The Michigan Daily - michigandaily.com
Frida,
y, October 12, 2007 - 5A
The Michigan Daily - michigandailycom Frida
"Don't you frown atme."
A new season, a
new direction
TOP: Corey Dorris as Rooftop confesses to J. Patrick Rourke as Father Lux. ABOVE: Sharif Nasr as Balthazar and Katie Johnson as Norca.
Don't talk like a Lady'
*Dark humomr, pimp-chic style at the Waigreen
By MICHELE YANKSON
Daily Arts Writer
Depending on the circumstances, peo-
ple are generally inclined either to dread
or dream about a school reunion.
If this reunion takes place during the
funeral of a former teacher whose corpse
has gone missing, dread will undoubt-
edly take precendence.
- The characters in Ste-
Our Lady of phen Adly Guirgis's
"Our Lady 121st Street"
121st Street assemble at the funeral
Tonight and of their beloved ele-
mentary school teacher
tomorrow at8 and rehash the not-yet
p.m., Sunday forgotten in the School
at 2 p.m. of Music, Theatre and
$9 w/student Dance's beguiling pro-
ID, $24 duction and season
Walgteen opener.
Drama Center "Our Lady of 121st
Street" premiered last
weekend and resumes
this weekend at the Walgreen Drama
Center.
The playwright's characters were a
draw for John Neville-Andrews, a the-
ater professor and the show's director.
"They way the characters speak is fas-
cinating: They're violent in their words,
but it's a coverup," Neville-Andrews
said. "Underneath, they're actually very
emotional characters."
The play achieves an emotional con-
nection between character and audience
through an intimate, minimalist stage.
The backdrop is made of simple high-
rises, and only three different sets are
used. It seems Neville-Andrews wished
to make the characters the main aes-
thetic, and their costumes, rather clich6,
emphasize the rough-exterior yet impas-
sioned-interior dynamic.
Theatre Performance senior Katie
Johnston stars as Norca, whose costume
and demeanor embody the standard
depiction of the inner-city Latina. She
wears the hoops, exposes the midriff and
isn't wary of challenging anyone to a duel.
The character would be a stereotype if it
wasn't for the texture underneath. Sure,
she thrashes about on stage in black fish-
nets and white heels, proclaims she'd
rather talk about "fun stuff' when con-
versation becomes geared toward the
deceased and enters the stage toward the
end'of the play far from sober. But what
unrepressed, grieving person wouldn't?
In that vein, as much as "121st Street"
bites with dark comedy, it also has
moments of simplistic honesty. The
characters are as charming as they are
uncouth. The expletives they violently
utter - often Tarantinian in frequency
- don't exist without a sense of each
character's torment. The actors seemed
to master this nuanced dialogue, partic-
ularly Theatre sophomore Corey Dorris,
who plays Rooftop.
Dressed in garb that could be described
as'70s street-pimp chic, Rooftop attempts
to leave his showy Los Angeles radio DJ
persona behind to attend the funeral. His
latent goal, though, is to reunite with his
ex-wife whose hearthe broke manyyears
ago. During a confessional, his inability
to separate his boisterous facade from
his genuine, ostensibly redemptive self
makes for scenes of comic paradox that
create stark moments of poignancy.
"I'm scared that I'm never going to be
the person I thought I'd become when I
believed I had all the time to get there,"
he laments, in perhaps one of the most
moving scenes of the play.
His words resonate. The speaker, with
gold chains reflecting off the stage lights,
forces the audience to consider the state-
ment in terms of their own lives. Just
minutes before Rooftop stumbles upon
the profound, the aura is purely comedic.
The character is smoking pot in the con-
fessional while being chastised by the
legless and jaded Father Lux, played by
Theatre Performance senior Pat Rourke.
Indeed, in "121st Street," many set-
ups are as poetic as they are irreverent.
And, on the whole, this works toward the
play's charm. For what exists beneath the
provocative humor is the notion of Guir-
gis's stories that Neville-Andrews holds
dear: a provocative glimpse into the lives
of those too-often whittled down to a
dishonest portrayal. It takes music from
the streets and turns it into more than a
banner for the marginalized. It become
an invitation to all those who have suf-
fered the same. Beneath the surface of
"121st Street" is a simple recognition of
the universal vulnerability that comes
when one attempts to reconcile who they
were with who they have become.
Not much is resolved at the end of
"121st Street." The play leaves its char-_
acters as emotionally ravaged as they
began. Still, the ending befits the sce-
nario.
Even the prom queen has problems at
the high school reunion. And the better
selves we wish to present are perhaps
never quite realized.
By JEFFREY BLOOMER
ManagingEditor
The second season of "Friday Night
Lights" began last Friday in the dense,
haze of the Texas summer, and it busily
reintroduced the characters, mainly by
sending them back into the archetypes
it spent last season
breaking apart. Fayight
Eric Taylor (Kyle rday ightu
Chandler), the coach Lights
that led the Dylan
Panthers to the Fridays at 9 p.m.
Texas State Cham- NBC
pionship last season,
has moved away to
coach in Austin. But as his new daugh-
ter is born, he returns to his postcard-
perfect wife and daughter as if nothing
has changed. His older daughter, Julie
(Aimee Teegarden), continues her causal
rebellion, and her boyfriend, Matt (Zoch
Gilford), the Panthers' unlikely quarter-
back, still isn't too savvy at completing
sentences. Tim (Taylor Kitsch) is his
obvious foil on the team, and the com-
plex role he took on as a near-surrogate
father last season has regressedback into
roguish indifference and indiscriminate
sex. Lyla (Minka Kelly), the ostensible
cheerleader princess whose family split
apart as quickly as her personal life last
season, has been baptized and is ready to
spread the word.
Nice as it is to have it back, especial-
ly after the generally low-rated show's
brush with cancellation last spring, the
breakneck early scenes of its second sea-
son premiere get away from the textures
that make it so magnetic. "Friday Night
Lights," modeled by Peter Berg ("The
Kingdom") on his hit movie and H.G.
Bissinger's book, became a breakthrough
in its first season because itso insistently
defied lines of genre and convention. It's
not a sports show, not really, because
what happens on the field is never as
important as the people on it. It's not a
family drama, either, at least not in the
traditional sense, since many of these
kids have hardly any parents at all. Each
episode, bookended by an invisible radio
voice that discusses the team's possibili-
ties, is framed as a commentary on this
insular town and the forces behind its
football dreams.
As the team goes, so goes the town?
Not quite. Dylan is on the map after it.
won the Texas championship last season,
but as the second-season premiere gets
fully underway, it's clear the triumph
hasn't held over. After the initial late-
summer veneer of lightness, new seams
are revealed. The addition to the Taylor
family only highlights Jim's absence, and
Julie channels her anger athim into boys
who aren't Matt (who, in turn, seems to
be where he started with her). Lyla's new
religious front is a transparent coping
device destined to break before long, and
Tim will no doubt soon fall back into his
vaguely existential quests.
Still, there's a sense of a new direc-
tion, and it's not necessarily the one NBC
announced earlier this year - namely,
that it intends to gear the show toward
women since men are a given (are they?).
A contrived return to a violent past sto-
ryline toward the end of this episode is
an obvious catalyst to some new narra-
tive end, but it's not clear what that is. If
this episode is indicative of the season,
"Friday Night Lights" may become inter-
ested in drama (and trauma) that affects
the characters outside of the organic
'conflicts of everyday life that anchored
it last season. (Tonight's episode, titled
"Bad Decisions," seems suggestive of
this.)
Fortunately, the show's uncommonly
invested actors and the world the writ-
ers forged for them in the first season are
A new reason to
stay in on
Friday nights.
uniquely suited to navigate this melodra-
ma. This first episode goes back to where
theshowfirstbegantocontrastthe excite-
ment and expectation of a new school
year with the new conflicts that insure it
will be a very different one. Remember,
last season began as the town's quarter-
back lost his ability to walk, then pro-
ceeded to make his character one of its
most surprising and complex. It may feel
like "Friday Night Lights" is too bluntly
forging new niches for its characters, but
that's only its means. Its ends are why it
remains on the air.
Due to an editing error, an article on the front page of yesterday's
B-side (Where dance finds free reign) misstated the date of the
next "Improv Jam" session. It's next Friday at 8 p.m., not tonight.
The date is also misreported on the University's website.
AT HILL AUDITORIUM
Globetrotting pianist and Long-time Hill Aud vet
teacher set to bring out to return with friends
the classics Danne Reeves
Louise Lottie $10-$48
A grad-school dropout incrisis,
frame by pen-and-ink frame
Friday at 8 p.m.
$10-$48
Not many pianists can claim to be able to
teach and tour the world all at once, nor can
many master the 27 Chopin etudes or per-
form two consecu-
tive shows in one
night. The French-
Canadian pianist
Louis Lortie has,
and he will make his
third visit to the Uni-
versity at Hill Audi-
torium Frudat.
The concert will
include a fine array
of classics: Mendels-
sohn's Variations
Serieuses in D minor,
one of Grieg's piano sonatas and two other
pieces by Liszt and Wagner.
More than a skilled pianist, Lortie has
stage presence. The audience can't help
but remain transfixed on him. He's clearly
passionate about the delivery of the music:
every facial expression and gesture signals
awareness about the tone of the song and is
an invitation for the audience to feel whathe
does. Watching him reminds you of the aes-
thetic value of the ability to see musicians
perform.
The emotional depth of music is even
strengthened in the live experience.
Performances like these open up another
dimension - we're doing more than simply
hearing the music.
PRIYA BALI
Dianne'Reeves is a University Musical
Society repeat offender. The jazz vocalist
has delighted Ann Arbor audiences twice
prior, and she'll return to Hill Auditorium
this Saturday.
Reeves's past performances have been
marked by the force and beauty of her
voice as well as her unique interpretation
of R&B and jazz styling. Recent critical
success suggests that Reeves's talent has
not waned in the two years since she last
appeared on a UMS stage.
n 2005, Reeves earned a fourth Gram-
my award for Best Jazz Vocal Album
with the soundtrack from the Academy
Award-nominated film "Good Night, and
Good Luck."
"She transcends racial boundaries
and general music preferences, she has a
wide spread, popular appeal," said Sara
Billman, UMS director of marketing and
communications.
"Plus, she is one of the greatest jazz
singers of our tiie."
This year, Reeves brings new blood
into the mix in the Rio de Janeiro-born
guitarist Romero Lubambo. Lubambo is
an acclaimed musician in his own right,
praised for his distinctly Brazilian sound
and virtuous technique.
Though Lubambo and Reeves have
different signature sounds, Billman said
audiences that the collaboration is har-
monious.
"The styles are very different, but they
connect at a deeper level," she said.
MERYL SCHWARTZ
By NORA FELDHUSEN
Daily Arts Writer
Adrian Tomine's first novel "Short-
comings" illustrates the power of
dialogue, which
is somewhat of
a surprise for a Shortcomings
graphic novel.
The book's stark By Adrian Tomine
style consists of Drawn & Quarterly
simplistic pen
drawings of the
characters, often overshadowed by
their constant chatter contained in
speech bubbles. The only background
information we get is a military-style
introduction to each character: pro-
file picture, height, birthplace, pro-
fession.
The hero of "Shortcomings" is Ben
Tanaka, a graduate student dropout
in Berkeley, Calif. Ben manages Ber-
ekely's movie theater, which is more
a side job to his primary interests
- sitting in coffee shops with his best
friend and whining about social idi-
ocy and his sexual inadequacies.
Tomine's venture into the graph-
ic novel allows him to elaborate on
issues that aren't fully realized in
his shorter comic strips. In 108 pages
of simple drawings and dialogue,
Tomine addresses life crises, race
relations and minority status. Ben
is Japanese-American with a thing
for blond hair, blue-eyed American
girls, much to his Japanese girlfriend
Miko's dismay. His best friend, Alice,
was born in Korea and is a lesbian,
much to her conservative Christian
parents' dismay. Things begin to
unravel as Miko and Alice leaves Ben
for New York City.
The two women leave Ben behind
literally and figuratively. Ben is the
typical stuck-in-a-rut character. He's
miserable, but his sole outlets for
unhappiness are criticism, sarcasm
and self-deprecation. The story of
Ben Tanaka is not unlike most com-
ing-of-age stories, although he's sup-
posedly 30.
So if 30 is the new 20, and Ben is
just beginning to find hin3self at 30,
what are we supposed to be doing
now?
"Shortcomings," short and acces-
sible, offers a glimpse into the pos-
sibilities of post-undergraduate life
- basically, into everyone's worst
fears. There is a lot of talking, pretty
much only talking, about what each
character wants. But as Miko puts
it, Ben is "pathologically afraid of
change."
Tomine blatantly portrays the var-
ious stereotypical lifestyle choices
of late 20-somethings. And what's.
a more appropriate medium than
a graphic novel - usually equated
with comics and growing up - to
relay such a prototypical coming-of-
age story? His style is part of a larger
movement geared toward portraying
the trends and vices of today's youth
through visual graphics. The same
pen-and-ink drawings are used in
David Rees's popular comic strip "Get
Your War On." Rees moves somewhat
beyond adolescence and hormones to
If 30 is the
new 20, what
should we be
doing now?
discuss issues like the aftermath of
Sept. 11 and the war in Iraq. Yet his
use of comics to address important
issues is similar. There's a level of
accessibility and creative expression
inherent in this style.
This new generation of graphic
novelists shows promise for a fresh
look at socio-political issues. "Short-
comings," however, doesn't leave us
feeling particularly optimistic - we
are left with Ben, who remains stuck
inside the graphic novel, clinging to
the unreality of enduring childhood.
-IlIl
t',