May sweeps will be upon us soon. A time when our favorite series combine into mega-story zord mode, slinging plot twists, cliffhangers and OMG moments before the summer hiatus. Usually I’d fret over their departure. The summer season is always loaded with fun shows that wouldn’t last a day in the fall or spring. Fortunately, there’s more TV coming due to peak television.

And you know what. I’m PISSED.

“Still Lit?” is a segment where I review an album from the past and examine if its litness remains intact. Naturally my taste levels have changed, so something I enjoyed at 13 may not entice me at 29. Unless of course nostalgia because everything was better when you were a kid, right? In the same vein, a piece of work I wrought off could have been a diamond in the rough. I’ll revisit said album, critiquing track by track – from least to most favorite. 

The first installment of “Still Lit?” is Beyonce’s 4. While a self-proclaimed Beyliever, I’ve always leaned more toward her booty-shaking, man-hating bops or midtempo songs. Not because she isn’t a great singer, but because I’m a beat person. If it can make me dance, I’m usually sold. With 4 I definitely danced, but it’s also about that first impression.

Up until the official launch of Marvel’s Black Panther next year, the only representations of black super-heroism on film have been far and in between. Yes, we’ve had Spawn and Blade, but somehow they feel totally removed from the comics’ hero resurgence we’re experiencing. As far as the last decade or so, we have had Storm barely cause one in five Xmen films; Terrence Howard Don Cheadle as Robert Downey Jr.’s War Machine; T.I. as an associate of Ant-Man’s associate; and, Anthony Mackie as Falcon. That was until last Friday.

Much like someone may prefer cats to dogs or Coke to Pepsi, I’ve always chosen TV over film. I think primarily because one doesn’t have to leave the comfort of one’s house to do so. (Anyone born after 1996 may not understand this premise). Secondly, with TV series a rather bad episode or season can be forgiven with the promise of something better. A bad film experience can’t be compensated — that is time you’ll never get back. Thirdly its an arm to attend and a leg to eat at the theater. It’s a no for me. So here at LorinHates, I’ll occasionally expound on my cinematic encounters. Luckily I’ve traversed to the local AMC theater multiple times in last two months. Here are my thoughts.




Like most of America, I too, was caught up in NBC’s hit drama after the pilot’s jaw-dropping last five minutes. The reveal of the Pearsons then, being the same family now, was touching, bold and smart. Since then Tuesday’s at 9 p.m. have been a new version of the network’s “must-see TV.” Not only is the writing brilliant, but the performances are good, almost each and every episode. And the same way Scandal gathers Twitter viewers every night with an “OMG” moment, Us has gathered faithfuls with the simple complexity of human experiences. Tears of joy or sadness are shed as these characters hit real-life peaks and lows without jerk-move antics or over-the-top outcomes.

That was until last night.