Because of time constraints, only half the film was shown, but students were then encouraged to buy the film in order to support the filmmakers. Although Flee is animated, it is shot as a traditional documentary, including  confessionals by Amin intercut along with B-rolls of his daily life, flashbacks from his childhood, and real footage of the events covered in the film.

The event was on the smaller side with a turnout of around 15 people, but it was an overall success. The film’s reception was overwhelmingly positive, leading to an engaging discussion on its animated medium, compared to more traditional formats.

Media Night and other events included in Undocuweek are a way for OUI to offer a space where students can connect over shared interests. 

“It brings in a supportive community where we all get to converse and connect,” College first-year Jasmine Gonzalez said. 

Flee was not just moving, but also an educational experience. The educational aspect of Media Night is especially important because, despite hosting fascinating and meaningful events, OUI does not have a large presence on campus. The matter of OUI’s small reach goes deeper than just awareness. According to College third-year Angelina Martinez, an OUI board member, Oberlin’s administration has historically not been adequately supportive of undocumented students.

“A big issue is with financial aid,” Martinez said. Sometimes people will miscatalog people, … and then people in the [Office of] Financial Aid themselves aren’t very educated on certain terms.”

Although OUI has been able to make tremendous strides in getting support from the administration and creating a safe space for undocumented students, what they really need in order to achieve their goals is support from the student body. 

“I hope to see more people at our meetings, just coming to our events, showing support in our events, and just being there for our community members,” Martinez said. 

With events such as Media Night, OUI hopes to draw in more people in order to educate students about issues faced by undocumented students at Oberlin and in general, as well as to garner support for their causes. So far, OUI has made efforts to get the word out about their meetings and events through flyers or their Instagram, but Martinez says they still are not receiving the support they need in order to accomplish their goals. 

“Oberlin … claims to be activists and big on social change, but that’s not very evident for marginalized groups who push for change,” Martinez said. “You can see that in who attends these meetings. … It’s usually only those who have [a] direct stake, and that’s not what it should be.”

OUI has been doing everything it can to try to educate and gain support from the student body. The responsibility lies with students to support them.

“I made the film with some really talented students around me, and we just kind of made the film on impulse,” Emeka said. “The film takes place on the day a young Black man has to report [to] prison for six years. The film is about how a cousin/friend tries to prepare his mind to do the time.”

Inspired by William Shakespeare’s Richard II, the film was officially selected by five festivals, some of which include the Black Harvest Film Festival in Chicago, the Vancouver Black Independent Film Festival, and the London Director Awards. 

“Applying into festivals has just been kind of an exercise; I had no idea that there were over ten thousand festivals a year,” Emeka said. “Who would have known? There’s just tons and tons of film festivals that you could apply to; I’m just kind of getting to know them, getting to know that world, getting to know that market, getting to know the art form, [and it] has been very exciting the past two years.”

College fourth-year Trey Scantlen, who worked as assistant cameraman on the short, enjoyed the community experience of shooting the film.

“It had that feeling where everybody was learning from each other, which was good,” Scantlen said. “It was one of the first crews I was on where I didn’t know everybody there. It definitely was inspiring, how much outreach the film has got. It’s done pretty well in its festival run, and it was inspiring to see that happen, especially with a professor coming from the theater background and jumping straight in. With that film in particular, out of all the crews I’ve been on, the Oberlin community just made it … more of a collective than just working for a class, just helping a classmate, so I think that was what I took out of it. It was a fun experience, I really enjoyed it.” 

Emeka is currently in post-production for his second short, “Biological,” and planning a feature film, Rhythms in Raindrops. He is currently on a two-year sabbatical as he explores the world of film after decades working in theater.

“I had only directed in theater for 30 years,” Emeka said. “At the heart of [the film], it’s telling a story — that’s what I love about it. … And I’m excited about what I bring as a theater artist to TV and film, because I think my stuff is very much informed by years of theater sensibility.”

On stage, Emeka has worked for the past 20 years on adaptations of Shakespeare through the lens of contemporary Black life. His interest in these adaptations has carried over to film.

“One of the challenges for any modern director of Shakespeare is to contextualize it for an audience that’s getting it 450 years later,” Emeka said. “I am excited about what it can be in films, in terms of what I do specifically; reimagining the cultural aesthetic and cultural landscape of the world of the play. But essentially the same story, the same characters, the same emotions, just contextualized in a different way.”

Miyah Byers, OC ’20, served as both co-producer and co-director of photography for the film.

“I’ve worked with Justin on and off for six years,” Byers wrote in an email to the Review. “I’ve always known him to be an artful, thoughtful, and caring theater director with a deep respect and love for Black people and Black culture. In particular, Justin is masterful in blending Black culture with Shakespeare’s work, and he is incredibly skilled in working with actors. Under Justin’s direction, I’ve seen so many actors unlock themselves and find freedom in their roles in ways that make their acting so genuine. Justin brought his skill to this project in a way that shined on screen. The three actors, ranging from very little acting experience to years of acting experience, all delivered genuine performances under Justin’s direction. And the concept of the film itself is very creative and is one that I haven’t seen on screen before.”

Byers, who was a Cinema Studies major during her time at Oberlin, has worked with Emeka mostly in theater, and was excited to collaborate with him on film.

“All around, the film was an experiment and an opportunity for a small group of people to come together and make some art with limited resources, but with a lot of vision and talent,” she wrote. “In the moment, my hope was to do the best job I could do to bring Justin’s vision to life. This was actually the first fiction film I’ve ever worked on, so the entire process was a learning experience for me from start to finish. I learned a lot from pulling the team together, all the way down to managing the shoot days and passing the materials off to Justin and the post-production team. I’m proud to see that the hard work of a small team for a few weeks became a short film that has been so well received, and that it has made its way into some awesome festivals. That result is a testament to Justin’s vision and determination as a director, and of course to our amazing and dedicated actors and crew.”

Now that “Six Winters” is headed for festivals, Emeka reflects on the hope the short has inspired in him.

“‘Six Winters Gone Still’ taught me that I could make a film,” Emeka said. “It taught me everything about it; it helped me learn quickly how to talk to the people involved in film in a different artistic language and vocabulary. ‘Six Winters Gone Still’ is very dear.”

Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour is a typical concert film — minimal embellishments, for the most part a straight-up documentary of the show — and that is what makes it so special. While nothing can truly mimic the charged atmosphere of an actual concert, the film makes seeing Swift perform live a much more accessible experience. The unfortunate reality is, not only were tickets hard to secure in the initial sale, but resale prices were prohibitively high for the average concertgoer. While I think this is part of a much larger problem that needs solving, in the meantime, I appreciate the ability to see my favorite artist in the best way I can.

The film highlighted how skilled of a live performer she is. While I love her singing and lyrics in general, Swift isn’t to everyone’s taste, and that’s totally fine! However, it’s hard to argue that her elaborate sets and powerful vocals for each song aren’t the mark of a talented artist. The film captured her belting out high notes and the incredible props, outfits, and dance routines she had arranged differently for each “era” of the tour. Many artists can get up on stage in jeans and a T-shirt and sing their songs live, but one thing is for sure about Swift: she puts on a show. The Eras Tour film is able to portray this from all angles, close-ups and long shots, and overall spotlights her performance abilities.

Swift isn’t the only person that the film depicts well. Alongside Swift, there is a whole team of backing vocalists and dancers that help her create the experience that is The Eras Tour. While I haven’t actually been to the show, I would speculate that during the commotion of the concert, it may be hard to give those other performers the attention they deserve. From what I know about large concerts, including Swift’s Fearless and Speak Now tours, there is so much stimulation that it’s hard to focus on anything but Swift’s singing. In the film, the talent of her team is obvious, and at certain points they are almost as centralized as Swift herself. It does well at showing how many people are directly involved in making the performance so breathtaking. Though, I will say, I was disappointed that the only credit they received was at the end, when Swift mentioned her dancers as she was taking bows and finishing the show. In her previous concert film, Taylor Swift Reputation Stadium Tour, she introduced each of her dancers by name toward the beginning of the show. I thought that this was a better way to recognize the people so essential to the show. 

I found Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour to be especially enjoyable because it allowed me to focus on the smaller details of the show. At live performances, I am usually swept up in the lights, the noise, the action, and all of the chaos that is par for the course of a massive show like Swift’s. An element that the film captured and that I probably would’ve missed at the actual show, is those seemingly minor aspects such as patterns on her outfits, jewelry she was wearing, or her facial expressions. In turn, how she chose to perform certain songs — as in, what body language she was conveying or what emotions she showed on her face — helped me understand those songs more. In watching the film, I was able to truly see how Swift wanted her songs to come across. 

I might’ve also been able to appreciate the actual vocals in the film more than I would’ve at the concert. As I mentioned, it’s easy to get caught up in the energy of a show. An inherent part of being at a large show is being a part of a large audience. The nervous excitement and almost constant cheers and applause are certainly fun, but they do affect how well you can hear the actual singer. In the film I was able to hear Swift’s vocals isolated and in their full glory. 

Like I said, I understand if Taylor Swift isn’t everyone’s favorite artist. But, even if she’s not to your personal taste, it’s impossible to deny that she’s been breaking ground with this tour. Her opening night was the most-attended concert by a female artist in U.S. history. The ticket sales were unprecedented: Ticketmaster sold two million tickets to The Eras Tour in a single day. Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour has been no different in terms of record breaking. It had the widest-spanning release for a concert film, as well as the highest opening weekend for a concert film in the U.S. It also had the highest single-day presales ever. Like her or not, Swift has some influence. I’m so excited to see what she does next.

As I am reviewing the show, it is important to note that the movie is very different from the modern retelling of The Wiz today. The movie and original musical premiered in the ’70s, and because of this there are certain liberties those who perform The Wiz take when putting on their stage in the modern day. This was exacerbated by the 2015 live television adaptation of The Wiz Live! For example, rather than a tap sequence for the song “Slide Some Oil to Me,” which was featured in the movie and sung by the Tinman, the musical highlighted the actor’s ability to pop and lock, which, while equally impressive, left me with a hole of nostalgia unfilled. Jokes and other things were shifted to have a modern feel, and the dances and costumes were heavily showcased. The musical starkly differs from the movie, and this was something I had to adjust to and make peace with throughout the show. The nostalgia that I was expecting to feel dissipated, and I spent most of the show expecting things to be different, attempting to welcome the differences. 

With that being said, there were changes I enjoyed thoroughly. The Emerald City sequence featured a new dance incorporating West African dances and modernist hip-hop moves. The cast itself was also wonderful, and I was especially excited to see Deborah Cox as Glinda, as I have been a fan of her work since I was a kid and often looked up to her as a theater pillar. Everyone was animated and energized on stage, and even from my $30 college student budget seats, I felt the love in the cast. Avery Wilson, who played the Scarecrow, made me laugh at every scene, and I was thoroughly impressed by his vocal performance. Phillip Johnson Richardson, however, was my favorite vocal performer as the Tinman, as he showed his range and the emotion in each song, especially “What Would I Do If Could Feel.” I also thoroughly enjoyed the Wiz himself, played by Alan Mingo Jr. His performance was charismatic and morally dubious, but he is loveable anyway. The character shift from the movie was a welcomed change, as the movie consistently makes me sad when the Wiz turns out to be a sad politician who couldn’t even win the position of “dog-walker.” I much prefer a loud confident Wiz who knows he’s bad but is too fabulous to care. 

In a sense, change and expansion spurred the creation of The Wiz, so it makes sense that the musical is constantly adapting and being modernized. The Wiz connects the Black audience to L. Frank Baum’s classic tale The Wizard of Oz and is presented through the lenses of Black culture and history. I was surprised to see things in the show that only Black audience members laughed at or to see Adinkra Symbols — symbols from Ghana that represent concepts or aphorisms — etched into the set trees and backgrounds. Those small details made me feel seen and let in on a secret only my community knew.

A large part of me was pleased The Wiz was getting the recognition it deserved and was still paving the way for many Black actors’ beginnings on stage. The Wiz has always cast only Black actors and in the 1970s, this casting was groundbreaking as many musicals didn’t make space for — or would stereotype — Black actors in the roles they were given. And while I wish I could say things have changed, Broadway is still a predominately white space. The Asian American Performers Action Coalition’s 2018–19 Visibility Report stated that out of all available roles in New York City, 58.6 percent went to white actors. Producing and reviving musicals like The Wiz is so important. It was one of the musicals that paved the way for Black actors to perform, giving them roles to aspire toward during their careers. As a child and even into my late teens, I dreamed of being in The Wiz, and I’m sure many of the actors on the stage were fulfilling dreams of their own.

The show’s writers also had a considerable challenge in the mass exodus of cast members after season three, with Simone Ashley (Olivia), Patricia Allison (Ola), and Tanya Reynolds (Lily) all departing, despite their characters having relatively large roles and being popular among fans. The absences of these main characters, along with Anwar, Erin, and Jakob, Ola’s father, are explained with varying levels of success. Perhaps the most easily justified, Anwar and Olivia are simply attending a different school following the shuttering of Moordale Secondary School at the end of the previous season. 

Conversely, the show doesn’t even attempt to explain the disappearance of Jakob, and by association, Ola — the only time viewers hear of it is in a passing comment from Otis to Jean about how they are now gone. This lack of an explanation demands an unreasonable suspension of disbelief from the viewer — it simply doesn’t make sense. Not enough time has elapsed between the end of season three and the beginning of season four to explain their sudden disappearance, even though the show does provide an explanation for why Jakob is no longer a part of our protagonists’ lives. 

Season four attempts to give every single character an in-depth plot, making it feel too heavy-handed. It seemed to me that every single character who had been introduced to viewers prior to this season received a full-fledged storyline, while newly introduced characters were relegated to side plots and supporting roles. 

Compared to season one, where main characters Jean, Otis, Eric, and Maeve were the focal point of the show, season four is a marked departure. This offers its benefits. First and foremost, it allowed for a significantly more diverse array of stories to be told and a much larger variety of issues to be discussed. However, in season four, there are three seasons’ worth of storylines that have been added over time. As a result, the entire season feels rushed, each storyline receiving only a few minutes per episode and each episode cramming in major plot points. 

Another issue I had with season four was with the new school our beloved characters attended. Simply put, it was incredibly unrealistic. I, an Oberlin student, found this liberal school to be unbelievable and, at times, even performative. I understand that it was likely meant to be a safe haven or utopia for several characters, but it was presented as such an idealized environment that it came across as sterile.

The school’s environment was so markedly different from that of Moordale that it almost felt like season four was a different show entirely. The whole premise of Sex Education was that sex was too taboo to talk about, resulting in problems in the characters’ lives. A school having a student sex therapist was shocking, but proved helpful by providing students with an important resource they were missing. How did the show change so much that suddenly its school has two sex therapists and almost every character has sex on screen? 

That said, I was quite happy when Maeve and Otis finally decided to date. For me, it has been clear since the very beginning that the two of them had to end up together in some way. As much as I enjoyed the brief moment of romantic bliss that they got to experience, I found their ending as a whole to be unfulfilling. It felt that the other characters got the ends of their stories tied neatly into bows — Jean’s resolution to come clean about her child’s father and be the best mother she can be, Eric’s incredibly brave decision to put what he wants over what his community wants, Aimee’s long path of finding herself. The question of what would happen with Maeve and Otis is left ambiguous.

For whatever reason, I found myself expecting a time jump to several years in the future at the end of the final episode. Something about the montage of resolutions that was presented made me certain that Otis and Maeve not being together would have to be addressed or resolved. I was crushed when it wasn’t. I’ve been watching this show since I was 16 and have always thought that they would end the show as a couple. 

There’s something very powerful about how watching the ending of season four made me feel like a high schooler again, desperately hoping for them to kiss. Sex Education was a crucial piece of media that made me feel safe as a teenager. That comfort never wavered, and over the past five years, I’ve derived incredible joy from curling up in bed to watch it — whether I was holding a mug of hot chocolate or a glass of wine.

Bottoms takes everything one might think of when they imagine an “American teenager” or a “teen movie” — football quarterbacks, stupid high school cliques, and classmate crushes — and makes it into a satirical masterpiece. It’s full of obvious hyperbole — no high school football game is actually as insane as it’s portrayed in the film. However, the exaggerations don’t come out of nowhere. I remember in my hometown high school when an unsuccessful men’s sports team had larger-than-life posters of each individual player hung up in the gym. Never mind the more successful women’s teams, or literally anything that wasn’t a sport. In Bottoms, I watched the football players parade around, plaster their advertisements all over the school, and receive blatant favoritism from faculty, all of which is portrayed with such a level of absurdity that it’s obvious the film is spoofing real life —  and its message is still relevant. 

The first few moments of the film show the two female protagonists Josie (Ayo Edebiri) and PJ (Rachel Sennott) preparing for a carnival. Once they arrive, they fumble conversations with their love interests, Isabel (Havana Rose Liu) and Brittany (Kaia Jordan Gerber). What I noted about this is that the queerness of the main characters was blatant to the point where it was even joked about. I was initially so excited to see Josie and PJ’s lesbianism highlighted. This was so refreshing to me, because so often the movies I see that feature queer characters focus on the fact that these characters are in the closet and the plot is driven by their struggle to hide their identity. For instance, when Happiest Season came out, I was thrilled to have a lesbian holiday movie, but disappointed that the plot was entirely centered around Harper trying to keep her girlfriend, Abby, a secret from her family. 

However, as the film progresses, I’m not so sure their queerness is highlighted effectively. While I loved the execution of the film — the jokes are hilarious, the plot is wonderfully wild — I have to take issue with the premise. The entire reason Josie and PJ start their “empowering” girls’ fight club is to win over the hearts of Isabel and Brittany — more to the point, they want to have sex with Isabel and Brittany. They essentially pull off this whole elaborate scheme just to get into some girls’ pants, which doesn’t sit right with me. It hits a little too close to home with the stereotype of conniving lesbians, that awful notion that all lesbians are simply trying to “get” other women. There is a fine line between playing on stereotypes in a way that’s lighthearted, or even an astute societal critique, and playing on stereotypes that are actually quite harmful. I’m not sure that Bottoms successfully walks that line. It feels wrong that the reason everything is set in motion is because of two lesbians and their conspiracy. It’s quite a dangerous trope to tinker with. 

That said, there are other aspects of the film and its messaging that I think are perfect. One scene that stuck out to me was in the gym as Josie and PJ’s friend Hazel (Ruby Cruz) is getting beaten to a pulp by the school’s top boxer. Tim (Miles Fowler), the unofficial second-in-command of the football team, had lied to her and said she’d be fighting PJ — whom she had a grudge against — and more importantly, would’ve had a fair fight with. Tim essentially sets up a situation where Hazel would get absolutely mauled. Visually, this is the most serious and disturbing scene of the film, one that interrupts the general spirit of amusement. Tim then turns to the spectators in the bleachers and addresses Josie, PJ, and the rest of their fight club, asking, “What is wrong with you?” This statement directed at women juxtaposed against what actually happened — a man attacking a woman — is chilling and starkly relevant. All too often, women are victim-blamed for the violence perpetrated against them. While Bottoms is an overall upbeat film, this darker, more serious moment is well-placed, thoughtful, and unfortunately poignant. 

Another aspect of the film that spoke to me was Josie and her romance. Josie is not nearly as sneaky as PJ — she is clearly uncomfortable with their plan, and remorseful when she realizes the damage it has done. Josie is funny, relatable, and genuine. Her arc is endearing; watching her anxiously converse with Isabel reminded me of my own high school days, and their love story is one we all needed.

Watching Josie and Isabel at the end was magical. It mirrored the hyped-up ending scenes of every other teen movie — the dim lighting, the music swelling to consume all background noise, everything else seemingly slowing down. The camera pans around Josie and Isabel in their embrace, spinning them around the center of the movie screen, larger than life, and kissing. And kissing! I almost wanted to squeal. It has been so long since I was invested in a movie romance. They’re all the same to me: one way or another, the guy gets the girl. Not only is it predictable, but as a queer woman, the heterosexuality that’s so constantly shoved down my throat doesn’t resonate with me. We needed a movie where, instead, the girl gets the girl, where queerness is spotlighted.

The fact that Bottoms mimics the general tropes of a “dumb” teen movie is part of what makes this moment so brilliant. While we can all dismiss teen cult classics as unrealistic, I believe there is, or at least was, a part of all of us that daydreamed we’d get our teen movie moment. You might have heard of the phrase “healing my inner child” — seeing Josie and Isabel kiss at the end of Bottoms healed my inner teen.

Walking away, I don’t entirely know how to sum up my feelings. I want to be clear that I enjoyed the movie very much. I was smiling and laughing practically the whole time. However, its portrayal of queerness is such a mixed bag — in some ways, it is normalized and honest, but in others, it feels contrived based on negative stereotypes. Why am I okay with the football players being portrayed in a poor light, but troubled that the film plays on a negative lesbian stereotype? Because one of these groups continues to thrive, and one is actually harmed by that rhetoric in real life. Bottoms is both fun and insensitive, both empowering and demeaning. I recommend it, but urge the viewer to keep their eyes open to its damaging aspects.

It’s time I talk about my problem with that sentence. And with Tony nominations being released, I feel it is timely to speak on the hate for musical theater. I acknowledge this sentence is often said to me in an attempt to thwart me from playing Hamilton on full blast in the Review office or during a car ride. But even so, as a resident musical theater fan, I must point out the opportunity being missed in refusing to give musical theater music a chance.

To say you don’t like musical theater is to ignore an entire medium with so many subgenres. Musical theater has a true gift in being able to do whatever it wants when creating and producing music. While there are certain common types of musical theater, such as your classical shows like The Phantom of the Opera or The Sound of Music, a plethora of musicals implement all types of music from around the world. For example, The Band’s Visit, which centers around Arabic classical music and traditional Middle Eastern styles, utilizes instruments such as the oud and the darbuka. The sound is completely different from Les Misérables, a pop operetta full of string instruments and woodwinds. The Band’s Visit and Les Mis provide two completely different music
styles that you can enjoy. And much like other genres, there are songs you like from certain artists and shows and songs you don’t particularly like. But you don’t say to someone, “I don’t like rap music,” because you just aren’t a fan of Wiz Khalifa.

It’s also the case that musical theater can change and innovate within its music. Unlike most music that centers on one main singer throughout an album, musical theater showcases individuals and ensembles. Hadestown, for example, utilizes its ensemble as a live machine mimicking sounds from a production line. A Chorus Line is purely composed of ensemble numbers, as each actor generally gets the same stage time and functions as a group in most numbers. Musical theater tells a story through music in a new and exciting way every time. No music is truly ever the same and there is something to love for everyone. I also find it hard for someone to claim that they’ve seen all that musical theater could offer them and still decide not to like it. This is because even I, a musical theater fan of ten years, have yet to listen to every musical. I find myself discovering a new musical every month. And there is a musical for everyone to enjoy at least a little. While I know Hamilton is popular, many others deserve the same chance to shine. Love Percy Jackson? You’re in luck because The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical cast album is on Spotify. Want a more serious mu- sical expanding on important issues and experiences while having a unique sound? Take a chance to listen to Next to Normal or Ragtime. Too slow? Queue up Rent. Do you want to listen to a musical based on funk and hip-hop? “Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk fuses the two. Do you hate how people break out into random songs in dance in musicals and find it offputting? Then you should tune into The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals for a laugh.

Even the most obscure situations can be found — for example, Fun Home has a song set in an Oberlin College dorm as the main character comes to terms with her sexuality under Oberlin sheets. Much like movies, anime, and any large form of media, there are so many options to choose from, and to cancel out the entirety of the art is hasty. The list goes on. Every year, musicals are being renewed, reinvented, and created, each with a different and new story to tell. Did you know that Usher appeared in the musical Chicago, starring as celebrity lawyer Billy Flynn? Queen Latifah starred in the movie version of Chicago and was nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Academy Awards. We seem to forget that many of our favorite celebrities enjoyed theater as performers long before they got recognition. Tupac Shakur was an actor and rapper; Hugh Jackman played the character Wolverine and also played the circus ringleader in The Greatest Showman. I remember how excited I was to see Beyoncé perform in Dreamgirls because it was two of my favorite things appearing together. You’d be surprised how many people enjoy musical theater. Musical theater is open to everyone and not just consumed by that one friend who belts show tunes in your ear. While it’s not played on the radio, and the cast of Hamilton will never perform for Coachella, it still deserves the same respect as the music you listen to.

I think the most important thing to remember is that if you don’t love musicals, I can’t really do anything about it. I acknowledge that people bursting into song and dance at random moments might just be too hard of a pill to swallow. It’s not for everyone, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat it respectfully. Everyone has something they are dying to talk to their friends about or blast in the car while speeding down the highway. And if that subject is the new Tony nominations or the revival of the musical Parade, then that is just as valid. Ultimately, being a musical theater fan is just liking a certain type of music like everyone else. There have been many moments where my friend will gush about the new Tyler, the Creator album or Mac DeMarco’s new album with 199 songs. And I would never make fun of someone who looks so happy while talking about it or listening to it as they walk down the street. Give musical theater a shot. You might be surprised.

“The impetus for the Winter Term project started from a couple of needs that I saw on campus,” Blaylock said. “One is [that] the Cinema Studies department has a collection of 16 millimeter films that are mostly legacy prints from teaching before DVD or VHS, and they’ve sort of just stayed around. Part of the project was to deal with these films and see what they are. The other part of the project is that I’ve been writing a lot about archives recently, and so I was interested in thinking about a lot of new literature on film archives in particular that have to do with decolonizing institutions of archival memory. How are archivists addressing neglect of certain histories based on race, gender, sexuality, [and] geographic parts of the world that have been left out from film memory?”

The films screened at the event spanned a wide range of topics and forms, but were tied together by their focus on bodies and bodily fluids. The curatorial process for the screening was undertaken by Blaylock and College first-year Nat Becker-Stevens, who participated in the Winter Term project. The screening was inspired by Femme ’n isms, Part I: Bodies Are Fluid, an exhibit at the Allen Memorial Art Museum curated by Ellen Johnson ’33 Assistant Curator of Modern and Contemporary Art Sam Adams that opened last semester. It is the first edition of a new series within AMAM that honors art and forms that highlight and represent intersectional identities and feminist thought. This first exhibition specifically highlights women and femininity, and the works in the exhibit deal with body parts and bodily fluids.

“We also wanted to expand on things that maybe we didn’t see,” Becker-Stevens said. “I really liked the ones that had a lot of sensation. … that was very much connected to a bodily sensation, which I think also works for the body fluid sort of thing, and thinking about bodily presence and when you’re watching that [you’re] having a physical experience.”

During Winter Term, the students researched and sorted through various experimental film catalogs, put together a slide deck of the films they were interested in presenting, and received curatorial advice from Adams. After Winter Term, Blaylock and Becker-Stevens decided to keep fine-tuning the project and put together the final selection for the Bodies are Fluid film screening. The films were chosen to highlight different perspectives on bodies and diverse representation of bodies.

“Part of what we were looking for [after Winter Term] was for our selection to be more diverse and that the films could go in a good, curated order,” Becker-Stevens said. “That was definitely a conscious part of it. We also wanted to feature a few works that were older. We only ended up including two pieces that were older, which were ‘Head’ by Cheryl Donahue from 1993 and ‘Menses’ by Barbara Hammer from 1974. The [others] are from the 2000s.”

Blaylock hopes to continue collaborating with the AMAM and bringing video art into conversations being had through other visual artforms. The medium of video holds a specific role in feminist history as a form of performance art; however, this history and artform seem to be missing from many artistic establishments at Oberlin. Blaylock hopes to continue presenting this art to the Oberlin community through future events.

“I see a place for this here,” Blaylock said. “If I’m here, I would love to continue doing it. I have ideas for other films to bring. … It wouldn’t be necessarily experimental film but would continue this idea of expanding the archive and what we think about cinema and histories of cinema.”

The story of Parade alone makes it a must-see performance, and the album is art that everyone should listen to. Based on a true story, Parade takes us through the 1913 trial of Leo Frank (Ben Platt), an American Jewish factory superintendent in Atlanta who was convicted of the murder of 13-year-old Mary Phagan (Erin Rose Doyle). With Frank initially convicted in the first act, the play takes us through the appeals of the verdict. However, right after the court commutes Frank’s sentence from death to life in prison, he is kidnapped and lynched by residents of the city. The musical takes us through Frank’s journey through the trial and eventually his subsequent death while highlighting the relationship between him and his wife, Lucille Frank (Micaela Diamond), as they fight to prove his innocence in court. The musical, which first premiered in 1998, is based on a book by Alfred Uhry and has music and lyrics by Jason Robert Brown.

One thing that I adored about this musical was its dedication to showing the perspectives and ideals of each character in the lyrics. The album on its own shows each character’s journey, which is particularly showcased in Leo Frank’s character development. At the beginning of the show, Frank starts off with the song “How Can I Call This Home?” and laments about being a man out of place — he just moved from the North and is struggling to understand Southern culture and what it means to be Jewish in the South. These conflicts strain his relationships with those around him, particularly with his wife. This struggle comes to a head toward the end of the first act, as Frank, finally allowed to speak in court, pulls on heartstrings in his ballad “It’s Hard to Speak My Heart.” Even without the stage or a face to envision, I was moved by the rawness within the song and how well it conveys the desperation of a man who has everything to lose in a room full of people who do not know him. One of his last songs, “This is Not Over Yet” — a duet with his wife, who, through this journey, has also gotten closer to him — occurs when both have just found out that Frank’s case will be reopened. The song is hopeful and beautiful as both characters seem to see each other for the first time. This theme is carried on in a later duet, “All the Wasted Time.” These songs act as both reconciliations and songs of hope for Lucille and Leo, which only makes the story more heartbreaking when you know the inevitable end is not a happy one.

Not only do the lyrics convey a story, but the melodies throughout all of the songs maintain a musical motif. For example, at the end of “How Can I Call This Home?” the motif is the same as in “It’s Hard to Speak My Heart.” Another example is at the start of “All the Wasted Time” — the lyrics are “I will never understand,” which match the tune and resemble the lyrics, “I pray you to understand,” at the end of “It’s Hard to Speak My Heart.” These small nuances add to the story, making it so intriguing to listen to over and over again.

Another thing I thoroughly enjoyed about Parade was the stories of other characters within the play. The song that got me into the musical, “That’s What He Said,” is not sung by Frank but instead is performed by witness Jim Conley (Alex Joseph Grayson) when he takes the stand against Frank and spins the story of how Frank committed the murder and tried to get away with it. Not only were the vocals from Grayson knee-shakingly good, but the ensemble did a masterful job voicing a public opinion. This was especially exciting to me because so much of this case in real life was decided and led by the media and public opinion within the South, and many songs reflect this. “Big News,” sung by reporter Britt Craig (Jay Armstrong Johnson), shows how biased journalism swayed public opinion against Frank. Additionally, the song “Twenty Miles from Marietta” shows the local prosecutor Hugh Dorsey (Paul Alexander Nolan) slandering Frank and creating evidence and stories to vilify him to the jury.

The song, however, that made me realize Parade would be my next obsession for the rest of the semester was “Rumblinʼ and a Rollinʼ.” As an Africana Studies major who is personally invested in African-American history of the 1900s, I had one thought in the back of my head throughout the first act: how interesting that this case was getting so much attention during a time when Black American citizens were being harassed and attacked nationwide without the same amount of media coverage. And it was as if Jason Robert Brown read my mind — “Rumblinʼ and a Rollinʼ” is sung from the perspective of African-American townsfolk who are present in the play. In the song, the characters question if the reaction would have been as strong if the victim had been a little Black girl or if Frank had been Black in the first place. This song does not remove the threat of anti-Semitism that permeates these charactersʼ lives, only adding to the play’s message by forcing audiences, specifically white audiences, to consider another perspective. Parade breathes life into a story that occurred more than 100 years ago. It tells the stories of the innocent and what happens when hate and prejudice have a place in the courts and our law system.

Because of Frank’s case, the Anti-Defamation League was created as a Jewish international non-government organization based on civil rights law and the defense against the defamation of Jewish people. This story is not only a musical, but a representation of something that still affects minority communities. Parade pays homage to this story with music that encapsulates the beauty and pain of our history. I hope to see it live in the coming weeks and implore you to take a look at the album.

The first few moments of the play feel gravely serious — dim lighting, the cast members silent as they step up to the pedestals. The closest platform is mere inches from audience members, blurring the line between actor and audience. The actors themselves — rather than crew members — push a gravelike monument out on the stage. It soon became apparent that this was to be the main prop.

However, those first few weighted moments didn’t set the tone for the rest of the play. Very quickly, the production takes a humorous turn. The first scene is funny, both in the actors’ performances and dialogue. Arguably, the entire show is a comedy. Humor is threaded throughout and executed well. There are some purely lighthearted moments, such as an actor holding and pointing to a pear when talking about the city of Paris. Other moments are more deadpan; a grim sort of sarcasm in the face of ignorance, or even prejudice. However, the play never seems to make too much light of serious issues — the director and playwright, Visiting Assistant Professor of Theater Kari Barclay, walks a careful line to provide comic relief without being insensitive.

There are a lot of competing big-picture topics in the production — performative activism, colonialism, appropriation, and the conflict between Black Lives Matter and All Lives Matter. More nuanced, interpersonal matters appear as well, such as boundary setting and gender identity. All of these discussions are framed within the context of removing a statue with racist roots. It may seem from this description that putting so many subjects together might be overwhelming. Often, works that try to grapple with too much at once fall short of any real message. However, Stonewallin’ is adept at weaving its various themes together. The storyline is compelling and the political points never feel forced. Barclay combined a wide range of themes with powerful execution.

That said, some of these themes are difficult to address. They’re lofty and multifaceted. It’s difficult to figure out what’s right or wrong. Morally gray areas are brought up tactfully, such as a scene between two main characters as they are establishing terms of their relationship — one sets a boundary that she doesn’t want a romantic relationship with a man, while the other argues that they are not actually a man, but nonbinary. Both sides of the issue are presented as valid, with neither character being framed as a villain or victim. This allows the audience to truly reflect on the points made, rather than being forced into supporting one character or the other.

Equally important as the writing is the acting, which is excellent. With just a five person cast, it is essential that every character be played skillfully. Brooke Lynlee (Marsha Lyons) and College first-year Rowan Kozinets (Tommy Jackson) are superb main characters. Lynlee’s acting is spitfire, and Kozinets complements that energy. College fourth-year Tony Singfield (Elijah Lyons) has a sort of mediator role in the play and captures the nuance of the character well. College fourth-year Olivia Bross (Mamaw Jackson) and College second-year Ana Morgan (Stonewall Jackson) are notable as well — they play characters with not only big personalities, but questionable viewpoints at best. I imagine it would be difficult to portray characters with disagreeable attributes. Despite this, Bross and Morgan inhabit their personas well — providing comedic, realistic, and disturbing moments in the play.

The show as a whole felt quite intimate. Stonewallin’ took advantage of the Irene and Alan Wurtzel Theater by having moments where characters got up close and personal with the audience. One scene in particular stands out: actors directly addressed the audience, shouting a string of humorous insults. Resounding laughter often echoed in the theater, perhaps the best sign that the audience was enjoying the performance. The play had an experimental take on inter-character intimacy. A scene that started out as a simple kiss took a somewhat absurdist turn, morphing into an elaborate dance with mating calls that resembled those of birds. An argument can be made that this scene felt out of place. Aspects of it were jarring, such as the flashing lights and change in background music. On the other hand, is it fair to expect everything to remain realistic in a play about a statue coming to life?

On a technical note, some scene changes were disorienting. It seems that they were meant to keep the audience straight in the moment, but with minimal set pieces, it was sometimes hard to keep up. At one point, it was slightly unclear whether a scene was a dream, or an actual event in the play. Actors fluidly brought and removed their own stage props, whereas a typical stage crew would have provided a more clear marking of scene changes.

As a whole, the production was entertaining and thought-provoking. It was funny without lacking substance. It was pertinent to current day struggles without being despairing. The program describes it as “a spell to guide us through panic in the face of hate” — and it accomplished just that.