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