The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
the b-side
Thursday, January 29, 2015 — 3B
FILM COLUMN
The flaming swerve
of visual storytelling
Mild spoilers to “Whiplash”
and “Blue Ruin” ahead.
In perhaps the most gripping
10 minutes of film released last
year, there are no explosions.
There is no
rubble.
No
smoke.
No
gunshots.
Smolder-
ing
through
in
spasms
between just
three
paltry
lines of dia-
logue, there is
only fire.
Terence
Fletcher
—
a gargoyle of a jazz instructor
whose
educational
technique
would make most drill sergeants
look like Mr. Rogers — piles the
firewood high in the very first
scene, but it’s his student who
grinds the spark. Andrew Nei-
man does it alone, sitting behind
his drum kit in those haunting
10 minutes, a steady stream of
sweat pouring down to mix with
the halo of blood that surrounds
his fevered hands, blurring with
activity. It collects at the tip of
his drumstick. It dribbles into a
slight pool, the size of a silver dol-
lar, atop the drum’s batter head.
And as when gasoline meets a
struck match, hellfire emanates.
These
are
some
of
the
thoughts, visceral and razor-
sharp, that hew through you in
the closing moments of Damien
Chazelle’s sophomore feature,
“Whiplash.” Lyrical, pulpy imag-
ery belying the fact that there’s
nothing even marginally poetic
about the brand of screenwrit-
ing that inspires it. Chazelle’s
script is a bare-bones, skeletal
framework of dialogue that only
reveals its pulse when Fletcher’s
queued to pipe in, his cadence
more symptomatic of dragon’s
breath than spoken word.
The
30-year-old
Chazelle,
whose Best Director snub at the
Oscars sadly recalls the year a
young Paul Thomas Anderson
wasn’t nominated for “Boogie
Nights,” understands the blank
palette his no-frills script offers.
He uses it. The visual storytell-
ing, on display in every corner of
this movie, is breathtaking not
just because the coloring and
lighting garnishing it appears
siphoned off an Edward Hopper
painting. It’s also brutally effi-
cient in a way that leaves very
little room for recoil (or, dare I
say, whiplash) by the time the
credits roll. Chazelle has you on
board, then jumping out of your
seat even though the seatbelt is
fastened. This is the only movie
I’ve ever seen in a theater that
demanded I be there for the next
showing. The ending inspires
this fanatic kind of commitment,
one bordering on a hit of cocaine.
And it’s done without words.
Nothing about Chazelle’s char-
acters is obvious — nor should it
be — but the story and visuals he
constructs around them are tan-
gible in a way that’s rarely seen
in American cinema. The best
way to describe it involves being
swept down a river while clutch-
ing a retail mannequin: There’s
almost nothing to be derived
from what’s in your hands, or the
two guides Chazelle has written
on screen. They’ve been placed
here for utility, their intentions
almost one-note to the point of
fault, but there’s no questioning
the exhilaration in how immedi-
ately, forcefully even, the young
writer-director is able to shove
us in the right direction, follow-
ing nothing but a current of bold
filmmaking.
In
that
mesmerizing
last
scene, a jazz concert stage takes
the place of a boxing ring. Nei-
man is the one doing all the hard
work, but every drum stroke
and rimshot takes the place of
body blows he’s exchanging
with Fletcher’s equally stubborn
brand of savagery. One wants to
prove his greatness, even if to no
one else but himself. The other
wants to prove he’s forging great-
ness, even if to no one else but
himself. They’re a match made
in heaven, an idea that comes
to the forefront in those final 10
minutes. But any bluntness this
simplicity could imply is replaced
by frenzied pacing, glowing, rov-
ing lighting and a type of edit-
ing that can only be described as
seizure-inducing in the best way.
The frame leaps from Fletcher to
Neiman and back to Fletcher and
back to Neiman and often settles
right above him, reverberating
with the breakneck tempo of the
music while we watch his hands,
in their dance from one drum to
the next, do their best to mimic a
hummingbird in flight.
In one brief shot, the camera
sits right outside the drum kit
and does nothing other than pan
quickly left to right and back,
like someone quickly shaking
their head, or more accurately,
eyes darting from one end of the
page to the next. The effect, the
sparkling verve, is emblematic
of this closing act, though in a
larger sense, the rest of the film
as well.
The 100-minute runtime is
full of brutal sections where
we see nothing more than Nei-
man abusing himself to attain a
quicker beat. In essence, hit the
drums faster. He practices until
he can do nothing more than
scream obscenities at himself
and little rivers of hemoglobin
run from his fingers down his
kit. It’s further stylized in a
shot where Neiman slumps the
bloodied hands into a pitcher
of ice water, then as while the
frame-rate increases, we see the
clearness of the liquid slowly
become an imposing red. The
kicker, though, and what makes
this picture a beacon of great
visual storytelling is the image
that comes right after: A high-
angle shot of Neiman’s face.
Time has passed. It’s gaunt, bro-
ken under the eyes in a way that
suggests manic turmoil.
It’s also efficient storytell-
ing — we’re still clutching to
that blank mannequin with the
vacant look on its face, but the
current tells us exactly why
we’re there, it lets us guess at
what’s inside.
Another film that gained noto-
riety last year for its inventive
use of visual plot development
also centers on a lonely misfit.
In writer-director Jeremy Saul-
nier’s “Blue Ruin,” Macon Blair
plays Dwight, a homeless man
emotionally devastated by his
parents’ deaths who sets out for
revenge after the killer is set
loose. Over long stretches, the
film features no dialogue, just
Dwight’s
perpetually
aghast
face as he plays a game of reverse
cat and mouse with his targets.
He almost seems surprised at his
own confidence, and it’s the con-
fidence that, as in “Whiplash,”
takes center stage.
We see it when Dwight steals
a gun. Again when he stabs his
target in the temple. And final-
ly, in the closing shots when he
decides to die. The conviction
in these films is a direct result
of simplicity, something that’s
often forgotten at the Ameri-
can box office these days to
make room for bigger budgets
and bigger ideas. “The Aveng-
ers” have their qualities but
it would be hard to find more
than a minute in the movie
without Robert Downey Jr. try-
ing to push the plot along with
a tersely worded insult. “Inter-
stellar” represented a hallmark
in grand, breathtaking imag-
ery, a movie I loved, but again,
it would be near-impossible to
find a few seconds in its sprawl-
ing three hours without Mat-
thew McConaughey’s twang.
Harder still to fish out any ideal
in the film that dared be smaller
than “what is the mathematical
meaning of love?” Amazing as
the final product is, you’d be
hard-pressed to find a moment
of pure catharsis in “Boyhood.”
By contrast, the movement
and framing for Chazelle’s con-
cluding sequence is sealed off
by an image so simple, so bril-
liant, I uttered an earnest “fuck
yeah” on each viewing. Just
two closeups of both charac-
ters exchanging a grin, in total
understanding of one another
and the fire they’ve scorched in
our eyes. Fuck yeah, indeed.
Seth doesn’t work well
without visual cues. To send him
some, email akse@umich.edu.
VIRGINIA LOZANO/Daily
Bongz & Thongs has served the Ann Arbor community since 2011.
Bongz & Thongz: A
store like no other
By CHLOE GILKE
Managing Arts Editor
I’d never been in Bongz &
Thongz before, but I went into this
interview with some expectations.
The store would probably be inex-
plicably hazy, with dim lighting
and lots of tapestries. I didn’t know
much about B&T, but I knew there
would be bongs, and I knew the
stereo would be blasting Sublime.
Upon entering the infamous
store, I was immediately struck by
how light it was. The huge front
window illuminates a gorgeous
and intricate interior, looking more
like an artist’s gallery than the
cave I so incorrectly imagined. My
eyes were especially drawn to the
elaborate paintings on the walls.
Countless colors and illustrations
dance across the interior of the
Ann Arbor specialty shop, swirling
and careening from wall to wall
with the inscrutable beauty of a
stoner’s dream. I had to ask about
them. Store co-owner Mohammad
Hassan, leaning comfortably on
the counter and wearing a beanie
and an easy smile, remarked that
the wall art was “hand-painted,
done by one guy.”
For Hassan, this dedication to
artistry reaches far past the walls.
Since it was established in 2011,
Bongz & Thongz has supported
local artists and glassblowers, sell-
ing only Michigan-made bongs
and pipes. The merchandise is
elaborate and beautiful — some
of the bongs can run as expensive
as $1,300, though many are more
affordable.
“We
hand-pick
everything.
We’re at a point where artists call
us now, and we get to check out
their stuff and make sure there
are no flaws or any of that,” Has-
san said.
***
Hassan broke off from my inter-
view for a moment to help a young
woman pick out a pipe. He showed
her one shaped like a majestic ele-
phant, pointing out the details in
its craftsmanship. I waited while
they chatted, then interjected with
more questions.
Hassan decided to open Bongz &
Thongz because there weren’t any
other stores like it in Ann Arbor.
There was the Safe Sex Store on
South University Avenue, but their
merchandise didn’t include any-
thing like a hand-painted glass
elephant pipe. Hassan noted the
liberal attitude of the locals, and
knew that the college atmosphere
would be the ideal place to open
this passion project.
“Why did I decide to open
Bongz & Thongz? Well, you gotta
do what you love,” Hassan said.
“And Ann Arbor also fell in love
with us.”
Locals embraced the store
immediately, but the clientele isn’t
just stoner college kids. Hassan
remarked that his customers don’t
fit any sort of profile.
“We get everyone from 18-year-
olds to almost dead,” Hassan
explained. “People with walkers
and wheelchairs come in and buy
our pipes.”
But
while
the
community
embraced Bongz & Thongz, city
officials took a little while to warm
up. B&T faced several frustrating
setbacks shortly after opening,
mainly due to zoning ordinances
limiting the sale of sex parapher-
nalia (the “Thongz” component of
the store’s name). This was espe-
cially infuriating because the Safe
Sex Store (just a few streets down)
was able to sell similar merchan-
dise without any objection.
“(Some Ann Arbor city officials)
didn’t think it was legal for us to
sell dildos — we actually fought
them on that,” Hassan said.
Though Bongz & Thongz did
fight to include “Thongz” in
their store, the basement space
is currently empty. Get Curious
With SafetyGirl, a city-approved
sex shop, used to occupy the
lower level of B&T, but since
that store closed, Hassan and
his associates are now seeking a
new strategy.
“I don’t think we’re gonna
(open a sex shop) again. We’re
hoping to turn the basement into
a vape lounge, where people can
buy from upstairs and then hang
out downstairs,” Hassan said.
So where does that leave
Thongz? In the past, Bongz &
Thongz used the space to sell
costumes
and
non-genitalia-
related products, but Hassan
looks forward to turning over
a new leaf and converting the
space into a vapor lounge.
“But I really want to try
and keep (the store’s) name,”
Hassan said.
***
After observing the elephant
pipe, the young lady in the store
inquired about a different one
on another shelf. Hassan left me
again to help her, and asked if she’d
always had gauges (she had). The
two conversed like old pals, but it
was hard to feel like a third wheel
because when he came back to our
conversation, Hassan was just as
warm and easygoing as he’d been
with his customer.
“Bongz & Thongz is a family-
owned business. People tend to
feel really at home here because
we aren’t shy about what we are.
We have a huge sign out front that
says what we sell in here — people
feel welcomed by our name,” Has-
san said.
Hassan knows he has the great-
est job in the world. Despite the
difficulties the store faced early on,
it’s grown into a well-established
Ann Arbor staple today. Bongz &
Thongz is the kind of place where
a young lady with gauges and an
old man in a wheelchair (and this
uptight journalist) can all find
beautiful art, unique merchandise
and a family atmosphere. For Has-
san, that family atmosphere is the
hallmark of his business.
“I love that I get to build a rela-
tionship with my customers every
day,” Hassan said. “I just like to
make people happy. In all my years
working here, no one has ever left
(the store) without a smile.”
***
Three guys burst into the
store, momentarily illuminating
the room with more of the bright
Sunday afternoon glow from
outside. But as the door swung
closed, the friends relaxed. Bongz
& Thongz may just be a store, but
when it’s filled with hanging
beads and eccentric artwork and
cool people, it feels more like a
friend’s house. Hassan extended
his typical warm greeting to the
three new customers.
“Hey guys, what can I help
you with?”
I packed up my notebook and
winter gear and left before I
could hear an answer, but what-
ever Hassan helped these guys
with, you can be sure they left the
store with a smile.
EPISODE REVIEW
The meat locker. For those
who don’t know, the meat
locker is a television staple.
It’s
an
epi-
sode
where
two
charac-
ters, trapped
within a con-
fined location,
are forced to
resolve
their
differences.
It’s common,
but when done
right, can pro-
duce genuine
humor
and
emotional payoff.
“Leslie and Ron” is one
such episode where the two
characters played by Amy
Poehler
(“Saturday
Night
Live”) and Nick Offerman
(“The
Lego
Movie”)
are
forced to resolve the rift that
has torn apart their ten-year
friendship or “work proxim-
ity associate-ship” as Ron
refers to it.
Written by series co-cre-
ator Michael Schur (“Brook-
lyn Nine-Nine”), the episode
truly understands its charac-
ters as they’re locked in their
old workplace.“Everything’s
different,”
Leslie
notices.
By jumping forward to 2017,
“Parks and Rec” allows it’s
characters to grow but “Les-
lie and Ron” looks at what
people have lost.
While Poehler’s attempts
as Leslie to crack Ron are
fantastic (“Hey guys, Ron
loves plastic!”) it’s Offerman
who delivers the biggest rev-
elation in the episode. As he
talks about everyone leav-
ing the Parks Department he
says, “One day, I looked up.
Just didn’t recognize any-
one.” Offerman’s delivery is
subtle and heartbreaking, as
Leslie realizes, “You missed
your friends.” In their old
office, Leslie sees the friend-
ship that was left behind as
Ron reflects on that inevita-
bility: “It was a punctuation
mark on a sentence that had
already been written.”
This moment of honesty
defines the episode, show-
ing the true heart behind the
characters of “Parks and Rec.”
It will truly be a loss when TV
moves on without the show.
-MATTHEW BARNAUSKAS
NBC
A
‘Parks
& Rec’
Season 7,
Episode 4
Tuesdays
at 8 p.m
NBC
TRAILER REVIEW
The trailer for “A Most Vio-
lent Year,” a Valencia-filtered
introduction
to
the
tense
crime-drama,
leaves
the
viewer long-
ing for more.
Set in 1981,
statistically
one
of
the
most
violent
years in New
York City his-
tory, the dra-
ma-thriller follows the dealings
of businessman Abel Morales,
(Oscar Isaac, “Inside Llewyn
Davis”) as he successfully tries
to expand his Brooklyn-based
company.
Violence infiltrates Morales’s
idealistic life when his driv-
ers start getting assaulted and
deadly threats are made. To
combat the brutality, the Dis-
trict Attorney (David Oyelowo,
“Selma”) begins to investigate
the business, finding more than
anyone bargained for. It seems
that some of the qualms of the
legitimacy of the business come
from Morales’s wife, played by
Jessica Chastain, (“Interstel-
lar”) who substitutes her signa-
ture red locks but maintains a
fiery disposition in her desper-
ate protection of her husband,
children and reputation.
The trailer builds on the sus-
picions and tensions off which
the talented cast can play. By
the end, it is impossible to know
where all the scheming and
violence are coming from, but
the trailer pulls us in enough
to make us wonder where it’s
going.
-REBECCA LERNER
A24
A-
‘A Most
Violent
Year’
A24
AKSHAY
SETH