ACROSS
1 Rosie of “The
Jetsons,” for one
6 Recede
9 Downloadable
programs
13 Golden Gloves
venue
14 Chimney
substance
16 Toondom’s __ E.
Coyote
17 Camp shelters
18 Single proprietor
20 The Old
Spaghetti Factory
alternative
22 Big D hoopster
23 West Coast sch.
with more than
100 NCAA
championships
24 Martini order
25 Gloomy
27 Golf hole starting
points
29 On the topic of
32 Fed. power dept.
33 “__ Legend”: Will
Smith movie
35 Nook and Kindle
38 Self-defense
option
40 Emphatic military
reply
42 Actor McKellen
43 Japanese soup
noodle
44 Formula for salt
46 Brewpub lineup
50 Mr. Fixit’s forte
53 Singer Orbison
55 Aflame
56 Chinese
chairman
57 Fragrant bloomer
with typically pink
flowers
61 Comment after a
feast ... or what
the first word of
18-, 20-, 38- and
57-Across would
sometimes say—
if it could talk
63 Christmas
celebrity
64 Future plant
65 Nonstick
cookware brand
66 __ salts
67 Grinds to a halt
68 Seek damages
from
69 Poker-faced
DOWN
1 Squeal on
2 Parental warning
words
3 “No fighting,
kids!”
4 “As seen __”: ad
phrase
5 Used a stun gun
on
6 College
application
pieces
7 Mannerless
fellow
8 Like headline
typefaces
9 “So-o adorable!”
10 Cash for fun
11 Crowd __:
popular
performer
12 Order takers
15 Overflow (with)
19 Artist with the
website
imaginepeace.com
21 Pa’s pa
26 Hill-building biter
28 “Burnt” crayon
color
30 __ firma
31 Surg. sites
34 Mil. mail
address
36 Literary
wrap-up
37 Football’s
Parseghian
38 Popped the
question
39 Bavarian article
40 Conjecture
41 Think tank guys
45 Baby rocker
47 King in
Shakespeare’s
“The Tempest”
48 Moving engine
part
49 Hot and humid
51 Post-surg. area
52 Rapids
transport
54 Go-aheads
58 Inseparable pals,
to texters
59 Brummell or
Bridges
60 Captivated
62 NFL scores
By C.C. Burnikel
©2015 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
02/24/15
02/24/15
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
RELEASE DATE– Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
xwordeditor@aol.com
Classifieds
Call: #734-418-4115
Email: dailydisplay@gmail.com
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Call 734‑996‑1991
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734/996‑0566 or writeon@iserv.net
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ARBOR PROPERTIES
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SUMMER EMPLOYMENT
HELP WANTED
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SERVICES
6 — Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Kid Rock disappoints
In latest album, Kid
Rock sings his way
to irrelevance
By MELINA GLUSAC
Daily Arts Writer
There’s this clip on YouTube
from Jimmy Kimmel’s show called
Celebrities Read Mean Tweets #4.
It’s self-explan-
atory what goes
down in this seg-
ment — celebri-
ties read tweets
from their hat-
ers.
At
about
the two-minute
mark, right when
it’s starting to get uninteresting,
Kid Rock pops up, clad in a camo
vest, black fedora and those sig-
nature aviator shades. His hate-
tweet says, “Kid Rock looks like
he would smell like stale farts and
cigarettes.”
He jokes, saying it ought to be
“fresh farts and cigars.” Indeed,
that would be a blessing. But if
we’re talking in terms of Kid
Rock’s music, and using the gassy
tobacco metaphor, it tends to
sound like stale farts and ciga-
rettes. “Stale” in that it’s a bit tired,
reliant on past heartland rock
musician’s inventiveness and lyri-
cally fixated on nostalgia. “Ciga-
rettes” in that it deals with many
vice-y substances, like booze and
smokes and women, oh my. And
“farts” in that sometimes — well,
most of the time — it stinks.
Rock’s latest endeavor, First
Kiss, is no exception to any of the
aforementioned, putrid quirks.
Rooted more in country than rock,
though marketed as a fusion of the
two genres, the album is repeti-
tive, melodically static and unin-
ventive. Rock was going for Bob
Seger but instead got scratchy,
probably-got-lost-on-his-way-
home
John
Mellencamp;
it’s
heartland with heart, sans talent.
The titular track, “First Kiss,”
has been getting a lot of airplay
and rightfully so — it’s the best
on the album, or if we’re doing
metaphors again, the best house
on the crummiest block in the
neighborhood. Nevertheless, its
light, country-pop aura is pleasing
and uncontrollably catchy. Sooner
than later, the listener is cruising
along the lake and pining for their
first love right next to Rock. But
that bliss doesn’t last long.
Country, exclamation point, is
spewed at us from all directions.
In “Good Times, Cheap Wine,”
Rock stresses his love for the
simple things in life — hey, let the
good times roll. “If you’re lookin’
for a hot mess, well honey, here
I am,” he sings. He knows. He’s
accepting his gassy tobacco status.
This song, complete with saloon
keys and gritty guitars, sounds
like something you would hear in
some rusty bar. The same goes for
“Good Time Lookin’ For Me” and
“The Best of Me” — their twangy
fiddles and southern drawls solid-
ify their airtime in Applebee’s
restaurants nationwide. Happy
listening, folks; enjoy your Bud
Light.
“Johnny Cash” is interesting
— it couldn’t be farther from the
man in black, and is, in fact, an ode
to Rock’s lady love. He wants to
be her Johnny Cash. Sweet, huh?
It’s pure, unadulterated cheese
on more levels than one — it’s in
the same key as every other song
on the album, the lyrics sounds
the same as all the others on the
album and Kid Rock’s Detroit-
turned-backwater-Kentucky
accent is the cherry on top of it
all. This tune is uniquely marked
with a few gospel singers in the
background, though, who serve
no other purpose than to mimic
fragments of Kid’s shite lyrics.
When he sings, “I want to be
your Johnny Cash,” they answer,
“JOHNNY CASH WOAH YEAH
WOAH,” and so on. It’s chilling
stuff.
It all turns painful when “Ain’t
Enough Whiskey” comes along,
with its annoying chorus that
follows the same melodic and
rhythmic line as — not kidding
— the bunny hop. “Drinking Beer
With Dad” tries to be profound
but instead sounds like a Face-
book status from an unseasoned
user who doesn’t really know
what to say. Take it from us, Kid:
if you can’t find the words, it’s
best to just keep quiet.
The penultimate track, “One
More Song,” cheekily tells the lis-
tener to hang on for just a bit lon-
ger. Reassurance is quite needed
at this point in the First Kiss
journey, but the actual song has
bizarre techno inflections and
they, in addition to Rock’s extra-
screechy voice, lend to really
weird vibes.
But finally it ends, praise
the lord — actually, the latter is
exactly what Rock does in his
swan song, “Jesus and Boce-
phus.” Yes, these are the album’s
final words, and yes, he chose to
fill them with deep, emotional
thanks to his lords and saviors,
Jesus Christ and Hank Williams,
Jr. (a.k.a. Bocephus). It’s all so Kid
Rock. He is who he is, and that’s
commendable.
But who is he? Well, he’s stale
farts and cigarettes. And most
people can’t deal with that shit.
FILM NOTEBOOK
‘Mommy’ a
heartbreaker
By REBECCA LERNER
Daily Arts Writer
The film “Mommy” bears ach-
ing similarities to its protagonist,
Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon, “Lau-
rence Anyways”),
a
15-year-old
boy with violent
tendencies,
an
attachment
dis-
order and ADHD.
Both
have
the
capacity to display
effusive love, but
turn on you quickly with coryban-
tic rage. Both are a feverish whirl-
wind of passion that you can’t look
away from. And both will utterly
break your heart.
“Mommy” is ultimately a story of
the fierce love between mother and
child. Set in a fictionalized Canada
where parents have the option of
institutionalizing children with
behavioral issues, the titular moth-
er, Diane (Anne Dorval, “Laurence
Anyways”), is a tough and swagger-
ing widow in extreme debt. When
she gets the call that her son Steve is
being kicked out of a youth facility
for setting a fire in which another
child is gravely injured, they must
band together as a team to get their
lives back in order. Steve’s hazard-
ous antics put a dark cloud over
Diane’s life, portrayed through
the shadowy lighting she is con-
sistently in, while Steve is almost
always bathed in sunlight, trying to
find sensation through any means
possible. However, Steve’s unpre-
dictable habits have as much pro-
pensity towards gentle love as they
do towards senseless violence.
In the crossfire of Steve’s highs
and lows is Kyla (Suzanne Clément,
“I Killed My Mother”), their neigh-
bor. Kyla is a high-school teacher
on sabbatical with a terrible stut-
ter. Diane enlists the traumatized
woman to homeschool Steve while
she cleans houses to support the
family. In these hours alone with
Steve’s mania, Kyla demonstrates
that she has as much strength as the
young and muscular teenager. But
unlike Steve’s irrational and arbi-
trary outbursts of anger, her mad-
ness is restrained and tight-fisted,
making it even more terrifying to
witness.
Kyla inspires a frisson of love
and happiness in their lives; this
climaxes in Steve longboarding and
literally pushing open the edges
of the screen to create room for
his joy while “Wonderwall” blasts
through their suburban streets.
But the stress of their impending
life together weighs heavy on the
relationships, and tensions start to
build as Steve begins to perilously
break down.
For most of the movie, the cam-
era work of 25-year-old direc-
tor
Xavier
Dolan
(“Laurence
Anyways”) composes the frame
in a claustrophobic square, trap-
ping the characters in a world for
which their energies are far too
large. Their relationship is gut-
wrenchingly loving and without
the boundaries of a typical mater-
nal relationship that keep society’s
expectations intact. The exuberant
personalities of Steve and Diane
are uncomfortably close in the tiny
screen, illustrating the intensity of
their bond and the need for space
in the erratic relationship.
With narrow framing and a
small cast, it’s truly incredible how
much life is packed into the film.
The film draws in the viewer with
the allure of the unhealthy but
passionately-loving relationship of
the unendingly complex Diane and
Steve. “Mommy” traps its charac-
ters and audience in a volatile and
boisterous grasp until someone
must break free.
‘Boyhood’ overlooked
By CATHERINE SULPIZIO
Senior Arts Editor
For the sake of this argument,
“Birdman” and “Boyhood” were
the two contenders, pitted by
the media against each other,
partly for dramatic intensity and
also because they both involved
impressive technical experiments.
I reviewed “Birdman” and
“Boyhood” and gave them both an
A. For all the flack I gave my col-
leagues for preferring “Birdman,”
I enjoyed it. It was an intellectual
puzzle I saw twice to pry out its
minute and meticulously placed
details. Every minute in “Bird-
man” is a pulsing nerve center of
soundtrack, writing and, of course,
cinematography. And the cinema-
tography is riveting — nothing
Hitchcock hasn’t done, mind you
— but it barrels the movie through
its psychological labyrinth of artis-
tic anxiety. “Birdman” is an exam-
ple of form marshaled to function
with militaristic precision; it’s
never superfluous or sybaritic,
except as an intentional represen-
tation of Michael Keaton’s (“Bee-
tlejuice”) own grandiosity. But
even as “Birdman” ’s form is care-
ful to never overwhelm content,
form makes “Birdman.” This is a
paean to the well-oiled machines
that create art — the story is sec-
ondary. It’s a film’s film.
And so I reveal my very unfash-
ionable hand: “Birdman” didn’t
stick to me. Yes, audience effect
should theoretically not be part
of a movie’s critique, but for all its
formalistic brilliance, “Birdman”
is the equivalent of reading a bril-
liant modernist poem, something
undergirded by a frame of perfect
logic and organization. “Birdman”
delights in its difficulty. Even as
“Birdman” uses its tour-de-force
camerawork and jarring drum-
beating soundtrack to transform
the screen into a psychic state, it
rejects any emotional association
with its protagonist.
Any other year, that would have
been OK. I’m outing myself as an
unapologetic sentimentalist when
I say “Boyhood” clung to me far
beyond the hot summer afternoon
I saw it, and that’s why I champion
it as the winner between the two.
I was talking to a fellow edi-
tor yesterday who felt that “Boy-
hood” ’s lack of storic importance
disqualified it from something like
the Oscars. I don’t love the Oscars
(didn’t even watch them, oops)
but I vehemently disagree that
we need history to be stretched
out on screen for an Oscar. But
if that’s the case, “Birdman” still
isn’t the frontrunner. Both films
are accounts of trivial, yet taken
in wildly different directions. If
“Birdman” tamps its storyline
about — let’s face it — a run-of-
the-mill midlife crisis with unten-
able drama, “Boyhood” refuses to
impose its story with artificial nar-
rative. Its ‘gimmick,’ as I said in my
review of the film, isn’t a gimmick.
It dissolves into the screen after
the first few time-jumps, allowing
life to swell like never before to
the screen’s surface. Where “Bird-
man” never lets you forget about its
camera, “Boyhood” creates tempo-
rary amnesia of form.
And for those 165 minutes, I
felt swallowed up by “Boyhood.”
There are few similarities between
Mason Jr. (newcomer Ellar Col-
trane) and I; we consider ourselves
‘creative-types’ and didn’t love
high school (who did?), but that’s
it — he’s an adolescent Texan boy
with divorced parents. Yet mapped
on the screen, his moments strung
together in the constellation of life
resonated with mine, too. Quiet
sorrows, like Mason Jr.’s disci-
plinarian stepfather shaving off
his beautiful head of hair unfold
against the muted joys, like having
a great conversation with a girl at a
party, are folded in along with the
funny, mundane and ugly. There
are moments of triumph, but this
isn’t an epic retelling of life. Every-
thing in “Boyhood” is contained
within its ordinary bounds.
This could seem effortless, or
even accidental, but “Boyhood”
is held together nonetheless by a
near-perfect
invisible
structure
that rivals “Birdman” ’s. While the
physical changes in “Boyhood” ’s
cast are certainly the most appar-
ent, this filming process allowed an
experimental form of writing. Rich-
ard Linklater completed the script
as he shot, rewriting the script after
reviewing the footage from the most
previous year. The result is a script
which reflects on and absorbs itself
as it grows. As Mason Jr. developed,
the script too underwent its own
parallel coming of age.
“Life doesn’t have a plot, and
neither does ‘Boyhood,’” is what
I tell people who complain that
the movie is pointless. That’s
pithy, but by granting life a
screen, unfettered by climaxes
and rising action and foreshad-
owing (notice how Linklater
denied that college love-inter-
est Nicole (Jessi Mechler, “Mor-
ganville”) was the same Nicole
who passed Mason Jr. a note in
middle school), “Boyhood” runs
headlong into that sensation
most movies may only graze if
lucky: seeing life, not just imi-
tated, but created on a screen.
This veers into debates of art:
is it to reflect or shatter real-
ity? To comfort or to disorient?
Normally, I gravitate towards
the disruptive qualities of art,
work like the Dadaists who
Walter Benjamin said “turned
art into a missile.” And “Bird-
man” reminds me of the trans-
formative gears of art, of its
ability to pummel and reshape
reality. But “Boyhood” uses its
quietly brilliant form for other
uses. Watching “Boyhood” fills
me with that deep and corny
feeling of solidarity with the
human species.
“Boyhood”
creates
temporary
amnesia of form.
ALBUM REVIEW
FILM REVIEW
D+
First Kiss
Kid Rock
Warner Bros.
A
Mommy
State Theater
Les Films Seville