The Technique has a tradition of its graduating staff penning a “swan song” piece looking back at their time at the Institute. But, since even my mom wouldn’t want to read 1000 words about my time at the paper, I’ll keep this closer to a “swan riff” than a full song. 

First, I am so grateful for all of the support and dedicated work of the whole staff. The Technique’s editors and writers have worked tirelessly — through funding cuts, staffing changes and a restructuring of the paper — to deliver thoughtful, informed journalism to students across campus. 

And to the students who read the paper, thank you. The Technique is only as important and relevant if it is read by the student body, and we have seen record engagement with the paper’s work. I can’t express my gratitude enough. We do all this work for the student body, so the fact that you all read it is what makes our work rewarding. 

At the beginning of the year, I wrote that our top priority is being a “reliable, trustworthy publication.” We set out to tell the truth to the best of our ability, and I hope you feel we lived up to that promise. Our Managing Editor, Alec Grosswald, will be our next editor-in-chief, and I am confident he and his staff will uphold these values. Nobody cares about the Institute and this paper more than Alec, and I am most of all sad I won’t be onboard to see the exciting direction he takes the Technique.  

If you’re thinking about joining the paper, do it. Working at the paper is as fun as it is fast-paced — breaking a news story is one of the most exciting things you can do in college. And it’s never dull, either. We’ve uncovered bizarre campus disputes, interviewed celebrities and lawmakers and even faced a mild extortion threat a time or two. Being a journalist at “The South’s liveliest college newspaper” might be busy, but it’s never boring. 

So, I hope you keep reading the paper and that its commitment to truth-telling, integrity and lively writing continue to serve the student body that we all love so much.

The post Reflections from the outgoing editor-in-chief appeared first on Technique.

The Technique has a tradition of its graduating staff penning a “swan song” piece looking back at their time at the Institute. But, since even my mom wouldn’t want to read 1000 words about my time at the paper, I’ll keep this closer to a “swan riff” than a full song. 

First, I am so grateful for all of the support and dedicated work of the whole staff. The Technique’s editors and writers have worked tirelessly — through funding cuts, staffing changes and a restructuring of the paper — to deliver thoughtful, informed journalism to students across campus. 

And to the students who read the paper, thank you. The Technique is only as important and relevant if it is read by the student body, and we have seen record engagement with the paper’s work. I can’t express my gratitude enough. We do all this work for the student body, so the fact that you all read it is what makes our work rewarding. 

At the beginning of the year, I wrote that our top priority is being a “reliable, trustworthy publication.” We set out to tell the truth to the best of our ability, and I hope you feel we lived up to that promise. Our Managing Editor, Alec Grosswald, will be our next editor-in-chief, and I am confident he and his staff will uphold these values. Nobody cares about the Institute and this paper more than Alec, and I am most of all sad I won’t be onboard to see the exciting direction he takes the Technique.  

If you’re thinking about joining the paper, do it. Working at the paper is as fun as it is fast-paced — breaking a news story is one of the most exciting things you can do in college. And it’s never dull, either. We’ve uncovered bizarre campus disputes, interviewed celebrities and lawmakers and even faced a mild extortion threat a time or two. Being a journalist at “The South’s liveliest college newspaper” might be busy, but it’s never boring. 

So, I hope you keep reading the paper and that its commitment to truth-telling, integrity and lively writing continue to serve the student body that we all love so much.

The post Reflections from the outgoing editor-in-chief appeared first on Technique.

When Bong Joon Ho has something to say, he likes to say it with a megaphone. 

His 2013 action-dystopia “Snowpiercer” followed the last remnants of humanity on a train separated by class. The lower classes rose up and brutally fought their way to the front of the train to take the locomotive back from their opulent overlords. It didn’t take an English major to understand the movie’s message. 

Bong’s Oscar-winning masterpiece “Parasite” was different. Sure, it still tackled the themes of class struggle, but it did so elegantly, with a sharp wit and a plot that twisted and turned all in service of a singular point. It deserved all the praise it received. 

But with this year’s “Mickey 17,” Bong is back to his old ways. The film, based on the book “Mickey7,” follows a man named Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) as he leaves earth to escape a sadistic loan shark, joining a colony led by the authoritarian politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo). Except, Barnes can only leave earth if he becomes an “expendable.” Expendables are used in risky missions or scientific experiments that could gently be described as “trial and error” — they are killed over and over again and reprinted in a machine that can duplicate the original person’s memories. Scientists expose the various Mickeys to viruses, radiation, and other grisly ways to die. After Mickey 17, the 17th printing of Barnes, is left to freeze to death, the colony’s scientists print Barnes’ 18th iteration. But a group of bug-like aliens nicknamed “creepers” save Mickey 17’s life, leaving two Mickeys — who don’t like each other — wandering the colony’s spaceship. 

Pattinson is the movie’s greatest strength. He plays against type, adopting a nasally, higher-pitched voice for Mickey 17 and leaning into 17’s bumbling naiveté. And he, of course, also plays Mickey 18, an aggressive and surly version of Barnes more similar to Pattinson’s other roles. He’s always interesting and funny enough to make the movie’s slightly overlong runtime not feel like a slog. Pattinson understands the kind of humor the movie should be going for, not just verbally but also in his physical comedy, especially in a darkly funny scene at dinner with Marshall. Moments in the film stand alongside Bong’s best satirical work, and it’s in no small part thanks to Pattinson.

The cinematography and production design are high-quality, as well, with the film carving out its own visual space in the sci-fi pantheon. It has a genuinely unique look to it — not quite cartoonish, but not hyper-realistic, either. 

But the movie as a whole feels a bit like it’s been printed, killed, and printed again. The film’s production was fraught, being delayed multiple times due to a long editing process, and it shows. The first half of the film incorporates a voiceover narration that abruptly stops later in the movie. The always-stellar Steven Yeun plays Barnes’ “best friend,” but he is noticeably underused, only appearing in a few scenes. It feels like there’s maybe another version of the movie where Yeun’s character had a more prominent role, but it’s not this one. The film even shifts its thematic focus midway through the movie. 

The questions raised by the first half of the film are genuinely interesting. Bong explores thorny ideas about death, personhood and human dignity, with Barnes wrestling with whether every clone is still “himself” or someone else entirely. Is killing an expendable murder? Does Barnes actually “die” if he will always be reprinted? These questions are fascinating, and they aren’t wholly neglected in the second half of the film, but they are certainly sidelined in a strange thematic pivot. 

In the second half, Bong picks up his megaphone. He uses Marshall to make a satirical point about dictators, with Ruffalo doing an unfunny, one-note Trump impression that is exhausting by the end of the movie. “Mickey 17” isn’t saying anything particularly profound about the political realm, so it’s a shame that Bong ignored his most interesting ideas from the first half. The very end of the film seems to remember the movie’s initial cloning premise, but it’s too little too late. It comes after a long detour with the creepers in a bombastic action sequence. Bong uses this to make a thudding statement about colonization that’s been done better in other films, a disappointing finale given he is usually so adept at making smart, snarky political points. 

“Mickey 17” isn’t terrible, but it maybe should have picked one idea and stuck with it. If Mickey Barnes taught us anything, it’s that more isn’t always better.

The post “Mickey 17” sidelines its most interesting ideas appeared first on Technique.

When Bong Joon Ho has something to say, he likes to say it with a megaphone. 

His 2013 action-dystopia “Snowpiercer” followed the last remnants of humanity on a train separated by class. The lower classes rose up and brutally fought their way to the front of the train to take the locomotive back from their opulent overlords. It didn’t take an English major to understand the movie’s message. 

Bong’s Oscar-winning masterpiece “Parasite” was different. Sure, it still tackled the themes of class struggle, but it did so elegantly, with a sharp wit and a plot that twisted and turned all in service of a singular point. It deserved all the praise it received. 

But with this year’s “Mickey 17,” Bong is back to his old ways. The film, based on the book “Mickey7,” follows a man named Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) as he leaves earth to escape a sadistic loan shark, joining a colony led by the authoritarian politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo). Except, Barnes can only leave earth if he becomes an “expendable.” Expendables are used in risky missions or scientific experiments that could gently be described as “trial and error” — they are killed over and over again and reprinted in a machine that can duplicate the original person’s memories. Scientists expose the various Mickeys to viruses, radiation, and other grisly ways to die. After Mickey 17, the 17th printing of Barnes, is left to freeze to death, the colony’s scientists print Barnes’ 18th iteration. But a group of bug-like aliens nicknamed “creepers” save Mickey 17’s life, leaving two Mickeys — who don’t like each other — wandering the colony’s spaceship. 

Pattinson is the movie’s greatest strength. He plays against type, adopting a nasally, higher-pitched voice for Mickey 17 and leaning into 17’s bumbling naiveté. And he, of course, also plays Mickey 18, an aggressive and surly version of Barnes more similar to Pattinson’s other roles. He’s always interesting and funny enough to make the movie’s slightly overlong runtime not feel like a slog. Pattinson understands the kind of humor the movie should be going for, not just verbally but also in his physical comedy, especially in a darkly funny scene at dinner with Marshall. Moments in the film stand alongside Bong’s best satirical work, and it’s in no small part thanks to Pattinson.

The cinematography and production design are high-quality, as well, with the film carving out its own visual space in the sci-fi pantheon. It has a genuinely unique look to it — not quite cartoonish, but not hyper-realistic, either. 

But the movie as a whole feels a bit like it’s been printed, killed, and printed again. The film’s production was fraught, being delayed multiple times due to a long editing process, and it shows. The first half of the film incorporates a voiceover narration that abruptly stops later in the movie. The always-stellar Steven Yeun plays Barnes’ “best friend,” but he is noticeably underused, only appearing in a few scenes. It feels like there’s maybe another version of the movie where Yeun’s character had a more prominent role, but it’s not this one. The film even shifts its thematic focus midway through the movie. 

The questions raised by the first half of the film are genuinely interesting. Bong explores thorny ideas about death, personhood and human dignity, with Barnes wrestling with whether every clone is still “himself” or someone else entirely. Is killing an expendable murder? Does Barnes actually “die” if he will always be reprinted? These questions are fascinating, and they aren’t wholly neglected in the second half of the film, but they are certainly sidelined in a strange thematic pivot. 

In the second half, Bong picks up his megaphone. He uses Marshall to make a satirical point about dictators, with Ruffalo doing an unfunny, one-note Trump impression that is exhausting by the end of the movie. “Mickey 17” isn’t saying anything particularly profound about the political realm, so it’s a shame that Bong ignored his most interesting ideas from the first half. The very end of the film seems to remember the movie’s initial cloning premise, but it’s too little too late. It comes after a long detour with the creepers in a bombastic action sequence. Bong uses this to make a thudding statement about colonization that’s been done better in other films, a disappointing finale given he is usually so adept at making smart, snarky political points. 

“Mickey 17” isn’t terrible, but it maybe should have picked one idea and stuck with it. If Mickey Barnes taught us anything, it’s that more isn’t always better.

The post “Mickey 17” sidelines its most interesting ideas appeared first on Technique.

When Bong Joon Ho has something to say, he likes to say it with a megaphone. 

His 2013 action-dystopia “Snowpiercer” followed the last remnants of humanity on a train separated by class. The lower classes rose up and brutally fought their way to the front of the train to take the locomotive back from their opulent overlords. It didn’t take an English major to understand the movie’s message. 

Bong’s Oscar-winning masterpiece “Parasite” was different. Sure, it still tackled the themes of class struggle, but it did so elegantly, with a sharp wit and a plot that twisted and turned all in service of a singular point. It deserved all the praise it received. 

But with this year’s “Mickey 17,” Bong is back to his old ways. The film, based on the book “Mickey7,” follows a man named Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) as he leaves earth to escape a sadistic loan shark, joining a colony led by the authoritarian politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo). Except, Barnes can only leave earth if he becomes an “expendable.” Expendables are used in risky missions or scientific experiments that could gently be described as “trial and error” — they are killed over and over again and reprinted in a machine that can duplicate the original person’s memories. Scientists expose the various Mickeys to viruses, radiation, and other grisly ways to die. After Mickey 17, the 17th printing of Barnes, is left to freeze to death, the colony’s scientists print Barnes’ 18th iteration. But a group of bug-like aliens nicknamed “creepers” save Mickey 17’s life, leaving two Mickeys — who don’t like each other — wandering the colony’s spaceship. 

Pattinson is the movie’s greatest strength. He plays against type, adopting a nasally, higher-pitched voice for Mickey 17 and leaning into 17’s bumbling naiveté. And he, of course, also plays Mickey 18, an aggressive and surly version of Barnes more similar to Pattinson’s other roles. He’s always interesting and funny enough to make the movie’s slightly overlong runtime not feel like a slog. Pattinson understands the kind of humor the movie should be going for, not just verbally but also in his physical comedy, especially in a darkly funny scene at dinner with Marshall. Moments in the film stand alongside Bong’s best satirical work, and it’s in no small part thanks to Pattinson.

The cinematography and production design are high-quality, as well, with the film carving out its own visual space in the sci-fi pantheon. It has a genuinely unique look to it — not quite cartoonish, but not hyper-realistic, either. 

But the movie as a whole feels a bit like it’s been printed, killed, and printed again. The film’s production was fraught, being delayed multiple times due to a long editing process, and it shows. The first half of the film incorporates a voiceover narration that abruptly stops later in the movie. The always-stellar Steven Yeun plays Barnes’ “best friend,” but he is noticeably underused, only appearing in a few scenes. It feels like there’s maybe another version of the movie where Yeun’s character had a more prominent role, but it’s not this one. The film even shifts its thematic focus midway through the movie. 

The questions raised by the first half of the film are genuinely interesting. Bong explores thorny ideas about death, personhood and human dignity, with Barnes wrestling with whether every clone is still “himself” or someone else entirely. Is killing an expendable murder? Does Barnes actually “die” if he will always be reprinted? These questions are fascinating, and they aren’t wholly neglected in the second half of the film, but they are certainly sidelined in a strange thematic pivot. 

In the second half, Bong picks up his megaphone. He uses Marshall to make a satirical point about dictators, with Ruffalo doing an unfunny, one-note Trump impression that is exhausting by the end of the movie. “Mickey 17” isn’t saying anything particularly profound about the political realm, so it’s a shame that Bong ignored his most interesting ideas from the first half. The very end of the film seems to remember the movie’s initial cloning premise, but it’s too little too late. It comes after a long detour with the creepers in a bombastic action sequence. Bong uses this to make a thudding statement about colonization that’s been done better in other films, a disappointing finale given he is usually so adept at making smart, snarky political points. 

“Mickey 17” isn’t terrible, but it maybe should have picked one idea and stuck with it. If Mickey Barnes taught us anything, it’s that more isn’t always better.

The post “Mickey 17” sidelines its most interesting ideas appeared first on Technique.

When Bong Joon Ho has something to say, he likes to say it with a megaphone. 

His 2013 action-dystopia “Snowpiercer” followed the last remnants of humanity on a train separated by class. The lower classes rose up and brutally fought their way to the front of the train to take the locomotive back from their opulent overlords. It didn’t take an English major to understand the movie’s message. 

Bong’s Oscar-winning masterpiece “Parasite” was different. Sure, it still tackled the themes of class struggle, but it did so elegantly, with a sharp wit and a plot that twisted and turned all in service of a singular point. It deserved all the praise it received. 

But with this year’s “Mickey 17,” Bong is back to his old ways. The film, based on the book “Mickey7,” follows a man named Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) as he leaves earth to escape a sadistic loan shark, joining a colony led by the authoritarian politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo). Except, Barnes can only leave earth if he becomes an “expendable.” Expendables are used in risky missions or scientific experiments that could gently be described as “trial and error” — they are killed over and over again and reprinted in a machine that can duplicate the original person’s memories. Scientists expose the various Mickeys to viruses, radiation, and other grisly ways to die. After Mickey 17, the 17th printing of Barnes, is left to freeze to death, the colony’s scientists print Barnes’ 18th iteration. But a group of bug-like aliens nicknamed “creepers” save Mickey 17’s life, leaving two Mickeys — who don’t like each other — wandering the colony’s spaceship. 

Pattinson is the movie’s greatest strength. He plays against type, adopting a nasally, higher-pitched voice for Mickey 17 and leaning into 17’s bumbling naiveté. And he, of course, also plays Mickey 18, an aggressive and surly version of Barnes more similar to Pattinson’s other roles. He’s always interesting and funny enough to make the movie’s slightly overlong runtime not feel like a slog. Pattinson understands the kind of humor the movie should be going for, not just verbally but also in his physical comedy, especially in a darkly funny scene at dinner with Marshall. Moments in the film stand alongside Bong’s best satirical work, and it’s in no small part thanks to Pattinson.

The cinematography and production design are high-quality, as well, with the film carving out its own visual space in the sci-fi pantheon. It has a genuinely unique look to it — not quite cartoonish, but not hyper-realistic, either. 

But the movie as a whole feels a bit like it’s been printed, killed, and printed again. The film’s production was fraught, being delayed multiple times due to a long editing process, and it shows. The first half of the film incorporates a voiceover narration that abruptly stops later in the movie. The always-stellar Steven Yeun plays Barnes’ “best friend,” but he is noticeably underused, only appearing in a few scenes. It feels like there’s maybe another version of the movie where Yeun’s character had a more prominent role, but it’s not this one. The film even shifts its thematic focus midway through the movie. 

The questions raised by the first half of the film are genuinely interesting. Bong explores thorny ideas about death, personhood and human dignity, with Barnes wrestling with whether every clone is still “himself” or someone else entirely. Is killing an expendable murder? Does Barnes actually “die” if he will always be reprinted? These questions are fascinating, and they aren’t wholly neglected in the second half of the film, but they are certainly sidelined in a strange thematic pivot. 

In the second half, Bong picks up his megaphone. He uses Marshall to make a satirical point about dictators, with Ruffalo doing an unfunny, one-note Trump impression that is exhausting by the end of the movie. “Mickey 17” isn’t saying anything particularly profound about the political realm, so it’s a shame that Bong ignored his most interesting ideas from the first half. The very end of the film seems to remember the movie’s initial cloning premise, but it’s too little too late. It comes after a long detour with the creepers in a bombastic action sequence. Bong uses this to make a thudding statement about colonization that’s been done better in other films, a disappointing finale given he is usually so adept at making smart, snarky political points. 

“Mickey 17” isn’t terrible, but it maybe should have picked one idea and stuck with it. If Mickey Barnes taught us anything, it’s that more isn’t always better.

The post “Mickey 17” sidelines its most interesting ideas appeared first on Technique.

When Bong Joon Ho has something to say, he likes to say it with a megaphone. 

His 2013 action-dystopia “Snowpiercer” followed the last remnants of humanity on a train separated by class. The lower classes rose up and brutally fought their way to the front of the train to take the locomotive back from their opulent overlords. It didn’t take an English major to understand the movie’s message. 

Bong’s Oscar-winning masterpiece “Parasite” was different. Sure, it still tackled the themes of class struggle, but it did so elegantly, with a sharp wit and a plot that twisted and turned all in service of a singular point. It deserved all the praise it received. 

But with this year’s “Mickey 17,” Bong is back to his old ways. The film, based on the book “Mickey7,” follows a man named Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) as he leaves earth to escape a sadistic loan shark, joining a colony led by the authoritarian politician Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo). Except, Barnes can only leave earth if he becomes an “expendable.” Expendables are used in risky missions or scientific experiments that could gently be described as “trial and error” — they are killed over and over again and reprinted in a machine that can duplicate the original person’s memories. Scientists expose the various Mickeys to viruses, radiation, and other grisly ways to die. After Mickey 17, the 17th printing of Barnes, is left to freeze to death, the colony’s scientists print Barnes’ 18th iteration. But a group of bug-like aliens nicknamed “creepers” save Mickey 17’s life, leaving two Mickeys — who don’t like each other — wandering the colony’s spaceship. 

Pattinson is the movie’s greatest strength. He plays against type, adopting a nasally, higher-pitched voice for Mickey 17 and leaning into 17’s bumbling naiveté. And he, of course, also plays Mickey 18, an aggressive and surly version of Barnes more similar to Pattinson’s other roles. He’s always interesting and funny enough to make the movie’s slightly overlong runtime not feel like a slog. Pattinson understands the kind of humor the movie should be going for, not just verbally but also in his physical comedy, especially in a darkly funny scene at dinner with Marshall. Moments in the film stand alongside Bong’s best satirical work, and it’s in no small part thanks to Pattinson.

The cinematography and production design are high-quality, as well, with the film carving out its own visual space in the sci-fi pantheon. It has a genuinely unique look to it — not quite cartoonish, but not hyper-realistic, either. 

But the movie as a whole feels a bit like it’s been printed, killed, and printed again. The film’s production was fraught, being delayed multiple times due to a long editing process, and it shows. The first half of the film incorporates a voiceover narration that abruptly stops later in the movie. The always-stellar Steven Yeun plays Barnes’ “best friend,” but he is noticeably underused, only appearing in a few scenes. It feels like there’s maybe another version of the movie where Yeun’s character had a more prominent role, but it’s not this one. The film even shifts its thematic focus midway through the movie. 

The questions raised by the first half of the film are genuinely interesting. Bong explores thorny ideas about death, personhood and human dignity, with Barnes wrestling with whether every clone is still “himself” or someone else entirely. Is killing an expendable murder? Does Barnes actually “die” if he will always be reprinted? These questions are fascinating, and they aren’t wholly neglected in the second half of the film, but they are certainly sidelined in a strange thematic pivot. 

In the second half, Bong picks up his megaphone. He uses Marshall to make a satirical point about dictators, with Ruffalo doing an unfunny, one-note Trump impression that is exhausting by the end of the movie. “Mickey 17” isn’t saying anything particularly profound about the political realm, so it’s a shame that Bong ignored his most interesting ideas from the first half. The very end of the film seems to remember the movie’s initial cloning premise, but it’s too little too late. It comes after a long detour with the creepers in a bombastic action sequence. Bong uses this to make a thudding statement about colonization that’s been done better in other films, a disappointing finale given he is usually so adept at making smart, snarky political points. 

“Mickey 17” isn’t terrible, but it maybe should have picked one idea and stuck with it. If Mickey Barnes taught us anything, it’s that more isn’t always better.

The post “Mickey 17” sidelines its most interesting ideas appeared first on Technique.

Editor’s Note: This article has been updated with additional information from Institute Communications and the latest news about SB120. 

On February 25, Student Government Association (SGA) leadership heard about what they thought was a town hall between SGA and members of Georgia Tech’s administration. But when they arrived that evening, over a hundred students packed the Smithgall auditorium, lining the walls and sitting on the aisle stairs. Administration then confirmed the rumor spreading around campus — changes were coming to Tech programs relating to diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), and students wanted to hear how drastic the shift would be.

Tech is the latest institution to have to comply with the flurry of federal directives targeting DEI coming from the Trump administration. 

The Department of Education‘s Office of Civil Rights (OCR) issued a “Dear Colleague Letter” on February 14, setting its policies around DEI initiatives in schools that receive federal funding. The letter is not a legal document, but it does outline OCR’s interpretation of existing law, especially anti-discrimination regulations in the Civil Rights Act and the Supreme Court’s 2023 decision that found affirmative action in admissions to be unconstitutional. 

“Put simply,” the letter says, “educational institutions may neither separate or segregate students based on race, nor distribute benefits or burdens based on race.” Violating these rules puts the entirety of a school’s federal funding on the line, and for Tech, that is over $1 billion. Tech ranks No. 3 for federally funded research in the country. 

“We’re definitely very concerned about federal funding,” Abbigail Tumpey, Vice President of Institute Communications told the Technique. If OCR decides Tech is not following federal law, all that funding could disappear. Tumpey explained that the letter’s two-week compliance deadline and strict enforcement approach were different from other Dear Colleague letters Tech has received. 

Tech’s compliance strategy attempts to balance the functionality of existing programs with an emphasis that these programs are available to all students. According to an email to students from the Vice President for Student Engagement Dr. Luoluo Hong, this involves “restructuring,” which includes establishing a new unit called Belonging and Student Support. Tech’s resource centers, like the LGBTQIA Resource Center, the Women’s Resource Center, and Black Culture, Innovation, and Technology, have moved under the new department. The webpages for the resource centers already redirect to the Belonging & Student Support site, and the physical signs on campus have already been removed. 

“We are going to pivot on our terms,” Dr. Hong said at the Feb. 25 town hall. “The names of departments will be different. We are looking at creating new departments that still support students, so the activities, programs, and events that we offer now are still going to go on.” As of now, all staff will keep their jobs. What restructuring exactly looks like will become more clear in the coming weeks, but, right now, Tech’s programs are undergoing something closer to a rebrand than a loss of services for students. “We believe that if we want to protect the work, we should focus more on the product, the outcome, and serving you, and less on what we call it or how we name it right now,” Dr. Hong said. “If you ask me to pick, I will sacrifice the names… because I want to protect the substantive work.” Tech will continue to evaluate its programs and activities to ensure its compliance with federal and state laws. 

“It’s a disappointing thing to happen but it’s not necessarily the most surprising thing we’ve seen happen,” Kaz Hayes, the president of Pride Alliance, told the Technique about the changes. “I think, from my perspective, it’s very much a time where student [organizations]… are going to have to step up and fill that role that having these centers consolidated is going to leave in our communities.” 

Student groups are protected from the new guidelines under the First Amendment. 

The town hall — and the one two days later — were tense, with interjections from the audience peppering the meeting, and others wanting clarity on Tech’s response to the federal directives. But Hong emphasized that communication with students about this changing landscape would remain one of her top priorities and that the town halls were designed to incorporate feedback before Tech’s compliance deadline of March 1. Another town hall is scheduled for this Monday, March 10.

“It is promising to see Tech students fight for what they believe in,” said Harrison Baro, fourth-year CE and president of Georgia Tech Student Ambassadors.

Although the tense town halls initially elicited student frustration, students redirected their feelings to the agendas of the state and federal governments, which both are considering aggressive anti-DEI policies.

“It’s very good that the administration is creating venues and opportunities for students to show their concern because I think that we need our administration to advocate, especially at a [University System of Georgia] level and a state level, but also at the federal level, for the importance of these measures and how much students care,” Baro said.

Tech administration has said that they believe they are — and were — in full compliance with federal law. But whether OCR and the White House feel the Institute is complying with their directives remains to be seen. The Dear Colleague letter, and a subsequent FAQ about the letter, emphasize that the new guidelines are gunning for more than just the names of programs. 

“Whether a policy or program violates Title VI does not depend on the use of specific terminology such as ‘diversity,’ ‘equity,’ or ‘inclusion,’” OCR’s FAQ said. At the bottom of the Dear Colleague letter, OCR links a form to file complaints against any educational institution someone may feel is violating the new rules. 

“We want to ensure that we provide services for all students without having group designations of people based on certain characteristics,” General Counsel and Vice President for Ethics, Compliance, and Legal Affairs Danette Joslyn-Gaul told the Technique. Any semblance of exclusion of one group of students over another could be seen as not following federal law. 

However, the federal compliance situation may be about to get even more complicated. Reports Thursday say that President Donald Trump is preparing to sign an executive order dissolving the Department of Education, the very department setting the new guidelines. 

The state government initially was another obstacle for Tech programs. The Georgia State Senate drafted SB120, a bill that bans “any programs or activities that advocate for diversity, equity, and inclusion.” But the bill didn’t make it past Crossover Day—the last day for a bill to move from one chamber of the General Assembly to the other—on Thursday, effectively killing the bill. Several Tech students protested against the bill the same day. 

As of now, the substance of the Institute’s programs will remain the same. “You’ll walk into the places and spaces and see the same staff, fellow students, and faculty that you’ve always seen, and that will not change,” Dr. Hong said. “We will continue to be here for you as we have been.” 

The question now is whether that will be the new status quo, or if this is just the beginning of a much larger transformation on campuses across the country.

“Students are nervous about if this is what’s happening now, a little over a month into the administration,” Baro said, “What’s gonna happen in six months?”

The post Tech restructures resource centers appeared first on Technique.

In “A Complete Unknown,” Bob Dylan’s story is retold with the hushed reverence of a Christmas sermon — the savior of music coming to set the world right again. It’s no wonder the movie releases December 25th.

It would be hard to make a film about Bob Dylan with any other tone. Dylan, born Robert Zimmerman, was the biggest propagator of his own legend. He didn’t want his songs to just speak for themselves — he wanted them to be the only voice in the room. He changed his name, wove a dubious backstory, and stiff-armed anyone who came close to learning who Bob Dylan the man really was. He was a mystery — a complete unknown. 

“Are you God, Bob?” Sylvie Russo, Dylan’s girlfriend, sarcastically asks him at one point in the film. “How many times do I have to say this?” Dylan wryly jokes. “Yes.” 

With Dylan’s mythology being what it is, letting an artist tell this story was always going to feel like letting a pastor direct a film about Jesus. Creatives hold a reverence for Dylan that it would be difficult to distance themselves from — and director James Mangold doesn’t really try. He’s hyper-focused on Dylan’s mythos rather than what made the songwriter tick. It’s an interesting angle that ends up making this biopic feel more like the Gospel of Bob and less like an exploration of a real person — in both good ways and bad. But it effectively captures what shot Dylan to his now-legendary status in the first place, while gently poking holes in the tale.

The movie opens quietly, with Dylan meeting his hero, folk-singer Woody Guthrie, in the hospital. Dylan doesn’t say much, but he plays “Song to Woody” for Guthrie and fellow folk artist Pete Seeger. It is one of the only times we see Bob have the awe and wonder for someone else that the rest of the world would eventually have for him, and it is an inspired way to begin the film. It’s a glimpse at something true about Dylan’s inner life, something we and the characters in the film never really see again outside of his music. It humanizes Dylan before we are whisked away into the story of his messianic rise. 

The plot is fairly paint-by-numbers for anyone who has even a cursory knowledge of Dylan’s early career. He arrives at the epicenter of the folk music scene, Greenwich Village, with just a guitar on his back, quickly falls into music stardom, and later shocks the world by playing his new, electric guitar-driven music at the Newport Folk Festival to the outrage of his folk-loving fans. 

Mangold dodges exploring who Bob Dylan is beneath his mysterious facade. So he falls back on the next best thing — asking how Dylan’s slippery, enigmatic personality affects everyone around him. The approach, at its worst, is a cop-out from a more interesting character study. But, at its best, it’s quite entertaining and an effective vehicle to explore the power of Dylan’s music. 

Just being close to Dylan’s talent is intoxicating to those in his orbit, and Mangold is sure to include plenty of shots of a disinterested Dylan surrounded by starstruck friends. The film clearly finds Dylan’s unrivaled creativity and stubborn aloofness as two sides of the same coin, but it doesn’t whitewash how Dylan’s self-absorption hurts his closest relationships. No one leaves Dylan’s inner circle unscathed. Mangold doesn’t focus on their pain, but he still lets these moments act as counterpoints to the fawning adoration that dominates the film’s runtime.

The movie works mostly, though, because of the strength of its performances. Timothée Chalamet portrays Dylan well, especially any time he is behind a microphone. He doesn’t just sound like Dylan — he captures the magic behind Dylan’s lyrics. Mangold knows what he has in Chalamet, and he lets the “Dune” actor’s musical moments breathe rather than rushing to Dylan’s next hit.

The supporting cast is mostly excellent, as well. Edward Norton shines as Pete Seeger, especially in a scene just before the infamous Newport Folk Festival where he implores Dylan to just play his old folk songs. Norton’s barely contained angst contrasted with Chalamet’s bitter indifference is electric. No one is nakedly grasping for an Oscar, a refreshing change of pace from recent biopics, and they sell the pair’s competing interests with a complexity that isn’t necessarily found in the script.

Sylvie Russo, Dylan’s girlfriend played by Elle Fanning, suffers more from what’s not on the page. Fanning does what she can, but Russo doesn’t have much more to do than pine after Dylan. 

Chalamet has the most chemistry with Monica Barbaro, who plays folk-singer Joan Baez. More than anyone else, Baez gets close to understanding Dylan beneath his persona — “You are so completely full of shit,” she tells him after he spins her a tale about working at a carnival — but she also feels frustratingly locked out of Dylan’s personal life. The script just skims the surface of the pair’s relationship, but the two actors give strong enough performances that it is easy to overlook the lack of depth. 

Mangold’s best choice is making Bob Dylan’s music the real star of the movie. His lyrics are just as magnificent and emotionally resonant as they always have been, and Mangold lingers on the musical performances. “Bob Dylan’s music is really the music of life,” Chalamet said in a Q&A in Atlanta. As flawed as “A Complete Unknown” might be, when it acknowledges the power of Dylan’s songs, it feels like a myth worth retelling. 

The post “A Complete Unknown” tells its own Christmas story appeared first on Technique.

There was a curious buzz around campus with the arrival of Gov. Tim Walz on Sept. 17. Students flocked to the John Lewis Student Center and Rocky Mountain Pizza to see the Democratic vice presidential nominee, albeit with a different energy than they would likely have in most election years. After Biden’s last-minute departure from the presidential race, the overwhelming question — although still paired with a visceral excitement — about Vice President Kamala Harris and her VP pick is, “Who are they?” 

“I think the campaign as a whole is trying to connect to young people,” Aarington Brown, 2nd year PUBP who waited for Walz at the student center, told the Technique. When asked how well Walz is building that connection with young voters, Olivia Kawala, 2nd year CS, reserved judgment. “I have to see more because of how recent Kamala running and everything is,” she said. 

But young people certainly were the focus for the nominee’s Atlanta visit. After stepping onto the Hartsfield-Jackson airport tarmac and entering his motorcade — without speaking to press, something opponents have criticized at various campaign stops — he visited both Georgia Tech and Atlanta University Center students before leaving the city to head to North Carolina. It was only one day after Republican vice presidential nominee JD Vance spoke to the Faith and Freedom Coalition, a Christian organization that seeks to influence public policy.   

Walz’s first stop was a packed John Lewis Student Center, where he toured Burdells with Audrey Zeff, 2nd year EIA and president of the GT College Democrats, and Sam Bolton, 3rd year BA and president of the Organization for Student Activism at GT. 

“One of the great privileges of my life — I served with John Lewis,” Walz told the two students. “For me, it feels special to be in here. I miss him. Especially at a time when it seems like things are chaotic, John was like a rock in the middle of a storm.” 

He asked Bolton what is compelling students to vote for Harris. “We basically just talked about how important it is that he is fighting for what people need, fighting for the right for people to live in peace and keep their rights intact no matter who they are, which is really just what we need right now,” Bolton told the Technique. 

For Harris and Walz, Georgia is a pivotal battleground state that the campaign is hoping could, after a narrow Biden win in 2020, go to the Democrats again in 2024. With barely more than a month before the election, the state looks almost like a tossup — a far cry from earlier this year where former President Donald Trump pulled ahead of Biden by five points. Harris currently trails Trump by less than a percentage point. 

“This is going to be so razor close, it is not out of the realm to think folks in here getting five more groups of folks to get five more groups of folks — that this presidential election could run through Rocky Mountain Pizza,” Walz said to an intimate gathering of a few dozen Tech students at the pizza joint right off campus. 

The group at Rocky Mountain erupted in applause when the vice presidential nominee — that they affectionately referred to as “Coach Walz” — arrived. “To each of you, as an American, thank you for believing in our democracy,” Walz said. “For believing that our politics can be something bigger, it can be something more positive, it can be something that all of us can be proud to be a part of.” He repeatedly emphasized the positivity and “joy” that the campaign has been using as a foil to Trump and Vance’s more ominous messages about the end of America. 

“This pessimism in our electoral system — this has not always been there,” Walz said. “And it’s really really scary.” Several times, Walz reminded students how many of the country’s current problems did not exist in decades past. “There had been joy in this. And we had watched people shake hands, and then they worked together for a common good.” It felt like a throwback to a kind of politics that died in 2016. “The policies we’re advocating for are the policies that help those folks who are actually going to vote against us. And that’s ok with me,” he said.

But he held that sense of nostalgia in tension with some of his more progressive policy goals and a campaign slogan of “We’re not going back.” While at times he appealed more to centrism and unity, at others, he outlined more left-wing changes a Harris administration could bring, mentioning proposed changes regarding reproductive rights, student loan debt cancellation, climate change, and Harris’ “opportunity economy.” If students were looking to hear moderate, “return to normalcy” rhetoric, they could. And if they were looking for signals that a Harris administration would be more progressive than the Biden presidency, they could find that, too. At times, Walz even sounded libertarian, centering his talk around freedom. “Things work best if people just remember that Golden Rule, ‘Mind your own damn business,’” Walz said. 

“Just based on talking to him, based on meeting his daughter, just seeing him as a human being, I’m like, I think he does care and does have very strong, probably more liberal — I don’t want to say extreme — but less moderate opinions. But I think for this campaign, I do think it is a relatively moderate appeal,” Bolton said about Walz’s positions. 

The Tech students in attendance received him enthusiastically. Harrison Baro, 4th year ENVE, described Walz as “very endearing and very captivating.” 

Walz’s speech was similar when talking to students at the Atlanta University Center, which has Clark Atlanta University, Morehouse College, Morehouse School of Medicine and Spelman College as member institutions. He did emphasize voting accessibility more than at Georgia Tech. “You need to get yourself a governor who believes in voting,” he told the audience to applause.

After talking with the attendees, Walz left for the airport to fly to North Carolina. With 39 days until what will likely be the closest election in years, Harris, Walz, Trump and Vance are working overtime to win over undecided voters and increase base turnout. And Walz isn’t planning on lowering the campaign’s intensity in the home stretch. As he told his supporters at Tech, “Sleep when we’re dead. All gas, no brake.”

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