For the Wellesley student spending summer back in their childhood bedroom:

When you’re lying in your twin bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why 15-year-old  you decided that was a good color to paint a wall, play Lorde’s new single “What Was That ––using your headphones of course, other people live in this house and your brother is studying for the SATs. As a TikTok I once reposted said, “Lorde is like Nanny McPhee, never showing up when you WANT her but showing up when you NEED her.”

For the Wellesley student determined to have a summer fling:

Play “The Glamorous Life” by Sheila E. It’s fun! It was written by Prince! She’s a drummer! The song is nine minutes long and is major for every single second. Play it while doing your makeup, while driving at exactly the speed limit–for legal reasons–or while riding the subway and being mysterious. Everyone wants you. The person you want definitely wants you. And, who knows? You might just find yourself falling in love.

For the Wellesley student getting beaten down by tariffs:

Eggs are four billion U.S. dollars and the minimum wage in your home state is still the exact same. Get in your car and play Gang of Four’s “Natural’s Not In It.” Or not. Gas is really expensive. What to do for pleasure? This song is featured in Sofia Coppola’s “Marie Antoinette” and if we have to be living in an ancién regime-coded era, it might as well be directed by the very best Coppola.

For the Wellesley student who didn’t get into any summer internships:

Play “Fire with Fire” by AlicebanD. You’re trying to find a purpose in your life right now and so is she. There is somebody else who’s clearly to blame, but is it your professors, politicians, or parents? Who knows? Spend your time dreaming and imagining hypothetical scenarios with your friend who lives way too far away.

For the Wellesley student replacing their smartphone with a flip phone:

Have you told your friends that you’re deleting Instagram again? Did you send a reel 24 hours later? If so, this summer it might be time to reconnect with nature. Hear a child’s laugh. Watch the sunset from a 7/11 parking lot as you plan your big move to Montana. Since you won’t have Spotify, go buy Jim Croce’s “I Got A Name” record on vinyl. Plus, whenever you eventually succumb to social media temptations you can post a picture of said vinyl and appear #rustic and cultured to your followers. 

For the Wellesley student upset with the government:

Did you finally block Elon on X? Have you started googling citizenship and visa requirements for Nordic countries? Are you actively avoiding interacting with anyone from Babson? Listen to “Money Game, Pt. 2” by Ren. Yes, he is British and this song is from COVID-19, but the “unprecedented times” are still going on.

For the Wellesley student traveling abroad this summer:

I hate you. I want to trade lives. I have no interest in sharing music recommendations with you because you already have everything. In any case, play “Free Man in Paris” by Joni Mitchell. Or, at the very least, use it as the score to your Instagram post that I will be hate viewing. A little on the nose? Sure. But so is spending the summer in Europe. And you’re unfettered and alive.

The strength of the show is in its ensemble cast. Each character is played with care and enthusiasm –– willing us to love them with their sheer passion and sincerity. Specifically, the sweet pairing of Mafioso-turned-diner-owner Al Dente (Mattea M. Conforti ’28) and undercover angel Anne Gelic (William Murray ’26) left me utterly charmed and rooting for these crazy kids to end up together. By the eleven o’clock number, even Claire’s somewhat dull, straight-man protagonist shtick, which up to that point had been overshadowed by the far more outlandish characters making up the ensemble, found its footing, serving as a solid lynch-pin for the unlikeliest of friends.

As the Trump administration takes aim at drag performers, “101 Damnations’” doubling down on HPT’s history of performing in drag seems notable. Although their brand of drag is closer to early “Saturday Night Live” or “Kids in the Hall” than “Paris is Burning,” the fact that all but three of the characters were played in drag demonstrates a commitment to gender fuckery that is admirable for an organization reliant on tax-deductible donations.

As befits our current moment, the jokes were biting. They were current and they were risky and, while they didn’t always work, the cast committed to making the leap regardless. They punched up at Mark Zuckerberg and down at Cornell, committed to an extended bit about a right wing extremist fish, and made a crude joke at the expense of Wellesley “girls” (touché.)

It is no secret that I have been critical of the Hasty Pudding Theatricals previously for their turn towards cowardice in past productions, preferring the safety of outdated references to the risk of actually saying something substantive. However, I walked away from Tuesday night’s production honestly delighted by the company’s earnest commitment and willingness to take a risk. By the end of the production I wasn’t worried about the convoluted plot or the admittedly weak songwriting –– I had been thoroughly won over by a production that I found genuinely heartfelt and funny.

“101 Damnations” will continue its run at Farkas Hall in Cambridge through March 9th. You can also catch them in New York City on March 14th and 15th or ––if you happen to be in Bermuda –– on March 21st.

Contact the editors responsible for this article: Ivy Buck, Norah Catlin 

On Friday, Nov. 1, the Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club opened their production of “Anastasia,” the perennial theater-kid favorite based on the 1997 Don Bluth animated movie and the 1956 Ingrid Bergman film, both of the same name. Despite being widely panned by critics, the original production enjoyed a two-year run on Broadway and a special place in the hearts of its fans.

The staying power of the musical comes from its moving score by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens, sung convincingly by this cast, specifically Caitlin Beirne’s Anya –– whose Disney Cruise ship experience as Cinderella was on full display in her ability to play sweet without becoming saccharine. A special mention must also be made of Justice Sirotek’s stirring rendition of “Stay I Pray You.” Typically a chore of a song that serves only to drag the run time out to its bloated 2 hours and 30 minutes, Sirotek’s performance proved to be one of the high points of the production. 

Despite the best efforts of a passionate cast to mask the weakness of the book’s over writing, the ultimate result fell flat. Since the plot shatters upon any scrutiny, it requires a high budget that can bring dazzling costumes and luscious sets to lull the audience into acceptance. With budgetary restraints in mind –– an article in the Harvard Crimson from 2023 reported a 89% budget cut to the Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club –– perhaps “Anastasia” was the wrong choice. Even with these constraints, the lack of ingenuity from a production team which included a costume designer, assistant costume designer, hair and makeup designer and dramaturg is disappointing.

The greatest problem inherent in the production was the inevitability of the cast’s youth. The rare moments when the source material manages to touch on something deeper are those which reference aging, regret and the weight of the crimes committed by ancestors. The old guard of the Russian aristocracy battling with their own regrets and pain of loved ones lost rang false on the faces of actors in their late teens and early twenties without the gravitas to allow the audience a suspension of disbelief. Each actor played their role as a budding young ingénue –– which worked well for the ingénues but was confusing for the rest of the cast. 

The Harvard-Radcliffe Drama Club was faced with a surprisingly immense challenge with their choice of source material. Despite deft comedic moments and strong performances by many of the cast, there was simply not enough magic to make “Anastasia” the crowd-pleaser that it is intended to be.

Contact the editors responsible for this article: Norah Catlin, Ivy Buck

The experience of watching “Heist Heist Baby” is best represented  by the perplexing dream ballet that closes out the musical: confusing, technically impressive, somewhat clever, and, ultimately, too long. The convoluted plot gives the impression that the show was written around the kinds of characters that each student wanted to play. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – good musicals are seldom plot driven. Each individual performer is incredibly talented and skillful – special attention must be paid to first year Kaylor Toronto’s teen pop star Holden Outhopeforyou-Girl – but the result of such precision in individual performances is a whole that is less than the sum of its parts.

Fundamentally, the question that “Heist Heist Baby” raises is, what is the point and purpose of satire? The Hasty Pudding Theatricals’ website states that: “The Pudding show has a long tradition of daring social and political commentary, never shying away from controversial current topics.” They laud the bravery of past productions that satirized the Russian Revolution in 1919 and Hitler and Mussolini in 1938. As the 2024 Pudding performers focused their jabs at a fictitious washed up television actress (Emma Rogers) and a bumbling paleontologist (Nikita Nair), I found myself wondering where that former spirit had gone.

The musical conveniently avoids addressing any contemporary issues by setting the musical in 1992, leading with era-appropriate, Jay Leno-esk digs at OJ Simpson and Bill Clinton. The closest the ensemble got to the year 2024 was a cheap “lock her up” reference. The ensemble squandered the opportunity to use their considerable platform to say anything about the state of the world. Instead of using the character of the wealthy geriatric fracker (Alexander Lim) to lampoon the ultra wealthy, considerable time is spent joking about his bingo game.

Above all, “Heist Heist Baby” lacks courage. The courage to tell the truth, to fail, to get in trouble, and, most importantly, the courage to be truly funny. The Hasty Pudding Theatricals clearly have the capacity to do all that and more, so the only possible explanation is a lack of nerve. If the cliché “it’s funny because it’s true” is to be believed, the reason that many of the jokes in “Heist Heist Baby” did not land wasn’t because they weren’t funny, it’s because they weren’t true.

In his introduction, professor of Spanish Carlos Ramos described the film as “not the easiest movie.” That would be an understatement. For the horrors endured by its subjects and the movement of the waves which induces a sea-sickness reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project, the documentary requires a strong stomach.

The documentary was shot exquisitely by director and writer Paula Palasio. Much of the film was evocative of viral, heart wrenching photojournalism with incredibly moving shots of boats crammed with bodies, hands reaching out for help, and the menacing waves of the Mediterranean. In fact, the documentary may have been more powerful as a series of photographs. A series of beautiful stills are available on the website and are perhaps more impactful than seeing the movie itself.

The documentary lacked political context, choosing instead to focus on the experience of the refugees with a goal of creating empathy. That goal was certainly met, but in doing so agency was stripped from the refugees painting them more as victims. There were three specific stories that included interviews but each story was quickly dropped in the interest of spending time with the NGO workers aboard the ship Open Arms. 

The storyline that seemed most interesting to Palasio was the conflict between the NGO workers and the Libyan military coastguard. Palasio conveniently sorts characters into archetypes– the NGO workers are heroic martyrs, the refugees are hapless victims, and the Libyan coastguard are purely evil. An almost comically evil score plays over the introduction of the Libyan coastguard, feeling vaguely reminiscent of John Williams’ Jaws (1975) theme. 

In his final remarks before the beginning of the film, Ramos said to the audience, “I cannot say enjoy, but learn and bring the message to somebody else.” The documentary seemed to be aimed at European and American audiences asking them to care. The shocking, stomach churning, and heart wrenching images try to shame its audience into feeling. The call to action is clear: support the NGOs and oppose xenophobic governments and police forces. Although the horrors depicted certainly make viewers uncomfortable, Palasio allows for the moral certitude of good guys and bad guys. Viewers are given the easy choice to be the good guys. The final frame includes a dedication to “Zoe, and all the babies” encouraging them to grow up and have “the courage to change things.” Ramos stated that the goal of the film was to fight indifference. It certainly does, that but is it too much to ask it to do more? Isn’t fighting indifference the very least that should be done?

The Spanish Portuguese film festival will continue for three more Fridays, featuring the films Cabeza de Negro (2020) – following the Brazilian Black Panther Movement; Miente Miriam (2018) – a story centered on a teenage girl in the Dominican Republic; and Nudo Mixteco (2021) – a family saga that takes place in a rural Mixtec village in Oaxaca, Mexico.

Which is why the Icarian crash of Ticketmaster seems, in hindsight, almost inevitable.  Can a pop star become too famous?  Is there a point at which a singer is too well known to engage with her fans, to meet public demand?

In an apology posted on Nov. 19, Ticketmaster explained that a huge number of bot attacks and people without codes drove “unprecedented traffic” on the site with 3.5 billion total system requests which resulted in about 15% of interactions experiencing issues.  Not to be confronted with the blame for long, Ticketmaster did say that “based on the volume of traffic to our site, Taylor would need to perform over 900 stadium shows.”  

Senators Amy Klobuchar (D-MN) and Mike Lee (R-UT) of the Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Competition Policy, Antitrust, and Consumer Rights released a statement on Nov. 22 announcing their intention to “hold a hearing to examine the lack of competition in the ticketing industry.”  Taylor Swift’s universal, gravitational pull reaches across the aisle.  Talk about — of the people, by the people and for the people.

And while the lack of competition in the ticketing industry is concerning and does warrant further investigation, we cannot let Ms. Swift get away quite that easily.  In her own statement released on Instagram on Nov. 18, the artist placed the blame squarely on Ticketmaster stating that it is “excruciating for me to just watch mistakes happen with no recourse.”  One must not forget that Ms. Swift did consent to the “Verified Fan” plan and did give priority to fans who had bought the most merchandise from her website.  It has become increasingly clear that being a “Verified Fan” has very little to do with one’s relationship with Ms. Swift’s music and significantly more to do with how much money one has spent on tickets (and merchandise) previously.  

The discussion of the “Verified Fan” status raises interesting questions regarding the nature of fandom.  For as long as there have been concerts there has been a discussion about who deserves to see a concert.  How big of a fan do you have to be to deserve these few coveted spots?  What sort of hoops do you have to jump through to prove your worth as a “real fan”?  With access codes and VIP spots comes a system of cheat codes and hacks to have the very best chance at winning a ticket. Internet access and a credit card are not enough to ensure a fair shot. True fan status is demonstrated by time spent researching and planning, a willingness to put aside all other appointments to wait in a digital line, refreshing at exactly the right moment. This game is not for amateurs. 

An aspiring fan’s ability to gain access to tickets becomes a reflection of not only one’s own dedication to the artist but also their access to discretionary income. It is not enough to save and scrimp on the price of a ticket. If the price of admission now includes merchandise, the credit score needed for a capital one card and/or considerable time during working hours spent in line for tickets then the pool of “deserving” concert-goers shrinks significantly.  

The red carpet has been swept to death with trains and capes. In Venice, the silhouette of the moment seemed to be full gowns with pooling trains seen on everyone from Vanessa Kirby in Dolce & Gabbana to Olivia Wilde in that hideous Gucci canary yellow. Florence Pugh and Tessa Thompson both took a more subversive approach to the classic silhouette — they also had trains but the engines were sheer in a nod to Gwyneth Paltrow’s goth Oscar dress from 2002.  

The overwhelming consensus from these events was a turn to old Hollywood. From Elle Fanning’s gorgeous ode to golden-age Hollywood costuming icon Edith Head, to Sydney Sweeney’s significantly less successful ode to Audrey Hepburn’s Givenchy gown in “Sabrina,” celebrity stylists have clearly been watching TCM’s collaboration with the Met’s Costume Institute. This turn may be due, in part, to two of September’s most anticipated films: “Blonde” with Ana de Armas and Oliva Wilde’s “Don’t Worry Darling.”

The naked dress, which was once nearly ubiquitous on runways and red carpets alike, was nowhere to be found. Fashion historian Dr. Kimberly Chrisman-Campbell attributes this decline, in part, to Kim Kardashian wearing Marilyn Monroe’s famous naked dress to May’s Met Gala. This (somewhat) post-COVID world seems to be wholly uninterested in the mini-minimalism of the naked gown, turning, instead, to an over-the-top-maximalism. Even Taylor Swift’s Oscar de la Renta “naked dress” at the VMAs was comprised of giant silver chains. Kim Kardashian’s tasteless appropriation of the Jean Louis gown was simply the nail in the coffin.

The COVID and post-COVID athleisure, cottage-core and coastal grandmother trends that value comfort seem to be giving way to a desire for outrageous maximalism and pants with zippers. Designers seem to be throwing comfort to the wayside. Low rise everything is coming back with Miu Miu’s flagship look this season being micro-mini tennis skirts, simultaneously so low-waisted and so high cut as to require much more than an undergarment as an afterthought. Barragán’s Spring 2023 ready-to-wear line features several low-rise pieces, adorned with loud plate buckles.  

To follow the logical train of Miranda Priestley’s infamous cerulean monologue, this wave of low-rise bottoms has trickled all the way down to campus. In just the first few weeks of class, there has been an amount of midriff borne by low-rise jeans and skirts thought unimaginable only a few years ago.

Although the effects of the old Hollywood resurgence are harder to see in places like Wellesley’s campus where the opportunity to wear a ballgown with a train are, regrettably, uncommon, trend analysts predict that we will see some of the golden era of Hollywood in beauty instead. Cat Quinn, a trend predictor on TikTok, predicts that the colorful french tips that dominated last year’s nail art will be replaced by 50s inspired half moon manicures in shades of red.   

The trend cycle is moving at such a neck-breaking speed that by the time this article goes to print, at least one of these trends will already feel dated. For now, however, fashion and beauty trends are so loud that you will not even be able to hear yourself worry about it.

Three of the band’s five members met with me over Zoom on a rainy Tuesday afternoon from their respective rooms in New York.  

As told by band member Jude Ciulla, Laundry Day’s origin story is the kind of kismet typically seen in Disney Channel Original movies. Five musically talented high school freshmen happened upon each other and started making music. “We were just friends and the music started to happen,” Ciulla says. He describes the band’s connection as “natural.” The band connected fast and became somewhat stratified from the rest of their community, with Ciulla remarking that he believes fellow members “couldn’t connect with anybody else.” Henry Pearl adds “I know these boys better than anyone I’ve ever known and that’s a really good feeling”.  

Joined by their photographer, creative director — “god,” according to Henry Weingartner — Camilla Ffrench, they present as the kind of friend group teen dramas are built around, which is maybe the point. Laundry Day suffers no fools. They are fully aware that success isn’t possible on talent alone. They all view their job as not only musical but marketing. Pearl says that “marketing is just another place where we’re able to represent ourselves.” Although to the members of Laundry Day college is currently just another venue, Ciulla brought up to me that Mick Jagger went to business school (London School of Economics, specifically). They seem to be every manager’s dream — although Weingartner promised me that they still annoy their manager.

But in some ways, the members of Laundry Day still seem like teenagers. Despite the maturity in their ambition, Laundry Day still has an aura of Wham! Make it Big (but don’t call them a boy band). Pearl emphasizes that “the idea of being able to stop going to school was one of many driving factors of our work ethic while we were in high school.” He says that “we can leave all this behind and focus on what we love,” proving that you don’t need to live in dodge to want to get the hell out. They might be working towards a Grammy and an appearance on SNL, but they still have the authenticity of a group of kids dreaming of living forever.

When asked about how they liked Wellesley the band seemed genuinely excited. Pearl gushed that “the amount of acceptance and excitement was not comparable to anything we’d seen in years.” It was something about playing in front of people who were their age. They all promised that performing at Wellesley was exactly the kind of gig they wanted to be doing right now. Weingartner even said “We wanted to play Wellesley again.”

Laundry Day has worked hard to make themselves synonymous with the city they call home. Ciulla says that they want to be “the band of this decade when you think of New York.” In the great New York tradition of Fran Lebowitz, they’ve turned up their noses at LA citing New York as their power source with Pearl saying “we could run dry without it.” They’re crafting the modern New York art scene but, as Pearl says, “the scene exists online.”

They seem wistful about their connection to the internet. While they made it abundantly clear that they’re grateful for the way the internet has connected them to fans and helped further their careers, they expressed a distaste for the isolation and limitations the internet affords. Pearl describes a nostalgia for the punk scene of the 80s and 90s (not surprising to anyone who’s seen his mullet or the iconography dangling from his ears). All of them express a raw desire to be out in the world and meeting people. It’s not hard to romanticize vying for a bad slot at CBGB or being photographed by Bill Cunningham while chatting up Diane von Fürstenberg at Mudd Club.  

Although the internet can seem to squash the spontaneity that art requires, the story of “Jane,” the song that launched a thousand playlists, proves that cinematic moments are still possible. Ciulla told the story of the time they met a woman on the subway named Jane in the band’s infancy. She asked them about their band and looked them up on Spotify. Her kindness and the musicality of her name stuck with the band.

What’s next for Laundry Day? They still have so much more to do and, like most artists, they probably will never be satisfied. So maybe some more college concerts, one day a Grammy or even a song called Wellesley.

The first Hollywood rom-coms were those of the 1930s and 40s which introduced staples like misunderstandings, battle of the sexes and casting the same recurring actors. The golden era of the genre came in the 80s and 90s, heralded by Wellesley alum Nora Ephron ’62. The great box office success of these films encouraged Hollywood to reuse their formulas and plots. By the time of the early aughts, the genre had been stripped to its core and was teetering on the precipice of death.

Women have been and continue to be the most influential consumer demographic. The research of Professor Min Joo Lee, a visiting lecturer in the women and gender studies department, demonstrates that there is an international market for romantic media, but we seem to be moving in almost the opposite direction. There has been a notable lack of romantic comedies hitting the big screen in the past few years. Tom Joudry of the Boston Globe proposes that it is growing economic inequality that makes the rom-com less viable in today’s market. Many rom-coms are based on inter-class relationships ending with economic mobility for one-half of the couple. In this era of a staggering wealth gap, it is far less statistically likely for people to have relationships outside of their own social and economic class. Although this may be part of the general disinterest in the genre, it’s not the whole story.

Feminists have grappled with the rom-com for decades now.  Many make the argument that the core tenet of the rom-com – ending happily in a relationship – sends a negative message to viewers that that’s the only way to be happy. Others critique the encouragement of stalking behavior in men (although “Sleepless in Seattle” makes the case that the genre is an equal opportunity offender).  

Professor Lee believes that it would be incorrect to label the genre as purely positive or purely negative in regard to its effect on women. Doing so would assume that the audience is a “monolith as opposed to seeing them with different cultural backgrounds and life experiences which influence how they decide to carry out their desires that are based on the media,” said Professor Lee. However, the patriarchy that is supposedly benefiting from this genre does not seem to want anything to do with it. Rom-coms are degraded as chick-flicks and their dependable happy endings are seen as proof of their unworthiness.  

The strongest argument against the rom-com is the staggering lack of diversity. Teen flicks have brought a little more representation to an adjacent genre but the rom-com itself remains largely monolithic. It seems that Hollywood is far too eager to move on from the rom-com before it has had the chance to include more diverse sets of people and relationships.

As streaming services take over the film industry, it becomes increasingly likely that the future of the romance genre lies in Netflix. Addison Rae becoming the next Meg Ryan is not a bright future for the future of romantic comedies, but it’s becoming increasingly plausible. But there’s a glimpse at another future; these services have allowed audiences all over the world to experience international films. “Netflix provides people with more diversity in terms of what they want to experience, what they fantasize about,” said Professor Lee. These global experiences add the possibility of romance for everyone.  

Rom-coms have had such a lucrative run for a reason. Love is universal. We can’t say the benediction for the rom-com before it has the chance to reach its full potential. Doesn’t everyone deserve a great love story?