The Michigan Daily - michigandaily.com
Tuesday November 27, 2012 - 5
My Post- Cinematic
Romantic Disorder
The holidays should
be magical - I mean
magical. The next two
months must be wishing-on-
airplanes-as-shooting-stars
magical. It
will be the
adventure-
exists-and-
your-boy-
friend-is-a-
prince-and-
everything-
at-the-mall- BRIANNE
is-90-per- JOHNSON
cent-off kind
of magical.
You know, that magic of some-
thing so deliciously unrealistic
that it could only have been cre-
ated by - you guessed it - Hol-
lywood.
Ask any moviegoer: There's
no doubt that films have a way
of romanticizing every facet
of life - the good, the bad, the
awkward, the surprisingly moist
and the downright tragic (How
could anyone never, ever, ever
want to get back together with
Joseph Gordon-Levitt? Zooey
Deschanel, you Scrooge). Movies
transform our milestones and
mistakes into meaning-of-life
moments, plotting the concise
climax of our lives with the
simple crescendo of some Oscar-
worthy score. They paint our
lazy evenings with one of their
fancy filters, and before you
know it, life seems a little bleak
since that fervent sepia-toned
fire was snuffed from your heart
by that thing we call "reality."
The movie script has become
a model to which audiences -
OK, maybe just me - strive to
conform: Give me snowfall at
dusk, probably on a hill some-
where. Whatever - all that
matters is that it's picturesque,
and my piggies haven't fled all
the way home (ahem, hypother-
mia). Give me coils of Christ-
mas lights, perfectly timed to
illuminate the walkway to a
wreathed front door just as our
numb noses nearly touch (oh,
Joseph). Then cut to a scene of
my bedridden self scribbling in
a journal, chewing the pen cap
as, lost in thought, I reflect on
every moment that's contribut-
ed to the cozy climax of my past
96 minutes.
The
else co
movie
under,
for tho
lations
a quot
ration
Tumb
ass we
C'm
those:
is, fort
with tl
man a
a life i
("f yo
The
as you
roman
compl
lence a
and ler
lines o
you m:
ing in }
to Hol
a won
and he
and all
Oh, an
unreal
what l'
reflection is a must; how nothing else, I can assure you
uld I frame my mini- that I am entirely attuned to
in a way so that all will reality: I hate grand romantic
stand the gratitude I feel gestures, I accept that an Italian
se early trials and tribu- popstar will never mistake me
s? How else will I conjure for Lizzie McGuire's brunette
e that'll serve as the inspi- doppelganger and the mortality
for future generations of of golden retrievers springs only
lr reblogs? (You bet your brief tears from my eyes.
were infinite!) Instead, the effect of PCRD is
on, just give me one of of another sort, one that causes
moments. All that I ask a film columnist to indulge
Coppola's sake, bless me in long-winded, extravagant
he opportunity to call my sentences that fit better onto
"bird," and to offer him the pages of an unpublished
n mutual avian harmony memoir, and in moral of the sto-
o're a bird"... You get it). ry-esque endings because - hel-
point is that I, as well loooo - nothing is better than
,know that films tend to a perfectly packaged tale of
ticize life - and who's realization. At least, that's what
aining? They glorify vio- hours at the movie theater have
nd drunken nights out, taught me. Understand where
nd themselves easily to the I'm going with this?
f your inner monologue as Everything needs to have
ake meaning of that morn- meaning; everything needs
your ex's bed. According a point; everything needs a
lywood, our existence is conclusion, a value and a les-
drous jumble of horizons son learned. A walk around
artbreaks, daily routines the block shouldn't be a walk
1 the beauty in between. around the block; it's a meta-
d it's also dangerously phor for this, an opportunity
istic. But, heck, ain't that for that and (Quick, breathe it
ife's all about? in! Write it down!) somehow
it's significant. If not, this bit
of your life is now flung in to'
The true a growing heap on the cutting
room floor. But, of course, that's
caning of life just what Hollywood tells me.
PCRD victims, we're-the ones
.n't be found wrenching-yanking-ripping our
memories and experiences for
in movies, shreds of significance. We're
going to magnify the meaning
of your glances and set them to
slow motion. We'll resent your
bably not. Yet, I've "crazy" accusations because -
d so far into the realm Hey! - it's not our fault that you
ling-of-age victories and don't appreciate life like us!
, definitely necessary Or, y'know, something like
ues,- lived vicariously that.
h many a pubescent wiz- The magic of movies is no
that I suffer from Post- different than the tricks most
atic Romantic Disorder. audiences are accustomed to:
as yet to be considered for It's alluring and dramatic,
on in the American Psy- but, in reality, just an illusion.
ical Association's DSM-5 Caught between the skeptics
DB, for that matter), so and believers are people like me,
king. and we - those crazy romantics
idevoted cinephile living with their fanciful ideals -
he disorder, I must admit we're just trying to make a little
y episodes vary in length magic ourselves.
I don't know mach about clothes, bat my ha:: looks fierce.
Keys heats up her
sound on1'Fire'9
ca
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escape
of com
totally
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ard -
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inclusi
cholog
(or IM
stop as
As a
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that m
- a cot
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eron fi
tape. "
The R&B star is
simmering back
into the spotlight
By JACKSON HOWARD
Daily Arts Writer
Since her last album in 2009,
Alicia Keys got married, had
a child and collaborated on a
wide range of
other artists'
projects. "It's
been a while Alicia Keys
/ I'm not who
I was before" Girl on Fire
she , warns on R
"Brand New
Me," the aptly
titled second track off of her
most recent release, Girl on Fire.
And she's not. Girl on Fire
serves as Keys's' reintroduction
to the world after three years of
being relatively inactive in music,
but instead of bringing back
the old Alicia Keys, Girl on Fire
serves to introduce a new Alicia,
or rather, a more updated one.
Keys worked with a variety
of collaborators on the album
- from Bruno Mars to Jamie
xx - and drew inspiration from
other genres and eras outside of
contemporary R&B, much like
Beyoncd did with 2011's 4.
"New Day," produced by her
husband, Swizz Beatz, and Dr.
Dre, is bombastically aggres-
sive and wildly feel-good, and
features one of the best choruses
in recent memory. 50 Cent also
released a version of the song
as a single, and while Keys does
an admirable job sing-rapping
her way through the verses, a 16
from a rapper like 50 could've
helped.
Songs like "Not Even the
King," "Limitedless" and "That's
When I Knew" feel out of place
with the current of personal
awakening running through
the album. Though Keys sounds
great on both, "Not Even the
King" and "That's When I
Knew" are slow, unoriginal bal-
lads that feel like failed attempts
at recreating the magic of her
first album. "Limitedless" is a
reggae-tinged song that, while
a good-natured attempt at a new
sound, lacks energy and could
use some of the ferocity of "New
Day." More, these three tracks
are back-to-back-to-back near
the end of the album, effective-
ly creating a hole and slowing
down much of the momentum
from the songs before it.
Funny enough, the two best
tracks on the album don't sound
like they're sung by a brand new
artist, but rather, a more mature
one. For "One Thing," Keys
enlisted Frank Ocean and the
producer behind his incredible
summer debut Channel Orange,
James Ho. It's easy to hear Frank
singing the song - the organ
twangs from "Forrest Gump"
and the bass slaps of "Pink Mat-
ter" are all over the track - but
Keys does an admirable job and
makes it her own.
The title track, labeled the
"Inferno Version" with the inclu-
sion of Nicki Minaj, is the perfect
Alicia Keys song. Over a break
drum beat and sparse piano
chords, Keys emphatically and
proudly toasts to an unstoppable
heroine while belting out trade-
mark ohhs and ahhs found on the
chorus of her other-hit, "No One."
"Girl on Fire" is only soft-
ened by the presence of Minaj,
an obvious commercial plug by
Keys's label, who attempts to
add some flair to the song but
sounds out of place. If Keys had
really wanted to includea female
rapper, she should've asked Eve,
Missy Elliott, or, in a fantasy
world, Lauryn Hill - more femi-
nist, tenured and soulful rappers
who haven't spit lines like "She
ain't a Nicki fan than the bitch
deaf dumb / You ain't my son
you my mothafuckin' stepson."
Maybe not the best rapper to
feature on a song about empow-
ering women.
Girl on Fire won't be the first
album Keys's new son will listen
to when he grows old enough to
appreciate her music. 'It isn't as
soulful as her first nor as catchy
as her second, but it is probably
the one he will appreciate most.
Girl on Fire doesn't sound like
Keys's previous work, which
may upset some diehard fans,
but itis powerful, emotional and,
though timid at times, ground-
breaking for a woman who has
already accomplished so much.
uple hours at least, but
longer than a James Cam-
lm (i.e. I fit on to one VHS
Titanic" fans rejoice!). If
Johnson is self-medicating
her PCRD. To help, e-mail
briannen@umich.edu.
I LIKE IT WHEN YOU TWEET
ME. YOU SMELL LIKE BABY
LOTION.
@michdailya rts
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