Back in November I got to spend time with one of my friends who had moved to Indiana. It’s been a weird transition for him, a Brooklyn native, to move so far away. He was telling me that in his English class, they had to write down something they wanted to do for Christmas. One of his classmates wrote that she wanted to see the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and he had to stop himself from laughing. All of these “New York” things really just draw in tourists; few New Yorkers actually go and see them.

The glorification of New York is everywhere in popular culture. From music to movies, New York is always the place to be. It’s the center of the universe to many. But is it really?

My favorite movies from this semester were The Muppets Take Manhattan and The Producers. They were both lighthearted and hilarious, and a nice breather from the heavy, drudging films that otherwise filled our syllabus. Even though they were comedies, they both still had a heavy dose of reality in both. The Muppets showed us that you have to work hard to make it, but you still can in the end. The Producers showed us that there are cons out there that want to exploit art for a profit.

However, I don’t think either of those works showcased the true New York City. Why? Because in Muppets, the good guys win out and the show is a hit and in The Producers Max and Leo just keep doing their thing (in prison, but still). The only film that really captured New York was undoubtedly Oliver Stone’s Wall Street. Stone shows New York as the urban jungle that it is, and more importantly shows the people who live here accurately. Deep inside, we all have bits of Bud Fox and Gordon Gekko in us. We’re like Bud because we want to get ahead in life; we’re like Gekko because sometimes we don’t mind stamping on others to get there. We’re even like Darien in that we’ll use others as a means to support ourselves.

Wall Street forces the viewer to examine him or herself. If you weren’t riveted by Gekko’s ‘greed is good’ speech, it was probably because you were too busy trying to deny that he was right. In a world where money is everything, greed is natural. It’s even good! Without greed, we’ll just get stuck where we are, no upward mobility for anyone. Maybe greed for money itself is negative, but greed for a better life isn’t so negative. However, the issue comes with the realization that more often than not, a better life is facilitated by more money. So how do you get money? If you’re Bud, you play the stock market game with an unfair advantage. If you’re Gekko, it takes you a while to get caught, but you live the life you want for the time that you’re under the radar and that’s not so bad. Wall Street is the truest reflection of New York because it has brutal honesty without being sensationalist or superfluous. Every person wants to get ahead and in the urban jungle of NYC sometimes you can’t do that by keeping your hands out of the mud. Sometimes you’ve got to get elbow deep in it. And sometimes you get caught.

For me, “selling out” is one of those terms that’s so crazily overused that it’s lost all semblance of meaning. What does “selling out” even mean? Well, selling out is when an artist compromises the integrity of his or her art by using economic gain as a litmus test for the art’s content. What does that mean? Consider movies. Some movies are made solely to entertain, and nothing more. There’s no social commentary and probably very little plot and what little there is probably includes romance and explosions. Those things bring people to the theaters. Filmmakers know this and continuously crank out movies from that exact mold, just change the stars and the premise and boom! Another Hollywood blockbuster; another cash cow.

Case in point: Martin Scorsese. Let me preface this by saying I absolutely despise his longwinded style. However, much as I loathed it, even I can admit that Taxi Driver was a meaningful film. It, despite taking forever to happen, had a lot of meaning and a very interesting and dark concept. As a whole, the film is a very large commentary about the squalor of New York City and how one man tried to clean it up and become a hero. In contrast, Gangs of New York was inexcusably horrible. Can anyone tell me what the plot was supposed to be? So many subplots and so many unnecessary scenes made the movie feel endless and pointless. What was the significance of Cameron Diaz’s character? A romance wasn’t needed, so why was her character there? She also was in no way integral to the plot (failing the Mako Mori Test very, very hard) so why was she there? Her character, along with the many unnecessary background prostitutes, were excuses for nude women cavorting around to draw people to the theaters. And who needs a plot that doesn’t keep dropping off at random intervals when there’s naked women and gore? Not most moviegoers looking to be entertained.

            However, selling out is more often an accusation than it is a truth. For example, the kpop super girl group Girls’ Generation gets accused of selling out every time they make a comeback. Their fourth album entitled “I Got a Boy” was especially polarizing because the concept was such a huge departure from the established “Girls’ Generation style.” Fans unhappy with it declared Girls’ Generation had “sold out.” (While I don’t think that’s actually possible, given that Girls’ Generation is signed under the wealthiest entertainment company in South Korea and therefore everything they do is motivated by their company’s greed, I disagree for other reasons.) First, fans always seem to expect Girls’ Generation to stay the same from their debut days. When Girls’ Generation debuted, the three youngest members were still in high school; they’re now all in their mid-twenties. Do fans really expect them to keep skipping around holding giant lollipops like in “Kissing You”? The girls are getting older; they can’t keep cranking out generic cute concepts. “I Got a Boy” featured a powerful hip-hop theme and several rap sections where in the past had been none. It was a risky concept, but it still sold well because of their celebrity power, but it still drew accusations of selling out. I don’t think they sold out; they’re changing along with the times. Anyway, no one gets to complain about “I Got a Boy” since its b-side was “Dancing Queen” which was written for them in 2008 and was ultra cutesy. So no complaining! Furthermore, “I Got a Boy” has one of the most challenging dances they’ve done. They even elected to wear flat shoes instead of heels to be able to perform at their best. The song was still great, disjointed maybe, but that’s no so bad if you don’t like their other ultra-repetitive singles. But maybe I’m biased because “I Got a Boy” is my favorite Girls’ Generation album.

            I think that the reason people hate the thought of “selling out” is because people secretly hate change. Selling out implies things are changing, and that’s uncomfortable. People can be sad that films take a hit in the quality department when their creators get distracted by the green. People can become irritated when musicians no longer produce the kind of music they’re accustomed to. But to quickly cry “sellout!” is hasty and more often than not, just the crier’s fear of change. Selling out is only a bad thing when the quality of the end product diminishes. I personally believe that Gangs of New York was a trip down the stairs in quality from Taxi Driver, but hey, it still did well at the box office. “I Got a Boy” still sold millions worldwide and the girls broke records for consecutive weeks at the top of the music charts.

This semester in movies taught me a lot of things – most importantly it taught me that no amount of gentrification can erase the racial tensions that divide Americans, and no film better captures that than Spike Lee’s “Do the Right Thing.” The movie unapologetically says all of the hidden (and usually racist) things that everyone tries to be too politically correct to say. The scene that resonated most with me was when the different groups in the community curse out the others, hurling all of the racially loaded insults at their disposal. This particular scene has so much power because it really drags out everything that people secretly think of one another. When you see it, it’s hard to say that you’ve never thought or said those things about people.

“Do the Right Thing’s” New York is the most accurate because it shows the melting pot of the city without sugar coating the realities of racism in America. The animosity between the races and the feud between the blacks and the police are still relevant hot-button issues today, so “Do the Right Thing” has a sad sense of timelessness.

Similar to “Do the Right Thing,” Lee’s other film, “The 25^th Hour,” also captures the essence of New York. In “The 25^th Hour” there is a scene similar to one in “Do the Right Thing” in which Monty soliloquizes in front of a bathroom mirror, cursing out all of the stereotypes of his neighborhood and raging against them. This scene bears a powerful resemblance to “Do the Right Thing’s” even though “The 25^th Hour” was made thirteen years later. This shows that even though things change, more things stay the same. There’s still anger and tension, and since “The 25^th Hour” tied in with the September 11^th attacks, anti-foreigner and anti-Muslim sentiments were high because of fear even though the film didn’t explicitly delve into that.

“Do the Right Thing” made a huge impact on me because I think it was the movie with the most accurate representation of New York without being too idealized or too sensationalized. Moreover, “Do the Right Thing” is also incredible relevant to today’s times and how sometimes deep seated prejudices don’t go away with time.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from Carmen. I’d never seen an opera before, and I was a little dubious about “enjoying” it. I tried to remain open-minded about the experience; after all, I hadn’t paid for it so I wasn’t losing anything by being there. The show began and I, having forgotten my glasses and therefore blind, found myself losing track of characters simply because I couldn’t tell people apart. I don’t think my glasses would’ve helped much; the distance was just too much. I decided that I’d just read the subtitles in front of me when I realized my subtitles were lagging. I attempted to turn them off, thinking I’d just listen to the music, only to make them freeze in Spanish. Now completely lost, Carmen did very little to keep me engaged and I found myself growing bored with it. I could appreciate the singing, because my voice can’t do that, but I couldn’t stay attentive. I’d skimmed the act synopsis before the lights dimmed but by now I wasn’t recalling any of it. I started violently jabbing my subtitle button in an effort to unfreeze it and had limited success – I returned the subtitles to English, but they lagged for a while before freezing again. When intermission came, my neighbors and I compared what we believed the plot to be, only to check the synopsis and realize how wrong we were. I jabbed my button with more vigor and anger and managed to get them to behave.

Subtitles fixed, I was able to remain engaged for the remainder of the opera. I didn’t feel like I had missed anything from the first two acts and was able to follow along. Now aware of what was happening, I found myself growing annoyed with Don Jose. His character didn’t seem to be capable of critical thinking and spent what seemed like the whole show changing his mind at the drop of a hat. I grew frustrated with his behavior towards Carmen. Make up your mind, man! Carmen herself was also trying my patience. I was utterly unsure of whether or not her “love” for Escamillo was sincere or not. Was she declaring her love for him to Don Jose’s face because she truly was in love? Or was she just trying to push Don Jose’s buttons? I couldn’t tell.

If there was one thing I did like about Carmen, it was Micaela. I, as a soprano, really admired her voice and her stage presence. She was also the character I sympathized most with. Her aria in them mountains blew me away (and luckily my subtitles were working for it!) I felt so bad for her, she traveled into a bandit’s den searching for the man she loves only to watch him refuse to leave Carmen, or at least until he hears his mother is dying. I wish Micaela had more to do in Carmen, and her lack of involvement did disappoint me a little.

Overall, I don’t really think opera is a dying art form. The opera house was packed with people of all ages. Our tickets in the nosebleeds weren’t outrageously expensive, so I’d say that those with a limited budget could still afford the opera if they really wanted to and were willing to sacrifice sight. The subtitles – when functioning – also make the opera more accessible to everyone. I think that the idea that opera is boring and old keeps younger crowds away, but if people are exposed to opera their minds might change. I don’t think opera is stuffy and old anymore at least.