“Still Lit?” is a segment where I review an album from the past and examine if its litness remains intact. Naturally my taste levels have changed, so something I enjoyed at 13 may not entice me at 29. Unless of course nostalgia because everything was better when you were a kid, right? In the same vein, a piece of work I wrought off could have been a diamond in the rough. I’ll revisit said album, critiquing track by track – from least to most favorite.
The first installment of “Still Lit?” is Beyonce’s 4. While a self-proclaimed Beyliever, I’ve always leaned more toward her booty-shaking, man-hating bops or midtempo songs. Not because she isn’t a great singer, but because I’m a beat person. If it can make me dance, I’m usually sold. With 4 I definitely danced, but it’s also about that first impression. Continue reading Still Lit?
Up until the official launch of Marvel’s Black Panther next year, the only representations of black super-heroism on film have been far and in between. Yes, we’ve had Spawn and Blade, but somehow they feel totally removed from the comics’ hero resurgence we’re experiencing. As far as the last decade or so, we have had Storm barely cause one in five Xmen films;
Terrence Howard Don Cheadle as Robert Downey Jr.’s War Machine; T.I. as an associate of Ant-Man’s associate; and, Anthony Mackie as Falcon. That was until last Friday.
Continue reading Hate Me Now: Billy Cranston is the Black Superhero We Deserve
Much like someone may prefer cats to dogs or Coke to Pepsi, I’ve always chosen TV over film. I think primarily because one doesn’t have to leave the comfort of one’s house to do so. (Anyone born after 1996 may not understand this premise). Secondly, with TV series a rather bad episode or season can be forgiven with the promise of something better. A bad film experience can’t be compensated — that is time you’ll never get back. Thirdly its an arm to attend and a leg to eat at the theater. It’s a no for me. So here at LorinHates, I’ll occasionally expound on my cinematic encounters. Luckily I’ve traversed to the local AMC theater multiple times in last two months. Here are my thoughts.
ATTENTION : SPOILERS MAY APPEAR PENDING ON HOW LONG A FILM HAS BEEN OUT
Continue reading No Concessions | Movie Reviews
Like most of America, I too, was caught up in NBC’s hit drama after the pilot’s jaw-dropping last five minutes. The reveal of the Pearsons then, being the same family now, was touching, bold and smart. Since then Tuesday’s at 9 p.m. have been a new version of the network’s “must-see TV.” Not only is the writing brilliant, but the performances are good, almost each and every episode. And the same way Scandal gathers Twitter viewers every night with an “OMG” moment, Us has gathered faithfuls with the simple complexity of human experiences. Tears of joy or sadness are shed as these characters hit real-life peaks and lows without jerk-move antics or over-the-top outcomes.
That was until last night. Continue reading Hate Is a Strong Word | This Is Us: S1 Finale
ABC’s critically-acclaimed anthology series returns with a brutally honest portrayal of another cruel kept secret in our country. In its third season, American Crime has garnered a following, but not enough to be a ratings darling. However viewers return for the quality of the narrative and the performances. With a cast boasting the likes of Felicity Huffman, Regina King, Timothy Hutton, and season newbie Sandra Oh, it’s sure to be must-see TV on Sunday evenings.
Like the two seasons before it, Crime elects a new stain of American life as its focus. This season can be categorized under two main themes: human trafficking and illegal immigration.
The scenes are painstakingly taut, from camera angles to the purposely short dialogue. Nothing is romanticized. You forget you’re watching a show as it feels more like being a fly on the wall somewhere in Not-That-Far, USA. The opening scene of Mexican immigrants crossing the border immediately evokes sentiments for our country’s current position on border control. A worker on his way to new living quarters, shortly after accepting a job, sees the corpse of a man who’s trek for a better life failed. A young girl getting her makeup done at a department store counter, lying about the identity of her time-conscious male companion. She’ll later wipe the makeup off upon request from a paying customer in a desolate hotel room.
This season intends on analyzing every angle of these monstrosities: from the rich farmers who hire illegal immigrants to compete with larger business; to the childless social worker who fights for victims of the sex slave trade. It’s uncomfortable and ugly. Grossly un-American, and yet painfully ours as much as apple pie. It’s what great art is supposed to do.
As a child of the 90s, I’m a product of television’s transition from a luxury to a necessity. While my parents remember an era when all programming ended at a certain time of the day, I and my peers grew up among the development of 24/7 TV. Morning cartoons and new programs; day time talk shows and hour long soaps; Oprah and 5 o’clock news; and finally, evenings of must see TV to discuss the next day. Now as an adult, that experience has multiplied due to the internet. Kids today have instantaneous access – desktop or mobile – where we were limited to a wired hookup when the landline phone wasn’t being used. Because of this splintering, TV isn’t just what is viewed live at a set time. It’s what’s streamed, recorded and recycled at one’s leisure. Peak television. As a result, there is just simply too much to watch. And I hate it. Continue reading peak tv
I think every writer hates it. The chore of stenciling or pecking one’s ideas on paper or screen. Trying to weave the perfect-pictured soliloquies from mind to legible blocks of linear phrases, sentences, paragraphs, articles, essays, etc. The fear of anyone reading them publicly. Critiquing them for a job. Brushing through them breezily on a whim. It’s a vulnerability I’m not quite comfortable. But it’s something I’m going to endure and wrestle into submission. Come with me on this journey of hate-writing the things I love, like and detest.