The Curran parking deck is a foreboding presence on West Campus.

Located conveniently behind West Village, the parking deck has no shortage of prey.

Any unassuming student will click the checkbox beside Zone W30 and marvel at the convenience of such a parking deck.

They might think to themselves, “It’s the perfect parking zone! An easy walk from my dorm and a covered deck too!”

But I’m here to warn you about the truth.

For those of you especially bad at parking, I urge you to heed my advice well.

As someone who has been holding on to her Class C license for just over a year, I’m not the best driver. I’ve driven over my fair share of curbs and hit a few parking blocks in my day.

My ability to parallel park is comparable to my ability to pass a linear algebra exam (spoiler: it’s very low).

On top of my minimal driving experience, I have only had three months of driving behind the wheel of my new car.

Curran is unforgiving to someone like me.

If you’ve never plunged into the belly of the beast, Curran is a three level parking deck with visitor roof parking.

The stairwells located at the two entrances of the deck are the single leading cause of lung cancer on our smoke-free campus.

As you descend into its depths, the deck becomes a darker, quieter and all around scarier place. It is for this reason I recommend that anyone who chooses to take on Curran enter into the abyss.

Eerie places scare people away, making the real estate on the bottom level a gold mine.

However, I, too, was once afraid of what lurked on the bottom level.

That mistake is what led me down an even darker path.

Every three spots of Curran has a cement pillar that slightly edges into the parking spots beside it.

Thus, everyone who parks there wants a middle spot.

My initial encounter with one of these pillars happened a few weeks after classes began.

I scraped the side of my right mirror – nothing too drastic – but I was heartbroken. Scratching a new car is a difficult burden to bear.

I started to turn my mirrors in when I parked.

Then came the next incident. Far worse than the first, I scraped my car’s front bumper on another pillar and chipped off some paint.

I didn’t want to do anything afterwards besides wallow in self-pity and think about all the mistakes I’d made that had led me to that moment.

It took me a while to work up the courage to park confidently again.

Over the course of the following week, I would pull in and back out of spots like I had never parked before.

I panicked at the thought of even entering the parking deck.

I learned not to park on the north end of the upper level; that’s where the wider pillars lay in wait for their next target.

My fears started to wane. Then the parking deck’s dreaded pillars struck again.

My confidence shattered again when I tried to park in the very first space in Curran, right by the motorcycle parking area.

I pulled into the space and heard the familiar screech as my right mirror hit the pillar.

The back of my mirror popped off, and in a frantic attempt to reverse from the space, the side door hit the pillar as well.

I shamefully got out to retrieve the back of my mirror and zoomed off to another spot.

I still don’t think I’ve recovered from that one.

It was that incident that led me to the bottom of the parking deck, where the spaces are plentiful and the atmosphere is disquieting.

I try to stay calm though — panicking can make things much worse.

Now, it’s easy to blame the parking deck.

Curran has tight spaces and large pillars, and that’s the way it has always been.

However, I am as much to blame as the unrelenting monster that is Curran.

I am inexperienced. I can be a little too confident and a little too panicked at times when it comes to driving, and it was these faults that led me to the mistakes I made.

A few scratches and scrapes for these lessons were beneficial in the end. This does not mean I forgive the parking deck for the trauma it has caused me, nor do I suggest any other bad driver attempt to take on Curran in hopes of learning some life lessons themselves.

For those that remain in its clutches, I hope that you escape from Curran unscathed.

And for you architecture majors out there, take this as a lesson on the emotional toll of bad design.

Our Take: 5/5 Stars

“Squid Game” has become Netflix’s most popular non-English language series in the world. The South Korean thriller debuted on Sept. 17 and has spread its tentacles across the globe, sitting at No. 1 show on Netflix in 90 different countries and on track to becoming the most-watched series ever on the streaming platform.

The K-drama follows a group of 456 contestants who choose to compete in a tournament of Korean children’s games in hopes of winning 45.6 billion Korean won (39 million USD) and starting their lives over, free of debt.

It is easy to get attached to the contestants as their rich backstories unfold on screen. Oh Il-nam (Oh Young-soon, “Queen Seon Duk”) is an old man with a brain tumor and nothing left to lose. Cho Sang-woo (Park Hae-soo, “Prison Playbook”) is a graduate of Seoul National University and the pride of his hometown who is on the run for stealing money from business clients. Kang Sae-byeok (Jung Ho-yeon) is a North Korean defector on a mission to reunite her family.

In the middle of it all is Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae, “Operation Chromite”), who is not easy to root for at first. His gambling habit, poor treatment of his mother and inability to care for his daughter make his character unappealing and his situation dreary. Time and time again, his self-defeating actions let viewers down. However, the tournament reveals Gi-hun’s kind heart.

Gi-hun awakens at a mysterious venue along with the 455 other players, all in dire financial situations and tantalized by the cash prize. Placed in a life-or-death situation, the audience becomes invested in seeing Gi-hun succeed as he tries to maintain his humanity in an inhumane tournament that encourages a “win-at-all-costs” attitude.

The players quickly find out that losing any of the games has deadly consequences, yet they still choose to risk their lives in the games rather than return to their harsh realities.

“Squid Game” turns desperation into a blood sport. The stakes of the outside world are as severe as the ones in the games. Throughout the tournament, the masked game controllers keep viewers guessing about what is in store next, but the true villains of the series are the inequality and class anxiety that brings the contestants to gamble their lives for the sake of escaping financial ruin.

“Squid Game” emphasizes the idea that no one is inherently good or bad. The contestants of the games have their faults, yet their situations make their actions relatable to audiences across the globe. The series draws viewers in with meticulously crafted scenes aimed to keep the audience at the edge of their seats. Each well-paced episode ends with a cliffhanger, making “Squid Game” easy to binge. A notable tug of war scene pulls viewers in only to leave them hanging as Gi-hun and his team step forward towards almost certain death.

Each game takes place in a nostalgic childhood-like setting with a deadly twist, and the music is hauntingly appropriate, switching between classical, jazz and traditional grim themes that add to the thrilling narrative. Along with immersive cinematography and exhilarating fight sequences, the series keeps viewers hooked.

The language barrier has not stopped the show from climbing to the top. Its popularity around the world can be attributed to its suspenseful storyline and the well-crafted cinematography, sets, score and cast.

However, it is important to note that “Squid Game” allegorically reflects capitalist society. The audience can sympathize with characters because, in the end, their motivation to gain financial security is something viewers around the globe can relate to no matter their background. This underlying theme is what makes the drama so compelling as it adds to the relatable nature of the show.

“Squid Game” most certainly lives up to its global popularity. The show takes a simple concept and artfully turns it into a deeper reflection of today’s society, making the K-drama a must-watch.

Regrettably, being the first name to appear in Buzzfeed’s “7 Struggles of Having A Common Name” does not bode well for a child in a world bent on uniqueness.

In 2002, the name “Sarah” ranked eighth most popular baby name in the United States. Needless to say, I expect to be one of many every time I walk into a room. Part of my identity is the fact that I am part of a group bearing the same name as my own.

Typically, names can provide a hint about who we are, potentially revealing our age, religion, or ethnicity, and even our socioeconomic status and political affiliations. However, common names like “Sarah” give little away. Many classic names like “Sarah” have Biblical roots and tend to transcend age, religion, and ethnicity. You are just as likely to find an elderly John and Asian David as you are to meet a young Mary or Black Michael.

Classic names also ensure that children do not have to face the enduring hardship of mispronunciation. My parents named my older brother “Haris.” More people pronounce it wrong than they do right.

My parents learned their lesson once my sister and I came along. Many immigrants find it advantageous to choose popular American names for their children. Common names are a way to avoid cultural stereotypes and discrimination.

Still, common names can also be tied to cultural expectations about how a person should look or what a person should act like as well. With the name “Sarah Miller,” I would expect myself to be a middle-aged, white, Christian woman. Such an image is a bias rooted in language and culture and is not an entirely unfair assumption in those regards.

Even so, how can I own and treasure a name that bears little resemblance to who I am?

Of course, there are some advantages of having the name “Sarah Miller” — a 2016 research study from the American Psychological Association illustrated that there is a strong correlation between having a traditional American name and a person’s likeability and occupational success.

It is with this in mind that I try not to think that the grass is greener on the other side. An uncommon foreign name can be saddled to unwanted bias and discrimination. It is easy to look at a unique name from the other side and forget about its disadvantages.

On the other hand, a foreign name also immediately signifies a difference in background, upbringing, and experiences (particularly names of a specific origin, as opposed to unique names created for the sake of uniqueness).

When someone’s name is traditionally American, it becomes harder for them to attach themselves to the culture and background of their families.

However, your name says more about your parents than it says about you. Immigrant parents want their children to be accepted by their peers and assimilate into American culture.

Unfortunately, the dreams of parents can be the burdens of their children. In a society where people spend a lot of time trying to prove they are unique, it is hard to be satisfied fitting in.

Nevertheless, parents only want what is best for their children. With a name like mine and me being multiracial, I have rarely faced the hardships of being from an immigrant family. If nothing else, I can be grateful for that.

But it is important to remember that a name is just a label.

No matter how common or unique a name may be, it never represents a person as they truly are. It is not a name that makes a person, but a person that makes a name, after all.

Who is allowed to buy and sell secondhand items in a world that produces too many clothes?

Buying second hand allows consumers to find one-of-a-kind pieces for low prices and consume an ethical and sustainable alternative to fast fashion.

For those buyers unwilling to wade through worn clothes in hopes of a find can fork over cash for pre-curated secondhand clothing online.

While online stores have marked-up prices, these prices reflect the labor that goes into preparing an item to be marketed and sold online.

Hypothetically, platforms like Depop, Poshmark, and Mercaris have made second hand buying and reselling more accessible, especially with the decline of in-person shopping due to the pandemic.

However, critics claim that the thrift and resell business model is unethical because it gentrifies thrift stores.

The general consensus is that when resellers and bulk buyers purchase items they do not personally need to be sold online, they inadvertently raise the prices of thrifted goods. This could result in low-income shoppers being priced out of thrift stores in their areas.

This concern is valid in theory but not quite valid in practice. In the United States, of the unsold clothes that wind up in second hand stores, around 85% are shipped to landfills annually. The rest are sent to the international resale market or recycled in textile factories.

It is apparent that companies like Goodwill have no shortage of inventory and by extension, no reason to raise their prices based on the law of supply and demand.

As demand increases, the supply is so large that it is impossible to deplete completely.

It is far more likely that price increases are attributed to estimated guidelines for valuation prices for donors to claim charitable deduction to the IRS.

However, the question remains — whether reselling thrifted clothing items for higher prices is unethical.

The answer lies in the value of such items. Secondhand clothing has become coveted as online stores sanitize and glamorize thrifted clothing.

Unfortunately, the transformation of secondhand clothing into a trend is a process defined by class and privilege.

The “Depop reseller” evokes a stereotype of a conventionally attractive, slim, teenage girl running a small business to cultivate her brand. On TikTok, she is the epitome of cool for today’s youth and as a result, a trend is born.

However, when well-off teens and young adults thrift and resell out of trendiness, they create social barriers to accessing quality clothing at thrift store prices.

Those who shop out of necessity still want to be socially included and accepted – when trendy clothes are bought up or their prices are inflated online, they become inaccessible to low-income individuals.

On the other hand, the idea that those who can accommodate the higher prices of the fashion industry should do so is an inherent issue with the criticisms of thrifting.

The idea that used items should serve the poor alone has long been drilled into Americans even as thrift stores barely sell most of the products they receive. Shopping second hand is a public good, and the idea that clothing donations should exclusively serve communities in need is a capitalist ideal.

While more constructive conversations are necessary about the social implications of reselling and overconsumption, people should not shy away from thrifting.

It is important that we have an intersectional view and check our privilege when looking at issues like the gentrification of thrifting because it is a problem that involves race, class, gender, sexuality, and ability.

Our Take: 4 Stars

The Netflix documentary “Operation Varsity Blues: The College Admissions Scandal” dives into the life of Rick Singer, the man who orchestrated the largest college admission scandal in U.S. history.

Many viewers learned of the shocking scandal first-hand as the case unfolded the spring of 2019. Details emerged about the wealthy families who had paid off colleges to ensure their children would have guaranteed entry into top schools. The media latched on to the racketeering conspiracy as fifty people were indicted for mail and wire fraud, including big celebrities like Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman.

However, the celebrities involved were minor players in the larger scheme that is examined in “Operation Varsity Blues.”

Anyone hoping to watch the demise of Singer’s wealthy clients may be disappointed. Many celebrities that appeared in the documentary acted as vehicles for the machinations of Rick Singer, though most others were wholly left out.

“Operation Varsity Blues” is less the story of the scandal itself, but of the mastermind behind it and the system he exploited.

Rick Singer, the enigmatic college admissions advisor who convinced parents that the only guarantee for admittance into college was through money and connections, is made the star of the documentary. Singer exploited the “side doors” of the American college admissions system to guarantee wealthy families’ children admission into prestigious colleges. These “side doors” really meant paying off colleges to accept students as falsified recruits for “niche sports” that were underfunded and receive little coverage.

Singer sold his strategy by claiming that the “back door” option into college meant making millions in donations to schools like Georgetown, Boston College, USC, UCLA, Berkeley and even Tech.

Comparatively, Singer’s company provided foolproof entry into these colleges for a fraction of the “back door” price. He preyed on wealthy families who wanted to solidify their social status by sending their children to the best schools, and convinced parents that paying one’s way into college was a common and necessary practice. As college counselor Perry Kalmus said in the documentary, “the parents are applying to college and the kid is the vehicle through which they apply.”

Olivia Jade, daughter of Lori Loughlin, is highlighted as one of the students who is entangled in the scam. Despite her countless influencer vlogs revealing her hatred for school, Oliva was admitted into USC with ease.The documentary contrasts Olivia’s admission into USC with other students’ rejection videos, emphasizing the unfairness of being born into a world of privilege.

Singer’s scheme is unraveled by the revelation of Olivia’s admittance, and his demise quickly follows.

The rise and fall of Rick Singer makes for a thrilling contextualization of the scandal that Netflix was quick to capitalize on.

“Operation Varsity Blues” is on par for a standard Netflix true crime doc.

The drone shots and ominous score are paired with re-enactments of wiretapped phone calls and traditional interview segments to transport viewers to the world of Rick Singer.

Singer, portrayed by Matthew Modine (“Stranger Things”) in re-enactments of his wire-tapped conversations, is presented as an incredible salesman able to goad parents into thinking their children would have no chance of getting into college without cheating the system.

What the documentary uncovers from analyzing the investigation of the scandal is that the capitalist nature of educational institutions and the desire for faux prestige spills over into college admissions.

The unsatisfying conclusion to the documentary leaves viewers with one frustrating truth — the wealthy parents did not pay for the consequences of their actions.

Was a few months in jail and five-figure fines enough to change the lifestyle of the privileged?

Unfortunately, the scandal was purely a result of the rich possessing the money to buy their way into an already corrupt system. As the documentary puts it, the scandal was as much the fault of the wealthy using money to have their way as it was the colleges themselves for allowing “side doors” to exist in the first place.

In the end, Rick Singer is as much an enigma to the audience at the conclusion of the documentary as the beginning. While he remained at the heart of the scandal, his motives to exploit the college admission system remains unclear.

Whatever his reasons, Singer made promises he could not keep. “Operation Varsity Blues” reveals the darker side of the college admissions process, and the idea that anyone can get into college if they work hard — or if they have enough money.

Our Take: 3.5 Stars

Adam Sandler is back just in time for Halloween with his new movie “Hubie Halloween.” With a mysterious kidnapper on the loose, Hubie Dubois (Adam Sandler, “Happy Gilmore”) must find the culprit before the entire town falls victim to their schemes. The film is set in a quaint New England town with a less-than-quaint past — Salem, Massachusetts.

Hubie Dubois is a standard variation of the classic Adam Sandler persona. A kindhearted scaredy-cat who lives with his mother (June Squibb, “Nebraska”), Hubie spends the movie pining after Violet Valentine (Julie Bowen, “Modern Family”), his long-time crush.

To top it off, Hubie’s naiveté and ridiculous accent are typical of any Sandler character.

Hubie’s eccentric and busybody nature, makes him the target of countless practical jokes by the citizens of Salem, despite his good intentions.

This teasing only adds to his innocence and immediately sets him up as the underdog in the story.

Hubie is an easy target for bullies due to his gullibility, yet maintains his desire to help others regardless.

So much so, that Hubie anoints himself the “Official Halloween Helper” of Salem to ensure children stay safe during the holiday.

However, his plans to curb the holiday chaos are met with fierce resistance as constant torment from the townspeople, the escape of a mental patient (Rob Schneider, “Rob”) from a nearby asylum and the arrival of a new neighbor (Steve Buscemi, “The King of Staten Island”) who acts suspiciously like a werewolf are thrown into the mix.

Armed only with his multi-tool thermos, Hubie is led on a goosechase across town in an attempt to solve the mystery behind the disappearing people.

Meanwhile, the rest of the town is absorbed in the spirit of Halloween, making the situation all the more dire.

However, the mystery is intertwined with Sandler’s usual blatant humor to ease viewers away from the looming threat in town.

Hubie’s love of Halloween, paired with his incurable fear of the smallest frights, result in an abundance of screaming from Hubie’s character that adds little to the comedy but solidifies his role as an easily-scared manchild.

The jokes are juvenile and comically bad, but that is to be expected when it comes to an Adam Sandler film.

Sandler brings together his usual cast in this Halloween comedy. Kevin James (“The King of Queens”), Kenan Thompson (“Trolls World Tour”), Maya Rudolph (“Forever”) and many routine Sandler collaborators return for another film.

A new face in the Sandler-universe, Shaquille O’Neal, makes a special appearance as DJ Aurora.

While the tricks are never-ending, the movie ends with a treat as the townspeople look inwards.

The townspeople end up realizing that their pranks on Hubie were stemming from their own personal anguish.

The feel-good ending is predictable but welcome as Hubie saves the town, earns the respect of its citizens and of course gets the girl.

“Hubie Halloween” may not be a masterpiece but it is certainly a fun and festive watch.

Enola Holmes’ sleuthing skills rival those of her brother’s in the new movie “Enola Holmes.” As the younger sister of the infamous Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill, “The Witcher”), Enola Holmes (Millie Bobby Brown, “Stranger Things’’) possesses the same inquisitive mind as her brother. However, the intelligence and insight that empower Sherlock are defiant traits in Enola.

Luckily, Enola intends to prove to the world that she does not have to conform to what society expects her to be in order to thrive.

The movie is centered around the disappearance of Enola’s mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter, “Fight Club”), which sparks a chain of events that culminate in Enola using her powers of deduction for good. The adventure takes place across London during the suffrage movement, which is fitting given Enola’s own battle with her brothers for freedom.

The movie begins with Eudoria’s disappearance, which prompts the arrival of Enola’s brothers Mycroft (Sam Claflin, “The Hunger Games: Catching Fire”) and Sherlock. Mycroft’s blatant disapproval of Enola’s upbringing is evident when he attempts to send Enola to finishing school so she can learn to become a proper lady. The conflict between Mycroft and Enola is the true central conflict of the movie: the liberation of women in a patriarchal society.

Along this theme, Enola believes there is more to her mother’s disappearance than meets the eye, and intends to find out what is really going on using her skills of observation, recollection, and deduction, which rival those of Sherlock. She sneaks away from her brothers with the intention of making her own way in the world.

On her journey to London, Enola stumbles upon her first case: the runaway Viscount Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge, “Paddington 2”), who has an assassin hot on his trail. While she initially declines to help the Viscount to focus on her mother’s disappearance, she soon realizes the dangers he faces after being caught by the assassin herself.

Like Enola, the Viscount is running from the path his family wants him to follow. His own destiny lies in the battle between the traditionalists and progressives, which makes its way to the forefront of Enola’s hunt as the Reform Bill looms over England.

While one might expect that Sherlock will assist Enola on her quest, his role in the movie is that of a bystander. He never commits to helping her nor finding their mother, and instead watches along with the viewer as the story unfolds before him.

Sherlock’s ignorance of politics and social niceties is an interesting idea that is brought forth as he finds himself in the middle of the suffrage movement.

Edith (Susan Wokoma, “Crazyhead”), a suffragette who works with Eudoria, tells Sherlock, “Politics doesn’t interest you because you have no interest in changing a world that suits you so well.” This line is poignant and meaningful coming from a woman of color, and brings “Enola Holmes” into the 21st century.

The enduring family-friendly nature of the film alongside its more mature themes adds a light and humorous charm to the difficult task Enola must undertake. Enola maintains an inspiring confidence and maturity as she discovers the world, yet her playfulness conveys that she is still a kid at heart.

Despite its inspiring nature, Enola Holmes falls short of a true mystery movie. Enola’s search for both her mother and the mastermind intent on killing Viscount Tewkesbury leaves her juggling between two cases, with little time for either to develop fully.

Furthermore, Enola breaks the fourth wall often during the movie.

What starts out as an interesting aside to the viewers quickly becomes an unnecessary break during interesting and action-packed scenes.

The new perspective Enola brings to the table makes for an interesting movie, but it is nowhere near the intense mysteries of Sherlock Holmes. However, what the movie lacks in story development, it makes up for in a few key scenes that make the viewer root for Enola and what she stands for.

Our Take: Five Stars

“Punching the Air” is a masterfully written story of a boy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A collaboration between award-winning author Ibi Zoboi (“American Street”) and Exonerated Five (formerly the Central Park Five) member Yusef Salaam, the novel emphasizes an essential message about racial injustice and dehumanization.

The story is told from the perspective of Amal, a sixteen-year-old artist who is a victim of gentrification. His wrongful incarceration, paired with his aspirations as an artist, make for a heart-wrenching tale about the disenfranchisement of black men within the prison system.

Recounted through first-person verse narration, Amal’s raw anger, fear and hope are evident in the poetic and lyrical nature of the work. The story is saturated with metaphors and sensory language that establish both the hopelessness of Amal’s situation and his resilience.

Despite being trapped in a system meant to strip him of his individuality, Amal maintains his humanity by finding refuge in his art.

He turns to poetry, painting and any form of creativity that allows him to escape the confines that the world tries to put him in. By using his art as an outlet for his struggle, he fights back against the creativity of racism.

The contrast between the freedom of art and the confinement of incarceration is a significant message in the novel because it illustrates how maintaining one’s freedom and individualism requires that one never give up on their hopes and dreams.

In laying bare his truths through art, readers connect with Amal on a deeper level and understand the terror he feels within the prison system’s hands. Despite his powerlessness, Amal’s hope for a brighter future leaves readers with a subtle sense of optimism. This hope is one derived from anger and knowledge of injustice, and one that promises change.

The novel is based on the experiences of co-author Salaam, who, as a member of the Exonerated Five, experienced the hardships of the prison system for six years after being wrongfully convicted in the Central Park Jogger case.

While the story is not a memoir, Amal’s character and situation is heavily based on Salaam’s personal struggle as an incarcerated yet artistically-gifted teen. The fact that some of the poetry in “Punching the Air” was written by Salaam while in prison solidifies the truth of the story as a reflection of society today.

The sobering message of the novel highlights the pervasiveness of institutional racism and the continued mass incarceration of black men.

“Punching the Air” ensures that readers understand that the American prison system is simply a new form of enslavement for black Americans and should be understood as such.

Amal’s promising future is thrown away the minute he throws a punch. The novel discusses the butterfly effect as a way of clarifying that Amal’s situation is a result of decades of institutional racism and the school-to-prison pipeline.

The novel provokes readers to understand that the world we live in is unjust, and that Amal’s experience is not isolated, but rather a tiny fraction of the institutional racism that has remained in our country since its creation.

“Punching the Air” explores what it means to be angry, to be loved and, most significantly, to be black in America.

Readers are put in the shoes of Amal, who is representative of every young black man who is sent to prison.

The work is a vivid recreation of the life of a black American in the prison system. Ultimately, “Punching the Air” peels back the desensitization that shrouds the American prison system and reveals the truth about what it means to be stripped of one’s humanity, making readers question the justice system of America itself.

Our Take: 3 Stars

The new Netflix original movie “Project Power” follows the adventure of a police officer, a drug dealer and a former soldier as they team up to take down the group responsible for the creation of a pill known as Power that grants the user superpowers.

The movie remained in the #1 spot on Netflix’s Daily Top Ten list for movies for thirteen days straight, making it only the second film to maintain the position for more than ten days.

The film highlights themes of familial relationships, duty and the impact of drug trafficking on communities; true to its name, “Project Power” is empowering its viewers, especially in these times of hardship.

“Project Power” is a mixture of genres, an action-packed thriller that combines sci-fi and crime into a familiar superhero movie. The film captures the essence of the action genre with its exhilarating cinematography and classic superhero tropes.

In an interesting twist to the conventional superhero origin story, this movie features superpowers that are obtained by the help of a single pill that grants the user an animal-derived ability for exactly five minutes.

The movie takes place in New Orleans, where a mysterious distributor has offered a group of drug dealers a free supply of the pill to sell on the streets.
This drug becomes the driving force of the movie, as it is pursued by New Orleans Police Department officer Frank Shaver (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, “Inception”), pushed on the streets by Robin (Dominique Fishback, “The Deuce”) and a is source of personal tragedy for Art (Jamie Foxx, “Django Unchained”). ­

Initially, as the drug causes a rise in crime across New Orleans, Frank willingly t­a­kes­­­ Power in order to stop criminals from using it to wreak havoc.

His dealer, Robin, becomes entangled in the distribution of the pill in order to pay for her mother’s medical needs.

Art is introduced as a desperate father in search of his daughter, who has been taken by the mysterious group behind the creation of the drug.

As each of them work their way down the drug chain, they become united by their common goal: to end Project Power once and for all.

The trials each character faces individually parallel their personal motives, but do not necessarily align with the plot.

Robin’s dream to become a rapper is brought up only to be pushed aside by the looming threat of Power, and the many questions that the pill brings up about social and ethical issues and the effects of the drug on the community are ignored in favor of typical action movie drama.

The unique premise of the story is largely diluted by the superhero archetypes and standard action movie tropes that bloat the film.

However, the film is reinvigorated by its cinematography, which transports viewers into a world ­of fast-paced action scenes that are as gripping as they are realistic.

The actors further add to the dramatic thrill that makes the movie so absorbing to watch by fully assuming their roles as the “superheroes” of the story.

Overall, the movie struggles to maintain a strong storyline, but makes up for its flaws by the strength of its action scenes and the actors themselves.

“Project Power” has proven to be popular amongst Netflix viewers because its story provides a new take on the typical superhero origin story. While the movie fails to commit to its unique premise, it is the perfect movie for anyone looking to escape into a world of action and drama.

Our Take: 5/5 Stars

The highly anticipated live-action remake of “Mulan” is a far more mature adaptation than Disney’s beloved 1998 animated film, making it a masterpiece in its own right. Powerful emotional performances and themes of identity, female empowerment, and family devotion do not simply recreate the original but create a new experience. “Mulan” truly leaves viewers on the edge of their seats.

The remake tells a centuries-old Chinese tale while including Easter eggs of the original 1998 animated film. However, the realism, the presence of traditional Chinese culture and the action-packed nature of the film make it clear that Disney wanted a different take on the beloved classic with its live-action remake.

The comedic aspects of the 1998 film are replaced with emotionally charged scenes: intense aerial battles and martial arts sequences make the new movie a captivating action and adventure film. While the live action film is not a musical, the iconic song “Reflection” can be heard during moments of empowerment for Mulan, which connects the movie back to its animated roots.

Furthermore, the film’s premise has the structure of the original animated film, but further develops and adds to certain aspects of the story to strengthen its themes. Hua Mulan (Yifei Liu, “The Forbidden Kingdom”) is the eldest daughter of Hua Zhou (Tzi Ma, “The Farewell”), a man crippled by war. As an honored warrior, he was once endowed with incredible physical strength and emotional resilience; these traits were clearly passed down to Mulan, evident even when she was a child.

Mulan is naturally gifted early on, having the acrobatic and instinctual talent that would make her a great soldier. Unfortunately, as a daughter, the only way she is able to bring honor to her family is through marriage. As she matures, this duty weighs heavily on her.

However, it is evident that Mulan knows she is destined to be more than what society expects of her. A meeting with the village matchmaker illustrates that Mulan is not fit for the traditional servile role for women.

Enter the villainous Bori Khan (Jason Scott Lee, “Lilo & Stitch”), who, as the commander of the Rouran warriors, desires to avenge his father’s death and reclaim the land that was stolen from the Rouran people by the Chinese Empire. He is assisted by Xian Lang (Gong Li, “Memoirs of a Geisha”), a witch with a powerful shapeshifting ability. Lang’s personal struggle with acceptance in a world where women are subservient to men is a striking parallel to Mulan’s own battle with identity and duty. Despite being on different sides of the war, the two have much in common.

As Bori Khan leads an invasion into China, the emperor (Jet Li, “Once Upon a Time in China”) decrees that each family must send a man to serve in the Imperial Army in order to defeat the invading clan. Taking her father’s place, Mulan enlists under the masculine pseudonym Hua Jun. Her natural physical abilities and stoic nature make her a convincing soldier, and she subsequently rises through the ranks of the army, becoming the strongest soldier in her battalion.

However, this event highlights the drastic divide between the roles of men and women during this Chinese dynastic period. She is respected for her skill as a man, yet, when her true identity is revealed, she is exiled. Thus, the true battle of the movie is not between China and the Rouran warriors, but Mulan’s battle with filial piety and self-acceptance.

By revealing her truth, her position parallels Xian Lang’s. In a male-dominated society, they are outcasts because of their feminine strength. However, the emotional reconciliation Mulan has with her fellow soldiers illustrates that unlike Xian Lang, she is able to take the honorable path to earn respect by proving herself on and off the battlefield.

Mulan’s duty to her family and nation drives her to selflessly save the emperor despite having every reason to join Xian Lang and claw her way to acceptance instead. In order to save the emperor and China itself, Mulan must trust in who she is.

Along the way, Mulan meets people who help her reach her full potential. Commander Tung (Donnie Yen, “Ip Man”), the leader of the Imperial Army, encourages Mulan to hone her strength and become the warrior she was meant to be.

Chen Honghui (Yoson An, “Ghost Bride”) is Mulan’s closest friend in the army and eventual love interest, becoming the first to accept her for her strength despite her being a woman. By earning their respect, she is able to fully embrace her inner strength and true potential without fear of repercussion.

Mulan goes through dynamic development throughout the movie. She is initially portrayed as free-spirited and rash, but through the trials she undertakes, she saves China and becomes a mature and thoughtful leader. She gains respect not by following tradition, but by proving herself a warrior.

“Mulan” is inspiring for viewers of all ages because of its resonant message about gender and identity. By standing up for herself and demanding that she be heard, Mulan refuses to let societal roles confine her.

The compelling performances and impressive action sequences add to the powerful message of the movie and make it an all-around exciting film for anyone to enjoy. Stream “Mulan” now on Disney+.