girl i’ve always been

By Pritheva Zakaria

 

i got mental wrongs 

and ticking time bombs 

but that’s the girl i’ve always been 

 

it’s never your destiny 

to end up with me 

rather, the girl right next to me 

 

i like to play games 

just like alice 

so what if i fall down a rabbit hole? 

i didn’t mean to bring about any malice… 

 

you can’t say i’ve changed 

when i can’t even write my own wrongs 

or see my faults 

because that’s the girl i’ve always been all along 

 

a little too wild 

very much like a child 

i look into windows and peepholes that aren’t made for me 

 

i dream of revenge and some sort of end 

because people like me never get along with any sister or friend 

 

i write songs in my head 

about the boys i want to bring to bed 

but it’s all just some sort of fantasy 

because who would dare be with me? 

 

just like the wind 

i seem to come and go 

but little do they know 

that i’m like the secrets they keep 

and i disappear like snow 

 

i’ve got so many mental wrongs 

and ticking time bombs 

in that beautiful little head of mine 

but you can’t say that’s not the girl i’ve always been

A hundred years of movies: Where did faith-based films go?

by Rosanna Herrera

The film industry was in a messy predicament this past year. Two major union strikes that lasted over a hundred days each halted production and press tours– disrupting box office expectations for 2023. 

Despite the majority of film industry creatives spending the summer demanding fair wages and practices be included in their renewed contracts, this past summer also saw one of the biggest cultural moments of the past five years: “Barbenheimer.” 

“Barbie” is auteur Greta Gerwig’s foray into big studio filmmaking, and when its release date fell on the same day as blockbuster-veteran director Christopher Nolan’s historical biopic “Oppenheimer,” the internet created the “Barbenheimer” double feature.

Movie-goers of all ages flocked to theaters– at AMC theaters alone, 20,000 tickets were sold in advance to see the two on the same day. “Barbie” has since grossed over $1 billion worldwide, with “Oppenheimer” close behind at around $950 million. Some went as far as saying that the phenomenon “revived cinema” in the post-pandemic age. 

The achievements of the entertainment industry– despite a rather tumultuous couple months– led to my contemplation of pop culture at large. What it looks like today and what it looked like in the yesterdays of the past. What values did we, as an always entertainment-obsessed society, want to see reflected in our favorite movies now versus, say, a hundred years ago?

Both summer 2023 mega-hit films confront existentialism (“Barbie” more overtly than “Oppenheimer”) and each can be read as critiques of today’s United States– the former, a feminist take on the country’s persisting gender inequalities, and the latter, an anti-war exegesis that chillingly reflects on the irreversible damage of the mid-century nuclear race. 

But politics and art are a pairing as common as peanut butter and jelly. Writer and director of 2017’s Academy Award Best Picture winner “Moonlight” Barry Jenkins suggested in his TIME Magazine profile that “art is inherently political.” 

I am interested in knowing if this has always been the case. And if so, how the dominant political perspectives in popular art have changed, and what they tell us about American culture and its values. 

With these contemplations in mind, I decided to go back a hundred years because a lot happens in a century. With box office numbers being a point of interest, a quick search for 1923’s highest grossing films led me to my subject of fascination.

 

Legendary Hollywood director Cecille B. DeMille’s silent epic “The Ten Commandments” was the year’s biggest box office draw, drawing in about $4 million in revenue. Adjusted for inflation, today that would be equal to around a $70 million profit. 

DeMille’s series of biblical epics concluded with his 1956 remake of the same film– but this time, it was made using VistaVision technology and Technicolor. Like its 1923 predecessor, 1956’s “Ten Commandments” became the highest grossing film of the year and one of the top ten highest grossing films of the decade

As it happens, the ‘56 Exodus epic was the second to last time that a film based on the Christian Bible was the top box-office film of the year. Ten years later, director John Huston’s 1966 “The Bible in the Beginning…” snagged the top spot. But after that, the only film to have broken the top 10 was 2004’s “The Passion of the Christ,” which remains the highest grossing R-rated film of all time

The numbers don’t lie– and they tell us that despite the early millennium “Passion” outlier, the popularity of biblical films has severely declined in the last century. Where is the Bible in the movies today? 

It’s not in the year-end highest grossing film lists, that’s for sure. 

Rather, the Bible can be found in the low budget, independent film scene. 

While the biblical adaptations of the 20th century were categorized as “epics,” the contemporary landscape of “Bible movies” are better categorized as “faith-based films.” 

The most popular faith-based films have been depictions of Protestant scripture, so I will specifically be using the histories of mostly Protestant Christians’ relationship with film to understand the contemporary landscape of faith-based films. 

Following the controversies surrounding the recent “Sound of Freedom”, it seems increasingly relevant to ponder the place that faith-based films hold in our contemporary society. The 2023 faith-based film is about a child trafficking ring and it struck a chord with major conservatives– over-performing at the box office. But more on “Sound of Freedom” later.  

In their 2011 book “Celluloid Sermons: The Emergence of the Christian Film Industry, 1930-1986,” film scholars Terry Lindvall and Andrew Quicke define five different categories of faith-based film. The first, and most familiar, is “Biblical films,” such as the epics of DeMille, and they are the most popular under the umbrella of religious films. The second category is of “missionary films” which are anthropological documentary films. These were usually made by missionaries, and very heavily leaned into the exoticism of non-western countries. They were produced with the intention to teach about the necessity of evangelizing around the world. 

Lindvall and Quicke combine the third and fourth categories, “historical” and “biographical” films, because they both involve documenting the real-life activities of churches. Most popular in the 1920s and 30s, today the recovered films are useful historical records.

And lastly, “dramatic films.” These are narrative motion pictures that focus on “life situations”– the happenings of living as a Christian. Dramatic films, as according to “Celluloid Sermons,” focus on anything from “personal, social, [to] even economic issues.” 

In my opinion, it is from the “dramatic film” category that the modern phenomenon of faith-based films has been born. However, the function of these films within the last century has changed. 

The most notable mid-twentieth century faith-based “drama films” were produced by and large by one studio: World Wide Pictures (WWP). WWP began in 1952 as the Billy Graham Evangelistic Film Ministry. Narrative films leaned into dramatizations of true-stories of Christian believers, and were the most produced by the studio. It was by “centering the sinners” in stories of redemption and salvation that Graham believed the transformative power of God would get across. The famous Reverend Graham, known for his broadcast evangelism and political influence, started the production house as a way to share the “Gospel of Jesus Christ.”  

While it’s true the films were primarily watched by religious audiences, the Graham-led studio was influential in its “four-walling” marketing techniques. WWP would buy out the rights to their films’ theatrical releases from the movie exhibitors, so that the films would play in those theaters regardless of attendance. WWP would then intensely market the films to churches as early as six months before its release, framing the viewing of the films as activities for church folk to engage in together. 

Punk Politics: A Review of Nowhere Generation by a Member of the Nowhere Generation

By Nathan Burke

The album cover of Nowhere Generation by Rise Against

Rise Against is a Chicago-born punk rock band, perhaps best known for the progressivism exhibited in many of their songs. Formed in 1999, Rise Against is iconic of the middle generation of punk music, old enough to draw inspiration from bands like NOFX, while young enough to serve as role models and inspirations in their own rights to younger punks. The band consists of four members, lead vocalist Tim Mccllrath, bassist Joe Principe, drummer Brandon Barnes, and lead guitarist Zach Blair. Of these four, three live a “straight edge” lifestyle, a punk subgenre that is defined by abstaining from alcohol, tobacco, and other substances in opposition to mainstream punk’s excesses. Additionally, some of the band’s members are vegan and the band has actively promoted animal rights both in their artwork and through their platform. While progressive politics is not unique to Rise Against in the punk scene, Rise Against’s depiction as a beacon of anti-reactionary politics in punk music comes from their success and longevity in the spotlight of the worldwide punk subculture. 

In their newest 2021 album, Nowhere Generation, Mcllrath engaged younger members of the punk community – and even his own teenage daughters – to develop a picture of what it feels like to be a Millenial or Zoomer in these unprecedented times. The album is almost a laundry list of grievances that are painfully relatable to the politically conscious of the younger generation, expressed through the trademark rage of Rise Against’s brand of melodic punk music. Perhaps the most persistent of these themes is the death of the American Dream.

Rise Against are no strangers to the concept of the dying American Dream – impassioned calls to action are Rise Against’s version of Fitzgerald’s green light. The single “Satellite,” off their seminal album Endgame attempts no metaphors at unpacking that topic: “That’s why we stick to your game plans and party lines / But at night we’re conspiring by candlelight / We are the orphans of the American Dream / So shine your light on me.” “Satellite” took inspiration, McIlrath said, from the Chicks’ (formerly, the Dixie Chicks) 2006 song “Not Ready to Make Nice,” which was written in response to backlash received by the Chicks regarding a statement made by the band opposing George W. Bush’s 2003 invasion of Iraq. In this same way that the Chicks stood strong in their convictions, Rise Against remained convicted of their political beliefs – despite the mutual rejection of the popular zeitgeist.

It’s the mid 2000s. The ozone layer had been patched, the world was saved from environmental danger. War had been waged on the United States and we had waged war back, usurping Saddam and unseating the Taliban: mission accomplished. To the older generations who faced these hardships and overcame them, the American Dream has been achieved; progress is no longer necessary. Mcllrath’s Nowhere Generation is perhaps best defined as the generation that came of age in the post-9/11 world order. To the Nowhere Generation, new problems have risen from older solutions’ ashes and progress continues to be needed. Global temperatures continue to rise at a breakneck pace. 20 years after the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, the Taliban remain in power and Iraq continues to be the politically unstable fulcrum of the Middle East at the cost of $8 trillion U.S. taxpayer dollars. Increasingly weak relationships to the truth in politics have led to a world where each side can firmly point at the other and say “look how bad they are,” ignoring their own hyperpolarization – a world that is easy to understand, ignorant of its intricacies. While political polarization may not be a uniquely boomer fallacy, Gen Z’s internet-borne tech-savviness has proven far more resilient to misinformation than that of our Facebook-addicted elders. These sharp generational divides have left us with a politically disenfranchised youth that lacks the power to make change of their own.

That is not to say that there are no solutions or strengths in the Nowhere Generation, however. The album’s lead track, “Numbers,” kicks off with a rallying cry, telling young punks and progressives that the age of the older generations’ domination over politics is waning. Mcllrath sings, “And they have the power / But we have the numbers now / It’s all just a constant illusion of control / They break us like horses / How long will we drag their plow? / What will continue to be is what we allow.” The song also leads on a distorted sample of “Worker’s Marseillaise,” a late 19th century Russian pro-revolution song that called for the destruction of the archaic old systems and called for the working people of Russia to unite against the totalitarian Tsarist system. This imagery of populism and revolution is telling as to how Rise Against sees the younger generations, as revolutionaries who are burgeoning into our own incoming class conflict. Ideological patriarch Karl Marx wrote in his 1850 treatise series The Class Struggles in France, “Revolutions are the locomotives of history.” Marx’s ideology was fundamental to the revolutionary politics of those who sang “Worker’s Marseillaise” circa its release, who struggled to bring about political change in their own country and time period. In the same vein, Rise Against is singing “Numbers” to bring about political change in their own country and time period, driving for the next revolution that will push history forward. As each generation revolts, it sets the stage for the next generation’s revolt.

Similarly, the album’s second track, “Sudden Urge,” reflects revolutionary ideals and a rejection of reactionary politics. Rise Against’s chorus once again best encapsulates the song’s main theme: “You’ll feel a sudden urge / To watch this whole town burn / Light up the whole damn sky / Like the Fourth of July.” Mcllrath described this song as addressing the question of whether the system is something to be fixed or if it needs to be torn down completely to build something better. While he doesn’t claim to answer that question with this song, it still serves as a powerful anthem for those leaning towards the side that feels it necessary to burn it all down:

                  “It’s a little bit nihilistic that song, which is not my baseline [state of being],
                  but I think that it’s important to acknowledge that we all hit those points
                 
where we can’t comprehend what the big picture is, or where we are out of
                  ideas and solutions. Sometimes you just have to scream and let it all out.

The song evokes powerful images of militant peace; in its second verse, McIlrath sings: “I am a dandelion, making guns go silent / Sticking out of every barrel, cold as steel,” referencing the 1967 photo Flower Power which depicts protestor George Harris placing carnations in the barrels of military police officers’ weapons at a protest against the Vietnam War.

Flower Power by Bernie Boston

Throughout the album, Rise Against’s melodic punk tones strike a balance between the rage of the Nowhere Generation and the underrunning organization of our resistance to reactionary politics. Barnes’ drums doll out an angry punk BPM while Principe and Blair manage upbeat – almost pop melody – guitar work in contrast to the drums’ bass that exemplifies the balance between chaos and order that so well defines Gen Z, while also highlighting the generational difference between Gen Z and Gen X with modern pop-inspired melodies interacting seamlessly with classic 90s punk beats.

The titular track, “Nowhere Generation,” is again anthemic of the youth’s rejection of the status quo. In this rejection, Rise Against identifies elements of the younger generations’ progressive culture that are uniquely ours: “We are not the names that we’ve been given / We speak a language you don’t know,” referring to Gen Z’s distinctive internet-borne dialect and unmatched support for trans youth and others who have rejected their birth names on account of their identities. The track also recalls the theme of the American Dream:

                  “And for your sweat, you’ll be rewarded
                  They told us every day
                  There’s a land of milk and honey
                  And it’s not that far away
                  But the finish line kept movin’
                  And the promises wore thin
                  And the smoke on the horizon
                  Was the burning promised land.”

This redolent picture of America’s constantly moving goalposts encompasses Rise Against and Gen Z’s pessimistic outlook – it’s hard to imagine success for America’s youth knowing that they are paying for Social Security they will never receive, that politicians 50 years older than Gen Z’s youngest members are making decisions on their behalf and without their vote, and that global temperatures continue to rise.

The album’s fourth track “Talking to Ourselves,” details the narrative that exists not only between reactionaries and revolutionaries, but also between the older generations and the “Nowhere Generation.” The chorus rings true of this dialogue: “I never wanted to disturb the peace / But it feels like no one’s listening / Are we talking to ourselves / Are we just talking to ourselves?” Generations Y and Z have found themselves thrust into the role of unwilling heroes, it seems, but no one else will listen to the warnings of those like Greta Thunberg and the survivors of the Majories Stoneman Douglas shooting about the dangers of the path we continue to walk. The purported American Dream has been claimed by the “victories” of older generations, but the consequences have left an anemic system that offers the younger generations no American Dream of their own left to seize.

The album’s remaining seven tracks are no less interesting or moving, each bringing their own flare to Rise Against’s gestalt and total dismissal of modern politics and their spotlighting of the younger generations’ plights. The lead single “Broken Dreams, Inc.” directly highlights the imagery of a dismantled American Dream, juxtaposed on the background of the capitalistic and labor exploitative American job market. “Forfeit,” the album’s sole acoustic track, quietly offers hope on Rise Against’s behalf to a generation that may be losing hope in itself. “Monarch” uses its name as a double entendre, referring both to a person with absolute authority and to the monarch butterfly, as mechanisms to discuss coming out of your shell, standing up to someone who puts you down, and becoming your full-fledged self.

The album is perhaps the best encapsulation of Gen Z’s progressive politics despite being written by someone who is generations older than us. It echoes both the despair of an increasingly untenable state of the world and the hope of a generation that is finally coming into its own, able to affect change on the global scale for the first time. This cycle is endemic to punk. Punk is a genre born in the anger of youth, a genre that I was raised into. In passing on an appreciation for not only the music, but the subculture of punk, my dad taught me to fight for change in spite of its scariness. Punk is inherently progressive because it is constituted of a fundamental disrespect for the status quo. While Rise Against is not the only punk band to ever take a stand, they are arguably most famous for doing so and Nowhere Generation aims to inspire a new generation of punks, bolstered by the support of their elders. For Rise Against, this album marks a step towards appealing to the new base of the revolution without compromising Rise Against’s classic poppy hardcore style. While the album received little mainstream attention outside of the punk scene, I implore Gen Z’s punk, grunge, and rock fans that dream of political change to take a listen to Nowhere Generation and draw inspiration from a team of veteran anti-reactionaries.