She’s beauty, she’s grace, she can kick you into space.
Well, the first Marvel movie of 2019 is here. And, hey, it’s pretty good! Nothing that’s so exciting that it’ll melt your brain out, or anything, but Captain Marvel has finally hit our screens and damned if we aren’t glad to see her. Right? Right?
I don’t want to be down on this one. I really enjoyed myself as I sat in the theater and mindlessly absorbed a little nugget of Marvel product, which loudly and proudly is set in the 90s. Remember the 90s? There was a Democrat in office, the economy was essentially okay, we weren’t at war with anyone for a little while, and when the President got a blowjob and perjured himself about it, we all were in agreement that the office of the PotUS had been so thoroughly tarnished that no future President could ever sink lower (ha). But also, you know: AIDS, Hurricane Andrew (which goes strangely unremarked upon here despite the fact that a significant portion of the film takes place in 1995 Louisiana), Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, etc. Never let your nostalgia get the best of you, is all I’m saying, but it’s no crime to feel a little warm inside when you hear the opening strains of “Come As You Are,” either.
“Why does everybody think I’m such a diva?” asks the voice on the other end of the line. I have just asked if our interview needs to be moved or postponed due to last Friday’s sudden flash floods and thunderstorms. “That’s why they make waterproof make-up, love.”
Some time later, Aaron “Queen Michael” Washington appears, completely dry and fashionably tardy. With an upcoming album set to appear “soon” (“I like to keep people in suspense,” Washington explains), the gender-bending Washington is excited to have the chance to expound on what his/her sound is, and what it means for Baton Rouge.
In a move that would have made “Share the Wealth” proponent Huey P. Long proud, the LSU Board of Regents voted this past Friday to formalize the flow of money between the Tiger Athletic Fund and other branches of the university.
Within the past several years, the university has experienced a downward slide, as budget cuts have forced several departments to close, prevented maintenance from being performed, and the loss of 140 members of the faculty during the 2009-2010 academic year, with others slowly trickling out in disgust or disgrace.
With a little luck, the decision made by the board on September 7 will stop—and potentially reverse—LSU’s slow fiscal erosion.
Too late for yours truly, LSU has finally gotten around to offering Film and Media Arts as a major. This semester’s end will see the first generation of those graduates who chose FMA as a concentration, and while the rest of us with liberal arts degrees have had some trouble finding lucrative employment, this batch of alumni is heading out into “the real world” with high hopes and a better chance.
Lafayette-born screenwriter and filmmaker Zach Godshall has a fascination with outsiders, opportunists, and amorphous and undefined aspiration.
When asked about the character motivations of his in-progress Depression-era project, Godshall said that the Great Depression inspires interest because of the great number of “desperate people looking for something to latch on to, people looking to take advantage of situations.” Does he see a connection between modern citizens, struggling to get by in a time of economic downturn? Is the Depression-era choice intentional? “It’s just that situation in general [that interests me],” he says. “Wanting to—you know—believe in something. And then [there are] people that are savvy enough to seize the opportunity. Opportunists.”