s, stick with the old-school door policy. At least for now.
Giovanni Rivera, of Nacho’s Kitchen, said he doesn’t like to assume an ID
is a fake. “There’s no way of knowing for sure. Unless it’s, like, really bad, we
serve them. I mean, who am I to say you have a fake ID?”
Even when students do get into a bar with the help of a fake, it’s still a buzzkill to have to worry about undercover cops working in the corners, which
is one reason why Hopkins said that “just from a peace-of-mind standpoint”
he’ll be glad to turn 21 soon. He added, “It’s hard to enjoy yourself now that
there’s the chance of being stopped on your way out.” If Hopkins and Eboo
have seen a significant change in their few years at Columbia, first-years
are likely wondering about how the ID climate will continue to transform as
they creep closer to the legal drinking age. Maybe the West End was smart
to close when it did.
And the Winner Is...
T
By Paul Barndt
COURTESY SARAH MACNEILL
he Core gurus will
soon be meeting to
determine the winner of this year’s Wallace A.
Gray Prize, awarded to the
“Columbia College undergraduate who is judged by
the faculty to have written
the best essay in Literature
Humanities.” In addition to
bragging rights, the winner
will receive a seat at the Academic Awards ceremony in
Low Library, not to mention
a pretty decent check for his
or her hard efforts.
Last fall, the winner was
Sarah MacNeill, CC ’09
(formerly ’08), who captured victory with “Battle of
the Sexes: MTV’s Lost Season in 14th Century Italy”
or “Decameron’s Reality Bites.” The title may be misleading, as the paper
itself is actually a thoughtful analysis of shifting gender roles and behavioral
restrictions on women in Giovanni Boccaccio’s Decameron. Nevertheless, it
does show her interest in popular culture, not so surprising considering her
decision to take some time off to spend a year in Los Angeles working in the
film industry.
“It is always a little off the beaten path to take a year off, but I wanted to feel
really confident about what I was doing with my life before I finished college,
and I needed to live it, to see if I could do it. School is a vehicle to find out
what I’m doing with my life, and I wanted a clear picture of what I was doing
with my education,” MacNeill said.
Even though it was only during this summer that she made her decision to
spend the year in Los Angeles, she has already worked on various interesting projects, including an internship at New Line Studios. Currently, she is
taking a cinematography class and devoting plenty of time to writing and
working on a story with her aunt.
“You throw all your cards out and hope one sticks. LA is tough; there are a
lot of disappointments,” she admits.
Winning the prize, however, has contributed to MacNeill’s willingness to
pursue some ambitious projects. Academically, Sarah thinks that it “encouraged [her] to major in film studies and English.” Most of all, she feels more
confident in her writing abilities, which has helped her realize that she “really want[s] to do writing over, say, corporate development.”
One of MacNeill’s favorite books from which to draw guidance is Julie Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, which offers advice about how to overcome personal
creative blocks. “It helps organize your thoughts after you vomit [them] on
paper,” she said. One of Cameron’s must’s is to write a few pages every morning about anything in order to make writing a habitual act. In following that
advice, Sarah sets aside time every morning for journaling and keeps a pen
and paper on hand at all times. In the afternoons, you will most likely catch
her scribbling away at one of the many “great little cafes” in LA. When she’s
not writing, Sarah also enjoys going to music shows, taking advantage of the
new and upcoming talent that flocks to the Los Angeles music industry.
Sarah is “definitely” returning to Columbia next fall, excited to engage in
more of that “debating and discussing literature” that was integral to her rewarding Lit Hum experience. But don’t think this West Coast-savvy awardwinner will be showing off in front of the whole class. “I’m not that person
who’s holding [her] hand up constantly.”
Stuff Your Face With Free Food
M
By Yelena Shuster
aybe you’re resentful of that $30,000 tuition bill and want to stick it to the man
by gorging on PrezBo-financed pizza. Or maybe your parents caught a peak
of you boozing on Facebook and stopped sending you muffins. Whatever the case,
here are some ways to satisfy the munchies for free. Let the mooching begin.
Become an extracurricular whore
There is no better place to score free grub than at weekly club meetings, where your
student life fees provide Columbia-registered student groups with free pizza (or other
grease- and carb-saturated easy dinners). As a general rule, the more clubs you join or
check out, the more opportunities for free food. (Insider trick: sign up on the mailing lists of clubs to get their announcements for free food.) However, there’s nothing
more awkward than showing up to a club meeting just for the food (unless you’re at
Spectator, where the writers are ambiguous bylines and nobody actually meets each
other). So make sure that at every meeting you feign interest in the subject matter
discussed, pretend to know a few key members with a knowing smile, and wink a few
times, hinting at inside jokes. Easy places to drop by include Hillel, the Bhakti Club,
and SEEJ (Students for Environmental and Economic Justice).
ILLUSTRATION BY JULIE CHUNG
Milk John Jay for all it’s worth (sometimes literally)
Knowing that each meal costs around $14 at John Jay, get your money’s worth. So
if you don’t feel like finishing up that Rice Krispies treat, take it to go. Stealthily. John
Jay Dining Hall is more than just the place to get a specialty omelette—John Jay is
your buffet friend. If you don’t have meals, befriend a lonesome freshman (he/she
can be seen studying at Butler during orientation week), and use one of his/her guest
meals. Walk in with a big backpack/purse/suitcase and limitless Ziploc bags (which
are surprisingly handy for carrying that sloppy joe or slice of pizza you just couldn’t
finish). Everyone’s pilfered cereal and fruits, but be creative: with a handy Ziploc bag,
your diet could be covered for days. (This message was not endorsed by Columbia
Housing and Dining.)
Pay attention to flyers
If you don’t have the drive or creativity to follow the first two pieces of advice, your
best bet is to keep an eye open for flyers with the word “food” on them preceded by
the word “FREE.” This could get dizzying, however, as bulletin boards become the
home of brightly colored student council flyers and the simpler “Donate Your Eggs”
ones. Also, check out online bulletin boards such as www.bwog.net or make friends
with your dorm security guard, who can let you know about free food in your lounge.
Besides that, mooching off friends is always an option.
Show up early
If there’s anything I learned at Columbia, it’s that students are hungry bastards, so
if there’s a promise of free food, be the first one there. It’s usually gone in ten minutes—or less.
Venture out to the city
Stranded in the middle of Manhattan, penniless and hungry? You have too much
pride to walk into a food bank (after all, you go to Columbia), so your next best bet is
to find a Whole Foods near you and grab handfuls of samples (try to be subtle). If you
have more time on your hands, wander around supermarkets, grocery stores, or cafes
around closing time and casually ask if they have some cakes that are no longer fresh
(i.e., that they’re about to throw
away). Yes, it’ll taste a bit stale
and you’ll have to
swallow your dignity along with
the muffin, but it’s
food and it’s free.
Also, check out www.
freenyc.net for event
listings that might get
you a free lunch. And
don’t feel bad—it’s
not like you privileged Ivy Leaguers
had a sense of selfimportance anyway.
05
interview
Creating Art in the Everyday
Have you ever walked into a library, public school, or courthouse and wondered how such a public place became decorated with
such intricate art? Here’s the answer—Cathie Behrend, deputy director of Percent for Art within the Department of Cultural Affairs,
helped it get there. Percent for Art is a city program that earmarks 1 percent of the construction budget of every new municipal
building for the integration of art into the structure. Behrend sat down to discuss how she got her start in the field, what it takes to
make art public, and how cool the Staten Island ferries are. —Sally Cohen-Cutler
How did you get involved in public art projects?
When I graduated from graduate school
[master’s from NYU], I wanted to run the Central Park festivals. It took me one year, calling
every single day. I finally got in the door at the
Parks Department, running a program called
Mobile Arts, Mobile Recreation. It consisted
of 42 trucks, 350 staff creating block parties,
recreation centers, and playgrounds in all five
boroughs from April to October. It was a wonderful New York. Block parties were unique
to each community. There was an authenticity
to each of these block parties and playground
festivals.
Then I decided I wanted to understand the Business page of the New York
Times. So I went back to school and got my MBA. For several more years, I
worked within the Mayor’s office. Eleven years ago, I returned to the cultural
arena with Percent for Art.
06
So, how did you come to Percent for Art?
Percent for Art is a program that started under Mayor Koch. He had the
good foresight to come up with the idea to set aside one percent. This is really
the same concept of making art accessible to the public, like mobile recreation, so that while you’re waiting for jury duty, you’re at a municipal hospital,
you’re at the day care center, you’re at the library or in school, you actually, as
New Yorkers, young and old, get to see art firsthand. The program has commissioned over 220 pieces throughout the five boroughs created by over 200
individual artists.
FAVORITES:
How are the artists chosen?
Usually the artist is picked as the
building design is being finalized,
because we want to maximize the
integration of the art into the architecture. We have a panel process,
followed by a competitive selection.
The artists don’t have to be American or from NYC—we want to be as
open as possible. I call it our foreign policy, because we want New York City
artists to be able to compete all over the country and all over the world, and
vice versa. But many of our artists are from New York because there are so
many artistic assets here.
Art to create: Prints and color etchings
Ethnic food in NY: Italian/Sushi
Subway stop: The stops that have the
art I particularly like
Season: Spring, except I wish it were
longer
Mode of transportation: Ferry
What is one of the most challenging works PFA has commissioned?
One of the most challenging artworks is the piece [appearing] on the three
new Staten Island ferries. The artwork is called “The Middle of the World,”
by Werner Klotz and John Roloff. One aspect is the sonar portal, with three
levels of the ocean pictured with sonar photography. Then there’s the sonar
compass, surrounded by the inscription of the names of famous discoverers.
On the walls, there is the longitude and latitude of many cities on the same
longitude and latitude as Staten Island. There’s also a map of the world with
Staten Island at the center. As you’re experiencing this, there’s a 26-minute
blue, which is the usual length of the voyage [that fades in and out].
Midway through the voyage, one of 101 tales of the sea, recorded by an actor, plays. Why 101? Because there are 101 trips back and forth every week.
This was a challenge because of the new media nature of it, the difficulty of
working in a very public space, and also, the necessity of paying attention to
the site specificity of a ferry boat.
Are each of the PFA projects done with site specificity?
Every piece is specific to the site. The buildings have not been built when
the artist comes on. It is very much a collaboration with the architects.
The skills, the interests, and the energies necessary in public art do bring
together a sense of site and of the neighborhood along with project management between all the different parts of production—the artist, architects,
engineers, the elected officials, the community, and the users of the building,
amongst others.
So the project is very much related to the neighborhood?
Well, these artworks reflect the neighborhood, but neighborhoods will
change, too. So we’re always trying to balance this creative tension between
creating something that’s timeless and creating something that’s relevant to
that particular site at that moment and time. As an artwork, you can like it
now, but to be truly significant, you have to want to return to it over and over
again. That’s a challenge.
Do you enjoy your job?
Yes. It’s a very unique job and we hope New York’s Percent for Art is pushing the envelope in terms of producing and creating the best public art.
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in focus
MAYBE
WE’RE
CRAZY?
PROBABLY
The mad rush from
Carman to the couch
By Paul Barndt
I
n national news coverage about therapy on college campuses, Columbia has never been far from the headlines. Stressed out, strung
out, too thin—these are the conceptions of Columbia students
that have fostered the stereotype of a campus driven by psychoanalysis.
A 2002 New York Times expose entitled “The Therapy Generation” followed a hypothetical Columbia student, “arms swinging, legs moving at
such a brisk clip,” purchasing “his brand of cigarettes, Dunhill Internationals,” speaking to an “eager fraternity pledge, soliciting his advice on
proper dress” and then heading over to see his analyst. By this account,
even the hyper-functional Columbia student seeks counseling.
What’s caused the mad rush to psychological services? Is it overwhelming competition? Is it a lack of guidance? Is it—it must be!—Sept.
11, 2001? Justifications for the rising number of young people in therapy
are never satisfying.
What the Times’ Columbia stereotype lacks in nuance, it also misses
in its understanding of the forces that propel a student here to enter
therapy. While the pressures of New York living may aggravate student
stress, it is also the trendiness of urban therapy that fosters a niche for
counseling at Columbia.
A NEW YORK STATE OF MIND
“N
ew York has a lot of everything,” said Simone Bloch, an Upper
West Side therapist whose three-story brownstone plays weekly host to a number of Columbia students. “And so with therapy, there is
a real array of choices. It might not feel that way in a small town, where
there’s one shrink, [and] you don’t like her, so you’re not in therapy.”
Similarly, at colleges nationwide, students are restricted to the counseling service provided by their universities. Columbia students, on the
other hand, have the luxury of not only deciding that Counseling and
Psychological Services (CPS) is not for them, but also of allowing an
analyst in the city to accommodate their needs.
New York is, after all, a city seemingly populated by therapy-addled
icons. This past March, admired Broadway star Idina Menzel had no
qualms revealing to Newsday that she sees a therapist. Menzel’s comfort
with public knowledge of her psychoanalytic profile typifies the wider
New York mind-set.
Columbia’s Upper West Side location sits just north of what might
be deemed the therapy capital of the world. Philip Roth, who kept two
apartments here, made a canonical work of his depraved monologue to
fictional therapist Dr. Spielvogel in Portnoy’s Complaint. Woody Allen
made a career of it.
The therapy culture has defined the caricatured tradition of Upper
West Side Jewish intellectual life. Idiosyncrasy is a dramatic, humanizing trait that has allowed New York Jews to downplay their smarts.
While counseling has been positively associated many times with the
educated cultural elite, it can require top prices. Less than an hour of
therapy costs as much as $150, and insurance co-pays are severely limited. Therapy is a luxury item, with some high-profile therapists deliberately opting out of insurance plans. While those therapists might blame
the complexity and restraint of insurance systems, to forego a medical
discount is a powerful social statement. Therapy, considered coarsely,
can connote regular superfluous expenditure.
Yet while New York lifers may relish the opportunity to regale a circle
of friends with this week’s psychological breakthrough (and how much
they’re paying), many students would rather avoid discussing the analysis they endured on the couch that morning.
CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE
07
in focus
THE HARD ROAD
T
SCHOOL BLUES
L
08
ast week the Columbia Daily Spectator reported that 23 percent of
Barnard students had sought guidance from Furman Counseling
Center. Dr. Richard Eichler, director of CPS, said that 15 to 16 percent
of Columbia students enter counseling services in a given year. Later, he
confidently extrapolated that between 40 and 50 percent of undergraduate
students go to counseling at some point during their college careers. The
staff of CPS continues to grow annually in order to meet the demand. CPS
currently staffs over 25 psychologists and psychiatrists, a large number
compared to the offerings at other Ivy League schools.
In addition to maintaining an expansive staff, CPS has made other efforts to remain accessible to the greatest amount of students. Three satellite counseling centers in residence halls are open late on weekdays for
students and require no appointment. Students can also reach a clinician
on call after normal operating hours seven days a week. Depending on the
situation, the clinician will connect distressed students with a CPS psychologist directly.
Despite the organization’s best efforts, however, CPS therapy falls short
of the expectations of some students. Jones attended CPS before seeking
out an off-campus alternative. She recalled meeting with a CPS counsel
“for maybe five minutes.” She then added: “He said he’d write me a prescription. I was apprehensive that they would give me antidepressants after
such a short visit, and so I left. On the way out, the therapist said, ‘If you
change your mind, come back anytime.’”
Jones, like the students profiled in the Times article, had always seemed
confident and care-free. Her parents “have the healthiest marriage [she
has] ever seen,” and in high school she had friends in every major social
group. Columbia was her first-choice school.
But when she arrived for her freshman orientation in fall 2004, Jones
found herself isolated and unhappy. There were few people with whom she
related, and even fewer whom she liked. Though she had stopped smoking
over the summer, she bought a pack of cigarettes almost immediately after
moving into Carman Hall and cried every night of orientation week.
Similarly, Sara Davis, CC ’08, had trouble making the transition into
freshman year. Though she had taken a year off before coming to Columbia
to live independently, Davis was unsatisfied and lonely in school. She flew
to her home in California to rest for a week after winter break and scheduled an appointment with CPS upon her return.
At CPS, Davis twice met with a therapist, one who was “very, very young
and seemed fresh out of graduate school.” Davis recalled one instance: “She
would say really facile things, like, ‘Pretend like you are watching yourself
in a movie.’ What does that even mean?” An exchange in one of Davis’
later sessions proved to be the last straw: “Once, when I was talking, she
suddenly looked very inspired and started writing something on a piece of
paper. Then she showed it to me, and it said ‘ruminate’ on it in huge letters.
She was like, ‘Do you know what this word means?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ She seemed
surprised but took it in stride and beamed, ‘Well, Sara, that’s what you’re
doing. You’re ruminating!’ It was horrific.”
On a friend’s recommendation, Davis made an appointment with a different therapist whom she still sees weekly. The therapist’s office is a short
subway ride down into the Upper West Side, and Davis describes her doctor as “one of my favorite people.” The office itself is comfortable, featuring
posters of her favorite musician, Bob Dylan. In the office, Davis escapes
the feeling of conspicuousness one might encounter in seeking counseling
on campus. By stepping away from the Columbia bubble, she finds that her
stress becomes a life problem rather than a collegiate one.
Everyone’s Got Their Own Kind of Therapy
Show business is the best possible therapy for remorse.
-Anita Loos
Being in therapy is great. I spend an hour just talking about
myself. It’s kinda like being the guy on a date.
-Caroline Rhea
Writing is a form of therapy. Sometimes I wonder how all those who do not
write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear which is inherent in the human situation.
-Graham Greene
The best therapy for emotional blocks ... is the realization that the human race took
centuries or millennia to see through the mist of difficulties and paradoxes which
instructors now invite us to solve in a few minutes.
-Lancelot Hogben
A garden is the best alternative therapy.
-Germaine Greer
Words of comfort, skillfully administered, are
the oldest therapy known to man.
-Louis Nizer
THE MAN HIMSELF:
he ubiquity of therapy in SIGMUND FREUD
New York seems to have both
greased and sanded the wheels
for Columbia students. Plenty of
us belong to the demographic in
which therapy is a quiet but by no
means embarrassing part of daily
life. Yet for many others, such as
students who travel here from
around the country hoping for
an easy landing, coming forward
about therapy seems less palatable. As for those few students
who just can’t stop blabbing about
their therapists, one psychologist
has a theory. “We have a term in
psychology called reaction formation,” said Dr. Leah DeSole, a
psychologist whose Morningside
Heights couch is often draped
with Columbia students, “where
you form a false reaction because
you can’t bear to admit how you Born May 6, 1856, in Freiberg, Moravia to
really feel. Maybe some of the a merchant family, Sigmund Freud would
people saying they love therapy grow up to become the father of therapy
can’t stand it. When someone and psychoanalysis. After attending
medical school in Vienna and conducting
tries to tell you therapy is easy, it’s
extensive research in neurophysiology,
not. It’s hard work. And most of Freud went on to study under the famous
the people I work with think the psychiatrist Jean-Martin Charcot in Paris,
guy smoking cigarettes and wear- then under his rival B. Douglas Bernheim
ing black is a lunatic.”
in Nancy. Both doctors were researching
Dr. Paul Grayson, the director of the effect of using hypnosis on hysterics.
NYU Counseling and Behavioral
Health Science as well as co-edi- Freud’s theories, which he popularized in
tor of the 1989 title College Psy- lectures and books, resulted in both fame
and ostracism from the medical comchotherapy, is in agreement about
munity. Still he was able to rally around
therapy’s difficulties. In Grayson’s him a number of influential sympathizers
experience, “the prevailing wis- who became the core of the psychoanadom ... at college counseling cen- lytic movement. One of the psychoanaters is that students’ problems are lytic pioneer’s most controversial claims
greater today than 15 to 20 years states that every human has a subconago—more crises and serious pa- scious wish to die.
thology.”
“In my view,” Grayson offered, “students’ lives were not really so tranquil
back in the 1980s and 1990s either.”
If continuity with the past demonstrates the inherent nature of depression, it also highlights persistent inequalities. In particular, men may fear
that therapy sessions divest them of emotional independence and bravado.
Institutionalized therapy is linked strongly with femininity, despite the
snarl and the swagger of Tony Soprano. Columbia students aren’t above
considerations of gender: Eichler observed that women make use of counseling services significantly more often than men. Indeed male students
approached for this story were generally reluctant to come forward about
their experiences.
The web of students in therapy, a mish-mash of twenty-somethings—
some distributing their analysts’ business cards, others referring to weekly
sessions as “lunch meetings,”—calls into question whether the collegiate
therapy taboo will persist into the future.
After all, many other remedies for human weakness once discussed only
in hushed tones are now part of everyday discussion. There was a time
when MCAT preparation was a word not to be spoken and birth control
was a private matter, not a zebra-printed pack to be pulled out of purses
at the movie theater. What each of these has in common with therapy is
an ability to remove pressure from elements of personal life, whether they
be academic, romantic, or psychological. Therapy occupies a particular
place in the social fabric because of the way it weaves people together.
The fundamental questions it poses are ones of intimacy and human contact. To hide one’s involvement in therapy, then, is to mask a part of personhood.
“Settle down eventually [with a therapist]” advised DeSole, “but shop
around. Find the right fit for you.”
09
ILLUSTRATION BY ROBIN YANG
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 7
Students remain hesitant to speak openly about a lifestyle choice which
may be perceived as elitist. In any democratized institution, there exists an
embarrassment of privilege.
Granted, many Columbia students may wear New York threads, but
many are also still tourists on the inside, which makes the decision to enter
therapy—and an open discussion thereafter—more difficult than it would
seem. Students moving from Middle America to Manhattan face a culture
clash, and they often reduce the decision to enroll in therapy to a choice
between exhibiting strength or weakness.
Consider Kaitlin Jones, CC ’08, who insists that she has profited from seeing a private therapist regularly, but who also insisted that her real name be
withheld from this story.
Of course, while concerns about elitism justify the reticence to confess to
seeing a therapist, that theory offers little explanation for students’ widespread secretiveness about having attended free sessions at CPS. The therapy taboo, it seems, merits another appointment.
music
Live Fast, Die Young
CBGB prepares to close its doors, but is anyone going to miss it?
In the early 1970s, New York City law stated that a band must have a recording contract to play in a club. Enter CBGB, where the only rule was that bands play original music.
Located below a flophouse on the once-squalid Bowery, few people would even enter the club when it opened. It quickly rose from obscurity, however, to become the most
significant rock club of the late 20th century. CBGB, one of the only clubs willing to take a chance on the bands in New York’s rising punk (or, at least, anti-disco) scene, was
the first outlet for avant-garde bands like Television, the Ramones, Patti Smith, and Blondie. In the 1980s, the club became a safe haven for the rising hardcore scene, and it
hosted trendy and ultramodern acts through the 1990s. As CBGB prepares to shut its New York doors and move to Las Vegas, The Eye takes a look at the legendary club and
some of the influential artists it championed. —Jennie Rose Halperin
>>
BAD BRAINS
THE RAMONES
Imagine seeing the Ramones play at CBGB
30 years ago: four guys from Queens
in leather jackets and ripped jeans who
wouldn’t know what a guitar lesson looked
like if it jumped up and bit them on the ass.
It would be only natural to think, “Hey—
even I could do that.” Of course, that was
the point. The Ramones’ example dared
a generation of idle teenagers to pick up
guitars and make the music that mattered
to them, whether they really knew how to
play or not. But while plenty of other groups
played loud and fast and simple, none of them ever made being so bad sound
quite so good.
It’s been 10 years since the Ramones were a working band, and at least another
10 before that since they made vital, important music. But for a few years, the
Ramones were a reminder of all the things rock ’n’ roll was before it grew up—
stupid, rebellious, celebratory, and pointless. —Eli Goldfarb
>>
Formed in Washington, D.C., in 1977, the Bad Brains were initially a jazz-fusion group. After singer Sid McCray introduced his band-mates to early punk groups like the Sex Pistols and the Dead Boys, they created
a sound no one had heard before. Inspired by punk’s energy, the Bad Brains played complex arrangements
at breakneck speed, while the violently charismatic McCray delivered fusillades of political lyrics. Playing a
schizophrenic blend of reggae and punk, the Bad Brains were pioneers of hardcore music. The band moved
to New York City in 1979, where its electric performances at venues like CBGB ensured its place in the punk
rock pantheon for years to come. Although the group’s members frequently fought over styles and struggled
to define their place as African Americans in a largely white genre, it was this very multiplicity of identities
that made the Bad Brains such an innovative force in music. —Jamie Peck
THE TALKING HEADS
>>
The Talking Heads are certainly
not a punk band, at least when it
comes to artistic sensibility. With
a supernaturally tight drummer
and a surprisingly attractive funk
bassist, David Byrne and company
were not suited for CBGB. But the
locale was mere blocks away from
the group’s practice loft, making it
a natural venue for the group. That
being said, there seems to be something inherently wrong in grouping
the Talking Heads’ paranoid, poetic
lyrics alongside those of “I Wanna
be Sedated” or “Blitzkrieg Bop.” Indeed, the band’s first show at CBGB,
as an opener for the Ramones, was
quite the exercise in diametric opposition. After their time at CBGB,
the Talking Heads went on to bigger
and stranger things, but not without
first allowing their artsy funk-rock
to leave an indelible mark at this
unlikely home. —JG
BLONDIE
Blondie began as the sonic union between rabid New York Dolls fan
Chris Stein and ex-Playboy Bunny/folk singer Deborah Harry. Originally named “The Angel and the Snake,” Blondie became an underground sensation through regular appearances at CBGB and Club 51.
Though Blondie didn’t break into the mainstream until the late ’70s
with its disco-tinged “Heart of Glass,” the group helped pioneer the
American punk and New Wave scene in the grimy heart of the Bowery. Its eclectic sound borrowed from the reggae, hip-hop, and dance
artists blossoming in different parts of New York City at the time.
From its gritty roots, Blondie grew to international acclaim and was
an integral part of the American music scene until its split in 1982, influencing pop musicians from Madonna to Gwen Stefani. Blondie was
inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year, commemorating the rise from obscurity to legend. —Margaret Eby
>>
10
PATTI SMITH
Patti Smith brought feminism and spirituality into the aggressive male
world of ’70s punk. A poet and rock journalist, Smith put her poetry
to music when she formed a band with her friend Lenny Kaye in 1974.
Her dynamic voice ranged from meditative to growly to ecstatic, and
her backing band incorporated a great deal of experimentation into the
classic three-chord, punk-rock song structure. A seven week residency
at CBGB in 1975 helped launch Patti Smith into the center of bohemian New York City culture, and she began attracting such luminaries
as Andy Warhol and Allen Ginsberg to her shows. That year also saw
the Patti Smith Group become the first band in the underground punk
scene to sign to a major label (Arista), which released the art-punk masterpiece Horses to critical acclaim. Never wavering in her commitment
to ideals of creativity, integrity, and thoughtful exploration, Patti Smith
remains a role model of self-expression to musicians both male and
female. —JP
>>
CBGB’S SWAN
SONGS
Tues., Oct. 3
Kreisor
Sound of Urchin
Wed., Oct. 4
The Metrosexuals
Fools and Horses
Thurs., Oct. 5
The PieTasters
Bid D and the
Kids Table
Mon., Oct. 9 and
Tues., Oct. 10
The Bad Brains
Fri., Oct. 13
The Dictators
Sic F**cks
More TBA
Sun., Oct. 15
Closing Night
Patti Smith
IN MEMORIAM:
Midnight Movies
at Landmark
Sunshine Cinema
Sept. 29 and 30
End of the Century: The Story of
the Ramones
Oct. 5 and 6
Stop Making
Sense (with the
Talking Heads)
Three decades of rock ’n’ roll history pad CBGB’s flier-encrusted walls, cemented with the blood, sweat, and tears (not to mention other bodily fluids) of countless iconic
legends and 15-minutes-of-famers alike. The seminal club lost its lease to the Bowery Residents Committee following an arduous legal battle. Despite attempts to muster
support and capitalize on the brand name, CBGB will open its doors for the last time on Oct. 15 for what’s sure to be a legendary Patti Smith concert. Said doors will then
be transplanted to Las Vegas, where a sister club is slated to open in the spring of 2008. In an age where even the phrase “rock ’n’ roll” is laced with irony, is CBGB relevant
or just a relic? A recent pilgrimage revealed that it is still as dark, dank, and cramped as ever. Unfortunately, some of its innovative spirit has waned. Despite CBGB’s recent
deterioration, in a few decades, might we say it died too soon? —Rahel Aima
PHOTOS (CLOCKWISE FROM TOP): ELEKTRA, RHINO, CAROLINE, CAPITOL, ARISTA, WARNER BROS
While a great deal of the New
York City punk scene owes
its success and popularity to
CBGB, the club itself will be
forever indebted to Television.
The technically proficient guitar rock group may not typify
the aggressive sloppiness that
came to characterize many of
the punk acts at CBGB (see: The Ramones), but without the seminal
quartet, CBGB might still be true to its name—country, bluegrass,
and blues. It was Television’s 1974 Sunday night residency that began
to transform the venue into a Mecca for the anti-disco counterculture of the late ’70s. Television’s 1977 album Marquee Moon is still
considered the post-punk movement’s magnum opus, which, considering that it was released during punk’s golden era, underscores
Television’s position as a band ahead of its time. —Justin Goncalves
>>
TELEVISION
music and
film
Album Reviews
SPARKLEHORSE
DREAMT FOR
LIGHT YEARS IN
THE BELLY OF A
MOUNTAIN
Quiet yet disquieting, Sparklehorse’s
music has always existed in the limbo
between the beautiful and the disturbing. Though the new record Dreamt for
Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain
contains the band’s requisite weird
imagery (most notably of concertinas
parading down a flight of stairs), nearly half of its songs focus on the tired
theme of lost love. The paradoxical irretrievability of what’s lost and the inevitability of repeating what’s past are
recurring themes on Light Years, as
well as frustrations for songwriter Mark
Linkous. Childlike motifs, like music
box breakdowns, intermingle with adult
problems in a fantastical world where there is little differentiation
between past, present, and future, dream and reality. The subdued
yet driving percussion and electronic beats contributed by Danger
Mouse are hypnotic, but the trance is unfortunately broken by uncharacteristically straightforward rock songs like “Ghost in the Sky”
and “It’s Not So Hard.” Despite collaborations with other well-established artists such as Tom Waits and members from Mercury Rev
and the Flaming Lips, Linkous’ musical vision is never sacrificed,
which is a tribute to his talent as a musician. His is a musical vision
in which atmosphere and sound are more important than individual
songs, an approach that is refreshing in a world dominated by radio
singles and MP3 downloads. —Emily Baierl
Queens Catechism
Robert Downey Jr. trades in cocaine
for murder—publicist not amused
By Marta Jakubanis
If in the ’80s you were an Astoria, No homework could ever be as hard as
Queens-dwelling high-school student, surviving Project Greenlight.
chances are life was tough for you. You not
only had to decide whether school or girls
came first, and what to make of your life,
but you also had to deal with a rival gang
shooting your best friend and spraying
death threats right above your window.
Then again, if you managed to survive it
all, leave the neighborhood, go to California, write a memoir, and get lucky enough
to have Robert Downey Jr. make it into a
movie and star in it too, you’d be as lucky as Dito Montiel.
A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints might not be the “universal coming-of-age drama”
it’s advertised to be—unless your buddy went to jail for “accidentally” killing a local hooligan—but the writer/director’s low-scale, semi-autobiographical debut is definitely worth
seeing. The winner of two awards at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, it also has some
inherent freshness of form to it, with memories of the hot summer of 1986 intertwined
with the present story of grown-up Dito (Robert Downey Jr.) coming back to his neighborhood to straighten out the life he abandoned 20 years before.
The plot itself might not be the most original story to hit cinemas this fall, but the firstclass acting and the eye-watering cinematography make Guide a real treat. Chazz Palminteri and Oscar-winning Dianne Wiest as Dito’s parents are especially heart-wrenching in
the way that they love their son against all odds, and the younger cast does extremely well
too. Shia LaBeouf (remember Even Stevens?) is all grown-up and Channing Tatum (Step
Up) proves he can do more than dance in tweeny dramas. If you’re still hesitant about
splurging 10 bucks on the Guide, please stop pretending that you can resist Downey Jr.
tousling his hair, and just go now.
44th N.Y. Film Fest
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 12
PHOTO BY CHRIS PHOTOS
BEAM ARIAL
ALL CAPS
(TOP10
TO LOWERCASE
BOTTOM): ASTRALWERKS
RECORDS, GIRLIE ACTION MEDIA AND MARKETING
SCISSOR SISTERS
TA-DAH!
It has always been my belief that disco never should have died.
While few may agree, five musicians are starting to prove the detractors wrong. On the Scissor Sisters’ latest album, Ta-Dah!, disco
is only a starting point for a band that is sadly under-recognized
in its own country. Their first single, “I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’,” is
backed up by one of the greats of pop, Elton John. Though the
song smacks a little too much of that Elton sound, it’s just original
enough to get you on the dance floor. Much of the album, however,
moves away from traditional dance. There are pop ballads (“Land
of a Thousand Words”), honky-tonk songs (“Intermission”), and
even some funky licks that would make any bassist proud. Despite
one or two songs that
seem a bit stagnant
(try to tell the difference between their
previous
album’s
“Laura” and “I Can’t
Decide”) Ta-Dah! is vibrant, witty, and alive,
gaining momentum
through its last few
songs. It is perfect
for anyone in need
of a little vivacity and
flamboyancy on these
soon-to-be gray New
York streets. After
all, millions of British
fans can’t be wrong.
—Maxwell Foxman
INSIANG
The Philippines is a country whose national cinema had
been all but ignored by foreigners until the very sudden
emergence of young, distinctive Filipino directors at the
major film festival circuits. So the New York Film Festival’s
decision to screen the late ‘70s film Insiang is a particularly welcomed and audacious decision—a means of tracing the artistic heritage of these new Filipino voices.
Fortunately, the film’s initial dismissal for being cynical and histrionic has since been
eclipsed by a more informed critical framework that situates it as a masterful classic
of melodrama and neorealism. Lino Brocka’s film is today considered among the
most significant Filipino movies in the world cinema cannon.
Ironically, its melodramatic storyline – think Douglas Sirk gone haywire – has
since trickled down to almost all recent Filipino B-movies. The eponymous heroine,
Insiang (Hilda Kornel), is a beautiful girl living in the degrading squalor of Manila’s
slums surrounded by Smoky Mountain, an almost insurmountable heap of garbage
that fences in the poor from the rest of the city. After her mother’s boyfriend rapes her
and she is abandoned by a lover, the once angelic Insiang decides to become a vindictive aggressor, exceeding almost all of the film’s malicious characters in her calculated
cruelty. The film’s stark cynicism very boldly attacks the two most significant themes
in both Filipino culture and its cinema – the sanctity of the nuclear family and the
almost godly license given to ideals of
machismo. A truly avant-garde work
of fiction, Insiang denies audiences the
comfort of carrying a nice little moral
nugget home with them. For Western
audiences acquainted with the Asiancity-in-cinema as a splashy realm of
high modernist ideals, the claustrophobic helplessness of Insiang’s Manila slums should come as a rewarding
Insiang learns that being a good prosticonfrontation. —Iggy Cortez
tute is all about the hugs.
11
film
The 44th New York Film Fest
Because that Inuit mood piece isn’t going to watch itself
12
“Remember Lot’s wife/Renounce all sin and
vice/Dream of the perfect life/This heaven gives
me migraine/The problem of leisure/What to
do for pleasure.” So the music of ’70s post-punk
pioneers Gang of Four introduces Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette, a baroque fever-dream of
excess, glamour, and—above all—ritualistic dehumanization. It’s a heartfelt examination of an
exalted teenage girl who was made by her clothes,
and the grace (or lack thereof ) with which she inevitably failed to handle the responsibilities entwined with those robes. What Marie Antoinette
is not is a strict historical biopic or a romp through
18th century Versailles a la Paris Hilton—anyone
who takes it on such terms will be disappointed
and, depending on the degree to which they hold
French history sacred, perhaps disgusted as well.
Those who approach the film on Coppola’s terms
might just find one of the best American filmmakers at the top of her game.
Ostensibly a look at the teen sovereign’s transformation from loaded and carefree Austrian to
loaded and impossibly burdened Frenchwoman
(ending with her exile from Versailles rather than
her trip to the guillotine), Sofia Coppola’s Marie
Antoinette is a revisionist biography that yields
more about its subject than a more traditional approach ever could. Characters speak in a moderately colloquial translation of 18th century French,
while the much-discussed soundtrack (par for the
Coppola course with plenty of ’80s synth maestros
and a heaping of Phoenix, her baby-daddy’s band)
compliments but never interferes with the action.
To that end, anachronistic bands like New Order,
the Cure, and Bow Wow Wow cut to the bone of
Marie’s forced desolation (as well as her hopeless
flights of fancy) the way an orchestral score never
could, and Coppola again proves that she and director of photography Lance Acord can conjure a
mood before breakfast.
Not like it would have been particularly difficult for them to do so here, as the vast majority
of the film was shot in the very rooms in which
its events occurred. But this is not France’s Versailles, it’s Sofia Coppola’s Versailles, and Kirsten
Dunst is her dauphine. She sulks, struts, and sluts
like she was born to be the victim of cataclysmic
irresponsibility, and allows this highly introspective film easy access to her deceptively deep character. This is the most wrenchingly human fashion-parade ever committed to film—with a heart
so brazenly worn on its immaculate sleeve that
it’s easy to ignore its soul. —David Ehrlich
Dunst didn’t even know she was
in this movie until last week.
Rehearsals for Little Children were
notoriously tiring and inhumane.
LITTLE CHILDREN
Perhaps the greatest testament to the devastating and enlightening power of Todd Field’s Little Children is that it successfully engenders sympathy for a character who is cheating
on Jennifer Connelly. That poor, wayward man (an exceptionally cast Patrick Wilson)—the prom king of suburbia—
finds in an average-looking stranger (Kate Winslet) both the
escape from his humdrum marriage and the depository for
his wild oats. It all sounds well and trite until the narrative is
hijacked by the tale of a local sex offender (the brilliant Jackie
Earle Haley) and his protective mother, a thread that not only
compliments the tale of infidelity with which it co-exists, but
elevates them both to the realm of great American fiction.
Vaguely similar to his first film (In the Bedroom) in tone
and timbre, Field’s sophomore effort is a meteoric improvement—where other films examine the human condition
through a monocle, Little Children does so with a detailed
kaleidoscope of desires, fetishes, and a myriad of other forbidden instincts (its thematic net is wide enough to validate
such sweeping expressions). A mannered adaptation of Tom
Perrotta’s novel of the same name, Little Children rises above
the recent glut of desperate housewives and horny husbands
by looking beyond the picket fences and tackling the very artifice our society stands upon. As much Thomas Hobbes as it
is Alan Ball, Field’s film is never afraid to delight in its delirious circumstances (a particularly memorable example finds
Haley’s pederast emptying a public pool faster than Jaws) or
indulge in its novelistic origins (a hilariously droll narrator
pops up now and again and makes exposition a joy).
Despite being scored by the ubiquitous Thomas Newman
(American Beauty, The Green Mile, and practically every
other “important” fall film of the past decade), Little Children
never feels as if it’s just another flavor of the theme du jour. It’s
not a film about pent-up emotion, but rather about the ugly
human truths emotions work so hard to suppress. Though
scenes feel rocket-propelled to their natural conclusion, as if
the narrative were on deceptively transparent rails, the cumulative tension that builds in these innocuous parks and
homes shames that of most suspense thrillers. Swing sets and
bedrooms become potential venues for acts of unimaginable
terror, and each moment feels as if it might combust into
tragedy. The possibilities seem endless, but the film’s success
is in Field’s knowledge that there is only one outcome to this
intricate story. Although he might offer a helping-hand once
too often—a book club discussion of Madame Bovary works
on one level, and trips on another—audiences might not be
prepared for a film of such lyrically sober insight. To put it in
appropriately grand and concise terms: this is one of the finest American films of the decade. —David Ehrlich
GARDENS IN AUTUMN
French-based Georgian director Otar Iosseliani’s sprawling and delightfully absurdist
work, Gardens in Autumn, is a broad panoramic view of contemporary European society, featuring an eclectic selection of characters
ranging from government officials, pawners of
fake fur coats, prostitutes, coffin makers, African squatters, Orthodox priests, provincials
and Parisians. The thread-thin narrative follows the shameful fall from grace of Vincent,
a high-ranking government official, following a
scandal that causes him to lose his job, fortune
and frivolous mistress. The film soon becomes
a hilarious parody of high-society women who
spend semi-fortunes on gaudy clothes and awful reproductions of Greek art.
Upon Vincent’s shamed return to his humble
neighborhood, however, this series of unfortunate events allows him to gradually reacquaint
himself with lost friends and flames. In whimsical, off-beat vignettes that carry Iosseliani’s
trademark strangeness and understated humor,
the buttoned-up former minister begins to
drink irresponsibly, sleep with beautiful women and hang out with disreputable types, which
gradually allows him to get in touch with a renewed, sweet infatuation with life. Yet it would
be reductivist to think of Iosseliani’s movie as a
simple riches-to-rags moralist fable. The film
has mischievously sardonic undertones. For example, Iosseliani hilariously casts Michel Piccoli in the role of Vincent’s charming little saint
of a mother, proving that he still has an inner
enfant terrible.
Using dramatic long shots uninterrupted by
close-ups or rapid-fire editing, Iosseliani allows
his characters, wild animals, and eccentric film
sets to fill up his frame, giving it a look so dense
with people and oblique symbolism that it is
difficult to fully grasp what is occurring. With
a dark humor and a painterly visual flair reminiscent of Peter Greenaway, Iosseliani’s film is
a generous celebration of life and relationships,
where everyone is warmly rendered both heroic
and pathetic. While the film often feels a little
too light, frivolous and sometimes verges dangerously towards self-caricature, it nonetheless
displays a refreshing union of splashy postmodern visuals with an unconventionally optimistic
vision of the world. —Iggy Cortez
Old men
and chalk,
the backbone of
any good
foreign film.
CONTINUED ON PAGE 11
Marie Antoinette: Oct. 13 at 9 p.m., Oct. 14 at 3 p.m., Little Children: Sept. 30 at 9 p.m., Oct. 1 at 3 p.m., Insiang: Oct. 14 at
noon, Gardens in Autumn: Oct. 2 at 9 p.m., Oct. 3 at 6 p.m.
NEW LINE CINEMA, COLUMBIA PICTURES, CINE MANILA ARTIST, FIRST LOOK MEDIA
MARIE ANTOINETTE
food
Cheap Drinks at Your Expense
Explore the fun bars and great drink deals offered around the city
1 LATITUDE BAR AND LOUNGE
For a night when Cannon’s seems blase, head to
Latitude Bar and Lounge in Midtown, where cheap
drinks, fun fare, and a lively, animated, three-story complex will show you a whole new meaning to the genre
of sports bars. This place never sleeps—and for good
reason. It begins hopping on Monday when all drinks
from mojitos to margaritas are half-off, continues hopping Wednesday night when ladies enjoy half-off martinis until 11, and ends the week on Sunday with the
NFL package and happy hour until 9 p.m. Latitude Bar
and Lounge greets its customers with modern, neon
lights, and a variety of activity-designated rooms. The
Billiard Room is closed off for private parties and its
guests play pool for free as they sip on pitchers of beer
or elegant cocktails. For the college guy who wants
to keep up with the football season, Latitude Bar and
Lounge serves up the football games on any number
of flat screen TVs. Or, stroll upstairs to any one of the
bar’s themed rooms. —Sarah Warren
783 Eighth Ave., between 48th and 49th streets
(212) 245-3034
latitudebarnyc.com
1
2 BEAUTY BAR
Beauty Bar is the Mecca for girls’ nights out. Just a
hop, skip, and a jump from Cosmic Cantina, this bar is
straight out of the ’50s with its beauty salon decor of
plush salon chairs with blow-dryers, framed pictures
of glamour girls spotted on the walls, black and white
checkered floors, and polka-dot ceiling. But this bar
does more than create a ’50s throwback. For only
$10, customers can get a drink of their choice and a
manicure, a deal that no New York girl—or boy—can
go without. No wonder Shecky’s named Beauty Bar
“Best Hangovers, Makeovers and a Buzz” in 2006.
The dim lighting of the dangling chandeliers creates a
comfortable, retro atmosphere that keeps this place
swarming with men who sit in the salon chairs and
wait to hit on women sipping their inexpensive drinks
with their freshly manicured nails. This place takes
the girly, sleepover night to another level. —SW
5
2
13
3
4
231 E. 14th St.
(212) 539-1389
3 COSMIC CANTINA
ILLUSTRATION BY CARLY ISMAN AND ROBIN YANG
There’s no doubt about why Cosmic Cantina has
been as successful as it has. Located just blocks from
some of New York University’s student housing, this
casual Mexican restaurant and bar opens its doors
to the student budget. That’s why this place buzzes
with college students ordering gigantic pitchers of
sangria for only $17 (so between five or six friends,
that’s only about $3 a glass). And every day from 4-8
p.m., $2 beers and $3 glasses of sangria fly out of
the hands of the Cosmic Cantina staff and into the
hands of their loyal customers. After a night of heavy
partying, chomp into one of their massive burritos,
old-schools chips and guacamole, or chimichangas.
Whatever you get, know that this place stays open
and plays its Mariachi music until 5 a.m. —SW
101 Third Ave. at 13th Street
(212) 420-0975
4 KETTLE OF FISH
5 THE ALLIGATOR LOUNGE
Located right off the Christopher Street stop
of the 1 train, Kettle of Fish has been around
since the ’50s. Once a haven to writers, artists, and musicians, including Bob Dylan, the
bar remains one of the most eclectic in the
city. Drinkers of all shapes and sizes gather by
the bar to get their hands on the inexpensive
drinks. In addition to the generic bar area, there
is a back room that has a pool table, dart board,
jukebox, and big screen TV for entertainment. If
that’s not your bag, the back also has a bunch
of old-looking couches positioned next to a
somewhat extensive collection of tawdry novels. What also sets Kettle of Fish apart from
many others is the feeling that you are in a local
bar in a small town. There is a kind of comfort,
casualness, and intimacy that helps patrons
feel at home. In short, Kettle of Fish has something for everyone—it’s the “choose your own
adventure” of bars. —Lydia Ross
Do you love beer and pizza? How about
cheap beer and free pizza? If your answer to
either of these questions is “yes,” then hop on
the L and head to the Alligator Lounge in Williamsburg. With every purchase of a well-priced
pitcher of Rheingold or Stella, customers are rewarded with a personal pizza, homemade in their
brick oven, free of charge until 3:30 a.m. The decor is among the more distinctive out there, with
turquoise walls and pink flamingoes and bikinied
mannequins stuck all over. The crowd is a mix of
old and young, hipsters and sports fans. While
washing down your pie with a good lager, watch
games on their TV, pick a song from their extensive jukebox, or play pool in the back. For those
who are Brooklyn-averse, fear not. The owners
of the Alligator Lounge have recently opened the
Crocodile Lounge in the East Village, at 325 E.
14th St.—L.R.
130 W. Third St.
New York, NY
(212) 533-4790
600 Metropolitan Ave., between Leonard and
Lorimer streets, Brooklyn, N.Y.
(718) 599-4440
THE ROLLING EYE
The House Always Wins
What We Have Here Is a
Failure to Communicate
By Shannon Donnelly
14
My adjustment to dorm life
last year went fairly smoothly, thanks to four generally
easy-going roommates and
suite-style housing. Being
friendly with two of my three
new roommates, I thought
this year would be as great as
the last.
You can guess where this is going, right?
I knew the third girl was going to be trouble the
first night we met. One of the other girls and I were
in the kitchen when Bubbles walked in and pointed
to the cabinet below the sink. “What’s in there?”
“Oh, pots and pans, for everyone to use.” Blank
stare. “Communal?” she asked.
The other roommate, who is also an international
student, said a few words in their shared language,
and Bubbles nodded vigorously. “I understand now.
So ... if I don’t need anything there, I can throw it all
out?”
Alarmed, I looked over to the other roommate and
asked her to make sure there wasn’t some bizarre
miscommunication.
There wasn’t.
I smiled, told Bubbles not to throw anything out,
and scuttled back to my room.
A few days later, I came home to find she had filled
our tiny hallway with mattresses.
Naturally, I was perturbed and asked, “Why are
there mattresses in our hallway?”
A guy emerged from her room and said, “We found
these in the basement! She wants to turn her room
into a giant bed!”
OK. No denying she could use some time in a padded room, that’s for sure. But even these oddities
couldn’t have prepared me for what happened next.
When the toilet seat was left up a few times, I didn’t
give it much thought, figuring male guests had been
afoot. When this became a regular occurrence in a
suite filled with women, I was concerned, but just
figured our newest roomie was ... er, eccentric. Then
came the day that I dashed into the bathroom for a
second to brush my teeth right after she’d been in
there.
Have you ever suspected that one of your roommates was part chimpanzee? Because I do. The toilet
seat was up, and there was shit smeared all over the
bowl. And then I looked at the wall. There, on the
white wall, were three perfect little fingerprints of
poo.
I just...
There’s just...
What do you say to that? Dear God, I’ve met heroin
addicts with better personal hygiene practices! Needless to say, I shrieked, clutched my toothbrush to my
chest, and fled, thankful that we have two bathrooms
in our suite and that she only uses the one. I mean,
this isn’t a cultural-differences thing. I have plenty of
non-American friends, and they’re all housebroken.
This is just Howard Hughes-level insanity.
I shared the story with the properly potty-trained
contingent of the apartment, but we all agreed that
there aren’t any non-awkward ways of saying, “Hi,
please pee like a girl, and don’t smear your crap on
the walls.”
And then I remembered that I have a column.
So ... hi. Please pee like a girl, and don’t smear your
crap on the walls. Signed, your terrified roommates.
ANATOMY of a Seth Flaxman E-mail
I hate it when e-mails from my elected student government representatives are all “serious” and “appropriate.” Thank God for CCSC President Seth Flaxman, CC ’07, who doesn’t let a little thing like
“the standards of public office” get in the way of letting his constituents peer inside the workings of his
“astronomical” sense of humor. —Dan Haley
From: Seth Flaxman <[email protected]>
Date: Sep 13, 2006 3:12 PM
Subject: [CCSC] can you determine which email item is Pluto?
1
To: [email protected]
Cc: [email protected]
1
We racked our brains on this
one, Seth. We’ve taken this to
mean, which e-mail item is not
as legitimate as the others?
We’re pretty sure all the items
are actually Pluto.
2
Look! Seth knows a Yalie! Now
we’re really impressed.
3
The greeting leads us to infer
that Columbia College is more
than an undergraduate school
or even a state of mind. It’s a
crazy commune where we all
live, work, share, and occasionally overshare on school-wide
e-mail lists.
4
Slow down there, Columbus.
We’re talking about campus life
committees and arts initiatives,
not the East Indies.
5
This part has inspired me to reread 1984. While smoking crack.
Two actions which inspired Flaxman to write this, I assume.
1
Does this mean homecoming
is going to have a space-travel
theme? That would be so much
better than the getting-ourasses-kicked theme they’ve
been going with these past few
decades.
2
Fellow Citizens of Columbia College
3
The following has been discovered by the Columbia College Stu4
dent
Council [CCSC]:
1. RESTAURANT WEEK (restaurant meals for cheaper than usual)
2. FOOTBALL FEVER IS FREE BBQ (football is freedom)
5
3. CAMPUS LIFE COMMITTEE (organize parties for entire
universe)
6
4. FINANCIAL AID REFORM (update in Create Your Own Adventure
style)
5. REGISTER TO VOTE OR DIE! (stop hating Democracy. read
this.)
6. CENTER FOR CAREER EDUCATION IS TRYING TO GET YOU A GOOD INTERNSHIP (they really are)
7. WORLD LEADERS FORUM (Columbia is center of solar system)
7
6
8. GET ON BOARD WITH COLUMBIA FOOTBALL (believe)
7
9. ARTS INITIATIVES (poet destroys Communism in Eastern Europe, becomes President of Czech Republic. art continues to
move world.)
8
8
CU ARTS
INITIATIVE
Lecture Tour
presents
MAHMOUD
AHMADINEJAD
who, on Wednesday, Oct. 4 at 2:30 p.m.
in Lewisohn Hall, will discuss his
latest collection of short stories,
entitled The Holocaust and Other Lies
Told by the Jews.
Praise for The Holocaust and Other Lies Told by the Jews:
“I can’t believe I didn’t allow him to speak on campus sooner! His politics might be divisive, but there’s so
much more to him. Damn, what a gifted short story writer!”
—University President Lee Bollinger
“Here at SIPA, we know a winner when we see one. From day one, we’ve considered ourselves ‘Ahmadimaniacs.’ Come Wednesday afternoon, you know where I’ll be!”
—Dean Lisa Anderson
“It is difficult balancing the demands of being a world leader with the dual responsibility of being an artist...
The Holocaust is evocative of Hardy’s early playfulness—I’m sure Ahmadinejad will eventually get serious,
but right now he is having fun.”
-Vaclav Havel
“This book is entirely too anti-semitic. I won’t stand for this kind of cheap, racist grandstanding! Join me in
suing the CU Arts Initiative.”
-Norman Finkelstein
eyeSITES
9.28.06>>10.4.06
SUFJAN STEVENS
SEPT. 29, 30, AND OCT. 1, 8 P.M.
TOWN HALL
123 W. 43RD ST.
$25
HOUSE OF CARTERS
MON., OCT. 2, 9 P.M.
E!
Back in the day, Nick Carter was
a Backstreet Boy. Then he dated
Paris Hilton. His brother, Aaron
Carter, sang for the tween girl
market, and then dated both Hilary Duff and Lindsay Lohan, supposedly at the same time, thus
causing an eternal feud in celeb
world. There have been a few arrests thrown in, too, for the usual
drugs, alcohol, and abuse. Apparently, there are even more Carter
siblings, who all live in the same
bubble as their blonde brothers.
Thanks to E! Entertainment Television, all their dirty secrets that
hadn’t made it to the gossip rags
are now exposed.
>>
>>
With a pledge to record an album
for each of the 50 states (no one
is clear whether this is actually
sincere), Sufjan Stevens certainly
shows his American pride. Thus
far, his folk alternative music hails
from the Great Lakes, and in his Illinoise and Greetings From Michigan, Stevens shows that there is
talent in that region in between
New York and California. He has
three nights of concerts to prove
this to you.
SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE
SEASON PREMIERE WITH
DANE COOK AND THE KILLERS
SAT., SEPT. 30, 11:30 P.M.
NBC
The past few seasons of this Saturday-night institution have caused
merely a giggle here and there with
a few memorable sketches. Add
the fact that head-writer Tina Fey
and the few talented cast members
from recent years are now trying out
the sitcom circuit with 30 Rock and
that producers didn’t add new cast
members, and this season of SNL
is off to a murky start. Will comedian du jour Dane Cook add some
sizzle to the premiere—and will the
minimal cast be capable of helping
him out?
>>
>>
East meets West under the sun in
Central Park at this all-day, openair music festival. Hip-hop artists
like master lyricist Talib Kweli take
on Japanese electronic artist Hifana. You’ll also find “The Far East Ruler” of reggae, Mighty Crown, and
Samurai Jazz music performed by Pe’z. This melange is definitely not
your typical hippie music festival, as traditional Japanese animation and
games also make an appearance. These hybrid beats will let your ears
travel, all within the confines of the park.
THE LITTLE MERMAID
The Disney vault is that mythical place where studio executives place classic movies so
that Aladdin can frolic with Belle
and make brainy Arabian prince
babies. Yet every so often, they
let a movie out “for a limited time only,” and now is your time to take
home that redheaded mermaid Ariel and her crazy friends Flounder and
Sebastian. While Ariel searches for Eric (her very own Prince Charming),
Ursula, the deranged sea-witch, wreaks havoc. But in the end—thanks to
Disney—you know they will all live happily ever after.
CHANEL BLACK SATIN
NAIL POLISH
$18
>>
NEW YORK-TOKYO MUSIC
FESTIVAL 2006
CENTRAL PARK
SAT., SEPT. 30, 2 P.M.
FREE
15
No, the girls have not all crossed
over to the dark side. Long the
fashion statement for Goth culture,
black fingernail polish is now the
“it” trend of the season. Yes, deep
reds and burgundies will always
be fashionable for fall, but truly hip
cats know that short, black nails
are the way to be subtly trendy—
and not the least bit dark. The only
problem is, stores can’t keep the
Chanel color in stock, which of
course only adds to the hotness
of the trend. A few other brands
have jumped on the bandwagon,
but as with so many trends before
it, Chanel is the epitome of cool.
>>