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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.