The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, February 3, 2015 — 7

Key & Peele score

By KAREN HUA

Daily TV/New Media Editor

Sketch comedy duo 
deliver skewering 

sports satire

While most of the nation pre-

pared for this last weekend’s 
Super 
Bowl, 

in Hollywood, 
Keegan-
Michael 
Key 

(“The 
Lego 

Movie”) 
and 

Jordan 
Peele 

(“Bob’s 
Burg-

ers”) prepared 
for their par-
ody version of 
the big game.

It’s 
widely 

known that the arts and sports 
worlds don’t mix well, but com-
edy pair Key and Peele, on their 
eponymous 
Comedy 
Central 

show, combined water with oil 
and had us in tears of laughter 
with their football-film intersec-
tional special.

The duo brilliantly weaved an 

hour of sketches into a satirical 
pre-game show, featuring ex-
players Bertram Skilling (Key) 
and Dante Pibb (Peele) on the 
fictional CCB sports network. 
Mocking the intense gusto of 
typical sports reporters, they 
made increasingly bizarre con-
nections between the Patriots 
and Seahawks – finally ending 
in a comparison of the players 
to mac and cheese. Even though 
their content was hilarious, it was 
their performances themselves 
that carried these segments. 
They mocked the obsessive, 
jock-ish nature of sportscasters 
perfectly, and it was their come-
dic timing that made them so 

delightfully awkward.

Following, Key and Peele 

impersonated Seattle Seahawks 
players 
Richard 
Sherman 

(Key) and Marshawn Lynch 
(Peele) at a joint press confer-
ence, where they fully capital-
ized on the eccentric natures 
of each persona. Instead of 
the hyper-stringent (and often 
banal) conversations in typical 
press conferences, they instead 
addressed the issues with this 
year’s Oscar nominations (a sub-
ject Key and Peele’s artsy audi-
ence would appreciate much 
more). In their version, Sherman 
passionately ranted about the 
arbitrary additions and snubs 
for the best director nominees 
– most prominently Ava DuVer-
nay’s for “Selma.” Meanwhile, 
they emphasized Lynch’s usual 
stoic, unresponsive nature when 
he contributed the sole line: 
“biscuits and gravy.”

In their “East/West Bowl” 

sketch, Key and Peele displayed 
the wonders of costume and 
make-up, as well as the versatil-
ity of their looks and their acting 
abilities. In their lineup of player 
introductions, they announced 
themselves with the most ludi-
crous names, such as “Crème de 
la Crème” and “Grunky Peep,” 
with the most farcical accents 
and even more outlandish facial 
hair. Even more hilariously so, 
they cut between real NFL play-
er introductions – real names 
such as Ha Ha Clinton-Dix from 
the Packers, Cornelius “Tank” 
Carradine from the 49ers and 
the Giants’ Prince Amukamara – 
and Key and Peele’s inventions. 
Their serious natures were a 
perfect juxtaposition to Key 
and Peele’s frivolous imperson-
ations. 

Amid 
these 
segments 
of 

light-hearted humor, they also 
incorporated subtle social com-

mentary. In one of Pibb and 
Skilling’s sections, they alluded 
to the NFL and athletic indus-
try’s racist implications. Timo-
thy 
Omundson 
(“Galavant”) 

made a guest appearance, and 
as a white male, he lauded white 
players’ intellectual approach to 
the game versus African-Amer-
icans’ physical method. As he 
puts, the NFL is composed of 
black players possessed of “mag-
ical powers he learned from his 
grandma.”

As the hour went on, the 

sketches 
became 
more 
and 

more bizarre. In their final 
piece, they used animation to 
create a robot named Enos – a 
darkly humorous sketch where 
a robot Super Bowl team led 
by Allison Janney (“Masters of 
Sex”) enslaves the whole world. 

Usually, sports satire exploits 

the 
excessively-enthused 

nature of sports fans. As come-
dians – writers and artists 
whose natures are quite con-
trary to those of football fans – 
it is easy to resort to the stock 
jokes about “balls” and hyper-
masculinity. 
However, 
Key 

and Peele’s characterizations 
are precise – a specificity that 
makes their nuanced humor 
that much more entertaining. 
Their comedic lens offers sports 
and comedy fans alike a ground 
of commonality during this 
Super Bowl season.

Considering the 
power of nostalgia

COMMUNITY CULTURE COLUMN

W

hen you live in a 
city as full of art-
istry as Ann Arbor, 

you get used to a few things. 
Wild-haired 
old eccentrics 
talking to 
themselves 
on the street, 
hearing more 
than one 
language in 
a single walk 
to class and 
being struck 
with sudden 
nostalgia listening to a song in 
a coffee shop. All these things 
are inevitable, but only one 
will make you cry into your 
latte. 

Nostalgia is a funny thing. 

It’s a feeling that sometimes 
makes you happy, sometimes 
makes you sad and sometimes 
inspires a creativity elicited by 
few other emotions. It’s essen-
tially your mind saying, “Hey 
it’s me again, here’s that mem-
ory you forgot about that made 
you feel something for once.” 
We can’t control it, and once 
it’s in your mind, you can’t stop 
it. The most poignant nostalgia 
for me is always in a form of art, 
be it a song, a painting or a film. 
So why is it that art makes us 
feel the most for the past? 

Perhaps the explanation for 

all this is the inherent sadness 
of the artist. For every sullen 
artist in recent memory with 
enough stature to have several 
hundred Google results after 
searching “quotes by blank, 
you can bet there’s at least one 
about the sting of memories or 
something of the sort. Memo-
ries are poignant things, and 
seem to attach to nearly every-
thing, and that only becomes 
more apparent with age.

When you’re young, it’s hard 

to grasp the concept of nos-
talgia when your life has been 
filled with so few experiences. 
I always thought it was the look 
adults get when they hear “(I’ve 
Had) The Time of My Life” in 
a public place, when their eyes 
glaze over and a small smile 
appears on their lips. As I’ve 
gotten older, I can confirm this 
is true. There are about a mil-
lion things in the world that 
make me zone out of present 
time for a moment and take a 
trip down memory lane, and 
about 999,999 are some formu-
lation of art. These memories 
are often personal, and don’t 
always hold the same effect 
from person to person, but that 
is the beauty of nostalgia. I can’t 
listen to “Brown Eyed Girl” 
without thinking about danc-
ing with my dad at a wedding 
when I was six. Diego Rivera 

once said, “I don’t believe in 
God, but I believe in Picasso.” 
I may not believe in sappiness, 
but I do know that every time 
I look at a Diego Rivera paint-
ing, I’ll think of his print hang-
ing in the kitchen I grew up in 
and smell my mother’s cooking. 
Little associations like these 
are everywhere in the art we 
consume, we just don’t always 
pay them much attention.

Whether we like it or not, 

humans tend to crave the past, 
whether it’s in the art we con-
sume, the people we surround 
ourselves with or the books 
we read. When done correctly, 
there is no harm in nostalgia 
or the feelings it brings along. 
Memories are a part of life, and 
even if they’re painful or not 
favorable, they’ve held enough 
of a purpose to change the 
way we see a little aspect of 
life (even if it’s in the form of a 
Cyndi Lauper song). Next time 
you’re struck down in Espresso 
Royale by a song you danced 
to at prom, don’t wave off the 
emotion as silly. Instead, pay it 
some attention. Everyone cries 
into their lattes at some point in 
life, it’s just one of many quirks 
that makes us human.

Davis is taking her coffee 

with tears. To cry with her, 

e-mail katjacqu@umich.edu. 

Alex G rocks Detroit 
with impressive set

By RACHEL KERR

Daily Arts Writer

It’s Friday night and I’m pull-

ing up to the Magic Stick Lounge 
with a good friend, her mother 
driving us as if we’re in middle 
school again, because I’m not 
going to pay for a $50 Uber to 
Detroit. There’s a line circling 
around the block. Maybe that’s 
just the line to buy tickets? my 
friend’s mother offers, though we 
know it’s not. 

We wait outside in the chilling 

20-something degree air, making 
quick conversation with fellow 
fans of the three acts playing 
that night: Teen Suicide, Alex 
G and Pity Sex. I bought the $15 
ticket only to see Alex G, a Tem-
ple University student whose 
first full-length album, DSU, was 
my favorite of 2014. I sincerely 
believe him to be the Inter-
net’s best-kept secret, upload-
ing songs – all recorded on his 
own from his apartment – to his 
Bandcamp since he was 17. Now 
he’s finally getting some atten-
tion from big names like Rolling 
Stone and Pitchfork.

Yet as I’m walking upstairs to 

the venue, which rests comfort-
ably above a bowling alley, pizza 
joint and bar, I hear multiple peo-
ple asking Who the fuck is Alex G?

By the end of the set, they 

know who the fuck Alex G is.

Preceded by the rowdy and 

raunchy Teen Suicide, G’s calm 
onstage persona is refreshing. 
He doesn’t overdo the theatrics 
or engage in typical “rock star” 
behavior. The only thing that 
really comes out of his mouth is 
an appreciative “thanks” after 
every single song; he lets his 
bassist do most of the talking. 
Not to say that G doesn’t have 
stage presence – he is very much 
there. And his music, a dreamy 
mixture of pop, punk and rock, 
is completely engrossing, so any 
stage antics would have detract-
ed from that. 

While performing, he looks 

almost entranced. And as a mem-
ber of the audience, you can’t 
help but feel the same, transfixed 
by this outwardly ordinary young 
adult as he sings about growing 
up and falling in love, then miss-
ing someone and falling out of 
love. His music is about figuring 
things out, and, while he’s per-
forming, that’s exactly what he 
seems to be doing. 

All I could think to say when 

asked about the show later is 
He’s amazing; he’s a god. The 
moment I got back to my room 
I began scrounging the Inter-
net for interviews, photos, live 
performances, new songs – 
anything that would make the 
show last a little longer. I even 
went as far as to look him up on 
Facebook (we have one mutual 
friend, should I add him?) I 
stayed up until 3 a.m. wondering 
why shows like that ever have to 
end.

I got those post-concert blues, 

and I got ‘em bad. Let it be noted 
that most of Alex G’s music 
isn’t available online anymore 
because it’s going to be officially 
released later this year. Let it 
also be noted that I haven’t lis-
tened to anything – seriously, 
anything – but Alex G since the 
showfive days ago. Do you know 
how frustrating it is to worship 
an artist whose songs aren’t on 
YouTube? Who only has one 
album on Spotify? Whose Face-
book profile you can search for 
and actually still find? It’s hard. 

I want nothing more than 

to be back at the Magic Stick 
Lounge, humming along to the 
dreamy melodies of his music. 
But I guess I’ll have to settle for 
a few poor-quality live shows 
uploaded to YouTube. And hey, 
maybe he’ll even accept my 
friend request.

Behind the scenes of 
‘Miss Universe’

By HAILEY MIDDLEBROOK

Daily Arts Writer

“Now 
remember, 
these 

women have been working their 
whole lives towards this magical 
moment,” says Natalie Morales, 
news anchor for NBC’s “TODAY” 
show and host of the 2015 Miss 
Universe Pageant in Doral, FL. 
She says it with a smile, the same 
manic grin frozen onto the faces 
of the 88 international beauties. 
But her eyes flash something 
else: a hunger, leering in a way 
that hinted at the cutthroat 
competitiveness 
behind 
the 

girls’ 
blowouts. 
The 
look 

confirms that the contestants 
have not only worked their 
entire lives to get to this stage, 
but that they’re here to beat 
these bitches. For the sake of 
world peace, of course.

Fundamentally, the stakes in 

these competitions are high — 
even now, in a society teeming 
with 
powerful, 
confident 

women, 
the 
word 
“beauty” 

precedes the title “pageant” 
more often than not. Winners 
are 
colloquially 
referred 

to as “beauty queens” and 
professionally as “Miss (fill in 
the blank),” the reigning face of 
perfection. So even without the 
year-long stay in one of Donald 
Trump’s luxury New York City 
apartments, a lifetime’s supply 
of hair and skin products, 
the 
million-dollar 
wardrobe 

and endless plane tickets for 
an 
international 
tour, 
Miss 

Universe wins something much 
more personal: the gratification 
of knowing she is the most 
beautiful woman in the world. 

Losing, then, is a particularly 

nasty pill to swallow, prompting 
feelings, I would imagine, that 
make you sympathize with the 
evil witch in “Snow White.” 
Despite what people have told 
you, regardless of your national 
beauty queen status, you’re no 
longer the fairest in the land 
(or in this case, the universe). 
And if your entire life has been 
devoted to winning this title, 
preening and polishing your 
body like a florist tending to 
his fragile roses, what happens 
when the crown slips from your 
manicured acrylics? 

In the case of Miss Universe, 

the $300,000 crown is not only 
awarded to the contestant, but 
to the country she represents 
— so naturally, both winning 
or losing has a big ripple effect, 
particularly in countries with 
strong pageant cultures. South 
American 
countries 
such 

as 
Colombia, 
Ecuador 
and 

Venezuela 
consistently 
rank 

among Miss Universe finalists 
— Venezuela with seven Miss 
Universe titles, the second-
highest 
number 
of 
winners 

(topped only by USA with eight 
titles). What’s more remarkable 
is that Venezuela — and its 
neighboring 
countries, 
for 

that matter — haven’t always 
participated in Miss Universe. 
Since the pageant’s 1952 debut 
in Long Beach, California, only 
USA, Canada, Germany and 
France have been represented 
every year. Though looking 
at collective tallies, it’s clear 
who the pageant powerhouses 
are: 35 winners were from the 
Americas, 12 from Europe, 10 
from Asia, four from Africa and 
two from Oceania. 

No one knows the cutthroat 

culture 
of 
pageants 
better 

than this year’s Miss Universe, 
Paulina Vega from Colombia. 
The brunette bombshell started 
modeling at eight years old, 
which 
isn’t 
uncommon 
in 

Colombian culture — nor is it 
unusual to catch the pageant bug 
young.

“While 
the 
inherent 

objectification of the contests 
and the values they convey to 
young women often provoke 
outrage and ridicule elsewhere, 
in the Colombian context the 
issue is more complicated,” 
said Carl Bower, a pageant 
photographer, in an interview 
with The Independent. Like 
Americans flooding into football 
stadiums, 
many 
Colombians 

gather 
to 
watch 
pageants. 

“(Colombians) 
often 
have 
a 

vicarious 
relationship 
with 

the queens, clinging to the 
Cinderella fantasy of magically 
transcending poverty,” he said.

Seen in this light, Miss 

Universe — and beauty pageants 
in general — take on a new role 
in the lives of these women. In 
our society, beauty queens have 
become caricatures: airheads 
with phoney-baloney speeches 
and 
spray-tanned 
brats 
in 

“Toddlers in Tiaras.” But for 
others, 
pageants 
cultivate 

confidence and allow for self-
expression in countries where 
opportunities for women are 
drastically limited. To win the 
title of Miss Universe, then, 
is a magical moment indeed: 
a chance to be swept away 
by new experiences, and the 
opportunity 
to 
impact 
the 

world.

A

Key & Peele 
Super Bowl 
Special

Comedy Central

Friday, Jan. 30 

at 10 p.m.

CONCERT REVIEW

TV NOTEBOOK

KATHLEEN 

DAVIS

NBC

The Donald is always watching ...

TV REVIEW

Key & Peele had 

us in tears of 
laughter with 
their special.

COMEDY CENTRAL

Where are the dancing sharks?

I got those 
post-concert 

blues, and I got 

‘em bad.

