by Andrew Katz ’26 on September 25, 2025

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A&E - Film & TV

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In 1999, when HBO released the first episode of The Sopranos, the standard for television shows changed. The Sopranos followed the life of Tony Soprano, a sociopathic mob boss who had to balance the drama of his biological family and his organized crime family. This show kick-started the Golden Age of television shows, which we are still in today. As people look for more shows that can match the level of The Sopranos, very few are able to do it. The most recent show to reach this upper tier of television shows is Succession.

Succession, running from 2018 to 2023, is a fictional show loosely based on the Murdoch family. The story begins with Logan Roy, the CEO of Waystar Royco. This is a giant corporation that has many different entities including ATN News, which delivers a shocking announcement on Roy’s 80th birthday that he is not planning on retiring, as he was expected to. This devastates Kendall Roy, his eldest son, who was supposed to be the future CEO. As the title of the show is Succession, the story follows the drama of the fight over who will be Logan Roy’s successor when he finally retires. For most of the show, there are three main contenders to the Waystar Royco throne: Kendall, Roman, the youngest son, and Shiv, the daughter. Other characters in the show are also trying to climb the corporate ladder. Two of these characters include their cousin Greg and Shiv’s husband Tom. The show, through four seasons, consistently shows the cynical nature of our capitalist world, especially through the characters doing the most embarrassing things just to be associated with power and wealth. The scene that shows this the best is the “boar on the floor” scene.

The “boar on the floor” scene takes place as Waystar Royco is attempting to acquire Pierce, another media empire. This plan goes south when someone from Royco’s side leaks this information to the press to tank the deal. Logan becomes angered by this act of disloyalty, as it is one of his main values, and he decides to have dinner with everyone aware of the deal. Logan questions people about their thoughts on the deal. He eventually pulls out three people whose responses he did not like, and tells them to sit on the floor. He then makes them oink like pigs, further humiliating them. As the men comply with this humiliating ritual, Logan throws two sausages for the three men and states that whoever doesn’t eat one is the one who ruined the deal. Though this game has nothing to do with actually finding out who leaked the information, it shows the power Logan holds, as he can have high-up executives humiliate themselves just because he chooses to. This scene also shows what greed can do to someone.

Everyone in the room lets this happen as they are scared Logan will take their power away. This one scene is representative of the entire show. Every person around Logan will do whatever he wants because of his power and their greed to be associated with wealth and power. They are puppets of Logan’s throughout the show, doing whatever he wants. Very few times have people ever gone against him, and if they do, they fail. Succession shows that this cynical nature is what our capitalist society rewards. One must be willing to sacrifice all values to be considered successful. When people sacrifice their values, only care about themselves, and are obsessed with power, they become sociopaths. And what Succession tells us is that only sociopaths win this game to acquire power and wealth in our society today. Overall, Succession is a must-watch TV drama that shows us the darkness in our society. Succession beautifully balances seriousness with the satirical scenes of the show and ends perfectly, making you want more of the show instead of dragging the story longer than needed. If you enjoyed shows like The Sopranos (1999), The Wire (2002), or Breaking Bad (2008), you will likely love Succession.

by Mia Gasbarro ’26 on September 18, 2025

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A&E - Music

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The Album That Defines Pop in 2025

When the cover of Sabrina Carpenter’s seventh album, Man’s Best Friend, surfaced online, it quickly sparked debate. The imagery drew strong reactions and garnered conversations about gender and power. Instead of letting the controversy overshadow her work, Carpenter transformed the backlash into buzz. Beyond the controversy, Man’s Best Friend is making headlines as it showcases everything from disco-infused pop songs to beautiful, sad ballads, all of which work cohesively to turn bold imagery into equally bold music. The album has proven to be one of Carpenter’s most ambitious and dynamic projects yet, blending sharp wit with polished pop to secure her place at the center of today’s music conversation. 

Carpenter has come a long way since her debut during her Disney Channel days. Now, she is steadily creating a place in pop music with her strong songwriting and playful energy. Her 2024 album Short n’ Sweet, featuring the viral hit “Espresso,” earned her three MTV VMAs and secured her position as a rising pop star. Building on that momentum, her seventh album, Man’s Best Friend, appears as her boldest and most talked-about project yet, with the album debuting at No. 1 on the Billboard 200. 

Musically, Man’s Best Friend is a bold and vibrant blend of disco-pop and R&B, developing a sound that feels both retro and fresh. Carpenter balances catchy hooks with witty, self-aware lyrics to create songs that are playful and flirty. The album showcases everything from upbeat dance anthems to slower reflective ballads, highlighting her versatility as an artist. Standout tracks like “Manchild” emphasize her ability to blend humor with a polished pop production, while other tracks explore themes of love, control, and self-discovery, adding a surprising element of depth to the album. Overall, the album’s sound reflects Carpenter’s growing confidence and willingness to experiment, making it a cohesive yet unpredictable listening experience. 

Carpenter’s Man’s Best Friend is more than just another chart-topping album—it’s a cultural moment that reflects how today’s artists use music, visuals, and even controversy to start bigger conversations. For students, her rise feels especially relevant: she’s a young artist navigating fame, creativity, and public opinion in real time, much like our generation navigates its own identity in a fast-changing world. This album reminds us that pop culture isn’t just background noise, it’s part of the story of who we are right now. In the end, Man’s Best Friend isn’t just a win for Carpenter, it’s a reminder that pop culture moments shape how our generation connects through music. 

by Ian Gualtiere ’27 on September 18, 2025

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A&E - Music

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The world was introduced to the Gallagher brothers in April 1994. Their band, Oasis, had just released “Supersonic,” a single that would define British music for the next decade. A string of hit singles, EPs, and albums would propel the Manchester band into the stratosphere. Helmed by creative lyricist and deadpan older brother, Noel, and brought to life by the nasal voice and erratic behavior of younger brother Liam, Oasis would take to the top of global charts thanks to the anthemic songs of “Live Forever,” “Rock N’ Roll Star,” “Slide Away,” “Wonderwall,” “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” and “Champagne Supernova.” Several years of tabloid headline news, apparent legendary stories, and notable fights between the brothers would continuously follow the band after every tour, rowdy night out, and family get-together. Yet the two would make up and continue playing in the band. 

By the turn of the century, Oasis had cemented themselves as one of the most popular bands in the world with over 49 million copies sold with only three albums: Definitely Maybe (1994), (What’s The Story) Morning Glory? (1996), and Be Here Now (1997). For the next seven years and four albums, sales would begin to dwindle, and audience and critical reception would start to turn. The band would see various lineup changes, and the brothers would continue to take their frustration out on each other, despite being in high demand for concerts and festivals. The end of Oasis occurred in the summer of 2009, after Liam contracted laryngitis and canceled a show in Chelmsford, England. Several days later, on Aug. 28, another canceled appearance in Paris would prompt Noel to release a statement on the band’s website declaring that he was leaving Oasis, stating that he “simply could not go on working with Liam a day longer.” The next 15 years would see bitter tensions between the brothers, public call-outs on television and social media, and proposed reunions for a hefty cost. For the time being, Oasis had remained a pleasant memory for those who experienced their popularity, and an incredible jewel to newcomers who discovered past performances on streaming, television, and documentaries. These sentiments would culminate in a new generation of Oasis fans, calls for a reunion, and overall popularity starting to surge by the early 2020s. Almost 15 years to the very day of the breakup, a new generation was able to witness the announcement of the band reforming and going on tour. All of the band’s social media accounts posted a message with a new image of the brothers on Aug. 27, 2024, stating, “The guns have fallen silent. The stars have aligned. The great wait is over. Come see. It will not be televised.”

The Gallagher brothers’ travel itinerary started in Wales on July 4, and then headed across the border to play shows in London and their hometown of Manchester. The brothers went north to Scotland and then across the Irish Sea to finish the Europe leg of their tour in Dublin, on Aug. 17. The much-anticipated reunion touched down in Toronto for two shows just a week after Dublin and the tour rolled through the American border towards Chicago for a single concert on Aug. 28. The final three locations for Oasis would be held in East Rutherford, NJ; Pasadena, CA; and Mexico City to finally close the curtain on the North American leg of the tour on Sept. 13. Liam, Noel, and company will eventually travel back to London to play two shows in their home country that were added to the tour due to such high demand. The debaucheries, however, do not end in the Western Hemisphere as the band ships off to South Korea, Japan, and Australia for shows in Oct. and Nov. The tour finally ends in South America as the brothers look to play shows in Argentina, Chile, and eventually Brazil. 

Up until this point, nearly 1,917,000 avid fans have lined up for security clearances, bought pints of their favorite beverages, and held their closest friends and relatives to sing along to the reunited Gallagher brothers. I was in attendance for their Dublin show on Aug. 17 in Croke Park. The city was tense, like a family about to host highly esteemed guests for a dinner. Painted murals of Noel and Liam sporting their famous Adidas tracksuits and bucket hats were strewn on nearly every street corner; pubs descended into intoxicated sing-alongs, filled with people trying to belt their hearts out to decades-old songs; and lines of people arrived early to Croke Park, dressed in heavy parkas and John Lennon-esque glasses, in the hopes that they can stand closer to the rock stars than everyone else. My brother and I bought tickets nearly a year ago to stand in the pit of hundreds of avid supporters—drawing deep breaths and personal space were ideas of the past that simply did not matter to us. As the brothers walked out onto the stage, holding hands of reconciliation, utter chaos and jubilation erupted from the nearly 80,000 fans. Many threw their beverages into the air with fervor and started to jump on beat with the music being played. These concerts are not what some critics have called “a money grab from two bitter middle-aged men;” they are the release and relief of a tense world. They have been a refuge for communal love, excitement, and pure rock. As messages of enjoying life, reflecting on the love of music, and defiant individuality (and perhaps a few pints in the middle) were highlighted throughout the Gallaghers’ songs, everyone in the crowd knew that there is a beauty in the experience of life. These concerts are a celebration of life and the promise of living forever. As Noel and Liam flew out of Mexico City this past weekend, fans chanted “¡Viva por siempre!” and “¡Viva Oasis!”

by Sydney King ’26 on September 18, 2025

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A&E - Film & TV

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Why Netflix’s Unknown Number Documentary was Bad

On Aug. 29, Netflix released a new documentary that was guaranteed to get buzz because of its sheer evil. Unknown Number: The High School Catfish centers around teenager Lauryn and her ex-high school boyfriend Owen, and how their lives were forever changed due to the digital harassment and psychological torture inflicted on them by an unknown number in a group chat over the course of 20 months. Since the documentary has been out long enough, I feel that it is appropriate to include spoilers: the culprit of these disturbing and nightmarish texts was Kendra, Lauryn’s mother. And at the end of the one hour and 30 minutes, I felt like what I was watching was less journalistic and more like a Lifetime Original movie. 

I have two main issues with the documentary: the first being its editing, and the second its incorporation of Kendra. They chose to interview Lauryn twice, once around the time her mother went to jail, and the other was more recent to the film being made. The problem arises here because the audience is left completely in the dark about the different interviews and their timelines, making Lauryn’s reaction to the reveal of her mother’s identity seem questionable. Lauryn’s initial reaction to finding out that her mother has been tormenting her for almost two years unsettled a lot of viewers. Lauryn seemed stunned by the information, not speaking and showing no discernible emotion. Shortly after this, her mother embraced her, Lauryn allowing it, but her blank expression remained the same. 

I am not surprised at all by Lauryn’s reaction. How is a daughter supposed to act when her mother has been anonymously bullying her, sexualizing her ex-boyfriend, and specifically targeting her deepest insecurities incessantly over two years? She was shocked. But this reaction, combined with comments made in her interviews, put many audience members off from Lauryn. In the first chronological set of interviews, Lauryn expresses a deep desire to see her mother again, and excitedly keeps communication with her through her prison stay, making it seem like the abuse had no effect on her. Meanwhile, in her more recent interview, Lauryn seems much more skeptical of her mother’s behavior and hesitant about continuing their relationship in the same close fashion as it was before. She has not seen her mother in over a year, and does not yet know when she will be ready to talk to her again. But these interviews are spliced together so that Lauryn’s feelings are not being accurately portrayed, and in my opinion, set her up to receive more public backlash. 

The documentary’s worst crime is the inclusion of Kendra and how exactly she influences the plot. In the first half of the film, Kendra is being interviewed as everyone else is, describing her feelings and actions when the texts started despite her having already served her sentence for committing this crime. Once she is revealed as the villain, the last half of the documentary consists of her lying—about crimes she has already pleaded guilty to, mind you—and defending her actions. What Kendra did was inexcusable. The way Netflix portrayed a criminal as if her actions were justifiable and explainable was very disturbing to see. For a better understanding of this case, I would recommend reading the article The Cut wrote about it, as it goes further in-depth on the abusive and unwell mother Kendra was.

by Thomas Marinelli ’26 on September 18, 2025

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A&E - Film & TV

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Nostalgia Done Right

Coming back to Providence College after this summer, I was reminded of the summer of 2020. Perhaps not as fresh to many people anymore—maybe even purposefully forgotten, due to the COVID-19 pandemic—but nonetheless, it’s a time that has stuck with us for reasons we probably did not see at the time. I remember it very well. I was 15, still a high school student, though some of you might have still been in middle school. No matter our age, I bet many of us watched Avatar: The Last Airbender repeatedly that summer and felt like a kid again.

The first summer of the COVID-19 lockdown probably felt like a chance to finally relax for most of us who are now in college. It’s not something many of us remember as clearly now, as it goes with most summers, as we age, each loses the glow it once had. Avatar was one of these shows that had an original audience, but when it was brought back, it was just as bright and great as it was before. Its streaming numbers hit all-time highs in 2020 for obvious reasons: people were at home, bored, looking for escapes, and trying to watch something that would make a dull day not so bad, maybe even a little more like life before the COVID-19 pandemic flipped all of our lives upside down. Many of us kids and teenagers fell into this same routine, looking for something to pass the time. But with Avatar, I think most of us wished that excitement would never leave. 

Netflix did it right. They loaded up their service with as many shows as they could, not just for adults or kids, but for teens as well. Teens had grown up with shows like Avatar. I remember coming home from school as an eight-year-old and watching it with my sisters like an afterschool ritual—something I think many others experienced in one form or another. It was familiar, but also forgotten. Seeing it again on Netflix as a top-10 show for 61 days (one of the longest-running top-10 shows of the year), we watched it just as if we were watching it for the first time, but with that inner child inside us that watched the original version all those years ago.

Avatar was a children’s show, but anyone could relate to it. It was nostalgic, yet funny. It was deep and emotional, with each character developing uniquely over the three seasons, but in very human ways despite their cartoon nature. Aang was goofy, kiddish, and lovable, but he always carried a heavy weight on his shoulders and knew he had to do anything possible to protect the people he cared for most. Uncle Iroh (my favorite) loved his nephew Zuko throughout the entire show. Despite watching him make mistake after mistake, he always believed Zuko was good at heart and returned to his side, no matter how many times Zuko pushed him away. Zuko himself embodies the most change: capturing Aang was the only way for him to go home after being banished. Zuko never had a choice; everything in his life felt like failure if he wasn’t serving that objective. He only began to change after asking himself what he truly wanted. Avatar is a show that deals with loss and revenge, but also with newfound color, love, and peace. It was never just a story about a kid defeating a villain—it was about balance and finding peace in a world deprived of it.

Avatar meets every facet of what makes TV work. It was an ideal comfort show that carried a sense of excitement at the same time. Let’s not forget that it originally ran on Nickelodeon from 2005 to 2008, alongside shows like SpongeBob SquarePants, Drake and Josh, and The Fairly OddParents. They are all great shows, but none reached the same depth as Avatar, which likely worked in its favor. Avatar was able to create a cult following, a spinoff show (The Legend of Korra), a movie, and later even another live-action series. But like any show or movie, its hype dies down, people move on to the next thing, and the summer ends. The Legend of Korra was popular and ran for several years, but it was never going to be the same for kids who watched the original show and then rewatched it again in 2020. The live-action series had promise, but felt more like a cash grab to profit off the hype and never really landed with anyone who had already lost interest in the show after the summer of 2020. Avatar as we knew it effectively went back into the dark as the nostalgia faded and that summer turned into another school year—another year anticipating the next summer, and another year finding it wasn’t the same.

The summer of Avatar: The Last Airbender, like so many summers, did nostalgia right, but it was never meant to last. Its day in the sun was bright for the time we had it, but now, years later, it’s hard to remember just how much we enjoyed it. For the time we had, though, it was nice to remember what it was like being a kid again before too much time had passed. If we take anything away from Avatar, it should be to remember that all things must pass—nostalgia, happiness, sadness, anxiety, summers—but that doesn’t mean they weren’t important, even if you wished they would never end.