Tuesday February 1, 2005 arts. michigandaily. com artspage@michigandaily.com dEEt RTSq 8 - -- - - BERNIE NGUYEN Lunch with literature J ust like every other student on this campus, I have a busy schedule - classes, meetings, homework, exams. I'm a busy girl. Despite this, I managed - by sheer determination - to never eat lunch by myself my entire freshman year. I would hike 15 minutes in the bitter cold to Stockwell just to eat with my friends so I wouldn't be one of those losers who eat by themselves. This year, however, is different. Even though I tried to arrange it so that I could eat lunch everyday in the compa- ny of a friend, I somehow ended up with three days out of my week in which I eat - horrors! - alone. "No big deal," I said to myself, "I'll just figure out the best way to do it." After studying the different tech- niques of solitary dining, I've discov- ered the one thing that solo lunch eaters have in common: They have managed to give off the appearance of hurried- ness (see? I'm eating by myself because I'm in a hurry) by reading. The strange kid in the corner with the "Communist Manifesto," the girl surreptitiously hid- ing the cover of her forbidden romance novel and the rushed business types with their crisp copies of the "Econo- mist." All of them have perfected the art of appearing too involved in their read- ing material to care that there is no one else at the table. In the interest of the dining public, I've compiled a list of a few books appro- priate for when you're stuck eating your mashed potatoes without company. "War and Peace" by Leo Tolstoy: This prodigious tome is the perfect way to impress any distant acquaintance who might observe you while you're all by your lonesome. You don't even really have to read it. Just clip a few articles from Sports Illustrated and slip them between the pages. Say you're using them as bookmarks if asked. "How to Talk to a Liberal (if you must)" by Ann Coulter or "Dude, Where's My Country?" by Michael Moore: There is nothing like scathing political commentary filled with "facts" to help make the meatloaf easier to digest. "Fast-Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal" by Eric Schlosser: This happy, upbeat book about the shady side of the meat-pack- ing industry will keep you company while you have fun with your french fries and hamburgers. Just kidding. "Calvin and Hobbes" by Bill Wat- terson: Tiger and boy wreak childhood havoc in black-and-white cartoon land. Need I say more? "Everything's Eventual: 14 Dark Tales" by Stephen King: Appetites may be lost, but with the type of food the cafeteria is putting out these days, that might not be a bad thing. Sometimes, even reading will not save you from the profound embar- rassment of knowing that people are darting glances at your back, thankful that they have friends to sit with. It's enough to make you want to shout, "I have friends! Really, I do! But they're all at lab!" This humiliation can be so overwhelming that I've actually seen students pull out the big guns: their laptop computers. After all, you can't feel sorry for someone whose English paper is so pressing that they need to work on it over turkey tetrazzini. I'm sorry, wait - yes, you can. To my surprise, however, I've found that I like eating by myself; at least, as long as it's not in the dining hall. There is a strange and distinct pleasure in grab- bing a table all for myself at Noodles & Company, eating my soup without feeling the pressure of forced conversa- tion or uneasy banter. In defiance of all logic, the empty seat across from me has somehow morphed into a relaxing and ergonomically practical foot rest. The broad expanse of unoccupied table is no longer the evidence of a lack of dining companion; rather, it is a space for me to put an extra napkin and enjoy the star- tling peacefulness that sitting by myself affords. And so I've decided that if I have to eat lunch alone, I'll do it in a restaurant. Never again will I suffer the humiliation of hating cafeteria food on my own. If I have to be a lone ranger, I'll do it with good food in front of me. What's a few extra dollars if it saves me from hav- ing to face a noisy crowd of judgmen- tal, cereal-eating morons while eating lunch? Just don't get me started on dinner. - Bernie loves reading and eat- ing alone and is thinking of starting a club for like-minded people. Con- tact her at banguyen@umich.edu 'EVIL UNDEAD SURVIVAL-HORROR GENRE TAKEN TO A WHOLE NEW LEVEL By Jared Newman Daily Arts Writer VIDEO GAME REVIEW Up until now, no one has been able to perfect the formula for survival-horror video games. Some of them Resident are drenched in plot and atmo- Evil 4 sphere, but turn the action into a chore. Others focus too heav- Gamecube ily on fighting and become just Capcom another gory action title. With "Resident Evil 4," the recipe has been refined. The latest installment stars secret agent Leon Ken- nedy, a former cop who was promoted after "Resident Evil 2." He and a couple of no-name officers are sent to an undisclosed village in Europe to investigate the kidnapping of the U.S. president's daughter. Of course, the officers are knocked off quickly, leaving the task to Leon. "RE4" doesn't feel like most survival-horror games because players are encouraged to fight, not flee. An over-the-shoulder view has replaced the fixed camera angles of the series' previous installments, boosting the action appeal, adding precision and pulling the player further into the environment. The game's many weapons are balanced perfect- ly: The handgun, for example, is weak, but ammo is scattered liberally, while the shotgun can clear out a roomful of attackers, but should be conserved for those specific kinds of situations. Despite the game's many firefights, "RE4" doesn't feel like most action games either, probably because "We're gonna need a bigger boat." of its unique controls. The stripped-down set of move- ments - notably the absence of the ability to strafe or move while aiming - makes the game feel less like a shoot-em-up and more like its predecessors. The "Action Button" has been given new life as well, prompting players to perform special maneuvers such as jumping through windows or kicking stunned enemies instead of simply opening doors or climbing ladders. "RE4" is rife with cool graphic effects, such as the splashing water when fighting a giant monster or the blur of the zoom scope when Leon aims his rifle. Still, the occasional jagged edge or clipped texture are reminders that making this title exclusive to Gamecube seems like a charity act from Capcom: Just imagine the quality of graphics that an Xbox would provide. The sound in "RE4," with the exception of mediocre voice acting, is extraordinary. Rarely in a video game has the sound of a reloading gun been this realistic, and the actual gunfire sounds are even better. Of course, the sickening growls and droning, gloomy soundtrack that have always accompanied the series are back, and they're the scariest aspects of the game. The enemies that Leon fights in "RE4" aren't quite zombies this time around. Sure, they move slowly and display a tolerance for bullets, but they also wield weapons, communicate with each other and follow the orders of a mysterious figure named Lord Saddler. Although the story behind Saddler and his minions seems unoriginal at first, bizarre twists become plenti- ful as Leon explores further. This is why the action is so important: Where most survival horror games assume that a suspenseful plot is enough to keep the gamer interested, "RE4" takes the next step by constantly littering the path with fresh challenges, whether it be a fortress full of fireball cata- pults, a roomful of hooded zombie-priests or a giant with hands the size of a human being. After defining the survival-horror genre nine years ago, the latest "Resident Evil" has raised the bar once again. I Classic movie monsters face off again on DVD By Andrew M. Gaerig Daily Arts Writer Woven Hand miXes religion and folk music Blatant Hollywood cash-ins - sequels, spinoffs and the like - get a bad rap. They get ripped for weak plots, bad act- ing, a lack of continuity and a not-so-hid- den desire to profit from a good thing. And while these are Alien vs. all valid criticisms, Predator there's no rational reason they should 20th Century Fox be levied on sequels and cash-ins any more than on the original. Let's face it - it's not like the original "Speed" had significantly more noble ambitions than "Speed 2: Cruise Control." So it goes with the "Alien" and "Predator" franchises, two sci-fi steeds that have been flogged so often that their calluses have grown thick enough to bruise the whips. "Alien vs. Predator" was blasted so thoroughly by film critics upon its release that it failed to do even a fraction of the business that its name-brands should've brought about automatically. And it's a damn shame, too, because "AVP" is a surprisingly watchable monster mash. Though it lacks the hard-fought haunted house tension of the original "Alien" and the delectable "governor vs. nature vs. intergalactic space assassin" appeal of the original "Predator," "AVP" gets by on a suitably ridiculous - though not totally incoherent - plot and just enough beast- on-beast action to satiate anyone lowbrow enough to get past the title. Just how does director Paul W.S. Anderson manage to weave together two completely unrelated storylines? A heat-imaging satellite owned by billion- aire Charles Weyland (Lance Henrik- sen, "Scream 3") spots a temple buried beneath miles of ice in Antarctica. Wey- land, seeking one last thrill in his old age, gathers a band of adventurers to excavate the mysterious structure. The snarky ice- climber Alexa Woods (Saana Lathan, "Out of Time"), the hunky archeologist Sebastian de Rosa (Raoul Bova, "Under the Tuscan Sun") and the father-of-two scientist Graeme Miller (Ewen Brem- mer, "Black Hawk Down"), among oth- ers, fill out his confused but suddenly well compensated band of experts. Of course, Anderson kills off all except Woods almost immediately, and her romp around the temple with a teenage predator participating in a once-in-a-cen- tury alien-killing ritual leaves her with graciously few lines. The film proceeds from there in a most- ly predictable, though ultimately enjoy- able series of Alien/Predator wrestling By Lloyd Cargo Daily Arts Writer When David Eugene Edwards took a break from established alt-country rock- ers 16 Horsepower in 2001, he took on the moniker Woven Hand Woven Hand as an Consider the Birds outlet for his pro- lific song-writing. SoundsFamilyre ,On Consider the Birds, his third solo ;release, Edwards crafts another unswerv- ing ode to God that invokes power, love and glory through dark American folk. The son of a traveling Nazarene preacher, Edwards's Christianity is a 'theme that runs throughout Consider The Birds. The name Woven Hand is taken from the image of hands entwined in prayer. But like labelmate Sufjan Ste- vens, when Edwards talks about God, the ;message is clear without being preachy. That isn't to say Edwards isn't forceful with his faith. On "Down In Yon Forest" when he eulogizes, "Down under that bed there runs a flood / Bells of paradise "My, what big teeth you have." matches and coming-from-a-mile-away ambushes. But while the movie exceeds expectations, the DVD leaves a lot to be 'desired. The "alternate beginning" promised on the packaging is nothing but a poorly executed attention-grab- ber, mercifully omitted from the actual film. The commentaries - one featur- ing Anderson, Henriksen and Lathan, the other with some of the movie's anima- tors and computer whizzes - are mostly unwatchable. The former features inane from-the-set trivia, the latter improves on it only slightly as the filmmakers spend the entire runtime pointing out which sets/creatures are computer generated and which aren't. Fans of the long-run- ning comic book crossovers will find some goodies, but nothing to get terribly excited about. "AVP" was unfairly maligned upon its release, the victim of overanxious film critics and impossible-to-please fans of the two excellent sci-fi series. It is a silly, flawed film, but it never feels like it's drag- ging on and remains eminently enjoyable throughout. The DVD release is ultimate- ly guilty of the sort of reviews the movie was pinned with. Much to the critics' cha- grin, there are fans of both "Alien" and "Predator" out there, and while these nuts were perhaps unfairly judgmental of the film, they deserve better than this half- baked DVD. 0 Film: *** Picture/Sound: *** Features: * M83 synthesizes singular vision with sound I hear them ring / Half runs with water / Half runs with blood / And I love my Jesus above everything," the weight of judgment can be felt with each strum of his guitar. The only thing holding back Consider the Birds from being a great record is the analogous composition. On most of the tracks, Edwards performs all the instru- mentation himself, and the songs all end up sonically similar. The tracks that really stand out are the ones where he lets other musicians flesh out his arrangements. But even by his lonesome, Edwards still conjures up epic folk hymns. By Andrew M. Gaerig Daily Music Writer the same type of lunatics who get off on My Bloody Valentine's epic guitar Starting an album with someone saying, "Raise your arms the highest you can / So the whole universe will glow," is a little bit like guaranteeing a Super Bowl victory: Back that shit up or end up embarrassed. Most artists would drown in the sea of pretension that M83 has stirred for himself. His guitar and keyboard epics appeal to maelstrom and fall headfirst into Sigur R6s's winter romanticism. On his last album, Dead Cit- ies, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts, M83 Before the Dawn Heals Us Mute French artist Anthony Gonzalez lost himself in a world of heavy synthesiz- ers, approaching the sonic fullness of the legendary MBV as well as anyone in the last decade. The album felt like a rural meditation on life's hugeness. Vocals were sparse, keyboards were stacked' and guitars were indecipher- able. On Before the Dawn Heals Us, Gonzalez refines his approach, mov- ing forward both the sonics and the atmosphere of his soundscapes. Before the Dawn Heals Us is an upbeat, life-affirming joyride. Gon- zalez scales down the dark under- tones that occasionally reared their head on Dead Cities. The new work is warmer and happier, but never loses the grandeur that makes M83's sound so singular. On the impossibly huge "Don't Save Us From the Flames," Gonzalez blitzes something like 70 guitars at angels repeatedly sighing "Tinaaaaa." Anyone not on board at this point misses the train altogether: Rock bombast, heavenly choirs and '80s synth glitzes are the building blocks of Before the Dawn. Given the potentially explosive materials he's mining here, Gonzalez's success rate is remarkably high. "Can't Stop" relies on vocals more than any- thing else in M83's catalog, and it thrives on miles of childish naivete and charming repetition. Gonzalez is so on target throughout the album that he makes the lyrics of "Teen Angst" ("How fast we burn! / How fast we cry! / The more we learn / The more we die!") sound passable over a bed of palpitating drums. Even the monolithic album closer, "Lower Your Eyelids to Die with the Sun" never falters, lapping up a bearish 10 minutes with an ava- lanche of slow-groove electronics. Not everything works. The ridicu- lous narrative of "Car Chase Ter- ror" finally trips up Gonzalez with its sub-B-movie screams, but even this misstep fails to bring the rest of the album down to earth. The bright city lights on the cover of the album are a fitting analogy for the songs: never close enough to truly grasp, never so far as to become indiscriminate. M83's sound is mountainous, humorless and unforgiving, but never intimidating or unbelievable. Seldom do huge prayers to the night, the city, the heavens sound so eminently welcoming. 0 I I "tel l - & Located in the heart of JViracle Strip __