Editors’ Cut: New Year, New Obsession.
Audrey’s cut:
Over December, I stumbled across Punch-Drunk Love. I pirated it off an illegal movie website and watched it on a morning where I guiltily woke up at 1pm with nothing better to do. I know naturally the first response and plan of action for a half-awake, groggy person is probably not to roll over and press play on a 2000s movie starring an awkward Adam Sandler prim and proper in a blue suit, in love with a lovely blonde, British Emily Watson; but that’s what happened. And, I think it was precisely because I found it at at a non-fascinating yet lonely time, which is precisely why it worked. You find yourself curled up with a bout of anticipatory dread (you don’t even want to get out of bed), alone, and suddenly, you identify with Adam Sandler.
Similarly, on 4 January, you find a connection to a movie that stars not one, but two Nicholas Cage(s). Adaptation, which throws you towards bewilderment through its story within story within story, navigating the tragic consciousness of a miserable, self-deprecating screenwriter. Despite double Nicholas Cage’s self-loathing, incel borderlining ways — it works. The trouble of comparison, imposter syndrome, overall anxiety, escapes you, as it tortures this character on screen then resolves itself. It’s as if momentarily, your problems are not yours anymore. You feel better. In the midst of the New Year’s frenzy, you feel really just fine. Although confused, honestly still confused now, how it happened that Nicholas Cage was who you found solace in — you’re literally just a girl — you feel unbelievably relieved.
Something was in the air in 2002.
Livvie’s cut:
Giving me three weeks off in December means only one thing: it is time to watch every single television show I can in a grotesquely short amount of time, while trying to convince myself that it is relaxing. That is pretty normal, right? We all love to binge!
After finishing two seasons of Shrinking, three seasons of The Sex Lives of College Girls, and rewatching one of my personal favourites, The Marvellous Mrs Maisel (all five seasons; okay, this took a little longer than three weeks, I do go outside enough, I promise, please!), what has truly got me enthralled is the premiere episode of Severance. A medley of masterful writing, acting, and mystery- the holy trifecta. With weekly releases, I can see this obsession carrying me nicely through Semester 2, at least for a little while.
There is also one person who haunts my dreams. A show-stopping press tour, with Bob Dylan outfits and Lime Bikes. Interviews with Brittany Broski and Nardwuar, being a guest picker on ESPN’s College GameDay, and serving as both host and musical guest on Saturday Night Live. An array of award nominations, the latest being an Oscar for Lead Actor. Timothée Chalamet, you refuse to leave my brain. This has been one of the best and most entertaining Oscar campaign trails I have seen in a long time.
Nikola’s cut:
Elliot Gould and his insatiable appetite for cigarettes.
Beginning 2025 with that all familiar New Year’s Resolution-esque craving for novelty, and yet still not ready to say goodbye to PTA, I decided to delve into the filmography of Anderson’s favourite director, Robert Altman, starting with The Long Goodbye (1973).
The film’s first ten minutes is all it took to win me over, a hypnotic and yet comically drawn- out sequence of a private eye’s quest to find a can of his cat’s favourite food. Philip Marlow is a true noir hero, self-monologuing in gravelly murmurs, cigarette bud perpetually stuck between his lips, strolling through the night with a nonchalant cadence. Still, there’s something sincerely melancholic in how out of place he seems, a detective searching for cat food instead of clues. In this sense, the opening parallels the entire movie, which at one point begins to forget that it was a murder mystery in the first place. Altman’s dramatic sleight of hand, converting a hard-boiled noir into a story about loneliness, is carried over the finish line by Elliot Gould’s magnetic performance. He lights another cigarette in the dark. It’s badass, alluring. It’s also pitiful.
Illustration by Rebecca Tate, @rebi_draws on Instagram