The Michigan Daily - michigandaily.com

Monday, December 10, 2012 - 7A


TV REVIEW
Gloomy ending for 'Girl'

Charaters are losing
their grip, the plot
is losing its sanity
By KELLY ETZ
Daily TV/New Media Editor
Way back in 2007, the world
was welcomed to the Upper East
Side (thanks, Kristen Bell) and
the most love-
able group of C
spoiled society
darlings this Gossip Girl
TV generation
has ever known. Season Six
"Gossip Girl" Midseason
is based way too Mondays at 9 p.m.
loosely - where
are Jenny's TheCW
huge breasts? -
on the best-selling series of nov-
els. It's like an upper-crust version
of "Friends," only these six love
nothing more than to secretly (or
not-so-secretly) backstab, lie and
fornicate all over each other. In
the midst of an economic banking
crisis, who knew watching self-
indulgence at its highest caliber
would be so satisfying?
As the "Gossip Girl" gang has
matured from lusty teenagers
with daddy issues (lots and lots
of daddly issues) to college-bound
freshman with bigger dreams
and bigger schemes, to a dysfunc-
tional group of misfits - who all
awkwardly stopped going to col-
lege without explanation - we've
loved them at every step. But
even the love of a guilty pleasure
can't withstand everything that
is wrong with "Gossip Girl" 's
farewell season.
The plot is holier than a cheap
pair of nylons (or anything Serena
wears, ever), while characters are
so far out of character that we
don't even recognize them. Not
even the Brooklynites are making
sense anymore.
Chuck (Ed Westwick) and
Blair (Leighton Meester) can't be
together because they made an
all-important pact in Monte Carlo
after hot hotel sex? That's even
worse than Blair's season five pact
with God. For God's sake (sorry,
Blair), the two have been dancing

THE cw

"Didn't the dress code specifically say 'no safari chic?'"

around each other since the infa-
mous deflowered-in-a-limo scene,
and yet they still can't put their
neuroses aside and make it work.
If anything is going to hold them
back, it should be sturdier than a
nebulous threat from a back-from-
the-dead (really, why?) Bart Bass
(Robert John Burke).
Then there's Serena's (Blake
Lively) - can she commit to any-
one? - fling with Steven (Barry
Watson! What are you doing
here?), a guy who's old enough to
have a 17-year-old daughter and
who has slept with Serena's moth-
er. Gross, even for Serena stan-
dards. At least Serena and Dan
(Pen Badgley) might find a way
to be together if Dan would quit
mooning over Blair and wasting
his writing talents on alienating
exposes. As if you weren't lonely
enough already, Dan. If the two
kind-of-step-siblings - does this
relationship strike anyone else as
a little incestuous? - can make it
work, they might just end upbeing
the Ross and Rachel of the series.
Take that, Chuck and Blair.
Poor old Nate (Chace Craw-
ford) is having money problems at
the Spectator, the tabloid that he
runs (really believable, especially

since he never went to college),
and inevitable relationship prob-
lems with the terribly written and
useless Sage (Steven's daughter!
Even more believable). Nate hasn't
been in the forefront of the show
since season one, and it doesn't
look like things are changing any-
time soon. For a main character,
he really doesn't get to do any-
thing except the requisite man-
whore and best friend duties.
At least the parents' lives are
even more fucked up than their
kids, with Lily (Kelly Rutherford)*
morphing into a semi-villain pit-
ted against Chuck and manipulat-
ed by Bart. Come on, Lily, we had
more faith in you than that, even
with the whole you-sent-Ben-to-
prison-when-you-knew-he-was-
innocent-the-whole-time thing.
Then there's the not-that-con-
vincing arc during which "kept"
husband Rufus (Matthew Settle)
supposedly fallsvictim to atotally
inappropriate affair with the may-
be-she's-evil Ivy (Kaylee DeFer).
Side note: That whole Ivy/Char-
lie/Lola kid swap was so poorly
executed it wasn't palatable inthe
show or in real life, though it's still
unclear whether the writers actu-
ally fell asleep on the job.

And William (William Bald-
win) is just all over the place, per
usual. At least Jack Bass (Desmond
Harrington) is still the loveably
terrible carouser who steals every
scene, even though he might be
Chuck's maybe-father. Better than
the overblown Bart in any case.
It seems "Gossip Girl" couldn't
keep up with all those interweav-
ing plot threads and tied itself
into one too many knots to be
salvageable. With the upcoming
two-hour series finale almost here
- we can't believe it either - the
answers will supposedly be sup-
plied, along with the spectacular
unveiling of the real Gossip Girl.
Why the network decided to
do an abbreviated season for the
show's final farewell we'll never
know, besides the fact that abbre-
viated seasons seem to be wildly
popular this year. It feels insuffi-
cient for a series that walked the
line between drama and soap so
perfectly to go out without the
requisite fanfare. One can only
hope that the last episodes of the
season manage to turn every-
thing around, pull out all the
stops and end on a high. "Gossip
Girl" fans deserve no less.
RIP XOXO.

T
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poems,
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FINE ARTS COLUMN
Becoming
han artist
he margins of my note- Most of it is borderline senseless.
books are filled with One story involves a princess
small drawings of trees. who has turned purple and can't
artoon balloons drift seem to switch back. She ends
t the branches and wind up eating plums for all eter-
elves nity, and turning into the Sugar
a my Plum Fairy. Another focuses on
Stars Ludwig the Lunar Explorer. He
he rest dreams about going to the moon
day's and builds Styrofoam models of
aking. shuttles.
en I At what point does a person
ven, I become an artist? Is it after
agged ANNA the first poetry reading, gal-
bed & O A lery showing, album release or
a.m. novel publication? Does it have
at- anything to do with talent, or
and Sunday morning and is interest and passion enough?
art school. We learned And if you're a self-proclaimed
draw still objects, paint artist going about your artistic
ws and interpret move- ways, is that your career?
At the time, I was far more There-should be classes devot-
ted in drawing wind- ed to this. Entire lecture halls
and painting asky with would be filled with searching
clouds. My art teacher faces, waiting for the knowl-
wonderful mess of pastels, edge of professors to pour down
al and paint smudges. on them. I would take a class.
mes she'd take us on a How many people enjoy guitar,
ip to the park and we'd love drawing and want to write
n the sidewalk, collecting poetry, but have been told it's not
racks and fingerprints on a viable career? And what does it
wings. take to really become an artist?
There are classes devoted to
perfecting arts. There are classes
if Discovery detailing the transition from art
theory to execution. But why
01: H ow to aren't there classes that sit the
student down and talk through
:now 'when the intricacies of life outside of
school?
ire an artist. My entire perception of the
working world relied on the con-
versation with my mother about
starving artists. For the next
going to grow up and be decade of my life, I thought that
er," I announced to my to be successful you needed to be
r one day on the car ride a lawyer, a doctor or a business
Always the skeptic, she woman. It didn't help that my
why I wanted to draw for high school was science-oriented
g. "Because it's fun" didn't and everyone wanted to work in
her. She immediately put research or medicine. It wasn't
:he law, explaining that until I got to the University that
don't make alot of money I realized there were people
at a successful career in doing other things with their
s was a long shot at best. life. That I didn't have to followa
s seven, and I was already pre-determined path.
ingmy bankruptcy, loan I usually bring my laptop to
ad homelessness as an class, and so my doodles have
For a long time, that was dwindled down to whenever I
a to keep me away from have a stray piece of paper and
pursuits. But as the a pencil. I can't sit still, though.
>got harder and the notes I have such trouble keeping
ger, my margins slowly focused when I'm not moving
to fill up. On particularly my hands, and so it'spossible I'm
days, entire pages would .,inclined to be an artist due to
flowing with little cats genetics.
ng suns and starfish play- I don't even know what I'm
iminton. going to do with my life. And as
then there was writing. a junior, that's terrifying. ButtI
obviously no stranger to don't want to sell out and settle.
itten word. As a reporter, I want to explore the margins,
mary focus is turn- the things ignored, forgotten
erviews into readable, and repressed;I want to doodle
ngstories. But an.inter- everywhere.

MUSIC NOTEBOOK
 Going backstage for a Blind Pig debut
By KATIE STEEN and by then a lot of my friends streaming in at the door, which the lyrics I came up with thirty
DailyArts Writer had ' shown up. Though I was elicited huge, seemingly unwar- minutes earlier, resulting in sev-
relieved that my worst fear - ranted grins onstage. After that eral verses of English-like non-
Last Tuesday night, I was sit- playing to an empty room - we played 'an older song called words that I would later discover
ting on a stool talking to a few wouldn't be realized, I was also "Hero," after which I decided to no one had noticed.
friends. On the floor next to me a quivering, sleep-deprived mess introduce everyone in the band. The new song transitioned
sat a heap of instruments - some who was now supposed to go per- Because that's what bands do into "Easy," an older song that,
guitars, a bass, a disassembled form for an actual audience at when they play live during real like most of our music, turns
drum set, their accompanying an actual venue. I was supposed concerts - and that's what we into a jam at the end. There was
cords entangled within the mess. to not only make music with my are! A real band! Right? (By the some weak moshing in the crowd
There were a few backpacks, too vocal cords, but the music was way, that's Jeremy Batt on gui- and then the song ended. We
- one of them was mine, and I supposed to sound good to a sober tar, Peter Felsman on drums, Phil said thanks and started unpack-
reached inside to take out a book audience at a venue that is not a Neale on bass and Josh "Bear ing our shit when the crowd (my
that was hidden underneath my co-op basement and has un-shit- Claw" Bayer on keys. Anyway.) friends) starting yelling encore
microphone. ty acoustics and lights and a real, Then it was time for the new - except we had played every
Grabbing my book, I walked three-dimensional stage. song, which we came up with in a single song we've got plus a cover,
to another stool facing the wall, day and then never really changed so an encore was not happen-.
a desk-like ledge projecting out except for the lyrics, which alter ing. We left the stage, everyone
conveniently and, with hard rock To Do List: drastically every performance. told me they had fun and loved
blaring from the speakers, I was * But the instrumentation is what's us to death and we're all beauti-
able to complete some last-min- homework important in the song and it isn't ful people, etc., and that was my
ute reading for class, aided by the actually about anything yet, so it experience as a showcase band at
glowinglight of a sign on the wall ritin didn't really matter that I forgot the Blind Pig.

sn't stop at the required
:'ve been writing short
stories and narrations
ong as I've been doodling.

Sadovskaya is doodling
everywhere. To join her,
e-mail asado@umich.edu.


GREY'S ANATOMY
From Page 6A
that the effort is almost pathet-
ic. It might be time for "Grey's
Anatomy" to put down the scalpel
and step away from the operat-

ing room. Leave the remainder of
the original cast with all of their
limbs, some sort of closure and
maybe even a happy ending. As
Grey's teaches, all things must
die, and it may be time for them
to have a spoonfull of their own
medicine.

that read "The Blind Pig."
I hadn't anticipated doing
my homework at the Blind Pig,
but the. fact remained that it
was finals week and I had some
downtime before my band - our
band - Palisades, went on for
Showcase Night. Of course, my
bandmates and I had had our
giddy moments of holy shit, we're
playing at the Blind Pig - famous
people have played here! But the
venue was pretty much empty
except for the other three bands
there for Showcase Night.
The first group that went on
was a folk band with a healthy
dose of facial hair, quaintly cute
dresses and banjos. It involved
two female leads that sang with
grace and confidence, one of
whom apparently accompanies
Ann Arbor's Violin Monster as
Little Red Riding Hood. Their
set was fantastic, but I still
didn't have the lyrics for our new
song - which remains entitled
"New Song," or "Newson" if you
announce it really quickly under
your breath to the audience - so
unfortunately I had to spend the
majority of their set huddled in a
corner, directing my cell phone
light toward my chest as I typed
out lyrics.
Then it was our turn to play,

rock out.
We started off the show with
our sunniest song - a surfy
thing called "Float Away" that
was initially inspired by the
Great Pacific Garbage Patch but,
as most of our stuff tends to do,
ended up turning into a love
song. When I began singing, my
voice was stiff and shaky, and I
grabbed the microphone as if to
stabilize myself - which prob-
ably just made me look absolute-
ly terrified. I've sang this song
plenty of times, so I was able
focus on things like what thefuck
do people in bands do with their
hands when they sing? rather
than remembering the words.
After that show, the audi-
ence (read: my friends) cheered
madly, and I was extremely
pleased to see that we had a
legitimate crowd who came to
see us play. I introduced us as
Palisades, and asked if Michael
Ho, our friend/roadie was in the
crowd. He was.
Next was q cover of the Temp-
tations' "Just My Imagination."
During the song, I kept see-
ing friends and fellow co-opers