“The Debt” (113 min., R) by director John Madden is a stirring and gripping tale weighing some of the best questions man has asked himself in the latter 20th century. It is a story of love and passion, lies and deceit, longing and loss, cowardliness and heroism. Mr. Madden has become a master of  the use of imagery, scintilating musical compositions, and emotional contrasts to produce an almost surreal portrait painted against a melancholy landscape.

Set in 1966 in the fledgling nation of Israel, three young Mossad agents (Israel’s top secret paramilitary spy network) are sent deep undercover in East Berlin to retrieve a nefarious ex-nazi doctor. Known as the “Surgeon of Birkenau” and played poignantly by Jesper Christensten, Dieter Vogel is the epitome of evil, a cold and calculated man strongly befitting such a devious role. Of course the mission goes awry, and the three agents will have to piece together a case which will shape both the futures of a nation yearning for justice, retribution, and a sense of identity;  and ultimately the fate of their very own lives. The film is not without its flaws, but the ending will leave an indelible mark on its audiences who will assuredly ask the question which addresses the crux of the movie. By living a lie does one become one?

Inexplicable amazing. There is true thought and effort that goes into the making of such great pieces of work, from the simplest to the most intricately detailed. The 194X–9/11: American Architects and the City, Young Architects Program 2011 and “Talk to Me” exhibits on the third floor of the MOMA provide a level of comfort with a focus on familiar common place subjects such as furniture, technology and the city in which we live. This floor almost feels like a second like home. However, what makes these exhibits attention grabbing is their perspectives on the everyday. Technology is not what it seems as it is transformed into an unexpectedly tangible form of communication, a seat is no longer a functional object but one made with the purpose of inspiring thought, broadening the norms by which we function, and as we live in a multilayered, complex city, we are asked to what length can we push our growth and existence, and how can we extend the literal building blocks of our urban society.

The Kite Runner written by Khaled Hosseni takes a look at Afghanistan in the 1980’s during a time of political upheaval due to the invasion of the Soviet Union. The novel is really well written and explores the friendship between two friends Amir and Hassan.  Their friendship goes through several obstacles that test the two boys courage and perseverance. It just so happens that Amir must separate from Hassan as the Russian invasion prompts Amir to have a new life in America. Many years pass and the boys grow up to be men, however it turns out that the Tailiban have invaded Hassan’s village and it is up to Amir to save him.

If you are a visual learner or would enjoy learning about the evolution of film, then the Museum of the Moving Image is the place for you. However, even if you are not, the Museum is far from boring. The excitement begins at the Jim Henson gallery on the third floor. The gallery takes the viewer through the evolution of the  “The Muppets” show, starting with Henson’s preliminary sketches and ending with the finalized broadcast of” The Muppets” in black and white. The antiquity continues with Charlie Chaplin inspired “mutoscopes,” and an array of cameras and microphones used in the earlier films. On the Second floor, the special effects makeup and set designs give the viewer the inside scoop of what went behind the scenes on films and shows like “Black Swan” and “The Cosby Show.” The gallery ends on a playful note, as it has video games from the eighties set up to be enjoyed by the public.

Last Thursday, September 8^th, I had the chance of attending an event that truly makes NYC what it is. Fashion’s Night Out is a city-wide occasion where stores stay open way past their usual hours, each hosting their own “parties” equipped with DJ’s, artists, and of course runway shows. Caught in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, I couldn’t help but notice as I walked from store to store that the real art wasn’t on the shelves or in the windows, it was walking next to me. The people around me were all interested in fashion, like I am, but fashion meant something different to each and every one of them. In front of me was a woman in an extravagant ball gown, behind me a man in heels, next to me someone with a hat made of feathers. That night, fashion was an art form, and everywhere I turned, it was being honored as just that.

Today, I went down to the 9/11 memorial. I came idealistically thinking that my coming would ease the burden and grief, weighing down on so many families of our city. That the remembrance would wash away the blood and tears, and their lives would ravel together like a spool of yarn, leaving the trauma and sadness to teeter in the dust. To take pain in their pain, and solace in their solace. I presume I am wrong, but it was a marvelous spectacle nonetheless.

On 9/11, I was in the 4^th grade amidst the great havoc and emotional upheaval, which gripped this city. My mother hearing rumors of a massively orchestrated terrorist attack whisked me out of school and into the comforts of our Long Island home where no evil lurked and no stone had been left unturned. Even now, thinking that my traumatic experience of the events of that day took place in a place so absolute, so familiar, tends to bother me. We walked through the doors and into the living room numbly watching the newsreels play the dark day’s events. Suddenly, images of the twin towers afire cluttered the television set. It was as if our lives were playing the center of some grand scene where the world crumbles down around us and we are to bear witness to its demise. Then the images cut, and the unprecedented occurred. The Twins Towers began to collapse. First the north, then the south.

As I watched, a loud sound tinged the room. Not preceding nor even following their collapse. It was directly during their descent that the noise began to emanate. Taken aback I turned to my mother, my protector, and stared as her face gaping and contorted with expressions of horror let out a bold SCREAM. Indeed, she no longer had a face at all; rather a large gaping void had taken its place leaving a black hole, a deep dark cavernous well in its stead. The disturbance had the feeling of a monotonous drone, like that buzzing noise you hear after you’ve had the wind knocked out of you. It sounded of instinctive trepidation and fear, of places and beings not meant for this world or at least in a world of good. And this was my memory, my moment to keep and to guide for all of time.

I think we lost ourselves out of that tragedy. It was almost as if the period before and after 9/11 were as a blur. Not quite recognizable but distinctly specific and deliberate. Yes, they were deliberate. Not necessarily knowing what to do we embarked upon two despicable wars in the name of freedom and liberty. And in freedom and liberty we crushed our enemies, slowly and methodically. Black and White, we the people who worshipped the light waged war against those adherents of the dark, apparitions and ghosts prowling the dead of night. But in this abstraction did we win the war of ours souls before that of the sword? Did we weigh the rights and wrongs or did we mindlessly, consciously, commit ourselves to the further degradation of mankind. Did we manipulate both good and evil, and in the process turn morality into some ugly BITCH of a thing?

Sometimes I wonder whether it mattered at all that we were attacked on 9/11. Whether we were enslaved to fight these battles anyway and that those who had perished would have died all the same be it of the body or the mind. As it is always is, things are not as they appear to be. Logic rarely dictates reality. Concepts evade and the mind continues to wonder. How it is possible when everyone runs out of a burning building there are always the brave few who run into it? And to know that the 366 of the best of mankind, firefighters and police officers, none of whom were in the buildings at the point of attack, found themselves all the same mixed with rubble and bone atop the pile. So when the debris fell upon the whole of the city that day, it fell with it the remains of these beautiful men and women, husbands and wives, sons and daughters, fathers and mothers. And their bodies and souls were interspersed with the lot of New York. All as one, forever and always.

But I was so very young at the time of its happening. Helplessly unaware of the stark realities of the world. Upon further review in fact, my story apparently checks untrue entirely. My mother never picked me up at school like so many others that day. When I returned home she had already been there deeply immersed with the unfolding events, all too aware that I would not understand nor grasp the magnitude of such an occurrence.

To me it is all irrelevant.  We remember as we want to remember but more importantly as we MUST remember. My memories of that day as an expression of a manifested reality built from my thoughts and feelings, my emotional impressions; are bolder and truer than any non-fictional account. And it is as this that I recollect.

The SCREAM has remained with me. It has taken up a persona of transient elusiveness, floating majestically through both space and time. Out of my nightmares and haunted visions lurking in the black. And on days of darkness and despair where all seems lost and nothing is sacred, I can still see my mother SCREAMING silently, and me being sucked into the void, silently, ever so, screaming right on back at her.

Streams of people, guided in and out of glass doors by the irresistible hand of Fashion, pack the streets. All around, huge letters and bright declarations of “Fashion Night’s Out” remind all of us of the obvious. How could one possibly ignore the hundreds of fashionistas (and fashionistos), each displaying their unique style, hustling from one store to another? And each store, all showcasing their own distinct, instantly recognizable concept, bursts with the latest of the latest! The free items, alcohol available everywhere, and storewide sales attract shoppers all down Broadway. The name captures it all. Fashion lives within us, so when we all join together in that commonality, fashion is having a marvelous night out.

The divisions between student and master are beautifully blurred at 27^th and 7^th. Students create half of the work at the partner museum to one of the premiere institutions of fashion education in the country. The small but satisfying space for visual and fashion art attracts over 100,000 visitors annually. Dior, Chanel, Gucci, Hilfiger and many others have donated their work to be displayed along the students in a chronological, efficient form. The Museum embodies none of the exuberance and decadence that causes most to cringe at the pure existence of one of New York’s largest industries. Its calm layout and understated backdrops invite a thought inducing experience that might not convince to make a Bloomingdales trip but will certainly have you talking about it.

“THOR” (PG-13, 114 minutes) is a movie about a God turned into a super hero. You’re probably thinking that a “God” is the least relatable character ever—and you’re probably right—but Thor (played by Chris Hemsworth) does a great job in displaying his humanity.  No character should be powerful to the point of perfection, and Thor does in fact give us a (wonderfully) flawed character. Although Thor is in fact a God, throughout the movie he is shown to be just as stubborn and naïve as the rest of us. The movie also has an interesting setting. The film takes place in a fantasy world called Asgard as well as our own. The movie’s transitions from one world to the other are masterfully rendered. The supporting cast is also very relatable. From Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) to Loki (Tom Hiddleston), you’ll find yourself empathizing to at least one of THOR’s characters. The CGI is breathtaking and the characters have great depth. The final battle sequence may disappoint hardcore action fans but the movie is one that anyone and everyone can enjoy.  If you haven’t seen it yet, I recommend you do. Four stars. (09/13/2011)

For one weekend in September the sidewalks of Sound Beach Avenue in Old Greenwich, CT turn into a showcase of artists’ work. People are given the opportunity to view, as well as purchase, beautiful paintings and photographs by various artists. On Saturday September 10^th, many enjoyed the sunshine and warm weather as they strolled along Sound Beach Avenue, viewing and discussing beautiful art that lined the streets. I attended this 60^th annual sidewalk art show where I viewed a wide array of paintings and photographs. I particularly enjoyed a photograph titled “Candy Apple Red”, taken by Joyce Grasco. The vivid red color of the candy apples along with its precise detail, provided an effect that made it seem as though these candy apples were indeed right in front of me! This event is one that differs from many others as it includes a myriad of styles and art. Whether one enjoys oil paintings, acrylic works, or perhaps photography, one can be sure to find, and perhaps bring home, one such beauty!

Even though Chiddy Bang lacks mainstream popularity, they produce unique sounding music that appeals to an extremely wide range of listeners. By generating a fusion of Hip Hop, Rock, and Alternative, their music anything but generic. Using samples from MGMT, Radiohead, and Passion Pit, Chiddy Bang’s music has a feeling of familiarity that immediately converts many new listeners to fans. Although their music is a pleasure to listen to anytime, hearing them perform at Fordham University was an unforgettable experience. The upbeat vibe and the energized crowd helped create a concert that was truly impossible not to love.

This past weekend I attended a musical performance of epic proportions. Poofy and the Busboys, an up-and-coming hip-hop/funk/rock band in the New York City music scene, performed live at the Whale’s Tale in the band mates’ hometown of Long Beach, NY. The eclectic band incorporates various kinds of music to create a genre that they call “alternative hip-hop.” Long Beach is currently hosting the Quicksilver Pro Surfing Competition so needless to say the town was packed. Hundreds of people flooded the streets as the hometown boys prepared for an all-nighter. Their set list consisted of originals and covers; originals included their single “Victory”, as well as their newest song “Bruce Lee.” The band’s repertoire of covers spanned from Stevie Wonder and The Jackson 5 to Adele and Bruno Mars. The crowd was moving, dancing, and simply feeling the music (and not only because they were under the influence). From 11 pm to 4 am, the band drew people from all along the main street to the front window to catch a glimpse of a drum or guitar solo. It’s the small concerts like this that reaffirm my belief that music transcends gender, race, religion, etc. No matter who you are or where you come from, there’s nothing like a great song that creates a good feeling for everyone in attendance.

If you are looking for something that will entertain you and at the same time, inspire you, then listen to my experience watching the famous Broadway musical Wicked. Not only is Wicked filled with songs that fill your body with energy, it reveals a prequel to the well-known movie, The Wizard of Oz. What’s more is that, through this musical, you’ll learn that not everyone is what he or she seems. If you’re looking for something uplifting and exhilarating, don’t hesitate to buy tickets to watch this Broadway musical. The price you pay is definitely worth the experience you get.

The annual crazy Fashion Night Out has arrived! The streets of Soho were incredibly crowded, making the excitement of the streets almost tangible. I step into Express and see three extremely tall girls taking pictures with their fans. At second glance, I realize they were Alison, Bianca, and Alexandria from America’s Next Top Model! Alexandria was featured in a display window, walking on a trend mill with her five inch beige heels, and showcasing her runway walk. The speakers were blasting the song “Just Can’t Get Enough,” making my ears ring. I was holding the over cheesed popcorn Express served, and observing that the air smelled like liquor, as I admired the pink make up on Alison’s face. All in all, Fashion Night Out is a great experience for those who have a desire for liquor, fashion, and free food.

Stillness pervades the open space; voices are brutally silenced and colors fade until they become monochromatic. The black and white photographs add more depth to the already heavy subject matter and stun you with their depiction of chaos. Former detective and lifelong photographer John Botte fills his commemorative 9/11 photographs with overwhelming clarity and emotion. The photos depict a tragedy, yet exude a sense of preserved humanity. You are transported to the site on the day of the attacks. You will gasp, cringe, and perhaps even cry, but you will remember and rejoice at humanity’s ability to move forward. This is art in its raw form, captured during the peak of the destruction, but preserved for eternity for all to see.

Every day there is a performance at Union Square and 14^th street underground in the subway system of New York. It’s incredible how many New Yorkers which are people that have the smallest attention span ever are captivated by the artists and just group around them. I took the time to watch House of Water perform and it may have been the most unique music I ever heard. What’s so incredible about this band is that their music is a combination of sound from all over the world including South America, India, Africa and even Jazz. The band also used an instrument I’ve never seen before called a hammered dulcimer and they played it to perfection. This band is truly a wonder to behold, prepare to be amazed as the band plays the most innovative music you will probably ever hear.

Do you have a taste in strange and unusual art? Would a tower of barrels or a two-headed giraffe made out of aluminum interest you? Then Socrates Sculpture Park is the place for you, located in Astoria, Queens. All postmodern art fans will enjoy the many sculptures to be seen, such as barrels that have been smelted together and doors made out of plastic. Even if your not a fan of art, you can enjoy strolling through the park and gazing at one of the best views of Manhattan, especially during sunset. It doesn’t matter if you are a postmodern art enthusiast or not, Socrates Sculpture Park welcomes all!

As soon as you walk down the stairs to the “Remembering 9/11” exhibit, you are hit in the face with emotions. The floor-to-ceiling projections displayed on the walls of the horrific pictures from that tragic day are shocking. Seeing the kinds of objects that were burned and destroyed was astonishing, ranging from a child’s doll to a fire truck. As you slide along the walls of the exhibition in the pin-drop silence, you see the faces of family members grieving their lost ones, firefighters standing on several stories of rubble, and how the World Trade Center site changed during the months after the attacks.

Not everyone is born with the rhythm required to salsa, but if you had stood there with me that night, you’d beg to differ. Men and women from every walk of life moved smoothly around the boardwalk, an innocuous and bumpy dance floor. If you decided to follow the movements of any one couple, you’d probably think they were professionals. Everyone moved to the beat of the music with such energy and fine-tuned precision. At the same time, anyone who chose to enter the throng of dancers was welcome; you weren’t required to look good, but to enjoy. That was the beauty of it, once you ventured in, you were pulled into that world, stepping to the beat as if the music could speak to instinct deep inside you.