5 — Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Real ‘Still Alice’

TV REVIEW

Julianne Moore

gives a heartbreaking

performance

By VANESSA WONG

Daily Arts Writer

You know the drill: another

Oscar season, another heart-
string-tugging film about fight-
ing disease. “Still Alice” fits the
bill for this year’s
Oscar-bait, and, like
this type of film usu-
ally does, comes out
triumphant.

Linguistics
pro-

fessor Alice How-
land’s
(Julianne

Moore,
“The
Big

Lebowski”) concern
over
memory
loss

leads her to a neurologist, who,
to her disbelief, sends her out
with an alarming diagnosis of
early-onset Alzheimer’s. For an
academic whose work hinges on
linguistic prowess and innova-
tion, admitting that she “can see
the words hanging in front of
(her) but (she) can’t reach them”
comes as a cruelly ironic jab. For
what are we but the sum of our
memories, each one bubbling up
to connect with the next? Gone is
her teaching ability, her concept
of time. Even the sharpness in her
eyes dulls to confusion. Revolv-
ing, out-of-focus shots blur more
intensely as Alice’s mental acuity
wanes. In the vulnerable time of
her diagnosis, Alice must plan for
a future she fears, all the while
plagued with the realization that
she has already reached her cog-

nitive peak and will only sink
downward. Rarely do we focus on
how mentally taxing neurological
diseases are on the perception of
oneself and overall identity, and
“Alice” does this well.

It could not do so without

Moore’s performance, which is
one that certainly lives up to the
hype. Moore lifts what could eas-
ily be a one-dimensional charac-
ter and, layer by raw layer, sculpts
Alice into someone real. Alice’s
transition from poise to forget-
fulness isn’t a steep descent like
she had predicted. Rather, it’s a
meandering journey that takes
her through denial, terror, love,
concern, confusion and eventu-
ally, reinvention and reconsid-
eration of her own identity. And
as the film’s title suggests, Alice
retains her intelligence, warm
heart and strength, just in a dif-
ferent way than she had been
used to before. Moore injects life
into “Alice” with every woozy
smile, anxious panic attack and
vacant stare.

The family network backing

Alice boasts strong performanc-
es as well. Her daughter, Lydia
(Kristen Stewart, “Twilight”),
argues with her for the indepen-

dence to make her own life choic-
es and pursue acting rather than
attend college. However, Lydia’s
weariness toward Alice’s parent-
ing is lined with a fierce concern
for her happiness. Lydia isn’t all
annoyance, nor all unflagging
support, but a lifelike blend of the
two. Tentative steps to reach out
sometimes work, but sometimes
fall flat, and seemingly insignifi-
cant comments can spark argu-
ment. Stewart proves herself a
remarkably diverse and mature
actress with her work in this film.
Alice’s husband (Alec Baldwin,
“30 Rock”) also demonstrates
a slightly detached style of love
and support wherein he genuine-
ly attempts to comfort Alice, but
sometimes misses the mark.

However, the rest of her fam-

ily life, from a city brownstone
apartment to a heritage-ridden
beach house and well-dressed
children who support her uncon-
ditionally,
leaves
behind
an

overly saccharine taste. Perhaps
the idea was to show how much
Alice has to lose as a result of
her disease and that yes, there
are cracks in seemingly picture-
perfect lives, but it still comes off
slightly akin to a Lifetime movie
backdrop.

Though exciting, grandiose

visions of escapism deserve their
screen time, the sheer realism
of “Still Alice” offers another
important tenet of film: the
wonder of seeing an ordinary
life challenge reflected in art.
Moore’s mind-blowingly vivid
portrayal of a woman not only
struggling with, but also bravely
confronting her disease makes
that happen.

SONY PICTURES CLASSICSW

Toasting to her Oscar.

What King & Queen
B have in common

By MELINA GLUSAC

Daily Arts Writer

“Music should strike fire from

the heart of human soul.” — Lud-
wig Van Beethoven

“I’ve been sipping, that’s the

only thing that’s keeping me
on fire, we on fire.” — Beyoncé
Knowles

Freshly
traumatized
from

Beyoncé’s crushing (yes, crush-
ing) loss to Beck at last week’s
Grammy Awards, I had to trudge
through a Musicology 121 exam
this week. Channeling all my
brainpower toward an intro class
based on the theory that music
is one of the great forces in our
world proved to be no problem,
of course. It was all Ludwig Van
Beethoven’s fault; he was the
issue. Unlike any other class, I
couldn’t listen to Beyoncé while
preparing for this exam. I had to
listen to Beethoven.

Beethoven wasn’t even cov-

ered on the test — we’d stopped
in lecture after finishing his fifth
symphony, which, much like
Beyoncé’s loss, was deemed too
fresh, too ripe for us to be tested
on it. I wasn’t upset (I was a little).
Classical music had always been a
secret joy, one that had thrilled
and confused me simultaneous-
ly. I wanted to hear it and learn
about it, but the modern, wan-
nabe-cool-cat part of me wanted
to listen to Beyoncé. Beethoven
was irrelevant. Stunning, but
irrelevant.

Nevertheless, while studying,

I obediently subjected my ears
to the romance of his symphony
before flicking on any ’Yoncé
tunes. After administering much
abuse to the replay button, I got to
thinking — Beethoven’s fifth and
Beyoncé’s fifth, “Drunk in Love,”
aren’t so different after all.

Duh duh duh dun. Duh duh duh

dunnn. We all know that intro.
King B’s grand opus to the world
of classical music is ominous and

intelligent, simplistic and revo-
lutionary. Not only did his 1808
symphony break the boundaries
of what the opening measures
(and all measures, for that matter)
of a symphony could be, it marked
a personal triumph for Beethoven,
whose impending deafness began
to cripple his mental health. You
can hear the struggle in the song —
it’s aggravated at points, convey-
ing battle and a deep cry for help
at others, and repetition is loud
and rife. In the end, though, after
layers of the central, quadruple-
“duh” theme are added, enhanced
and beautified, the whole piece
rejoices. What happens in the
middle is just as interesting — the
mood (and key) oscillates between
eerie and cheery, and at about the
four-minute mark, we hear one
note repeated a few times by the
strings, quite oddly and out of
place. Surfboardt.

It’s impossible (nor would any-

one want to attempt) to capture
the essence of Beyoncé’s “Drunk
in Love” intro in text. But it’s still
recognizable. Like Beethoven’s
lead in, when we hear Beyoncé,
our stomachs drop. As listeners,
we know what’s coming, and we
know it’s going to be great. Those
first few notes — for Beyoncé, it’s
eight — build and build as the
song progresses with different
synths and effects stemming off
one another, all bearing that origi-
nal theme in mind. The verses
are creepy and sexy, while the
chorus is booming and celebra-

tory; it’s symphonic trap. And in a
way, “Drunk in Love” is Beyoncé’s
fifth — it’s historic, instantly rec-
ognizable, beloved by the public
and arguably her best work. It’s
also ominous and intelligent, sim-
plistic and revolutionary. Those
samples, those eight notes, that
subject matter — everything is
atypical, in the best way possible.

Musical merit is a different

story. Critics and time, more than
anything, have hailed Beethoven
as a genius, and his music is deep-
ly revered. Broadly, the same is
true of Beyoncé. But technically,
the true musicality of Beyoncé’s
music — its complications, its
intricacy, its traditional structure,
its “genius” — comes nowhere
close to that of Beethoven.

Where
does
that
gauge

come from, though? It’s almost
engrained in us, as listeners.
We may like both Beyoncé and
Beethoven, but only one is “real”
music. Society and history books
and BBC documentaries and
music teachers have planted that
into us from birth. To them I say,
try this on for size: If Beethoven
was the Beyoncé of his time, what
did his society and music teach-
ers tell people “real” music was?
Probably the greats that came a
couple hundred years before him.
Yes, he himself was critically
adored and respected during his
lifetime. But then again, so is
Beyoncé.

So we’re back to the drawing

board — the act of listening and
having our breath taken away.
The fifth and the “drunk” fifth
both conquer this latter feat, and
you can’t help but marvel at each
one’s modernity. Beethoven’s vir-
tuosity will always be as mysteri-
ous as it is essential, and Beyoncé’s
pop innovation will continue to
seduce our ears with its convo-
luted goodness. Both are, and will
always be, worthy of our attention
— surfin’ all in this good, good. All
hail King and Queen B.

‘Kingsman’ delights
in ultraviolent thrills

By BENJAMIN ROSENSTOCK

For The Daily

Much like director Matthew

Vaughn’s
2010
film
“Kick-

Ass,” “Kingsman: The Secret
Service” portrays
extreme violence
with a perverse
kind of glee. It’s
total
escapism,

a self-aware spy
film that discards
strict
logic

and
complex

characterization
to revel in the
sheer lunacy of
its plot.

Up-and-

coming British actor Taron
Egerton (“The Smoke”) plays
Gary “Eggsy” Unwin, a young
man with a disregard for the
law following his departure
from the Royal Marines. One
day, when Eggsy is arrested, he
calls Harry Hart (Colin Firth,
“The King’s Speech”), an old
family friend who introduces
Eggsy to Kingsmen. Kingsmen
is the secret intelligence agency
where Harry and Eggsy’s late
father
worked,
and
Eggsy

agrees to follow in his father’s
footsteps to become a spy.

At 129 minutes, “Kingsman”

is a bit long for a fast-paced
action movie because it crams
a dozen plots into one film.
A large section is devoted
to Eggsy’s journey through
Kingsmen’s dangerous training
program, where he meets other
young men and a woman, Roxy
(Sophie Cookson, “Moonfleet”),
who’s presented as a love
interest, though the hints of
sexual tension never build to a
head. The film also touches on
Eggsy’s desire to protect his
mother and baby sister from
his lewd, abusive stepfather. On
top of all that, there’s Samuel

L. Jackson (“Pulp Fiction”) as
the film’s villain, Richmond
Valentine.
With
some
plot

threads being dropped, others
petering out and others being
relegated
to
a
mid-credits

scene, the film feels overstuffed
and unfocused.

Despite these issues, the

film
succeeds
because
of

how undeniably fun it is — to
the point that its problems
are rendered almost entirely
unimportant.
Jackson
plays

Internet billionaire Valentine
with hilarious idiosyncrasies,
like an obnoxious lisp and a
disgust for blood and gore,
despite his love for wreaking
havoc and provoking violence in
others. Valentine’s insane plot
involves solving overpopulation
by triggering violent impulses
in humans through their cell
phones, so several scenes depict
mass displays of violence as
everyone attacks one another
with a feral desire for death.

Vaughn
shoots
these

Tarantino-esque
scenes
of

brutality with dizzying speed,
tilting the camera and making

swift pans while still orienting
the viewer in space so the
action rarely descends to shaky
cam. Hart is a fun character to
watch, as several scenes allow
him to basically go crazy with
well-choreographed
battle

moves, and Firth portrays him
as a fussy upper class British
citizen whose deadpan delivery
of profanity creates big laughs.
Egerton too is an unexpected
treat, a sort of audience surrogate
who bubbles with sarcastic jabs
and frank comments about how
unbelievable everything is. Eggsy
keeps his cocky persona likable
with his sense of humor and an
interesting quirk: He can’t stand
to watch animals die.

In the end, “Kingsman” is

primarily worth seeing because
of how hilariously it basks in the
glory of bloodshed. One third-
act scene in particular features
an act of violence that, unlike
some of the bloodier scenes from
earlier on, depicts death as a
fantastic rainbow of colors in an
awe-inspiring climax. It’s pure
insanity, which makes it the most
fun spy movie in years.

B+

Still Alice

Michigan
Theater

Sony Pictures
Classics

A-

Kings-
man: The
Secret
Service

Rave and
Quality 16

20th Century
Fox

The family

network fights

alarming
disease.

20TH CENTURY FOX

Michael Caine toasting to “Interstellar” ‘s Oscar ... just kidding.

FILM REVIEW

Despite age

difference, both
take our breath

away.

Revolutionary satire
‘Last Week Tonight’

By DREW MARON

Daily Arts Writer

Last Sunday, John Oliver

(“The Daily Show”) and his team
of writers came back on the air
in full force by
tackling corrupt
pharmaceutical
companies,
a

South American
leader’s
unhealthy
obsession
with

internet trolls, the
greatest
eulogy

for an American
company ever and
an apology from
Oliver for the minor confusion
of a hamster’s penis. This latter
segment,
Oliver
states,
was

the result of an error he made
last season when a picture of
a hamster’s tail was mistaken
for the hamster’s genitals. This
was the only error Oliver and
gang made last season, and it’s a
comment on the dystopian state
of modern news that Oliver’s
team was more accurate in their
reporting than Brian Williams
and NBC Nightly News.

As with last season, this

week featured an exposé on
some facet of the ever-eroding
morality of today’s political,
economic and social landscapes.
Using the usual wit, intelligence
and devilishly well-researched
and well-crafted script, Oliver
delivered a better treatise on
modern
day
pharmaceuticals

than most journalists.

The eulogy for the recently

bankrupt
Radio
Shack
was

hysterical in addition to being
poignant
and
bitter.
There

was a melancholia to Oliver’s
lamentation of Radio Shack’s
demise that made the viewer
think about the place these “big,
unfeeling
corporations”
have

in our national identity. No one
should want big companies to
go away just because they’re the
ones in power. On the contrary,
we need such companies to exist
to define ourselves as a nation.

Finally,
the
trolling
of

Ecuadorian
President
Rafael

Correa showcased exactly how
crazy and awesome a show can
be when it’s uninhibited by the
stringency of network television.
Oliver called upon viewers to
tweet disparaging comments at a
foreign leader who is bullying his
own people for doing the same
thing — we should be thankful

such a show is willing to take
an impassioned stance against
the corruption and tyranny in a
world as toxic as the one we live
in now.

“Last
Week
Tonight”

continues
to
shine
in
its

organization and the clear effort
that goes into every single story.
Whereas most late night shows
scramble
for
content
every

night, “Last Week Tonight” has
an entire week to organize its
thoughts, arguments, segments
and news stories to deliver a
revolutionary
combination
of

truth and satire. It’s such a treat
to tune in every Sunday night
and see what the “Last Week
Tonight” crew has cooked up for
us this week, and an indescribable
pleasure to see such a fantastic
experiment work and return
for
another
season,
with

hopefully many more to come.

HBO

Not as good as fish and chips.

A+

Last
Week
Tonight

Season 2
Premiere

HBO

Sundays at 11 p.m.

MUSIC NOTEBOOK

FILM REVIEW