Students react negatively to Netflix’s password-sharing crackdown

Netflix began offering streaming content in 2007 and has since remained a top streaming service. Photo courtesy of rawpixel via rawpixel.com.

By Lucy Oster ’23

Arts & Entertainment Editor 

Video streaming giant Netflix has finally followed through with its promise to crack down on password sharing. According to the company’s support website, “[p]eople who are not in your household will need to sign up for their own account to watch Netflix.” 

This development will likely significantly impact how media hosted on Netflix is shared since many people do not pay for their own Netflix accounts. There have been memes proliferating on social media for years about people using their ex’s subscription — in March 2017, the official Netflix Twitter account posted, “Love is sharing a password.” 

Now, Netflix will not allow people access to an account if they are not connected to the Wi-Fi associated with the account. This change will certainly affect college students who use their parent’s account, impacting Mount Holyoke students, where 95 percent of the student body lives on campus. 

Many college students stream movies and television shows to decompress from schoolwork and other stress-inducing activities. Amelia Zamonski’23 described Netflix as “just easy access.” The platform was one of the earlier sites that began offering streaming content in 2007. What helped Netflix earn its definition of ‘easy access’ was the password-sharing aspect. 

Carissa Barry Moilanen’23 uses their parent’s Netflix subscription and shares their password with two other friends. Zamonski uses her mother’s account, and her grandmother unwittingly shares her Netflix account with one of Zamonski’s friends. “One of my friends from home, at least up until recently, still used my grandma’s Netflix account, like my profile,” Zamonski said.

Password sharing kept Netflix competitive. In a world full of, according to Zamonski, “one thousand individual streaming services,” the fact that nearly everyone has access to Netflix and can reference shows and expect people to understand what they mean is rare: this cultural power can be demonstrated by “Stranger Things” boosting a Kate Bush song from 1985 to the top 40 charts decades later. 

The variety of content Netflix offers can be both a pro and a con. Zamonski mentioned that what they liked about Netflix was the breadth of Spanish language content, which seemed lacking on other streaming services. Laura Thornburg’23 said, “I think the problem where you scroll forever looking for what to watch is worse than before because there’s not really an easy, obvious choice anymore. It’s just all crazy stuff.” 

It’s still unknown just how Netflix changing its password-sharing rules could alter the lives of people, on the College’s campus and beyond. “Stranger Things” was the most-streamed show of 2022, but shows on HBOMax that release weekly, like “The Last of Us,” are what’s increasingly talked about online. 

Barry Moilanen shared that they wouldn’t pay for Netflix themselves if the platform kicked them off their parent’s account. “I would just transition solely to Hulu, which has better content anyways,” Barry Moilanen shared. 

It’s possible that as the features that Netflix is known for, like password sharing,  come to an end, Netflix may fade alongside them.

‘Bridgerton’ Review: Historical Fallacies Fall Flat

By Jendayi Leben-Martin ’24

Contributing Writer

“Bridgerton,” a show released on Netflix on Christmas, is a period drama and romance series that has become so popular it’s brought Regency-era jewelry back into style. The show centers on the wealthy Bridgerton family and the people surrounding them as they embark on a journey to find love in one of the most affluent towns in Regency London. With Netflix being recently criticized for a lack of diversity in its casts and its portrayal of characters of color (when they are cast), many eyes were on “Bridgerton.” The show comes close to breaking through the standard Netflix has set for storylines of Black and queer characters, but regrettably misses the mark. 

The drama features characters of all races living in historically inaccurate harmony in wealthy London. For several episodes, “Bridgerton” doesn’t acknowledge the question that seems obvious to me: How did this racial harmony come to be? 

The casting directors used a method called “blind casting” where they didn’t select actors based off of their race. While “Bridgerton” is not the first project to use this method (ever heard of a musical called “Hamilton”?), it is not as “woke” a decision as many might think. Aside from the pros and cons of blind casting itself, I thought that the writers and producers (including Shonda Rhimes, who is also responsible for TV sensations “Scandal” and “Grey’s Anatomy”) chose to completely ignore the idea of race in the show and simply have the characters interact with no mention of their differences. Though I can’t say I completely agree with this method or with blind casting in general, I initially thought that this was a refreshing way to produce a show. I appreciated that the Black actors did not play Black characters, but simply played characters. 

Unfortunately, just as I was making my way through the season and my respect for the show was growing, it all shattered in one scene. 

In the fourth episode, Lady Danbury (Adjoa Andoh) explains how racial relations in their society came to be. She reminds Simon (Regé-Jean Page) that the marriage between King George and Queen Charlotte, who is Black, has given Black people the opportunity to integrate seamlessly into society with no lasting negative effects or biases. While I understand that “Bridgerton” is a romance and that the creators are more committed to the sex scenes than they are to historical accuracy, the blatant disregard for race and the struggles undergone by people of color is hard to ignore. Put plainly, Black people have been literally risking their lives for hundreds of years just to be seen as equal to white people under the law, and in 2021, we are still so far from that goal. For the writers of “Bridgerton” to say that all racism and racial biases end with the union of a white king and an incredibly light-skinned queen is a slap in the face to the bitter reality of racism that has been at the forefront of many of our minds for the past year. 

Unfortunately, race is not the only heavy theme “Bridgerton” brushes over. When Benedict, one of the Bridgerton brothers, attends a party with his friend Henry Granville, who happens to be a successful artist, he finds Henry in a room making out with an unknown man. I had been anticipating something like this, as I sensed sexual tension between the two from the moment they met. However, the show does not go anywhere with this story. Benedict simply confronts Henry, who is married to a woman, and he responds with a short monologue that can be summed up along the lines of “love is love.” Of course, we can all agree that representation is important in shows and movies, but one of the troubles of trying to include different types of marginalized characters simply for the sake of including them is that the characters often fall flat. This is exactly what happens with Henry Granville. 

All in all, “Bridgerton” does a good job of creating a beautiful, whimsical world for viewers to escape into for eight episodes. However, shows shouldn’t haphazardly include Black or queer storylines that they are not prepared to flesh out. When writers, directors and producers add diversity to their casts and characters simply in order to say that they have done so rather than because they actually care about those stories, it shows. I regret to say that “Bridgerton” comes across as one of those projects.

‘Dash & Lily’ Is a Holiday Series Worth Your Time

Graphic by Trinity Kendrick ‘21

By Rose Cohen ’22

Staff Writer & Photographer 

During the first weeks of November, a handful of cheesy Christmas movies and shows begin to appear on streaming services like Hulu and Netflix. Most of them do not deserve your attention; they’re Hollywood fluff filled with cringeworthy lines, cliches and predictable character arcs. However, this year, Netflix’s adaptation of David Levithan and Rachel Cohn’s 2010 young adult novel, “Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares,” proves that worthy holiday series do exist. 

The show tells the epic love story of two 17-year-olds who live in New York City. The romantic comedy takes place during the days leading up to Christmas. 

Austin Abrams of “Euphoria” plays the finicky Dash, who detests the “forced cheer” and “frenzied crowds” that the holiday brings to the Big Apple. Among the tinsel, the carolers and the red and green lights, he finds peace inside the Strand Bookstore in downtown Manhattan. Surrounded by stacked aisles of fiction and nonfiction, the pessimistic Dash escapes the holiday joy by informing an employee that Gabriel García Márquez’s biography was misshelved. It “should be under ‘G’ for García, not ‘M’ for Márquez,” he explains. 

The show begins to pique interest when Dash scans the J.D. Salinger section of the shop and pulls out a medium-sized red notebook. Dash, intrigued by the question on the front cover, which reads, “Do You Dare…?”, flips through the pages. He finds a series of clues and challenges written by the Christmas-loving Lily (Midori Francis). She wants to find a clever teenage boy to go on adventures with; she’s tired of spending her days playing board games with her grandfather. 

Like in “You’ve Got Mail,” writer-director Nora Ephron’s 1998 romantic comedy, the two main characters have never met in real life. For the majority of the series, they only communicate through dares that they create for one another in the notebook. This means that Dash accepts Lily’s challenges, even if they tell him to sing Joni Mitchell’s Christmas folk song “River” in the middle of the Strand. He then creates his own dares and leaves the notebook for her to find so their game can continue. If you accept this improbable premise, you will enjoy the show.

You will also need to embrace the fact that Lily knows a good amount of the people involved in her dares. Her cousin works at the Strand, and he can ensure that Dash completes the challenges that take place there. Her uncle dresses up as Santa Claus at the Macy’s department store, and that makes it okay for Dash to steal his Santa hat to complete a dare. 

As the series progresses, we find out about the two teenagers’ past heartbreaks. Lily has felt like a freak and an outsider since her middle school crush bullied her years earlier. Dash dealt with loneliness after his ex-girlfriend moved to Brazil, leaving him bereft in New York. With each dare, the characters bring out the best in one another and slowly force each other out of their comfort zones. 

 It’s heartwarming to see Dash encourage the socially-anxious Lily — who spends her time sewing her own clothes — to attend a 2 a.m. Jewish punk show on the seventh night of Hanukkah. And it is just as meaningful to see the impatient Dash “go with the flow” in a mochi-making class, surrounded by Japanese grandmothers. 

Another great storyline in the show includes Lily’s queer brother, Langston (Troy Iwata). We get to see his love story unfold and witness him as a three-dimensional character. In an interview with The Wrap, Iwata commented on the role, stating, “Langston is just this really fun, quirky, snarky human who happens to be gay and it’s never really questioned or challenged by himself or any of his friends.”

“Dash & Lily” allows you to fall in love with the challenges in the red notebook and the characters involved. If you are looking to binge-watch a holiday series that actually has a somewhat meaningful plot, set aside roughly three-and-a-half hours for “Dash & Lily.”

‘the Queen’s Gambit’ Brings Glamor and Tension To Cold War Chess

Graphic by Anjali Rao-Herel ‘22

By Sabryna Coppola ’22

Arts & Entertainment Editor

Content Warning: This article discusses substance abuse, addiction and injury due to substance use.

In the grip of the Cold War, a teenage girl battles to dominate international grandmasters of chess to redeem herself and prove the superiority of America over Russia. In Netflix’s adaptation of Walter Tevis’ 1983 novel “The Queen’s Gambit,” Anya Taylor-Joy plays Beth Harmon, a chess prodigy from Kentucky. The seven-episode series is intense, packed with a range of strong emotions and a surprisingly thrilling series of chess matches. Aided by the brilliant score and Taylor-Joy’s cool assurance, “The Queen’s Gambit” offers an exciting story of a girl dominating a traditionally male game. Beth’s troubled past and fraught relationships keep the audience on the edge of their seats, unable to turn away from their screens.

Beth is orphaned at a young age and moves to the Methuen Home for Girls. Sent on an errand to the basement, Beth sees the janitor, Mr. Shaibel, playing chess. Eventually, he agrees to teach her how to play. Beth quickly becomes an expert, even visiting a local high school to play the entire chess team at once and easily beating them all. This marks the beginning of Beth’s journey into global chess fame, expedited by her adoption by Mrs. Wheatley (Marielle Heller), who later helps her travel the U.S. to play in tournaments. Beth continues to play internationally and eventually faces off with Russian World Champion Borgov (Marcin Dorociński). The show has even been praised in The New York Times for its accuracy regarding the details of chess, from the handling of the pieces to the historical references and real masters.

Another plot point centers around the tranquilizers Beth and the other girls are given each day by the orphanage to stabilize their moods. Beth saves these tranquilizers and takes them at night to help her see an imaginary chessboard on the ceiling that she can use to play and analyze games in her head. When the government forbids the use of sedative drugs on children, Beth starts to experience withdrawals, causing her to break into the infirmary and overdose on them. Beth continues to struggle throughout the series with her dependence on drugs and alcohol, battling the conviction that they enable her to be a better chess player.

As a fan of Taylor-Joy after her performances in “The Witch” and “Split,” I was excited to see her in such a unique role. Her intensity was strong throughout the series, but I expected to see more moments of vulnerability, especially considering the personal losses she faces. But even with her stoicism, the dry wit and fierce determination of the character won me over. 

The show is visually captivating with a cool color palette and lush outfits for Taylor-Joy, culling the most glamorous trends of the 1960s. The score, written by Carlos Rafael Rivera, is excellent, bringing a sense of tension and excitement to the chess matches which feel accessible to non-chess players watching Beth learn the game. The soundtrack also features some great pop songs from the 1950s and ’60s, including the Monkees, the Kinks and Skeeter Davis’ “The End of The World.” 

Despite these undeniable strengths, I thought at times that the series left something to be desired. Its portrayal of Beth’s addiction seemed to lack consistency. Her use of drugs and alcohol was certainly labeled as a bad influence multiple times, but it still had a glamorous edge, reminiscent of substance portrayal in “Mad Men.” While we watched Beth sink to the lowest of lows, the dangerous effects of her substance use seemed watered down, diminishing the realities of addiction. Her apparent ability to stop her consumption of drugs and alcohol on a whim felt unrealistic, using her troubled genius and tragic past to romanticize a very real condition that nearly 21 million Americans face.

The one part of Beth’s struggle with addiction that does feel realistic is the support she is given from her friends. In her matches, many of Beth’s competitors become her friends and mentors. Harry Beltik (Harry Melling) and Bennie Watts (Thomas Brodie-Sangster) both turn from fierce opponents to trusted friends who offer her guidance on her path to beat Borgov. Bennie helps her stay away from alcohol while studying for her match with Borgov. Harry pleads with her to take care of herself when he sees her at a local chess event in Kentucky. 

She is also helped by a friend from Methuen, Jolene (played by the fascinating newcomer Moses Ingram). Jolene seems to find Beth at her lowest point, bringing symmetry to the show, as she was Beth’s closest friend when she first began taking pills. Knowing Beth’s history, Jolene is able to help her regain her sobriety and prepare for her final tournament in Russia. Jolene is also the only person of color in the series, which was disappointing. The existence of her international competitions seemed like an opportunity to address this, but she only seemed to face white European men, which is reflective of the pool of internationally recognized grandmasters in the 1960s.

 Even her competition with Borgov, like with Harry and Benny, seemed oddly friendly. Compared to all of the Cold War movies demonizing the USSR, their rivalry feels personal, not political. It is unclear if that is a reflection of the current relations between the U.S. and Russia, but it felt less like a political proxy competition than a video game’s boss battle. 

“The Queen’s Gambit” is visually rich and enthralling despite being fairly predictable. Taylor-Joy is charming and easy to root for. The show is cerebral and surprisingly moving at times. It also packs in quite a lot of information about the rules and history of chess. At just over seven hours, “The Queen’s Gambit” is a perfect series to binge in a weekend, especially if you’re looking to enjoy some retro fashion and watch a teenage girl from Kentucky embarrass chess masters at their own game.

Netflix’s ‘the Haunting of Bly Manor’ Offers More Than Just Spooks

Pictured above: “the Haunting of Bly Manor” actress, Victoria Pedretti.

By Anika Singh ’24

Staff Writer

“The Haunting” universe gets its second edition of spooks and scares from Netflix’s much-awaited “The Haunting of Bly Manor,” the season following its highly acclaimed predecessor “The Haunting of Hill House.” Adapted from the thriller novella “The Turn of the Screw” by Henry James, “The Haunting of Bly Manor” follows young American Dani Clayton (Victoria Pedretti) as she takes up a job as an au pair to two orphaned children at their huge ancestral mansion located in the fictional town of Bly, England.

Though Bly has a certain charm to it, given the beautiful landscapes of the English countryside and the friendly and sociable staff at the manor, something looms over its freshly manicured gardens. Dani, haunted by her past, seems struck by the eeriness of the mansion, and with the two children, Miles (Benjamin Evan Ainsworth) and Flora (Amelie Bea Smith), who are ever so polite (yet possessive) and the peculiar death of the previous au pair, she simply can’t avoid feeling uneasy.

Mike Flanagan, the creator of the series, does a stellar job at interpreting “The Turn of the Screw” with his creative insight and follows the sequence of timelines as his way of storytelling. We see a great in-depth approach taken to present the arcs of the various characters, especially that of Hannah Grose (T'Nia Miller), the housekeeper at Bly Manor. 

We see a beautiful portrayal of a series of events that coerces the audience to read between the lines.

The first half of the show is slow, taking its time to unfold, yet manages to keep the audience occupied by various introductions of the past regarding the manor. The jump scares are kept to a minimum, which is different from “The Haunting of Hill House.” Instead, “Bly Manor” preys on the viewer’s mind by creating anticipation through long shots which build upon the mystery that surrounds the manor. 

If that was not enough, “The Haunting of Bly Manor” makes it a goal to strum the heartstrings of the viewer as they find themself caring for the characters and the relationships that are strengthened, especially the blooming romance between Dani and the young gardener, Jamie (Amelia Eve).

“The Haunting” universe, though enriched with a second season, seems to fall short when “Bly Manor” is compared to “Hill House.” “Bly Manor” offers a few scares, yet nothing compared to its forerunner. Perhaps “Bly Manor” is indeed more humane when it comes to its storytelling, focusing primarily on the characters instead of the situations they are in. However, the presence of so many characters makes them a burden to the viewer, resulting in a complicated web of people that becomes hard to navigate. Additionally, “Bly Manor” takes a more confusing approach to conclusions than its precursor, as the epilogue entails an open ending instead of the relatively concrete conclusion offered in “Hill House.” 

All in all, however, “The Haunting of Bly Manor” seamlessly tries to conjure up theories and conclusions to this creepy series. It is stylish, binge-able and unnerving with a hint of warmth mixed into it. This latest installment of “The Haunting” series is available to stream on Netflix.

Netflix’s ‘Ratched’ Feels Like an Addendum To ‘American Horror Story’

By Rose Cohen ’22

Staff Writer

Content Warning: This review describes graphic violence, homophobic scenes and homicide.

The Netflix series “Ratched” promises to tell the origin story of Nurse Mildred Ratched, the notorious antagonist of Ken Kesey’s 1962 classic novel “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and Czech-born director Milos Forman’s book-to-film adaptation of the same name. The show, which premiered on Sept. 18, feels more like a combination of an Alfred Hitchcock psychological horror and FX’s dark series, “American Horror Story.”

Jennifer Salt, Tim Minear, Alexis Martin Woodall and Ryan Murphy, the creators of “American Horror Story,” are the producers of the show. Sarah Paulson, who stars as Ratched, has acted in nearly every season of the anthology series. 

Hitchcock could have easily directed the first few minutes of the pilot of the eight-episode season. The eerie weather — complete darkness and a heavy thunderstorm — mirrors the beginning of the director’s 1959 thriller, “Psycho.” 

In the first scene of the show, it’s 1947 and a priest leaves a church sermon. The camera pans to Edmund Tolleson (Finn Wittrock), but shadows conceal his face. Tolleson begins to stalk the clergyman, following him home, where he lives with several other priests. 

Once the father’s housemates venture out to a movie theater to watch the Christmas classic “Miracle on 34th Street,” Tolleson — whose face remains hidden — bangs on the door, claiming that his car broke down. He asks to use the telephone. Once he enters the home and we finally see his face, he stares at a knife on the dinner table, adding to his villainous vibe. 

When the rest of the priests return home, they find the sole priest left behind dead. Tolleson goes on a rampage through the house, attacking and killing all of the priests but one, all the while smiling. This is once again reminiscent of Norman Bates, the murderous mama’s boy in “Psycho.”

Six months after Tolleson’s killing spree, we meet the young version of Ratched. She drives along California’s northern coast, in her mint green Ford Coupe, to Lucia, California, where she has orchestrated an unplanned interview at Lucia State Hospital, the facility in which the homicidal Tolleson is about to be held. The director of the hospital, Dr. Hanover (Jon Jon Briones), is diving into experimental treatments including hydrotherapy, hypnosis and lobotomies. An assortment of violent patients terrorizes the staff. But because of the focus on the storyline within the hospital, we still know very little by the end of the series about Ratched’s behavior in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

The bloody and brutal scenes in “Ratched” parallel the ones we see in “American Horror Story,” and beware: They’re just as gory. In one especially grisly episode, Ratched locks a man (Corey Stoll) in a hydrotherapy tub and attempts to boil him alive. We see him stagger from the tub, his gruesome burns making it nearly impossible not to turn away from the screen. Another horrific scene from an early episode shows a grisly depiction of a boy (Brandon Flynn) removing his own arms. 

Producer Ryan Murphy may have set out to explore what turned Ratched into the tyrant that Kesey created, but we receive only a superficial version of the character. Scene after scene, “Ratched” showcases murder and torture, but fails to provide any source of dramatic tension.

“Ratched” throws around a lot of heavy topics. There’s the sensationalized depiction of people with mental illnesses and the treatment of homosexuality. One patient suffers from dissociative identity disorder (which is derogatorily referred to in the show) and becomes violent when she takes on the role of Olympian Jesse Owens. A lesbian character receives brutal conversion therapy. Both scenes are equally offensive, and they don’t drive the narrative forward in any way. Like the whole show, they just serve as an excuse for “American Horror Story”-style torture porn. 

At its best, “Ratched” could be another storyline in “American Horror Story,” presented in multiple episodes. In an interview with Vanity Fair, Murphy stated, “I feel like Nurse Ratched is sort of shorthand for barbarism.” He continued, “What was interesting was trying to create an emotional character from a reputation that’s very cold...trying to figure out every little detail about her childhood, her relationships, her sexuality.” He also admitted that he was scared to take on such an iconic character.

If you’re looking for insight into Kesey’s Ratched, this isn’t the show for you. But if you’re an “American Horror Story” superfan, reserve a weekend to binge the show.