Recommendations for your next favorite TV show, movie, book or band

TV: “The Simple Life”

This gem of a throwback from the early 2000s follows then-best friends Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie as they trade in their charmed lives to live on a farm for five weeks. Your new college life at UC Davis might possibly replicate such an experience — more or less. I promise in the heat you will smell the cows no matter where you are on campus. Pollen will get in your eyes when you are biking. You will experience the grime of houseboats. But who doesn’t love to get a little down and dirty? 

Movie: “Lady Bird”

For those who cannot recall, the movie occurs during the anxiety-ridden time when main character and Sacramento native Lady Bird is applying for colleges. When she is accepted to UC Davis she declares, and I quote: “I’m not going to a f****** university that’s famous for its f****** agricultural school!” When watching the movie, one of my best friends and a gung-ho UC Davis student, hilariously walked out of the theater when that line was said. You will soon come to discover the strength of each department on campus and realize that we are more than just an agriculture school. Maybe this movie will be a source of solace during this scary transition. 

Book: “Animal Farm” by George Orwell

It’s always good to refresh yourself on the classic books that established the foundations of your literary interest. I chose “Animal Farm” not only as an ode to the plethora of cows, goats, sheep and other animals available for your petting pleasure, but because of the depth of knowledge you will discover. My biggest advice: take at least one sociology class while you are here. Not only will it give context to the book, but you will gain a deeper understanding of the institutions that hold power over us. Vive la révolution! 

Music: Creedence Clearwater Revival 

A possibly little-known-fact: this famous 1970s folk rock band is from the Bay Area and their song “Green River” is actually about Putah Creek — the well-loved Spring Quarter swim spot at the edge of campus. You will be spending most of your sunny days swinging from the rope spring and tanning in the dirt with your closest friends. What better way to set the rustic mood than with some good ol’ rock ‘n’ roll. 

Written By: Caroline Rutten — arts@theaggie.org

Series brings to forefront issues affecting street vendors throughout world

The Netflix original series “Street Food,” created by the creators of “Chef’s Table,” steps away from the Michelin Guide and hits the streets in search of unknown culinary masters. As a celebration of the roots of Asian cuisine, some destinations include Delhi, Seoul, Singapore, Bangkok and Osaka, exploring the culinary delicacies of everyday people.

Like “Chef’s Table,” this spin-off uses the same, slow-motion shots accompanied by suspenseful classical music, but it differs from the elite, white tablecloth restaurants showcased in the first four seasons of “Chef’s Table.” By taking an Anthony Bourdain-style approach, the series features street cooks who represent their culture’s traditional foods.

These hawkers, none of whom went to culinary school, have been cooking the same dishes for fifty years, have secrets they had to learn the hard way and hold a deep respect for the food.

Each episode follows the story of one main cook and how they came to be masters of their trade without professional training. Most of these individuals are elders with extensive knowledge of the ingredients and traditional techniques passed down through generations. The creators of “Street Food” declare these street cooks as not only chefs, but preservers of culture.

Street food developed because many poor people did not have kitchens in their homes. Instead, they depended on street vendors for their meals. These dishes were first made for the working class, but today, the street food scene has evolved to defy class barriers — attracting everyone from young to old and poor to rich, street food is now for everyone.

The chefs featured in “Street Food” not only show how they make food, but also tell their family’s story and exhibit their culture. Nearly all of these hawkers inherited their stands from their families, using traditional methods and family recipes passed down through generations. Authentic dishes are a product of dedication and attention to detail, with only the best surviving the cut-throat nature of street vending. Simply having the recipes and the name is not enough: the success of these chefs comes from extensive knowledge of their craft, tireless work and perseverance.

For some vendors, it was expected they would inherit the family business as a symbol of family honor. Others, however, wanted their children to move away from the grueling and laborious trade. Most street food businesses don’t provide stability, only allowing these workers to make enough money to get by — it is a labor of love, not profit.

Each episode tells a story of hardship, poverty, devastation from natural disasters and family separation, but what keeps the cooks going is their passion for cooking meals for others and putting a smile on people’s faces. Each of the chefs rose to the top of their respective city’s food scenes by breaking new ground and redefining what street food means in the modern day.

For some, like Mbah Satinem in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, this meant keeping dishes constant in an evolving food scene, becoming the last bearer of jajan pasar — a treat made from palm sugar, sticky rice, cassava and coconut. For others, this meant being part of the evolution by adapting, growing and popularizing their dishes, like Jay Fai in Bangkok, Thailand, who created dishes like dry tom yum and her famous crab omelettes which earned her a Michelin Star.

But for all of these cooks, maintaining the integrity of the traditional recipes means using quality, local ingredients. The camera follows them to their local, outdoor markets where they hand-select seafood, produce and spices. It also means sleeping no more than four hours a night and working nonstop every day for years on end. And these hawkers are faced with a new challenge: government regulations in many of the cities which threatens their livelihood and existence.

Thailand’s military government is waging war on street vendors and forcing them off the sidewalks. The Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (BMA) has moved over 20,000 street vendors from nearly 500 locations since 2016.This affects not only the livelihood of the vendors themselves, many of them women, but also the communities that rely on street food for affordable meals.

The cuisine from street food vendors is not a newly explored frontier, but “Street Food” is the first to address the changing political landscape that is threatening the survival of these economies and communities. The success and recognition of these street vendors like Jay Fai represents hope for the future of street food vendors. If the food is good enough, they bring people in on their own terms. “Street Food” has started a global conversation and brought to the forefront threats against street vendors in the hopes of liberating a counter movement.

Food is a tradition passed from generation to generation. Food is nostalgia. Food brings people together. Food is a representation of culture, and media like “Street Food” is a window into that culture, documenting and preserving heritage. This series left me inspired, salivating and hungry to explore the culinary destinations of Asia, not by a Michelin Guide, but by the streets.

Written By: Grace Simmons — arts@theaggie.org

Do true crime stories villainize or glamorize killers of the past?

Over the past few years, true crime documentaries and films have been on the rise. From the 2016 FX series “The People v. O. J. Simpson: American Crime Story” to the podcast “Serial” to Netflix’s documentary “Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes,” there seems to be an emerging fascination with monsters of the past. As new media is produced on this topic however, questions about ethical responsibility rise as well — one must consider the morality of giving these narcissistic killers a resurgence of popularity and whether these new platforms spread their hateful stories.

The recent Netflix film “Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile” explores the mind of ’70s serial killer Ted Bundy. Starring Zac Efron as the notorious killer, the film has been praised for its performances and story, although people have also criticized the tone of the film and the romanticisation of Bundy’s character.

An article in the Washington Post articulates the issues with the writing of Bundy’s character.

“‘Extremely Wicked’ doesn’t glorify Bundy, exactly, but it makes little effort to do the opposite,” writes Sonia Rao. “By primarily focusing on Bundy’s charade instead of his psyche […] [director] Berlinger fails to properly reckon with the brutal crimes Bundy committed.”

Vanity Fair journalist Richard Lawson argues that the film does not justify the retelling and further publication of Bundy’s story.

“At its worse, the movie feels almost sympathetic to Bundy,” Lawson writes. “Its title is taken from a statement read by Judge Edward Cowart (John Malkovich) as he sentenced Bundy to death, a weary speech that also included a sort of rueful wish that Bundy could have employed his smarts and resourcefulness toward something good and productive, as if that’s the real loss, the real shame, here.”

Although Bundy’s name is as infamous as ever, what about the 30 women he murdered? Do viewers of these films and consumers of true crime media know the names of these women?

“As a culture, we’re having more and more conversations about what stories we should tell and how we should tell them,” wrote Huffington Post columnist Maija Kappler. “There are so many kinds of people and experiences we still haven’t seen reflected in our media. If we’re going to re-tell a story that’s so familiar — a powerful man victimizing women — […] there should be a good reason. And frankly, this movie doesn’t seem to have one.”

Meanwhile, an article in Vulture delves into the current fascination with old killers. Writer Tori Telfer concludes modern feats of mass terror and destruction desensitized people to the threat of individual murderers. “We’re scared of other, less knowable monsters these days.” Telfer wrote. She cites documentarian Celene Beth Calderon and Elizabeth Munroe in her article as well.

“‘Our focus has changed, as far as what we’re fearful of,’ says Calderon. She adds that every time she goes to the movies, she looks around, wondering if anyone will open fire. Munro says that she’s less afraid of finding a Bundy-esque stranger in her house than she is of seeing an active shooter at the mall, or at work,” Telfer writes.

The world is in a constant state of unease, making documentaries of old school serial killers more fascinating than frightening for the average viewer. Consumption of these stories is easy and, therefore, rapid. Both producers and consumers of this type media, however, should first contemplate the moral implications.

Written by: Alyssa Ilsley — arts@theaggie.org