Page 10-The Michigan Daily - Friday, November 10, 1989 Girl in a Swing falls Sexist film keeps myths and stereotypes alive The Sugarcubes Here Today, Tomorrow Next Week! Elektra "Well is it any good?" you might ask. This question can be answered with a definite "maybe not." Some factors remain the same: you enjoy Bjork, with her elfin voice, which changes from captivatingly weird to a vibrant and powerful primal scream in a brief line. She has a great com- mand over it, which in turn does some commanding of its own. The infamous Einar Orn plays far left to her little girl persona, sort of a neu- rotic, super-staid Rod Serling ranta- like. Anyone who really hated Einar missed the point; without his de- mented ravings as a sense of coun- terpoint to the poppish structure of the songs, the tension would lessen. And that's a large part of the Sugar- cubes' strength; their mastery of the groove. The first one was good; damn good, in fact. Which is why Here Today is a disappointment. Seeing this side of the Cubes is like falling for Bjork's voice, then seeing the video and noticing that her eyebrows meet. The first two songs, "Tidal Wave" and "Regina," are good enough. The former boasts a seven- piece horn arrangement that adds much flavor, and the intricate synco- pation of Bragi's drumming com- bined with Thor Eldon's fretwork construct a good groove to get caught up in. On the latter, Einar remains as laughable as ever with his pre-chorus line, "I REALLY DON'T LIKE LOBSTER!" Other intriguing moments in- clude the horrendous "Shoot Him" and the paean to perversity, "Pump." The Cubes' knack for lyrical ab- BY MIKE KUNIAVSKY We all know the English can be stuffy, humorless and overbearing. In Girl in a Swing, we also learn that they can be stupid and sexist. Based on a Richard Adams (Watership Down, Shardik, Maia) novel, this film pretends to be the story of a man who marries a woman and has supernatural things happen to him that culminate in his wife's death. But it's not really about that. It's about how insensi- tive, naive and generally callous Gordon Hessler (I re- peat, Gordon Hessler), the writer/editor/director, can be. The film is riddled with stereotypes from scene one: dim-witted, uncultured Americans buy ceramics from Our Hero - a smart and savvy British antique dealer - with their ghastly (but nevertheless necessary) American Express cards. But Hessler isn't content to leave us with just a criticism of materialism, he then moves on to a wonderful thesis on sexism. First he makes it a point to have all the women either not wear undergarments or wear low-cut clothes, and he doesn't forget to have semitransparent fabrics with plenty of backlighting to enhance the effect. Next he has such wonderful dialogue as "I wish I had your brains." "(Don't worry) you don't need them." Guess who says what? Billed as an "erotic mystery," most of the eros con- sists of gratuitous missionary-position scenes and a scene where The Woman is undressed until all that's left is her long pearl necklace dangling like a noose around her neck (Gordo must have seen Behind the Green Door recently but figured no one else had). There's more where this came from: a wonderful scene where we find out that He raped Her (we never see it) and she liked it, a cute interchange where He blamesHer for having sex with him in their kitchen while the guests are on the lawn, and the glorious theme of the film itself: that killing your children just so you can marry The Most Wonderful Man in the World is bad, because they will come back to haunt you and you will die after having sex. I sincerely hope Adams is not responsible for this because it would ruin my view of rabbits forever, but if he is, I hope he chokes on his porridge. GIRL IN A SWING is playing at Ann Arbor I &2 0 0 straction remains as interesting as concept as well as kicks. Uneven is ever. Bjork sings "consume me love, I want you to inhale me... drown me love, in a bottomless pond, I'll never return." To this Einar retorts a horrid rebuttal of "I hate you, your smug little smile makes me sick," and so on; you can almost hear his spittle spattering the microphone head. At the bridge, there's an orien- tal-flavored whistle that is madden- ingly effective, and Bjork becomes sexy again near the end, where she chants the chorus in her best "Mama" voice. This one is far better than the whole of Life's Too Good, for sure. But there are lapses into utter silliness and thin stretches, as well, such as "Eat The Menu," where Einar attempts to imitate the Lucky Charms Shamrock, or the senseless "Dear Plastic," which is lacking in the experimental "Planet," a pleasing bit of pseudo-pop laced with strings, for something approaching depth. At one point, the violins dive into an incredibly goofy, campy bit of humming shtick, straight out of the Disco '70s. Here Today is uneven and a shaky successor to LTG, which is understandable for a second album. There are extensions of concept, and at times, better instrumentation. Sometimes the Cubes do their best, at others, they actually do sound like the B-52's. There are rhythm guitar solos and Jetsons FX, as well as lots of album filler. But it's quite appar- ent that this Icelandic sextet will have to venture onto different ground the next time, to hold onto their cult audience. -Forrest Green III ,.q t f- Y BOOKS Continued from page 9 proprietor, "Henrietta seems to be always waiting. Nights, she rattles around the apartment like one big pea in a pod." We never get what we might expect in a novel like this. Val and Henrietta do not fall in love with each other. The mysterious stranger does not save her from her loneliness. Instead, a strange teen- ager named Cleat, an orphan who prints up and passes around his own religious slogans ("If you were suspected of being a Christian and arrested for it, would there be enough evidence to convict you?"), falls in love with Val. In this pathetic ado- lescent crush, there are all the ingre- dients of the sense of something missing from all these character's lives. They look to religion, love, work, and chocolate for fulfillment, but nothing seems to work. The narrator gets into all of their heads and articulates their plights much better, probably, than they could themselves: they don't know it, but what they are looking for has to come from within. Even if we have heard that tune before, we can- not help but appreciate Mojtabai playing it in her quiet, humble style. -Mark Swartz Deadheads play live show Oroboros, from Cleveland, Ohio, was the first band in the area to play covers of Grateful Dead songs. 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