The goofiness of the NBC sitcom "30 Rock" can essentially be summed up by a question posed in its fifth season premiere: "Would you rather be with the person you love forever, but you always have to wear a shirt made out of their pubes, or be alone for the rest of your life but you get to wear whatever you want?"
Facebook is one of those fascinating companies that young entrepreneurs dream of creating. In "The Accidental Billionaires: The Founding of Facebook, A Tale of Sex, Money, Genius, and Betrayal," Ben Mezrich, the author of "Bringing Down the House" — the basis for the movie "21" (2008) — attempts to tell the story of how today's most widely used social network was born. Although informative, Mezrich's book uses overly simplified language and contains a bitter undertone, turning a potentially fascinating account into a drab tale of how two dorky Harvard students come up with a good idea.
Electricity. The minute you walk in for the SpeakEasy Stage Company's production of Sarah Ruhl's "In the Next Room (or the vibrator play)," you can't help but notice the buzz both on and off stage. The electrical currents are palpable in the room, but fortunately for the audience members, the play lives up to the excited hum felt before the show. Shocks, sparks and bolts of all types define this scintillating and ultimately euphoric performance.
"Glee" became an instant sensation when it first aired in September 2009. Since its pilot episode — the brainchild of Ryan Murphy, formerly known for "Nip/Tuck" (2003−10) — it has turned into something of a cultural phenomenon, evidenced by its 19 Emmy nominations and four wins.
As many of you are already aware, 2009 (and probably 2010, 2011 and so on) was dubbed the "Year of the Vampire," due to the outrageous popularity of the "Twilight" franchise and HBO's "True Blood." There appears to be something universal and fascinating about the desire for a blood−sucking, undead boyfriend. Even Tufts' curriculum has been affected by the trend: Vampires in Civilization is currently an Experimental College course. But what most people are probably not thinking about is how society's fascination with vampires affected the fashion industry during the 2009−10 season.
As the fall TV season approached, it was "Boardwalk Empire's" game to lose. The stakes, not to mention expectations, were sky−high for Martin Scorsese's HBO show, a Prohibition−era drama featuring a thrilling cast that stars Steve Buscemi.
Even for those who didn't live through them, the '60s are very much a part of the American consciousness, and protest and political activism still pervade as ideals of active citizenship.
As a new film, "Let Me In" is perfectly serviceable art−horror fare, putting a new, chilling spin on the national vampire craze. But as an unnecessary remake of a two−year−old, genre−bending critical darling, it deserves to be left out.
Neil Young's new album, "Le Noise," is a medley of confusion, angst and more self−aware lyrics than his listeners have heard from him in years.
Kevin Barnes is back, and he's up to his same old tricks. Thirty seconds into "False Priest," it's obvious that you're listening to an Of Montreal album. The quick pop hooks, the tight harmonies and the driving electric beats all signal another well−crafted album in the same vein as 2008's "Skeletal Lamping." In fact, listen to any Of Montreal album since "Satanic Panic in the Attic" (2004) and you will find something very similar to their latest set. However, the consistency of the product does nothing at all to detract from the quality that shines throughout this album.
Nick Wauters, the creator, writer and co−executive producer of NBC's new series "The Event," seems painfully unaware that he is not, in fact, J. J. Abrams.
HBO's "Bored to Death" returned Sunday night for the start of its sophomore season of pseudo−noir and hijinks. The comedy, created by the writer Jonathan Ames, is about a writer named Jonathan Ames (Jason Schwartzman) who moonlights as an unlicensed private detective in his spare time.
Every morning millions of people log on to Facebook to check messages from their friends, create events, "like" Chad Ochocinco or simply ogle pictures of the pretty girl in their math class.
After last week's incredibly full slate of television premieres (including 17 new shows and over 30 returning ones), this week was a little less crowded, but still very eventful.
In the first two seasons of "Fringe," the show owed its distinctive charm to its harmonious balance between the utterly bizarre and the universally appealing. Everyday detective work and high−adrenaline shootouts fused brilliantly with graphic, nightmarish sci−fi images, coaxing sincere creativity from two hackneyed genres.
October's Latino Heritage Month events will kick off next week and center on the arts, offering students the opportunity to celebrate and learn about Latino culture.
On Sept. 23, "Sesame Street" announced that it would not run Katy Perry and Elmo's "Hot N Cold" duet because one of the celebrated figures — guess which — was baring a bit too much cleavage. And you thought Oscar the Grouch was trashy! In light of Perry's blunder, we've compiled a list of people who should be kept off the Street at all costs.
Not everyone can be a vocal athlete. For singers who strain to get their range to a certain octave, embracing sincerity is the next−best alternative.
J.J. Abrams's production company, Bad Robot, has spawned some of the best television of the past decade — "Felicity" (1998−2002), "Alias" (2001−2006), "Lost" (2004−2010) and, while it has had rough spots, "Fringe." Bad Robot's latest television venture, "Undercovers," eschews Abrams's original touch and basically remakes "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" (2005) in serial form with a questionable degree of success.
As we all know, college life is not without its occasional embarrassments — whether it's slipping on a patch of ice in front of your peers, participating in the Naked Quad Run, drinking too much and accidentally saying or doing something stupid (and typically overtly sexual), or getting locked out of your dorm room in nothing but a towel. Being under minimal adult supervision leaves plenty of opportunities for funny−yet−mortifying moments.
