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By Jeff Stillman ©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC 04/17/19 Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis 04/17/19 ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE: Release Date: Wednesday, April 17, 2019 ACROSS 1 Another name for hopscotch 6 Naysayer 10 West Coast salmon 14 Curly-tailed guard dog 15 Brought into being 16 Intl. oil group 17 Develop hives 20 Golden years group 21 Wedding invite request 22 Wedding vow word 23 Tablecloth material 25 Snake, periodically 26 Part with a gesture 31 Red __ 32 Inexperienced, as a recruit 33 “I should add ... ” 37 Easter beginning? 38 Glittery bit on a dress 42 Uber info 43 Like Tommy, in the rock opera 45 “That hurt!” cries 46 Swell up 48 Be a second- stringer 52 Eucharist plates 55 Hops-drying oven 56 Protestant denom. 57 Close buds 59 Spanish hors d’oeuvre 63 2002 Spielberg film ... and a hint to the start of 17-, 26- and 48-Across 66 Cuatro times dos 67 Red Sox star Big __ 68 Phased-out Apple messaging tool 69 Takes in 70 Vane spinner 71 Lecherous looks DOWN 1 Bygone sunscreen ingredient 2 Fried side with a po’boy 3 Organization chart level 4 Fastening gadget 5 Chatter 6 One taking advantage of privilege 7 Rule during homework time, perhaps 8 Word with road or side 9 Traveler’s rest 10 Toyota compact 11 Dizzying pictures 12 State bordering Bavaria 13 Orangy-yellow 18 Seal predator 19 Object of a mil. search 24 Siesta hrs. 25 Cry weakly 26 Beauxbatons Academy coat of arms symbol, in Harry Potter 27 With 28-Down, hand lotion ingredient 28 See 27-Down 29 Dadaist Max 30 Bit of a tail flip 34 Boxer Spinks 35 Legato’s opposite, in mus. 36 Hand-on-the- Bible promise 39 Vanilla containers 40 Leave dumbstruck 41 Drops off 44 Paintings on wet plaster 47 Salad green 49 Go very slowly 50 Go on foot 51 “Slow down!” 52 Rio Grande tributary 53 On the double 54 10% donation 57 Steady guy 58 Places for patches 60 Yoga aftereffect, perhaps 61 Carson predecessor 62 Little scurriers 64 Rd. efficiency stat 65 Engine need I’ve always been Becky. I think it’s because my parents felt weird calling an infant such a large and syllable-filled name like Rebecca. First I was Baby Becky then Becky Boo then Miss Becky then just Becky. I liked being Becky, mostly because it wasn’t basic like Rachel or Sarah or Leah. Becky was also temporary, a name that I would outgrow like my Velcro light-up sketchers or my cheetah print Limited Too camisole. I thought one day, I would wake up and know today was the day I would become Rebecca. I would develop a slight affectation and go to an Ivy League school and marry a man named James or Henry or William. When college rolled around, I tried Rebecca on for a while. I let her come with me to parties and dates and even The Daily’s mass meeting. My first article was published under the name “Rebecca,” but I could never fully take ownership of it because it didn’t feel like me. I wasn’t Rebecca, I was Becky. But Becky has not been an easy name to bear. Every Starbucks order, every job application, they wonder. Becky, really? Yeah, the name’s Becky, what’s it to you, Denise? From Sir Mix-a-Lot’s butt- gazing Becky to Beyoncé’s “Becky with the good hair” to the criminal behavior of our once beloved Aunt Becky, my name has become one heavy with cultural significance. When I was in middle school, the hottest thing to do was look words up on Urban Dictionary. People would look up everything from “hairbrush” to “flogging” and giggle to their dirty little prepubescent selves. One day, a boy in my class thought it would be “funny” to look up every single name in our class (easy coming from a dude named David). When he looked up my name he found that Becky is synonymous with oral sex or “a stereotypical, basic white girl; obsessed with Starbucks, Ugg boots and trying to have a bigger butt.” I think that was the first time I felt insecure about my name, anxious and eager for the time I would become Rebecca. For a few weeks, my name would provoke explicit gestures and catcalls, but like anything in middle school it went out of vogue almost as quickly as it entered it. A few weeks ago, The Wall Street Journal Opinion section published an article with the title “Notable & Quotable: Beckys.” My mother sent me a picture of it because, obviously, she gets the Wall Street Journal (and what college student actually subscribes to the Wall Street Journal). The blurb highlighted a symposium at the American Education Research Association’s annual conference in Toronto. The symposium addressed fanfiction about “Beckys.” The panel on said “Beckys” was titled “Critical Becky Studies: Critical Exploration of Gender, Race and the Pedagogies of Whiteness” and included a variety of essays and discussions on the topic. One paper titled “Becky Book Club: White Racial Bonding in the Living Room” considers book clubs in white, suburban living rooms and the underlying white supremacy and surveillance that lurk beneath the charcuterie board and chardonnay. Another paper titled “Border Becky: Exploring White Women’s Emotionality, Ignorance, Investment in Whiteness” explores white women who may be found on the edge, on the border of choosing to be a “race traitor” or “repledging their allegiance to white supremacy.” OK, so I thought Critical Becky Studies would be more about uncovering the true identity of Jay-Z’s accomplice in his extramarital affair (Rachel Roy? Rita Ora? Me?) and less about white supremacy. Nevertheless, it’s interesting to see how far the concept of Becky has come. The Becky has surpassed tabloids and song lyrics and has now officially entered the point of no return: academia. Say what you will about the stereotypical Becky; the bleach-blonde-haired Becky, the Juicy sweatsuit- wearing Becky, the Pinot in a Swell bottle Becky. But I am reclaiming Becky. I am my own Becky and my Becky is not those Beckys, she is her own goddamn Becky goddamnit. BECKY PORTMAN DAILY HUMOR COLUMN Call me by my name: On learning to love ‘Becky’ One of the most unforgettable scenes from “The Breakfast Club” is when each student reveals their juiciest secrets. Now, take that same scene and imagine it without all of the context that precedes it: no impromptu dance sequence, no racy banter between Claire and Bender and no recollection of the nerd, jock, burnout and princess archetypes that each character embodies. Without these previous scenes, which are fundamental in establishing the characters’ personalities and backstories, we would have zero reason to invest in any of the protagonists, and this infamous classic would be just another mediocre ’80s teen flick. “Who Would You Take to a Deserted Island” is this hypothetical Breakfast Club failure. Unable to create multidimensional characters, and providing a minimal frame of reference for the characters’ relationships, the film is nothing short of lifeless, earning itself the label of just another low- quality drama. On a hot, summer day in Madrid, tensions fizzle between twenty-somethings housemates Celeste (Andrea Ros “[Rec] 2”), Eze (Pol Monen “Loving”), Marcos (Jaime Lorente “Money Heist”) and Marco’s live- in girlfriend Marta (María Pedraza “Money Heist”), as they each prepare to enter new life chapters and go their separate ways. Determined to celebrate their friendship with one last hurrah, the gang hits the town for a wild night saturated with alcohol and drugs. Though intending to dance the night away, their spirited evening quickly turns sour upon returning to their apartment for a nightcap. As the drinks flow freely, the roomies strike up a seemingly innocent game of what-ifs, but soon suppressed secrets bubble to the surface, tears are spilled and the very fabric of the foursome’s bond threatens to tear. Central to the film’s flimsiness is its practically non-existent plotline. It is almost insulting to viewers to suppose that we would latch onto a drama crafted under circumstances as stupid and immature as a party game. Yes, the game was just the spark that blew up the layers of resentments and hostilities beneath, but the fact that the bonds shared between these longtime friends were able to topple faster than a house of playing cards seems quite unrealistic and excessively melodramatic. Despite assumed attempts to wow audiences with high drama and attractive actors, the hard truth is that this film is literally about nothing. The majority of its scenes feel pointless and without direction because, with such a barebones plot, there truly is nowhere to go but in circles. The film is a dangerous combination of puddle-deep characters mixed with reality TV level drama. The year-long resentments and heated love-triangles that are thrown our way seem to come out of nowhere, making the theatrically- staged argument scenes appear more dull and confusing than profound. Further, without exploring the intersection and history of the characters’ stories, the film makes the costly mistake of expecting us to put together the pieces ourselves. This leads us to disconnect entirely. Harsh or not, there is honestly not much that can be said on behalf of “Who Would You Take on a Deserted Island.” Lacking rhythm, direction or tang, though only a mere hour and a half long, the film feels unbearably slow, ultimately coming off as a tedious and valueless muddle. FILM REVIEW ‘Deserted Island’ was a terrible film experience SAMANTHA NELSON Daily Arts Writer Who Would You Take to a Deserted Island Netflix Canica Films The legend of Orpheus recounts the tale of a musician — the best musician of all time, according to legend. Son of the muse Calliope and taught how to play the lyre by Apollo himself, it is said his music had the ability to charm animals and make trees dance. I didn’t see any hypnotized Diag squirrels or dancing oaks, but the Orpheus Singers certainly lived up to their name. Directed by Eugene Rogers, the smallest of the School of Music, Theatre & Dance choirs put on a night of beautiful classical choir pieces that charmed their audience. Admittedly, the concert was off to a rocky start with “Christ lag in Todesbanden, BWV 4” by Johann Sebastian Bach. Though the sections had perfect blend, flawless harmonies and angelic tone, the performance lacked enthusiasm. With few vocal dynamics and no facial expression, the first section of the concert was relatively unengaging. There seemed to be no passion for these hauntingly beautiful pieces. Though singing pieces in different languages are typically less engaging, the best performances can convey meaning even through the language barrier. However, the enthusiasm increased as the concert progressed. The remaining two pieces, “Fern Hill” and “Five Mystical Songs” were much livelier. Halfway through the concert, it seemed as though a switch had been flipped, and lo and behold! Dynamics! There were so many shifts in the music, designated by the sharp crescendos and decrescendos, skillfully and beautifully executed. The many soloists throughout the evening particularly embodied those strong connections, really bringing the pieces to life. All of the singers had beautiful voices, but SMTD Master’s student Meridian Prall was particularly impressive. She didn’t just sing with exquisite tone and impressive vibrato — she performed. By the end of her solo, I had chills. Another stand out soloist was University alumni Sam Kidd, who was featured strongly in “Five Mystical Songs” to end the concert. His powerful voice rang through the auditorium and could even rival the choir when they joined him. Some of the best parts of the entire concert were when the orchestra dropped out and the choir harmonized with hums in the background as Kidd continued his solo. Those few moments seemed almost magical. While the concert at times wasn’t quite as engaging as it could have been, the Orpheus Singers made up for it with their incredible sound. Very rarely have I heard such a pure tone and the perfect blend between sections. If Orpheus is the best musician of all time, this choir is aptly named. The Orpheus Singers live up to their legendary name COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW DANA PIERANGELI Daily Arts Writer Though singing pieces in different languages are typically less engaging, the best performances can convey meaning even through the language barrier. 6A — Wedensday, April 17, 2019 Arts The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com