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 Pro! escape of com totally epilogs throug ard - -Cinem It h: inclusi cholog (or IM stop as As a with t that m - a cot never 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 1 A