REVIEW: Moana 2- The Movie

As someone who loved the original Moana, I approached the sequel with high expectations—curious to see if it could capture the magic of its predecessor while offering something fresh. The Moana 2 Film Showing at Kochoff Hall provided the perfect setting to experience this much-anticipated continuation.


First off, the animation in Moana 2 was stunning. Disney’s commitment to visual excellence shines brightly, with rich, vibrant colors that brought the South Pacific setting to life even more beautifully than the first movie. The water, a central character in the original film, remains a breathtaking feature, with its fluidity and depth adding to the immersive experience. The animation team has truly outdone themselves, seamlessly blending traditional hand-drawn techniques with computer-generated imagery to give the film a dynamic and polished feel.

Image Via Disney.com


The themes of Moana 2 continue the exploration of self-discovery, courage, and the bond with one’s heritage. While these elements are still present and impactful, the story doesn’t quite reach the same emotional heights as the original. The plot introduces new challenges and characters but feels a bit more formulaic at times. The stakes, though important, don’t have the same weight that made the first film so memorable. It’s as if the film tries to recapture the magic without fully succeeding in doing so.

Image Via Disney.com.


The heart of the film lies with Moana herself, voiced once again by Auli’i Cravalho. Her growth as a leader is apparent, and Cravalho’s voice work remains as powerful as ever. However, there were moments where the supporting characters—particularly Maui—felt underused or less developed than in the first film. The dynamic between Moana and Maui is still charming, but the magic of their first encounter doesn’t fully carry over.


As for how Moana 2 fits into the larger Disney universe, it seems to follow the familiar trajectory of sequels that expand on their established world but struggle to reach the depth of the original. It’s a solid addition for fans of the first film but may leave others feeling a bit detached. While it doesn’t redefine the Disney landscape, it adds to the collection of films that continue to champion empowerment, heritage, and the spirit of adventure.

Moana 2 offers a visually stunning, albeit slightly predictable, continuation of the beloved Moana story. While it doesn’t quite match the original’s emotional impact, it still provides an enjoyable cinematic experience. For those who were drawn to the themes and the world of Moana, this sequel is worth the watch. It may not be a perfect fit in the Disney pantheon, but it’s still an enjoyable ride for fans of the first movie.

REVIEW: The Best Kept Secret: Student/Faculty/Alumni Art Exhibition

Walking through Best Kept Secret: Student/Faculty/Alumni Art Exhibition at the Stamelos Gallery, I felt that familiar rush—when art doesn’t just sit on a wall but reaches out and grabs you. Some pieces hit me immediately, demanding attention with their boldness, while others worked more quietly, drawing me in over time. What stayed with me were the ones that sparked something deeper—a sense of curiosity, nostalgia, or even discomfort. As an artist myself, I know how much intention goes into every brushstroke, every composition choice, and every texture. Seeing these works in person, I couldn’t help but think about what decisions led each artist to their final piece, how they balanced control and spontaneity, and what emotions they left embedded in the canvas.

Photo Credit: Mardigian Library

Aleesia Sciacca’s piece immediately caught my attention with its playful yet surreal composition. The smiling figure, rendered in what looks like thick, almost clay-like strokes, feels simultaneously whimsical and unsettling. There’s a childlike joy in the exaggerated, almost cartoonish elements—the floating hearts, the bright colors—but the presence of the knife, the dismembered arms, and the eerie face reflected in the table add a layer of unease. It’s a clever juxtaposition of innocence and something darker, which I admire. The textured, almost sculptural quality of the paint enhances the tactile experience, making me wish I could reach out and feel the surface. As someone who works with different media, I appreciate how Aleesia uses texture to enhance the meaning of the piece rather than just for aesthetic appeal.

Photo Credits: Mardigian Library

Paige Allen’s painting feels like a breath of fresh air—literally. It perfectly captures that quiet, contemplative moment of looking out the window on a winter day. The contrast between the lush greenery inside and the stark, snow-covered world outside is beautifully handled, both in terms of color balance and brushwork. The organic, loose strokes in the plants make them feel alive, almost growing beyond the edges of the canvas, while the background’s subdued tones keep the scene grounded. There’s a lived-in warmth to this piece, as if we’re peering into someone’s personal space. I especially appreciate the way light is handled here—subtle, diffused, natural. It’s not easy to capture the way winter light filters through a window, but Paige does it masterfully. This piece resonated with me because it feels like a moment I’ve lived—one of those in-between spaces of time where everything is still, yet full of quiet energy.

Dr. Madeline A. Berkay ’s charcoal drawing is raw and aggressive in the best way. The stark contrast, the exaggerated expressions, and the almost grotesque rendering of both figures make it impossible to look away. There’s a primal energy to it—two entities locked in an unrelenting confrontation. The creature on the left, with its snarling, exaggerated mouth, mirrors the human on the right, blurring the line between them. I find this fascinating because it challenges the idea of who (or what) is the real monster. The rough, almost frantic strokes add to the intensity, making it feel like this argument is happening in real-time. As someone who has worked in charcoal before, I admire the control Dr. Alexa has over the medium—it’s easy to let it get muddy, but she keeps the contrast sharp and intentional. This piece makes you uncomfortable, and I think that’s exactly the point.

Leaving the Best Kept Secret exhibition, I found myself replaying certain images in my mind, as if the pieces had imprinted themselves in a way I couldn’t shake. Each artwork spoke its own language—some playful, some deeply introspective, others confrontational—but all carried a distinct presence. What struck me most was the raw honesty behind them. As an artist, I understand how vulnerable it can feel to put your work out into the world, to let others interpret and dissect it. That vulnerability is what makes art powerful. This exhibition wasn’t just a display of talent; it was a glimpse into the minds of those willing to express themselves in ways that words often fail to capture. Walking out of the Stamelos Gallery, I wasn’t just inspired—I was reminded why we create in the first place.

REVIEW: La Raza Art and Media Collective: 1975–Today

Fifty years after its founding, the University of Michigan Museum of Art celebrates the legacy of La Raza Art and Media Collective, a trailblazing group of Chicano, Hispanic and Latino/a creatives. Founded in the 1970s, the group organized community gatherings and produced creative work, including a multimedia journal. Now, these works from the collective’s history are brought into conversation with the present, in La Raza Art and Media Collective: 1975–Today.

At the center of the exhibition is a collection of material from the early issues of RAM Collective’s journal, including original copies of artwork that have been preserved by the Bentley Historical Library. This collaboration brings a different kind of experience than viewers may be expecting at an art museum. There are gems of poetry, artwork and essay writing among the spread of pages, providing a fascinating glimpse into the lives of Latino/a students and artists from fifty years ago, but finding them requires a willingness to spend some time reading through small print.

However, visitors searching for dramatic visual impact will be more than satisfied with the gallery space itself. One wall is papered with silkscreen prints by U-M Stamps School of Art & Design professor and alum Nicole Marroquin (MFA ‘08), using more imagery drawn from the Bentley archives. Another is painted bright green and features a mural painted by George Vargas, a founding member of RAM Collective, along with Nicole Marroquin and Mina Marroquin-Crow. And the gallery’s two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows are adorned with ribbons of transparent film created by Michelle Inez Hinojosa (Stamps MFA ‘23) that give a colorful tint to the light flowing into the gallery and the view onto State Street. Together, they bring a bold and bright atmosphere to the exhibition, letting the vibrant history and present of the university’s Latino/a community spill out of the journal pages and onto the walls of the museum itself.

A view of the gallery windows, featuring the work “The Ribbons, the Future” by Michelle Inez Hinojosa.

Of all the contemporary artworks created to accompany and transform the historical work of RAM Collective, a highlight is the collection of zines produced by Stamps School of Art & Design students, working in Nicole Marroquin’s Social Spaces class. These zines engage with the history of RAM Collective and the artists and communities involved, drawing on the Bentley’s archives to continue the mission of the collective in the present.

One zine, created by a group of students (Megan Fan, PingYu Hsu, Julian Kane, Jaden King and Violetta Wang), presents a selection of images from George Vargas’s sketchbook during his time as a graduate art student at U-M. The students write, “As art students ourselves, we became inspired by this work.” Another, produced by Liana Kaiser, presents a poignant collection of poems from a Detroit organization called La Casa de Unidad Cultural Arts and Media Center. Visitors are encouraged to take a zine with them when they leave, “so that La Raza Art and Media Collective carries on.”

Zines and other materials created by Stamps students in Nicole Marroquin’s Social Spaces class. The backdrop is silkscreened wallpaper created by Nicole Marroquin.

The exhibition’s true strength is how it embodies the spirit of collaboration, coalition-building and solidarity that the original RAM Collective was founded on. The array of contributions from original members of the collective, more recent Stamps alumni and faculty, and current students brings multiple generations together to continue La Raza’s mission.

La Raza Art and Media Collective: 1975–Today is on view at UMMA through July 20th. All exhibition signage is presented in both English and Spanish.

REVIEW: Blue Velvet

When I was 15 years old, my life changed forever when my dad took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye, and said “Watch Blue Velvet. Trust me.”

At the moment, I wasn’t quite aware that he was prompting me to watch a two-hour psychosexual meditation on the dark underbelly lurking beneath society’s surface, featuring sado-masochism, drug-addled perverts, and erotic blackmail. But watch it I did. Then I closed my laptop and stared up at the ceiling for an hour contemplating my newly-lost innocence. 

David Lynch, the celebrated director of Blue Velvet who recently passed away at the age of 78, was a giant of filmmaking. In movies like Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, and Eraserhead, Lynch introduced audiences to revolutionary ways of seeing the world. I always suspected that Lynch was some kind of hologram placed on Earth by an advanced alien species, hovering somewhere between genius and madness, meant to transport us mortals into a higher plane of existence. His filmmaking talent even added a word to our lexicon – “Lynchian” – meant to connote surrealism that uses a dreamlike aesthetic to expose malice, absurdity, or hypocrisy in society. This “uncanny valley” quality that Lynch’s films embodied earned him a cult following as well as mainstream appeal. 

Nowhere are these Lynchian elements more at play than in Blue Velvet, released in 1986. The film features Dorothy (Isabella Rossellini), a battered woman blackmailed into sexual slavery by the sadistic Frank (Dennis Hopper). In an ironic twist, Frank’s games reveal masochistic urges repressed deep in Dorothy’s psyche. She is simultaneously repelled and titillated, expressing these conflicting emotions by initiating a sadomasochistic relationship with the clean-cut Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan), who is ashamed of his urges but drawn to the alluring older woman. The three characters – Frank, Dorothy, and Jeffrey – exit society’s confines and enter a lusty place of debauchery and degeneracy. 

Through colorful metaphors, a haunting score, and cast members that are clearly willing to bare all for the sake of art, Blue Velvet earned its place in film history. The marriage of surrealism and erotica, tragedy and eros, death and love – these are philosophical concepts that artistic leaders have wrestled with for millennia. More recent films featuring BDSM dynamics, like Secretary, Fifty Shades of Grey, and Babygirl, can only aspire to the emotional power that Blue Velvet oozes. Each scene is perfectly calibrated to press the audience’s buttons. So enduring is the film’s appeal that the Michigan Theater specifically chose to play it to honor Lynch’s legacy. This type of masterpiece earns either one star or five stars, but nobody leaves the theater without an opinion. 

There is only one filmmaker who can somehow master horror, erotica, surrealism, and mystery all at once. That man is David Lynch. In my opinion, to even write a traditional film review of his work is to diminish his genius. So I will leave it at that – anyone who hasn’t watched Blue Velvet is missing out. 

REVIEW: Culture Night- A Journey Through Tradition

I didn’t know what to expect when I decided to attend Culture Night at Kochoff Hall. Sure, I’d read about the performances—a mix of traditions from around the world—but I was curious about how it would all come together. As someone from a different cultural background, I was eager to see how the evening would speak to me.

Photo credit: IGSA

The first act, a South Asian classical dance, immediately set a high bar. The dancer’s precise movements were mesmerizing, but what really struck me was her storytelling. Without speaking a word, she pulled the audience into a narrative that felt deeply emotional. I found myself leaning forward, completely absorbed in the graceful yet powerful choreography. It was the kind of performance that made me forget where I was for a moment.

Then came the African drumming ensemble, and the energy shifted completely. The beats were loud and unapologetically bold, reverberating through the hall. I couldn’t help but tap my foot and clap along. It wasn’t just music; it was a heartbeat that seemed to connect everyone in the room. I caught myself smiling at strangers during this performance, feeling an unspoken sense of unity.

The third act—a modern spin on European folk music—was surprising in the best way. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about blending traditional violin with electronic beats, but it was a perfect harmony of old and new. It made me think about how cultures adapt and evolve while staying true to their roots. That realization felt personal, like it was challenging me to think about my own heritage in a new light.

Photo Credits: IGSA

The evening’s final performance, a Polynesian dance, was my favorite. The dancer moved with a grace that felt effortless, their body swaying like waves. I could almost hear the ocean and feel the island breeze through their storytelling. The vibrant costumes and the way they seemed to embody the spirit of their culture left me in awe. It was peaceful yet powerful—a perfect way to close the night.

But Culture Night wasn’t just about the performances. The energy in the room made it special. People from all walks of life were there, clapping, cheering, and sharing in the experience. The decorations and the warmth of the audience added to the magic, making the hall feel like a celebration of not just cultures, but community.

When I left Kochoff Hall, I felt different. I’d come expecting a show, but what I got was a deeper sense of connection—to the performers, to the audience, and to the idea that art transcends borders. Culture Night wasn’t just entertaining; it was a reminder that no matter where we come from, we can find common ground in celebrating the beauty of our differences.

REVIEW: Wicked

After several disappointing movie-musical adaptations in recent years, I was skeptical that Wicked would be any different. As the first musical I had ever seen, and on Broadway in New York no less, I had especially high expectations. However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the hype surrounding the movie was justified. Under the guidance of director Jon M. Chu, with a talented main cast including Ariana Grande (Glinda), Cynthia Erivo (Elphaba), and Jonathan Bailey (Fiyero), Wicked offered a refreshing take with a charm that still retained the essence of the Broadway play that sparked my love for musical theatre.

Based on Gregory Maguire’s novel Wicked, the story is a prequel to The Wizard of Oz. The main character, Elphaba, grows up experiencing hardships due to her unusual green skin. Ostracized by even her own family, she is nonetheless loved by her nanny. Because of this, she grows up with a pure heart. When she sends her younger sister to Shiz University, Elphaba catches the eye of Madame Morrible, played by Michelle Yeoh. Morrible is a famous magical history professor and the object of admiration for Glinda, a beautiful and popular girl who has lived a life essentially the opposite of Elphaba’s. As the story progresses, it explores the complex relationship between the two women. Their character development is one of the highlights of the story, touching on themes of friendship, values, purpose, and societal expectations. Grande and Erivo’s chemistry, both on and off screen, brought this relationship to life brilliantly. 

Despite both the musical and the movie running for roughly three hours, the movie only covers half of the original story. I did feel that the pacing dragged at times, with the plot progressing slowly—almost frustratingly so. However, this slower pace gave more creative freedom to the director and actors. Compared to the stage production, Elphaba and Glinda felt more alive in this version. Their characters were more developed and complex, which created a deeper connection with the audience. I particularly enjoyed Glinda’s nuanced portrayal, whereas in the play, she seemed more ditzy and one-dimensional.

Though I find live singing and dancing more impactful, the movie was still incredibly immersive. The film’s close-up shots of the characters, their costumes, and facial expressions added a level of intimacy that the stage production can’t match. The lighting and camera angles also contributed to a richer atmosphere. The movie was visually striking and the vivid colors truly brought the fantasy world of Oz to life. These added details allowed for more foreshadowing, extensive world-building, and deeper character development. It never felt like a simple recording of the play. 

A friend of mine, who is more versed in musical theatre techniques, also offered some insightful commentary on how film is a unique medium. On stage, only those sitting in the front row get to see the actors’ faces clearly, and even then, it’s impossible to catch all the small details. It’s difficult to compare movies and theatre because they offer different experiences and strengths. Perhaps that’s why I remain skeptical about many movie-musical adaptations retaining a high quality—they’re often unfairly compared to the original. Nevertheless, Wicked is proof that a great musical-movie adaptation is possible.