8A - The Michigan Daily - Monday, September 27, 2004

ARTS


Shop-worn
characters,
plot sink
'Forgotten'
By Jeff Bloomer
For the Daily
Welcome to The Twilight Zone. Oh, wait. Welcome
to "The Forgotten," an out-there, paranoid thriller that
attempts to be effective within the conventions of both
sci-fi and dramatic genres, without much success.
This is the-type of film that builds and builds to a
climax that is much less shock-
ing than its filmmakers had
hoped for. Comparisons to "The The
X-Files" are inevitable, though Forgotten
fundamental differences separate At Showcase
the two. There's the obvious: the and Quality 16
semi-sexual attraction between Columbia
the male and female leads, who
are trying to solve a paranormal
mystery. But while "The X-Files" had a cheeky sense
of humor along with its outrageous plot lines, "The
Forgotten" instead offers an onerously solemn tone,
which quickly becomes tedious. "The Forgotten"
isn't a total misfire, but its rampant waste of potential
makes it a considerable disappointment.
Julianne Moore, who is among the best actresses
at work today, is the epitome of this misuse of tal-
ent. She has superbly played such diverse roles as
a repressed lesbian housewife, a porn darling with
a cocaine habit and an FBI agent with an infamous
cannibalistic admirer. Her performance in "The
Forgotten" is admirable as well, though the silly
material limits-her effectiveness. She plays Telly, a
woman who has recently lost a son, and spends her
days flipping through dusty photo albums, slipping

Indian legend Shankar
plays Hill Auditorium

40

further and further into depression. By making Telly
someone that the audience genuinely cares about,
Moore manages to salvage the film from the prospect
of boredom, which is no small feat. The other play-
ers include Anthony Edwards (TV's "ER") as Telly's
everyman husband, Gary Sinise ("Apollo 13") as a
therapist whose initial banality should be the first
hint that he knows more than he lets on and Alfre
Woodard ("The Core") as a detective who seems to
specialize more in one-liners than solving crimes.
Their collective performances are solid, though as
their predicaments become increasingly absurd, their
effectiveness wanes.
Director Joseph Ruben, a veteran of thrillers
both good ("Return to Paradise") and bad ("The
Good Son"), arrives at a disappointing middle
ground, where the film hangs in an unfavorable
balance between moderate success and outright
failure. Granted, the screenplay goes from one
labored contrivance to the next, is not exactly a lot
to work with. Still, more artful presentation could

have brought at least a little more life into the film.
Ruben's biggest offense is the shaky camera tech-
nique, which involves a lot of jumbled shots with
the hope of creating a disorienting atmosphere.
The technique works for some films (namely, "The
Blair Witch Project"), but here it is more dizzying
than disorienting and by the climax, it makes the
film tiresome and drawn out.
The final suspense sequence takes place in a large,
dark, empty warehouse with windows that allow just
enough light to come in to create a neat visual effect
as the frazzled heroine frantically runs around the
abandoned building. There is the obligatory scene in
which the villain launches into a long explanation of
the motivations for what he has done. What follows
is a finale that sidesteps everything that came before
it for the sake of artificial closure. It answers little,
especially the how's and why's of its premise. This
is not to criticize these questions themselves - they
carry "The Forgotten" to its climax. The curious lack
of answers is another story.

An enormous oriental rug was
laid out on the stage and Shankar,
in an unassum-
ing kurta-pajama
and white stock- RaVi Shankar
ing feet, sat like a Thursday, Sept. 23
vision in the mid- At Hill Auditorium
die of his small
ensemble. His
three pieces were full of ascending
and descending structures, improvi-
sation and carried distinct melodies
and rhythms.
Tanpura player Nita Kumar, who
is a visiting professor for the LSA
History Department, was especially
impressed by the final raga. "This is
a very playful raga and in his hands
went through many byways and
pathways, touching on several dif-
ferent ragas in its course and return-
ing to the original place ... It is an
amazing raga and I was utterly lost
listening to it."
The brilliance and almost-over-
whelming precision of the music
was matched by the awe-inspiring
visual performance. Shankar's fin-
gers navigated the 16-string neck
with an ease and fluidity that made
flamenco guitar seem elementary,
and his foot confidently tapped to
time patterns that the rest of the
audience had a hard time figuring
out. The most fulfilling aesthetic
of the show was Shankar's expres-
sions - he would smile, laugh,
close his eyes and otherwise con-
vey to the audience that he has not,
unlike many performance artists,

( ouietry ovi iS,,


lost the rare art of being completely
absorbed in the music.
Shankar's interplay between his
fellow musicians was an impor-
tant feature of the concert - with
ragas that are sometimes 90 percent
improvised, a connection between
musicians is vital. When enact-
ing a sophisticated sort of call-
and-response with sitarist Parimal
Sadaphal. Shankar would directly
look at Sadaphal and nod his head
in encouragement. When Bose took
off on a tala (every concert needs a
bitchin' drum solo), a smiling Shan-
kar set down his sitar and reverent-
ly focused on Bose's breathtaking
handwork.
At 84 years old, and with over
60 albums, collaborative projects
and world recognition, Shankar has
rightfully assumed legendary sta-
tus. LSA junior Max Holtz was one
of many attendees who felt lucky to
have witnessed this musical prodigy:
"I was really excited that I could see
Shankar considering how old he is,"
Holtz said, I found out he was play-
ing the night of the performance and
dropped all my plans so I could go.
Who 'knows how much longer he'll
be able to play - it may have been a
once in a lifetime opportunity."

Indie experimentalists Macha turn Pig into hipster haven

By Jerry Gordinier
For the Daily

The Blind Pig was treated to a
whimsical demonstration of foreign
instrumentation and entertainment
Wednesday night. A small rag-tag
group of 20-
something hip-
sters congregated Macha
on the dim dance Wednesday,
floor. They stood Sept. 22
patiently, each Atthe Blind Pig
forming their
own private cloud
of cigarette smoke and disaffection,
each with a look of anticipation.
Macha's performance answered the
crowd's cries.
Macha began their set and the hip-
sters slowly began to sway. That guy

leaning in the corner stood up. The
patrons put down their popcorn. The
look of anticipation disappeared: It
was all happening. Reminiscent of
an elementary school music room,
the stage was set with everything
from the synthesizer to the kitchen
sink. Bathed in a pool of orange and
sweat, Macha took, and ripped open
the stage with an intense display on
the hammered dulcimer and vibra-
phone, performing their own brand
of an atypical trance-rock off their
self-titled debut Macha.
In 1996, after extensive travel
through Indonesia, Josh McKay and
Kai Riedl set out to form a band
that could incorporate Western and
Eastern elements, both structural
and instrumental. Their desire was
to integrate percussion, reed, string
and electronic instruments, to form
a rock that could be both "sexy"

and "enlightened." Joined by Josh's
brother and third founder of the
band, Mischo McKay, Macha was
born.
Though songs such as the fast-
paced, incredibly eclectic, "Until
Your Temples are Pounding," were
well received, the crowd grew rest-
less as Macha traveled into slow
moving "Cmon Cmon Oblivion," off
their new album, Forget Tomorrow.
At one in the morning, no one wants
to be worn down by slight white
noise and disorienting sonics.
Yet, Macha understood. Just as
the audience began to drift, heavy,
dark, guitar lines began a wave of
distortion and feedback. Rising
from the heart of the stage, a tor-
rent of sound swept over the crowd.
This unexpected surge combined
with the smooth Eastern styling of
the dulcimer hit the crowd violently,

creating a notable surge of emo-
tion across the floor. On each of the
unsuspecting fans came a look of
sincere feeling.
Exuding profundity and an exotic
flavor, it seemed as if Macha had
only now come home and treated the
audience to the stories of the East.
With their entirely unique fusion
of Western edge and Eastern mys-
tique, Macha stole the show. Bigger
acts have played before at the Blind
Pig, and bigger acts will follow, but
the precious few present Wednesday
witnessed what few will ever know
- hipsters in anguish.

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