The East Rock Record, a paper made by second through eighth-grade students at East Rock Community and Cultural Studies Magnet School, published its annual issue on Feb. 11. The organization meets once a week to craft a publication with article subjects ranging from the Beatles to the mayor. According to Laura Pappano, the head of the program, teachers and mentors empower students to both wax on what they think in opinion columns and cover pertinent issues in reported articles. 

Garrett Griffin, who started teaching at East Rock six years ago, was frequently interviewed by the East Rock Record. This year, he became a faculty advisor for the paper, where he helps students find their voices through the paper. 

“It’s a way for students to express their voices through their writing,” Griffin said. “They are focused. They enjoy taking the story from an idea to print.” 

Students ranging from ages 8 to 13, work together with faculty advisors and mentors to write a paper that covers News, Arts, Tech and Opinion. 

Students flex their unbridled imaginations to stick it to the man, as evidenced by their “Lunch at 10:40 AM?” piece in their most recent issue, which began, “Are you actually hungry for a burrito at 10:40 am?  If the answer is ‘No!’ then you have a lot in common with many students at the East Rock Community & Cultural Studies Magnet School.”

Pappano credits the fun and expressiveness to the principal, Sabrina Breland, who trusts the students and faculty to produce an exhaustively truthful publication. 

Breland, who attended East Rock in the first class of second graders in 1974, credited the newspaper’s success to its tight-knit community and committed mentorship. Mentors — Yale student volunteers who often have backgrounds in journalism and advise the paper — show up and know students’ names. Teachers run a well-oiled machine powered by visible, long-standing trust. 

“I think [the East Rock Record] shows students what they’re capable of,” Breland said. “It allows them to go outside of their wheelhouse because I think some students don’t realize how great they can be. And I think this is one of the clubs where students realize that their capacity to learn is limitless.” 

In their 10 years of operation, the paper has interviewed Elicker and police captain Anthony Duff. The COVID-19 pandemic forced the program online, but leaders maintained the entire operation, publishing online and inviting speakers who otherwise would be too far to reach. 

Pappano, who plans and leads meetings over Zoom, has been a journalist for more than 30 years. As a kid, she and her siblings produced a family magazine that propelled her from delivering newspapers at dawn to The Boston Globe, The New York Times and Vanity Fair. Now, she writes and volunteers for East Rock, copy-editing and fact-checking each issue before distribution. 

“The point of [the East Rock Record] is really to broaden their horizons, and really reveal to them all kinds of possibilities that are out there,” Pappano said.

To follow up with their published newspaper, students are currently working on video journalism projects, where they expand work in the print newspaper through a visual narrative. 

Han Pimentel-Hayes ’27 led one of the groups preparing for a video journalism project on The Beatles. She works with the East Rock Record every week to ensure that young students feel valued and empowered within the East Rock community.

“I love being part of the East Rock Record because I love to see how creative students get with their ideas,” Pimental-Hayes said. “I love to see their personalities shine, and all of their interesting experiences and opinions.” 

The newspaper’s annual edition is available at the mayor’s office, New Haven Reads, IRIS, The Study, City Hall, The Children’s Room in the Ives branch of the New Haven Public Library and the North Haven office of the Diaper Bank of Connecticut.

The post The East Rock Record: All the news that’s fit to print in elementary school appeared first on Yale Daily News.

They are also engaged. 

When you find two things, it’s hard not to sort them. One should be salt and one should be pepper. Lennon or McCartney. William or Sonoma. Though Ben Kronengold and Rebecca Shaw come in a pair, they obfuscate categorization. They’re both simultaneously brains and brawn, forming a collective creative voice under one name, intellectually winding up knock-out punch lines to co-byline. When someone at Yale says “Ben & Rebecca,” you know who they’re talking about.

Their fates constellate. As kids, they always gravitated to humor, staying up late to watch “Saturday Night Live” and listening to their parents’ recordings of George Carlin and Joan Rivers. They are both from New York — their moms grew up together in Queens. 

“We’re deeply lucky we’re not related to each other,” Shaw said. 

They both directed their college comedy troupes — Shaw leading Red Hot Poker and Kronengold leading The Fifth Humor while performing in The Viola Question. 

Both of them, however, studied discretely different fields, with Shaw majoring in psychology, and Kronengold majoring in political science and film. 

“If there is a through line to be drawn, it is why people make the choices they make, and how deeply weird it is to be human,” said Shaw on choosing psychology. “I also think that’s me overanalyzing it. I had an awesome advisor.”

Despite being serious students, they found themselves drawn to the art of comedy writing, wanting to make each other laugh and push their comedy to the professional level if they could find a way. 

“Comedy has so much head but also gut. You can intellectualize it and study it like a subject or a class, but at the end of the day, 10 more hours won’t give you 2 percent more on the exam. There’s an instinct to it that made it the coolest challenge to gravitate to,” said Kronengold.

They use each other as backboards, nurturing jokes together, gauging the quality by their partner’s reaction and calibrating their jokes to produce a laugh. Despite their proximity, they cannot read each other’s minds.

“I think we surprise each other a lot. Specifically when we surprise each other, we know we’re onto something. We use it as a tool or heuristic in our writing. I’ll be like ‘I thought Rebecca was gonna zig, but then she zagged,’” Kronengold said.

At Yale, both found themselves in “Writing Humor,” a creative writing seminar taught by Ryan Wepler, where they amassed a collection of written essays. Some made it into their book. 

Wepler’s class simulates a writer’s room. Under constraints of time, subject and form, he asks students to churn out a high volume of jokes and humor essays over the spring semester, wringing the funny out of them until their humor is dry.

“In ‘Writing Humor,’ you’re forced to find your way to the joke. How can I still find my way to the funny on top of four to five classes? The class teaches you to make it second nature,” Kronengold said.

“[In a writer’s room] — most of the time — writing assignments aren’t totally open-ended. Sitting with a prompt and waiting until you start to make yourself giggle is something that class teaches you how to do … Ryan is such a great editor and has such an instinct for how to pull the funny out of something. He asks ‘What exactly does that joke mean? What’s the new observation that you’re making?’” Shaw said. 

They have not yet tired. Since college, their comedic voice has grown with the scope of their reach. Since “The Tonight Show” reels in an average of 3.5 million live viewers every night, Kronengold and Shaw learned to cater their jokes to suit a wide audience of people who watch TV to feel good. 

“I think we approached our college humor as wanting to say something subversive, biting and edgy. If I looked at it in retrospect, it probably skewed cynical. When we were hired on ‘The Tonight Show,’ the choice was joy and optimism. We’re not trying to take something down or make an audience member the butt of the joke. When you’re able to do something that has all the surprise and subversion we were attracted to, but is punching up and not down, it’s really worthwhile. We’ll always take that optimism into our projects,” Kronengold said.

Their elastic sensibilities have kept the duo in business. At their talk, they advised hungry students to have scripts — and backup scripts — ready for anyone who comes knocking. They encouraged students who want a job in “the biz” — they never used the term “the biz” — to write as much as possible and submit for publication wherever they can. They also told listeners to be good. And normal. And kind. 

“Don’t get cynical. Just fall in love with a new direction on a project or sketch. You can either say, ‘I had a creative vision. How dare you impose your own?’ Or, ‘How can I write something I love as much — if not more — than the original version?’ It’s about finding your ins to be excitable instead of stopping getting excited. That really helps — deciding to continuously fall in love with what you’re doing and the new directions you have to go in and the new opportunities you’re given. You get to go instead of being pushed,” Shaw said.

“You’re so smart,” Kronengold replied. 

Their next projects involve scripted television and film. And a wedding.

The post Ben & Rebecca appeared first on Yale Daily News.

The art gallery, which opened at 1209 Chapel St. in August, serves a gourmet menu based on their monthly artist’s work, pairing their cuisine with the work displayed on the gallery walls. Vera Wu, whose show is on display until Oct. 17, paints surrealist, floral displays with underpaintings that make her oil canvases glow.

“[It’s] an immersive dining experience that combines all the senses,”  Sonal Soveni, the founder of Table & Gallery said. “Food sends messages and evokes memories. You can make powerful statements without words.”

Soveni described herself as an entrepreneur channeling her passion for arts and cuisine into the new gallery. She also is a filmmaker and artist, and has a mural hanging at the entrance to the gallery.  

For Wu, her artistic journey, leading her display her work at Table & Gallery, started young. She said that her grandfather realized she had a gift for the visual arts when she was 4 years old; Wu’s family enrolled her in ink painting classes in China, where she was born and grew up.

Now, she combines graphic and classical symbols, pioneering a new version of surrealism with imagery ranging from silky botanical petals to cartoon characters. 

“They have no texture, like baby skin,” Wu said of her oil paintings. “My experience with ink impacts the way I paint with oil, from the underpainting to the final layer.” 

Soveni said she chose to feature Wu’s work because of her ambition and artistic skill.

Bruce Payne GRD ’65 is a collector of Wu’s work and a fellow in Timothy Dwight College.

What draws Payne to Wu’s art, he said, is how her paintings depict curiosity about her surroundings, which he said also prompts him as a viewer to look more deeply at the world.

“I am also spending time contemplating a pair of small paintings we’ve just acquired, works that comment on the seductive ways tulip petals and stems twist and contort in the days before they die,” Payne said.

The five-course menu that Table & Gallery serves is geared toward representing the surrealism of Wu’s work; it includes rose petal dumplings, le canard asiatique and green tea ice cream. 

Soveni says she wanted to build a space for artists to communicate through multiple senses. 

“I want to show people the world on a plate,” Soveni said. 

Despite the global cuisine on the menu, Soveni told the News that Table & Gallery sources most ingredients, such as the organic vodka, from around New Haven to support local businesses. 

Nick Surdel GRD ’27, who attended the opening, said Wu took a “surrealist approach” to her still life paintings. He also described how he felt the visuals in her paintings connected to the soup the gallery served. 

The soup was warm and clear, with bobbing balls of peach gum.

“The headlining piece of art, ‘Horizons,’ has a surrealist upside-down tree that looks like it’s growing in a dream world,” Surdel said. “At the root of this tree is a big orb. This orb is reflected in the cuisine through a traditional Chinese dish called Raining Pearl Soup.” 

Table & Gallery replaced the Turkish restaurant Döner on Chapel Street.

The post Table & Gallery serves a taste of Vera Wu appeared first on Yale Daily News.

Malone, a local drag queen, read stories, sang and danced with families at Mitchell Library in New Haven on Wednesday afternoon. With the help of the New Haven Pride Center, she celebrated the six-day Pride New Haven festival with bubbles, snaps and many a “yas queen” during her Drag Queen Story Time.

“I know we’re in a library,” Malone said, “But we’re allowed to use our outside voices right now.” 

She peppered winky jokes into her performance, fitting three books and two songs into a tight hour with ease. Kids and librarians alike danced around the normally quiet space, slipping and sliding on soap from a bubble machine.

Eight kids and 10 parents attended the event, as well as four organizers from the New Haven Pride Center.

Malone opened with “The Hips on the Drag Queen Go Swish, Swish, Swish,” inviting the audience to sing along with her to the tune of “The Wheels on the Bus.” Kids hopped up and down, bursting into laughter — after gauging their parent’s reaction — when she read the word “fart” from “The Princess and the Pony.” Babies gazed as Malone sashayed under fluorescent lights to the crowd-pleasing “Let It Go,” inviting the audience to perform with her. They obliged, with parents perhaps singing louder than their kids.

“I love to see families come together, especially during pride events,” said Juancarlos Soto, executive director of the New Haven Pride Center. 

Soto said the goal of the event was to make fun and safe spaces for LGBTQ youth. He emphasized that these events were meant to bring everyone together for a joyous experience, whether or not they are a part of the LGBTQ community.

For Malone, drag performance provides representation that she never had, performing even in the face of nationwide Proud Boy-populated protests against drag queen story hours. 

“When I first started doing drag, this was one of things I was most looking forward to doing because representation matters,” Malone said. “The protests started happening, [and] it’s a little scary, but it’s not going to stop me.”

Eliza Benitez brought her son to the event because she wants him to know that he can be whatever he wants to be in life.

During the show, she saw him smiling and modeling Malone’s dance moves, much to her delight.

“Inviting a drag queen to the library is a wonderful idea,” Benitez said. “I think it worked. I think [my son] got the message.”

The story hour was an important force to combat the hate that many libraries have seen at similar events, Laura Boccadoro, communications coordinator and producer of New Haven Pride, told the News. 

Boccadoro says that the library approached the Pride Center about hosting the event for Pride, which it fully backed.

 “Watching the kids enjoy themselves with this colorful performer in front of them in a safe, queer, learning, engaging space — it’s so special to involve youth in the Pride events,” Boccadoro said. 

The New Haven Pride Center will host a Pride Block Party on Saturday, Sept. 23, from 12 to 6 p.m. in the Ninth Square. 

The post Tiki Malone shines during Drag Queen Story Time appeared first on Yale Daily News.

“I think I’m dying,” I murmured, as they inspected the red bump on my chin.

“No,” they said, “you have a pimple.” And I did.

 A few months later, when I realized I couldn’t pray my acne away, my mom towed me to the doctor. The dermatologist had a physique not unlike my round 4’11” frame. A blunt, middle-aged woman with the rubbermaid tupperware-thick glasses, she examined me with big eyes and prescribed me a topical retinoid.

Her witch’s brew mitigated my carbuncles (courtesy of thesaurus.com) for a while, but as I got older, my skin flared up. I tried every impossible-to-pronounce medication the doctor could spew out: tretinoin, spironolactone, adapalene gel, benzoyl peroxide, salicylic acid, doxycycline, or what you will. Despite being safe for skin, it all seemed poisonous. Some of it bleached my clothes. Some doctors told me birth control made it better, others called it the culprit behind the whole thing. There was no solution.

Finally, like more than 13 million people worldwide, I resigned to the acne-sufferer’s medication of last resort: isotretinoin. You might know it as “Accutane,” or the drug-that-must-not-be-named. I’d avoided it after years of suggestion per anecdotal horror stories detailing skin dryness, joint pain, and even suicide, all in pursuit of acceptable skin.

Isotretinoin is a Vitamin-A derivative used to treat severe acne. Although medical professionals have yet to pinpoint exactly why, they know it reduces oil production, shrinks sebaceous (oil producing) glands and prompts cellular turnover on the surface of your skin. When enough builds up in your system, your skin should stop producing oil altogether, encouraging normal cells to rise to the surface and hopefully cure your acne forever. It’s a wonder drug, if you’re willing to risk the side effects. 

The inescapable ones include incessantly dry skin, constantly cracking lips, bloody noses and severe birth defects (if you get pregnant). Before starting, patients who can get pregnant must either start two forms of birth control OR sign a vow of abstinence. This is not a joke. During treatment, they must take a monthly pregnancy test; if you have a baby, it will have severe birth defects. For the first three months of treatment, doctors run blood tests to make sure your liver isn’t quiet-quitting. You can’t give blood. You can’t eat too many leafy greens—every child’s dream—at risk of a vitamin A overdose. If you value your liver, you can’t drink. 

It gets worse. Accutane can cause hair-loss, joint pain, unexplained bruising, ulcerative colitis, and IBS and severe depression. I’ll stop now. Unbelievably, I didn’t want to start.

In desperation, I binge-watched “Accutane Journey” YouTube videos and prepared for the worst. Severe acne runs in my family. The only way to get rid of it would be to poison myself with vitamin A. 

And it worked.

After eight months of daily pills and around 15000 mg of Vitamin-A, my acne is better, at a marginal cost. Despite constantly dousing my lips in medicated lip balm, they still crack. My skin peels constantly. Have you ever seen a child try to make their barbie walk? If you haven’t, look for me hobbling down Prospect at 9:25 on business days, and you’ll get the jist. Accutane has given me arthritis-level hip pain that (hopefully) will fade away over the next few months. As the dermatologist promised, the extreme side effects are unlikely. I didn’t have them. If you have nodular acne, you probably won’t have them either, but ask your doctor or a Reddit dermatology thread before starting. I ceremonially took my last dose today.

People have commented on my skin’s newfound clarity. I can finally look in a mirror again, and honest children have stopped asking me what’s on my face. Although my confidence has skyrocketed, when I look for skin-deep problems, I find them with ease. Like many children raised on filters and facetune, I know exactly what I should look like. I’ve kept up with the Kardashians. A more beautiful version of myself stares back at me every time I open Snapchat. We take extreme measures, like Accutane, to fit the accepted bill of beauty. I suffered through painful headgear in seventh grade to get straight teeth and humility. We forget that braces are cosmetic surgery. I have friends with lip fillers. I sautée my hair with a curling iron every time I go out. I wear high heels. Yes, I do these things to make myself feel good—not to suit any outsider’s gaze—but why does this make me feel good? Who funds the ads that insist I buy concealer? 

I don’t regret taking accutane. It has greatly increased my quality of life –– but why should it?

The post The Beauty of Accutane appeared first on Yale Daily News.

She probably saw the DMs I sent her in 2015 pleading for tickets to her concert, but she must have been so busy she didn’t have time to respond. I miss texts all the time. 

I consider myself a “Swiftie,” but Taylor and I have had a rocky relationship. I’m the problem. 

I hope Taylor forgives; I tell people I don’t like her. 

Like many children, I idolized — and continue to worship — my older sister. She single handedly discovered Taylor Swift, monopolizing her CDs like Scooter Braun, blasting them from her Magnavox Toploading Boombox, benevolently permitting me to go through the CD pamphlets, explaining that the capitalized letters in the song lyrics spelled out secret messages. Taylor Swift was the first pop star we saw rise to fame. We were girls together. Her music timestamps every long car ride I sat through before the age of 14. 

But I am weak.

When blind dates who “really want to know me” ask what music I listen to, I tell them Khruangbin, Kikagaku Moyo, and King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, before I run to the bathroom to blot my sweat, pray they won’t steal my phone, guess my phone password — 1111; it’s about the illusion of security — and see “All Too Well— Sad Girl Autumn Version” paused on Spotify.  

This worked until Spotify Wrapped — champion of truth — exposed to me and my peers that Taylor Swift was my second-most listened artist in 2022, surpassed only by — you guessed it — Phoebe Bridgers, the sourdough to Swift’s white bread. After all these years, I — like many young women — can’t help but listen to Taylor Swift. She articulates feelings I can’t. She knows me better than I know myself. She, a smart, likable woman, gets her heart broken, as evidenced by her recent split with Joe Alwyn. Taylor Swift is everywoman.

Until you look at her finances. 

Parade estimates she’s worth more than $400 million. She relentlessly releases new music and relentlessly rakes in cash. This spring, she crashed Ticketmaster, and now, she’s flooding my Instagram feed with my friends’ concert photos from 1000+ feet above the ground, where she bounces around in the distance like an ant you’ve cornered on the playground. 

Now, as last minute tickets are sold hours before concerts, fans flock to see Taylor Swift dance her heartbreak away and sing what we sing on the way home from a breakup. She gets press. We are reminded to buy tickets. A newly heartbroken Taylor Swift is worth more than a happy one.

I thought she was a pop star, but I was wrong. She’s a businesswoman. She monetizes our bizarre para-social relationship with her, baiting us to buy her tickets and guess her next album title. Our longstanding relationship, built on CD pamphlets, car rides and older sisters, is really just a game for her. She is “All Too Well-ing” Us. 

But maybe I’m wrong. That’s why I don’t want her to see this. I hope she forgets to pick up a copy of the WKND paper this week. I love her. I don’t want her to think I hate women. Maybe our relationship is real. I should buy tickets before they sell out.

The post Please, Taylor Swift, Don’t Read This Article appeared first on Yale Daily News.

On Feb. 24, 2023, “Cocaine Bear” premiered, grossing $8.6 million on its opening day. To put that in perspective, “Avengers: Endgame” made approximately $60 million on its opening day in 2019, before the COVID-19 pandemic emptied theaters. Obviously, the tactical marketing of the Avengers franchise attracts a greater audience, but if $60 million is the ceiling, “Cocaine Bear” is a footstool. 

At first, these statistics worried me. Maybe people didn’t want to see a bear do cocaine. Maybe the movie just didn’t have “the juice.” Maybe the newfangled CGI cinema tricks have worn audiences out. 

The bear looked pretty real to me, though. If PETA sees this movie, they’re going to be really mad, because Cocaine Bear is loosely inspired by true events. In 1985, a 175-pound black bear bear ingested cocaine dropped by smugglers in the middle of the Georgian woods. The bear did this for the headline. Maybe the bear was a real actor. We’ll never know, and there’s no way for us to find out.

In the movie, [SPOILER] the bear kills a lot of people. In real life, the bear overdosed before it could. Either way, bears shouldn’t do cocaine.

That shouldn’t stop you from seeing the movie, so why are the numbers so low? What’s stopping people from seeing this bear go crazy? Then I remembered what every review I’ve read since 2020 has said: the pandemic wounded the theater-going industry, shutting down many AMCs and Cinemarks. Netflix releases movies on the streaming platform instead of in a theater. You can rent movies in theaters for $20 from home. The first day in theaters doesn’t matter anymore. 

My faith was restored. I watched “Cocaine Bear” with an open mind and open heart, wondering only if the bear would have a heart attack or try to write a screenplay. Would it snort the cocaine or just gum it? Does the bear have a Canada Goose jacket and hate its parents? Would the movie end with the bear’s friends getting it some water and putting it to bed? No. If it did, it would’ve been two hours shorter. The filmmakers had a story to tell.

On the day a bear tries cocaine (in the comfort of his own home), everyone decides to explore the woods. One girl drags a boy into the woods, because she’s mad that her mom has a boyfriend, terrifying her the poor woman who follows them into the woods alone. A drug lord and his son independently venture into the woods to find the cocaine that fell from a plane and started this hullabaloo. A policeman waits for them. Some foolish park rangers do nothing. Everyone goes “Into the Woods,” but nobody sings. If Stephen Sondheim were alive, he would watch this and die again. 

Nobody guessed that animals on substances could supply an exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution, for a whole movie, but director Elizabeth Banks made it happen. The movie didn’t seem realistic; I’ve never seen a bear do drugs, but Winnie the Pooh’s “honey” addiction comes pretty close, and he’s definitely fictional. It felt like an authentic thriller nonetheless, with long shots of gory wounds, jump scares galore and kids swiveling around really slowly in sync when they hear growling behind them. Because the shock of a scary bear attacking people wore off after she slaughtered her first victim, the jump scares began to rely more and more on gore. This was an inhumane bear.  

The cast breathed life into the film, especially Keri Russell, the (potentially) bereaved mother hunting her daughter down. The movie should’ve been called “Mama Bear.” Where the story lacked heart, she infused it with familial devotion, elevating “Cocaine Bear” from thriller to heartfelt thriller with her hero’s journey. Isiah Whitlock Jr. warmed the film as the cop hunting the drug lord, but also made fun of the people he arrested 

Ultimately, the film told an exciting story, keeping audience members on the edge of their seats, leaving little to the imagination, and letting us know why bears shouldn’t do cocaine. 

“Cocaine Bear” is in theaters now. 

The post Cocaine Bear Teaches us Why Bears Shouldn’t Do Cocaine appeared first on Yale Daily News.

The YDC sets their interpretation in the present day, presenting a whole new set of challenges to producer William An ‘24, director Kassandra Haakman ‘24, and their actors. This week, actors have been putting in at least four hours for rehearsal every day, according to Willaim Barbee ‘26, who plays Claudio in the YDC’s production. 

“At a basic level, people should come see Much Ado because it’s fun,” says  Everett Tolbert-Schwartz’26. “It’s a lighthearted, ridiculous comedy, and we all need some more of that nowadays. But it’s also really cool to see how similar Much Ado is to modern rom-coms, and how little humor has changed after so many years.”

“Much Ado About Nothing” examines romance, and — like most Shakespearian comedies —  deals in tangled schemes, miscommunication and love both young and old. Beatrice and Benedick, two comparatively older singles who have lost faith in love, banter relentlessly, matching each other quip for quip.

In a manipulative attempt at match-making, Benedick and Beatrice’s friends trick them into falling in love —- they allow Benedick to overhear that Beatrice is supposedly in love with him and allow Beatrice to overhear the same. 

“Many of the situations that the characters find themselves in—particularly the initially-disastrous romance between Hero and Claudio, which is reliant upon customs of chastity and virginity of Elizabethan England—cannot be accurately captured in a modern setting,”  said Barbee. “Thus, the director and actors have made choices that attempt to shift the way certain scenes are constructed and framed without changing any dialogue so that they may be more translatable to our own era.”

While they unknowingly fall in love with each other, the young Hero and Claudio are betrothed and madly in love until they are interrupted by a Shakespearean miscommunication: Claudio thinks Hero has an affair with someone else the night before their wedding. During the ceremony, Claudio confronts his fiancée, viciously accusing her of adultery, and she faints. She’s pronounced dead. She isn’t. Foibles ensue.

This accusation comes with different baggage in the 21st century, and Alina Kramp ’23, who plays Hero, had to reckon with this as an actor.

“For me, as I tackled my role as Hero, one of my biggest challenges was figuring out how she comes to forgive Claudio after being betrayed at the altar — it might have made sense in the Elizabethan Era but it was a head scratcher for a Gen Z actor,” Kramp told the News. “One of the solutions Kassandra and I came up with is ‘bimbo-fying’ the usually soft-spoken, gentle Hero, which I think will be funny for audiences to see. I hope I’ve been able to do Hero justice.”

“Much Ado About Nothing” will run from March 2, 2023 through March 4, 2023 at the Morse-Stiles Crescent Underground Theatre.

The post The Yale Dramatic Coalition debuts “Much Ado About Nothing” appeared first on Yale Daily News.

On Feb. 17, lovers and lonely hearts alike waltzed into the “Crush…ed” event, a crossover that promised a night of romantic music and hors d’oeuvres. The two showings were held at 8 p.m. and 10 p.m. in the Davenport Common Room.

“The arc of the show is 1) people falling in love, 2) heartbreak, and 3) reconciliation,” performer Sam Ahn told the News. “I’m a sucker for romance, so of course, I wanted to be a part of Crush…ed. The set list is composed mostly of musical theater songs, but there’s a pop song, too.” 

Crush…ed was the fourth ever production by the Yale Artist’s Cabaret Founded by Lauren Marut ’25 and Soleil Singh ’24, the Cabaret held its debut performance last March. 

Ahn explained that the theater collective is known for shows that require lower time commitments compared to other performance groups on campus, making the arts more accessible to non-theater majors and fostering connections across residential colleges. According to Ahn, the Yale Artist’s Cabaret carves a space for students who love to perform but don’t have time to take on all-encompassing performance arts.

At this arts symposium, music wasn’t the only attraction catching peoples’ eyes. While singers serenaded the audience, Y Pop-Up served them up a series of delicacies. 

“Collaborating with the cabaret was super fun and a great opportunity to come up with some theatrical valentines themed dishes,” said Grace Ellis ’25, Y Pop-Up baker. 

Guests at a total of 50 table settings were treated to a three-course meal of eggplant smoked melon paté tart, chicken roulade with pomme dauphine and chocolate buckwheat cake with tahini ice cream and sesame brittle. 

The menu and music selection were specially curated to bring the romance to the Davenport Common Room.

 “Since we’ve drawn songs from lots of different musicals, we have a really wide range of songs in the show,” said musical director Peter Sykes ’24. “It’s been super fun preparing such diverse music, the show really has something for everyone to enjoy.”

Natalie Brown ’25, who performed in Crush…ed, said that the setlist consisted of “songs about crushes, heartbreak and falling in love.”

“I’ve loved working on Crush…ed,” Brown said. “Every YAC show is so different, but I’m so grateful to have gotten to perform with them before and be back again, this time for a totally new performance and viewing experience…The other performers are all so incredibly talented, and the vibes of the room are immaculate. This has been such a fun and joyful process.” 

The Yale Artists Cabaret opened their second season with “Origin Story,” held on Oct. 28, 2022 in the Off Broadway Theater.eli

The post Yale Artists Cabaret and Yale Pop-Up present Valentines-themed dinner with a show appeared first on Yale Daily News.

I believe in the keystone state. I believe in freedom, rolling hills, “Brotherly Love,” the Reading Terminal Market and saying “wooder” instead of “water.” Pennsylvania bred the United States of America and nurtured it with cheese steaks and Hershey’s bars. I took my first breath in Pennsylvania, lost my first tooth in Pennsylvania and was lightly bullied by schoolchildren in Pennsylvania. The state raised me. 

I don’t believe in Punxsutawney Phil. 

For 136 years, he has successfully swindled American citizens with promises of spring’s birth, budding trees and sunshine. Every year, we willingly believe. On February 2nd, he emerges from his lair. Like a politician, he disseminates a false hope we’re all too familiar with for personal interest and power. He is the State.

If he sees his shadow, residents of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania face six more grueling weeks of winter. If he does not, he promises an early spring. He, our fickle master, abuses the godlike power we give him with no consequence, despite his 46 percent accuracy rate. 

First of all, I don’t get this. How do we determine whether or not he sees his shadow? Does Punxsutawney Phil report his findings? Even when it’s overcast, we all have a shadow. What makes him look? What makes him ignore? Does he know his power?

Thought to have begun in 1887, Groundhog Day was born from “Candlemas,” a Pennsylvania Dutch holiday that announces a seasonal turning point, like the summer and winter solstice. In the absence of science, they pursued reason in the Groundhog. On this day, they ask the groundhog to escape his earthen home, check for his meteorological shadow, and celebrate if he saw it. Punxsutawney sought relief from the long, barren winter. They found it in a rat. Despite their reverence for the rodent, residents KILLED him and feasted on GROUNDHOG MEAT after the ceremony. This is a cause I can get behind.

Seeing that the tradition has lasted more than a century, Punxsutawney Phil has surely met his maker, but the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club insists otherwise. Every few years, he consumes an “elixir of life” which, with repeated doses, grants Punxsutawney Phil immortality. As we great thinkers know, eternal life comes with more drawbacks than advantages. He has no reason to love life. He cherishes not the time he has on earth; he lives in a monotonous drone, uninterrupted by the tick of mother nature’s clock. He feels no guilt. He feels no fear. He feels nothing, only the manipulative power he wields over humankind when February dawns.

Nonetheless, he has a wife. He might even have a son. Phyliss, his devoted spouse, is not treated with the “Elixir of Life,” no doubt a symptom of ceaseless sexism in the United States of America. Groundhogs generally live for six years, so Phil has grieved his wife about 22 times, making him either immune to sadness or a sick sadist who thrives on her death. He essentially has a harem. Down with Patriarchy Phil.

In reality, Punxsutawney Phil has no concept of his own significance, which, for some, is a beacon of hope. Maybe some greater being watches me, too and waits for me to indicate some turning point in a meta-season or time. Maybe they want me to see my shadow when I go outside. Maybe winter ends when I floss. If so, these mystical beings are in for a long winter. I won’t change for them.

All facets of this story conflict. If they ate Punxsutawney Phil in the early years of the tradition, how is he 136 years old? How does he know to come out on February 2nd? Why must he give Pennsylvania a bad rep?

Pennsylvania is more than Punxsutawney Phil. Metropolitan corners sandwich farmlands, Amish country, coal mines, mountains and running creeks. It’s rural. There are groundhogs everywhere. One even lived in my backyard. Considering the fact that he literally burrowed himself under a rock, I don’t think he had sufficient meteorological expertise to tell the weather, but I never really asked. I hope he’s okay. 

Please, I beg, do not let Punxsutawney Phil characterize Pennsylvania. When you think of my home state, think instead of the Poconos, Questlove and Gritty, not that tyrannous rat.

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