The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com Arts Wednesday, February 25, 2015 — 7A ABC “Please don’t P.M.D.” ‘Repeat After Me’ refreshes old idea Celebrities parody themselves on Ellen- produced ABC show By SOPHIA KAUFMAN Daily Arts Writer ABC’s new half-hour comedy “Repeat After Me” premiered Feb- ruary 17 and, despite its modest viewership, it proved to be a fresh take on a recycled idea. Ellen DeGe- neres executive produces the show, and her mischievous mark is all over it. Like DeGe- neres’s day- time talk show “Ellen”’s hidden camera segment, “Repeat After Me” distinguishes itself as funny, not because we get to watch celebrities make fun of people or watch regular people make fun of other regular people, but because we get to watch celeb- rities make fun of themselves. Wendi McLendon-Covey (“The Goldbergs”) hosts “Repeat After Me,” dictating to celebrities via earpieces what to say to people who recognize them, but have no idea they are being filmed. In this episode, Scott Foley (“Scandal”) interviews a potential babysit- ter for his kids. “My six-year-old smokes,” he says, impressing upon her how “terrible” his kids are. Sarah Hyland (“Modern Family”) meets a French tutor, and says part of the reason she wants to learn French is because she has a French lover, so she’s “got French kissing down.” Randy Jackson (“American Idol”) speaks to the people tinting the windows of his new truck, ask- ing if they do houses too, because he has a “huge mansion with lots of windows” in which he likes to “walk around nakey.” After each scene, the actors tell the people being pranked that they are on a hidden camera show and bring them out to see the live audience. At the end of the epi- sode McLendon-Covey chooses her favorite moment of the night — which for this episode is Foley curled up in the fetal position and doing his best impression of a cry- ing baby while the nonplussed nanny attempts to comfort him. What gives “Repeat After Me” its energy isn’t so much the unpre- dictable interactions themselves — though they are, for the most part, hilarious. It’s in watching talented actors make complete fools of themselves. They know how to maintain their momentum on camera, even in the moments when they are waiting for their next command, so the energy never lags. The actors of this episode complement each other particularly well; Foley says every- thing he’s told to but can’t quite keep the mischief out his eyes, Hyland is completely straight- faced throughout her whole ridic- ulous scenario and Jackson can’t stop making the rookie mistake of laughing before delivering his lines. Another aspect of the show reminiscent of DeGeneres’s own segment is that McLendon- Covey’s jokes play on the fact that these are very recognizable celebrities interacting with regu- lar people. Foley tells his poten- tial babysitter that if she wants an autograph, they better get that out of the way first, and then he asks her if she ever worked with famous people before and if she has any good gossip. Hyland asks teasingly if her new teacher recognizes her from “Modern Family” and then brags with a cutesy laugh, “I’ve won a bunch of Emmys,” pointing proudly to the shelf behind her. Randy Jackson introduces himself quite simply as Randy Jackson “from television.” They all sub- tly poke fun at the kind of things people expect celebrities would say, and it never comes across as mean-spirited or exploitative towards the people on the show. “Repeat After Me” may not be new, and it may be a while before McLendon-Covey reaches the skill level of DeGeneres when it comes to improvising, but at least it’s not plagued by petty problems that characterize the majority of reality programs on television now. B Repeat After Me Series Pilot Tuesdays at 8:30 ABC BIG MACHINE The whitest Kardashian. Haters gonna hate, but I still love Taylor By CATHERINE BAKER For The Daily Let me be the first to tell you that I own every song Taylor Swift has ever released. There, I said it ... moving on now. It’s December 2007 and much of my extended family has flown in from Minnesota to spend Christmas at my home in Michigan. I’m about to descend the stairs from my bedroom where I have carefully crafted my outfit — a jean skirt and pastel sweater — when my cousin Becca stops me. She informs me that I must listen to this new song her friend showed her. I’m 11 years old and my life is about to be changed forever. Ok, that may be a bit dramatic, but you get the point. As soon as I heard the opening violin on “Our Song,” I was sold. The combination of pop music with a slight country twang was right up my alley. Taylor has come a long way since that fateful day, and her songs have matured from what played after “Blue” by Crazy Frog at my junior high dances to anthems that have taken the entire world by storm. For the past seven years, I’ve grown up alongside Taylor Swift, and despite all of the criticism she receives, she continues to remain a positive and growing force in the music industry. She’s evolved from a heartbroken girl singing in a prom dress on her bed to an empowered and shamelessly independent young woman. Yes, her dancing at awards shows is somewhat awkward and her cat pictures take up a large portion of her Instagram, but that’s what makes her human. Think about it — when is the last time you saw a celebrity baking cookies or sending Christmas gifts to her fans? These pop idols and super- stars are placed on such high pedestals that it’s hard to imag- ine them walking their dogs or eating breakfast. (Seriously, does Beyoncé even have time to eat breakfast?) It’s refreshing to feel a connection to the elusive world that is populated by icons like Lady Gaga and Kanye West. Some of her new songs on 1989 may be about Harry Styles, but no one was outraged when Sam Smith sang about his ex on “Stay With Me” or when Katy Perry wrote songs about her ex-hus- band, Russell Brand. The double standard that surrounds Taylor is unfair and, frankly, overused. It’s not outrageous that she sings about actual experiences that happen to her in her actual life — it’s what everyone does. Even after embracing all the stereo- types that surround her, she still receives disapproval. My memories of Taylor Swift don’t include the times she receives mean tweets or when someone makes jokes about her abundance of ex-boyfriends. Her songs are reminders of the time I danced to “Our Song” at Christmas with my cousin, when I blasted “Long Live” while getting ready for my first homecoming dance or sang to “Shake It Off” in the car during my senior year of high school. While taking Buzzfeed quizzes, I still pick Taylor to be my celebrity best friend. My love for her has not diminished — it has simply matured, and I suspect that I’ll always squeal a little when I hear she is releasing a new album. An entire generation has grown up alongside Taylor Swift and I suspect she’s just getting started. So keep shaking it off, Taylor, and the haters are gonna hate, but I’m rooting for you. By CATHERINE SULPIZIO Senior Arts Editor The vacation is written into our middle-class contract. We enter the workforce to earn money to squirrel away, but with the redemptive belief that there will be an opportunity for escape. Originally a luxury only for the elite, by the mid- 19th century the vacation was tugged down a few class notches. Amid a grow- ing religious and medical suspicion that perhaps our Puritan indus- triousness was turning against us, the vacation gained a prescriptive urgency. The beach wasn’t a luxury – it was a necessity. Tatjana Soli’s latest book, “The Last Good Paradise,” unfurls against this psycho- social landscape. With elegant prose that can swell into poetic intervals or sharp commen- tary, Soli presents a book that courses with flawed, colorful characters, lavish food descrip- tions (courtesy of a chef protag- onist) and political intrigue. But beneath its lovely veneer is a book that confronts the Ameri- can urge to escape on the balmy, outermost beaches of Polynesia. The novel centers on Ann, an unhappy, yet successful attorney. In the first pages, she watches a fire consume a Los Angeles home; the proofed glass of her office blocks out the sirens and 90-degree heat, effectively enveloping her in a reclusive, airless bubble. Ann is suspended in a state of pro- longed emergency — her job and her marriage festering instead of blooming, leaving Ann “marooned and stationary” in her stale life. Ann’s chef husband Richard is on the brink of opening his first restaurant (financed by Ann) and fraying around the edges, especially as he’s saddled with managing his unreliable, charismatic business partner, Javi. And beyond their financial strain, Ann’s own body is muti- nying against a fertility treat- ment, which promises to deliver a baby she’s not sure she wants. But before the siren call of motherhood sounds too shrill, the novel unleashes a set of legal circumstances that finally sends the couple on the luxury vacation they’ve put off for years (and funded by a trail of maxed out credit cards). There’s some delicious irony in the vacation finally taken to escape the law, but their flight mostly highlights the prolonged state of emergency that didn’t elicit escape — the paralyzed life, which contributes to its paraly- sis by spinning its wheels. As it is, travel isn’t the solution so much as the fleeting answer: “In the old days, when California was the end of the line, before the forces of globalization, one could just keep flinging oneself farther and farther west, hopefully landing somewhere that fulfilled one’s dreams of happiness before one ended up back in the place one started.” Once on the balmy outreaches of Polynesia’s furthest tropics, Soli continues to sow the text with germane seeds of satire: free of WiFi and cell reception, the resort basks in its gadget- free minimalism — which is slapped with a steep price tag, of course. Respite from society requires a chunk of change. Beyond incisive commentary, the technology-free mandate severs Richard and Ann from all but memories of their old partners and bosses, which is crucial in transforming the island into a crammed stage full of combative egos. Once isolated, relationships unravel and reknit: somewhat implausibly, Ann’s rock star crush is vacationing there, along with his tan and supple- limbed girlfriend Wende who catches the eye of Richard. Daily Book Review: ‘Last Good Paradise’ The protagonists’ dissolution into the narration allows other residents to move into the foreground with varying results. While Loren, the resort’s mercurial owner with a mysterious past, plays an unlikely yet intriguing love interest for Ann, the rockstar and his girlfriend remain shallow even amid attempts to give them depth. Joli tries to repurpose the stock characters of Rockstar Sex God and Groupie, which feel flimsy against the originally hewed figure of Ann. As Soli notes, lawyer-turned- escapee Ann’s inner material is rich for excavation: “Wild could be in the heart of the most buttoned-down, burned-out lawyer … Wild was refuting the scratchy, dry surface of things and digging into the rich, loamy depths.” What elevates this from a lovely character study is Soli’s heed to the invisible backbone of the resort — the native workers and their complex relationship with imperialism. The final third of the book unbinds the hidden hierarchy that organizes the island through a series of escalating political acts. Unlike Gaugan’s paintings that enamor Ann, this detour is surreal without artificiality; realistic and unromantic. “The Last Good Paradise” binds all these components together as gracefully as possible — a loss of direction that stretches from the final third could have found its ways through a narrower scope, yet Soli’s detours are never tedious. Her quiet prose and lucid mediations ensure that regardless of its direction, “The Last Good Paradise” is always a pleasurable journey. The Last Good Paradise Tatjana Soli St. Martin’s Press Feb. 10, 2015 As it is, travel isn’t the solution so much as the fleeting answer. As Soli notes, Ann’s inner material is rich for excavation. I’m 11 years old and my life is about to be changed forever. Keep shaking it off Taylor, I’m still rooting for you TV REVIEW MUSIC NOTEBOOK DID YOU LOVE J.LO’S DRESS AT THE OSCARS AS MUCH AS WE DID? THEN JOIN DAILY ARTS! e-mail our managing arts editors chloe gilke or adam depollo at chloeliz@umich.edu and adepollo@umich.edu #JOINTHEDAILY