ARTS The Michigan Daily - Tuesday, April 5, 2005 -11 Hot Hot Heat break through to new level By Aaron Kaczander Daily Arts Writer Hot Hot Heat aren't afraid of change. In fact, they're about as far away from the faithful proverb, "If it ain't broke, don't fix refined voc Elevator d grooves of. grooves an more acous more despe It's safe album, fror ing chant o to the dafta IOU." Hisl more nerd Nowhere," Hot Heat to liar cackle it," as they can be. But why mess with the formula that brought international suc- cess to their sparse, jerky 2002 debut, Make Up the Breakdown? Because they can. Thankfully, their Hot Hot Heat Elevator Sire Courtesy of Fox Searchlight "I want to look like a monkey, too!" Allen's latest explores comedy and tragedy By Kristin MacDonald Daily Arts Writer It's already a well-known and accept- ed fact that life is far from fair - but is it essentially Melinda and comic or tragic? Melinda This is the bold At the State question behind Theatre Woody Allen's Fox Searchlight latest film, and it initially appears to be a fitting topic for the director who so fluidly helmed the comic pathos of clas- sics like "Annie Hall" and "Hannah and Her Sisters." It's too bad that the undertaking proves too ambitious for Allen to fully flesh out. By taking a single event and interweaving two different versions of its consequences, the film attempts a brave examination of what separates comedy from tragedy. Unfortunately, the whole project ultimately falls flat because of Allen's inability to capture the full effect of either. The same event serves as catalyst for both stories - wayward waif Melinda (Radha Mitchell, "Finding Neverland") drops in unexpectedly upon an other- wise peaceable upper-middle class dinner party, bringing a hefty load of emotional baggage with her. In the tragic version, she is received by a married pair of long- suffering college friends (Chloe Sevigny, "Shattered Glass" and Jonny Lee Miller, "Mansfield Park"), who deplore her con- tinual emotional problems while, in true Hollywood-drama fashion, ignoring their own. Marked by all the traditional sig- nals of mental instability, tragic Melinda smokes furiously, drinks heavily and - in cinema's favorite indication of character - keeps her hair messily unkempt. The flabbergasted dinner hosts of the comedic version are Melinda's genial- ly hospitable neighbors (Will Ferrell, "Anchorman" and Amanda Peet, "The Whole Ten Yards"), who quickly accept Melinda's friendship. Ferrell's Hobie feverishly yearns to develop this relation- ship into romance. Ferrell, though a sur- prise choice to step into the neurotically comic shoes Allen usually fills, proves an affable lead. His doleful, average physi- cality makes for a completely different, though not unwelcome, brand of comedy than Allen's acerbic self-consciousness. "Melinda and Melinda", plays like vintage Woody in several stylistic ways. There's the familiar jazz music in the background, simple white-on-black opening credits, prominent themes of infidelity and partner-switching and, of course, the New York setting, with the usual unexplainable expensive apart- ments. The flourish of the final shot in particular glints with an impish Allen wink, reminiscent of the notable break- ing of the fourth wall in "Annie Hall." The rest of the film could have greatly profited from such fresh imme- diacy - but the drama isn't tragic, and the comedy isn't funny. Each ver- sion adheres so rigidly to its structure - eye roll-inducing talk of souls in the former, slapstick eavesdropping in the latter - that both come off merely as lessons in storytelling, rather than actual stories that resonate with the audience. "Melinda" lacks the voy- euristic naturalism so typical of Allen's other films; it's burdened by unwieldy, showy dialogue that is far from his trademark realistic banter. Particularly in the tragic version, the capable cast at Allen's disposal is left to portray char- acters instead of people. If this effect is intended, Allen is mis- guided: Both stories fall flat rather than appealing to viewers with more engag- ing development. In toying with the plot points and character templates that sep- arate comedy and tragedy, Allen forgets that drama itself is not derived from the merits of individual parts alone but from how those elements work together. modified new recipe works. On Elevator, empathy so their second full-length album, the Van- tently incon couver-bred quartet wisely chose to focus "Soldier ina on the - gasp - simple pop song. about a lon Elevator is a grand departure into himself / 'C sweeping choruses and unadorned melo- If the a dies. If they mastered terse, start-stop blame the guitar lines and breathy organ fills on tunes. TheI Make Up, then Elevator conquers the impressive. playful, sing-songy landscape the last lethargic a record overlooked. In today's competitive Usually th landscape of retro-rock revivalists, this on You," a may be one of the smartest moves since album, but "synth-pop" became the bandwagon's the end of1 household codename. Fortunately, their cut a tads new lean, approachable sound sets them stellar exa apart from the current wave of dance dance-punk punk players flooding the industry. The sho The second time around, singer/key- Decaro cha boardist Steven Bays, bassist Dustin replacemen Hawthorne, drummer Paul Hawley and bounciness recently departed guitarist Dante Decaro as Hot Hot mold a record filled with infectiously Paquin enti 'God of War' redefines the action game By Forest Casey Daily Arts Writer cal hooks and jittery beats. oesn't abandon the danceable * . Make Up, it just takes those d makes them iridescent, with tic guitar, more toy piano and rate yelping. to say that Bays carries the Tm the tongue-twisting open- rn "Island of the Honest Man" and playful "You Owe Me an lyrics are flooded with even y self-pity. On "Middle of one of the decidedly un-Hot unes, Bays stretches his pecu- of a voice into a touching, oaked cry: "I'm just consis- isistent." The overtly political a Box" plants a bold assertion nely soldier who "celebrated ause nobody cares." lbum sags toward the end, string of bland, forgettable title track showcases Bays's ly odd range but suffers from We like to loiter. nd boring instrumentation. e filler songs, like "Shame spot permanently. re spread throughout a solid out for him, thoug they seem to be stapled to sidering that Elevc Elevator. If the album were note-for-note guit shorter, it could stand as a Bays's vocals. Th ample of Heat's explosive band's pilgrimage Courtesy of Sire k. ot-in-the-foot departure of allenged the band to find a t that could translate the of Elevator to the stage t Heat begins touring. Luke iced them enough to fill the may raise concern integrity. Yet Elev delay, packs enoug guitars to satisfy ei members of the pe. Hot Hot Heat the responsibility He's got his work cut gh - especially con- ,tor is weighted with ar burps that follow is, coupled with the to major-label land r over Hot Hot Heat's ator, despite a lengthy h pop punch and XTC ven the most skeptical anut gallery. may be tagged with of repopularizing the dance-punk genre, but it's clear that Elevator also borrows from the song- structure of artists like Elvis Costello. What's more, Hot Hot Heat take these less applicable influences and fuse them into a catchy-ass pop song. And in a musical environment wrought with tal- entless postmodern copycat clones, Hot Hot Heat refuse to become lumped in with the dregs of the scene. Elevator is one happy chorus ahead of the dance- hall pack - and this is the best direction it could've taken. Two adventure games released in the past six months have dealt with feelings of remorse and anger. Both feature warrior protagonists, fallen from grace as a result of supernatural gifts and God seeking to destroy a seemingly impos- Of War sible foe - a god. One of these games is superb, a true advancement, a perfection PS2I in the genre of action video games. The Sony other is a mediocre mess, succeeding as many times as it disappoints. The first is a deity, the second a prince. So what sets Sony's "God of War" apart from Ubi- soft's "Prince of Persia: The Warrior Within"? The key is believability: "God" features a tormented protagonist named Kratos who fights for the Greek goddess Athena to repent for his mortal sins. His character is convinc- ingly angry, with no need for a hard-rock goatee to be a badass. Kratos's rage is frightening as he kills Athe- nians for sport with enough gore to make gainers look to the "Mortal Kombat" series for some decency. The story, narrated by Dame Judy Dench (GoldenEye: Rogue Agent"), is about eight hours long. Every scene is Courtesy of Sony 'It's like see-saw, but one of us will die." emotionally taut and well produced. Ancient Greece has been virtually ignored in the medium of video games until now, which is surprising given the breadth of mate- rial that "God" gets from Greek mythology. Gamers will be wading through the River Styx, fighting Medusa and a battalion of Minotaurs, Cyclopses and Centaurs. Kratos battles the legions of Ares, the god of war, with two formidable blades attached to forged chains that are grafted on to his arms. His attacks involve swinging the knives, juggling and batting enemies up and down with large streaks of flame. Early in the game, finesse with the blades is just for show, but later, expert timing, blocking and striking is absolutely criti- cal to survival. "God" benefits from its development time, which occurred near the end of the PS2's life. The game's graphics must be seen to be believed, an experience akin to playing "Resident Evil 4" on Gamecube. The levels are artistically designed, and the player never feels as if he is just dungeon crawling through nonde- script Scooby Doo-esque levels. The "Prince" has been dethroned: The new cham- pion of action/adventure gaming got the combat sys- tem right the first time, created artistic environments that would be impressive on any system and crafted a story that is tragic and heroic enough to be considered along with the best of Greek mythology. Long live "God of War." Edgy drama 'Closer' comes to DVD By Christopher Lechner Daily Arts Writer Awaited with eager anticipation by fans of the original hit Broadway pro- duction, the extraordinary "Closer" features an artful directorial style along with a cast of bona fide stars. It is rare that established Closer actors such as the four Paramount leads - Jude Law, Natalie Portman, Clive Owen and Julia Roberts - will put their images at risk by playing contemptible characters driven by lust, revenge and hatred. Law plays Dan, a failed writer who sees himself as a sort of roman- tic but comes across as a sniveling coward. This is undoubtedly the apex of Law's acting career; this performance proves that he can play a character who's not a charming womanizer. Portman plays stripper Alice, Dan's beloved, whose vivid portrayal puts to rest doubts con- cerning her Golden Globe to rest. Owen, perhaps the least famous of the quartet, steals the show as despi- cable doctor Larry. Forced to become the nastiest character, Owen's char- acter convincingly derives pleasure from the pain caused by his razor- sharp tongue. Roberts plays Anna, a vulnerable American photographer. Despite being the most heralded star in the cast, she is also, surprisingly, the weakest. As an adaptation of a play, "Clos- er" is full of the witty, eloquent dia- logue used onstage but often lost in film. It is a complex movie, and the complete extent of the plot doesn't become apparent until the last scene. Although the explicit language can be distracting, "Closer" is frightfully appealing because it is so different from the kinds of films audiences have come to expect. The subtle details may be lost on some, but for others, this will make this film stand apart from its contemporaries. The picture and sound quality of this DVD are crisp and pristine. Each scene is picturesque with sharp, dis- tinct colors. However, the extras are extremely disappointing: The only feature included is a music video of the movie's theme song, "The Blower's Daughter," by Irish singer/songwriter Damien Rice. Ultimately, "Closer" uses its eclec- tic cast of stars and careful nuance to fashion an offbeat film fueled by emo- tions that viewers don't want to admit - c------- i n--- ------ ------- 2 s s£z,8a nzu 2*a x.*,.**x . ...>, , x4 . w~: ^. . x a, ur tsy of AtUlnic Looking bored = looking cool. Louis XIV make a royal debut exist within them. It has divided audi- ences more than any other recent film and begs the question: Is it because viewers don't want to see their favor- ite stars acting like despicable human beings, or is it because they are scared to see how close they are to becoming like them? By Abby Frackman Daily Arts Writer Music RaIvusw * * They might not be from 18th century Versailles, but that doesn't stop Louis XIV from dressing as if they were. The eyeliner- wearing, faux-Brit ish accent-sporting members of Louis Louis XIV XIV hail from the The Best Little faraway land of Secrets Are Kept San Diego, Calif. Atlantic In 2003, singer/gui- _ tarist Jason Hill, who produced The Best Little Secrets Are Kept on a 16-track tape recorder; guitarist/ singer/pianist Brian Karscig; and drum- mer Mark Maigaard bolted from alt-rock group Convoy in search of a change. They teamed up with bassist James Armbrust, by their own Pineapple Recording Group, garnered major-label attention. Unhappy with the sound of current music in the United States and armed with a concept for an album, the band members jetted to Paris to record their first full-length major-label debut. The Best Little Secrets Are Kept bristles with raunchy, sleazy lyrics layered over garage riffs. "Illegal Tender" whines "I'll tease you with a knife until you're screaming for your life ... Can I spend you up?" "Paper Doll" and "Finding Out True Love Is Blind" are even more bloated with double entendres: "Sing me a song / Then bang me like the girls in Hong Kong ... Politics are so much better when there's sex," "You know it's the girl in the front with the tight pants I really wanna shake up ... Tie you up until you call to me." While lyrics of this sort are witty, they begin to lose their edge when There is no doubt that this album is laden with feet-tapping beats. But half- way through Secrets, the listener may feel a case of ddja vu coming on: Louis XIV seem to emulate many other art- ists with their raw sound and contagious rhythms. At first they bring to mind The White Stripes, as both bands employ archaic recording methods. Hill's glam- rock, badass persona, along with his style of speak-singing, uncannily recalls The New York Dolls' frontman David Johansen. Additionally, the boys from San Diego sound shockingly like The Sex Pistols on the song "God Killed The Queen" - not to mention the shamelessly similar song title. Even though The Best Little Secrets Are Kept may sound repetitive at times - try counting the number of tracks with handclaps - it's an overall success. Louis XIV's major-label debut surely deserves Film: ****i Features: No stars Picture/Sound: **** i .