5 — Friday, March 20, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
‘Last Man on Earth’
has unique premise
By ALEX INTNER
Daily Arts Writer
When “The Last Man on
Earth” was announced last year,
they hadn’t even filmed a pilot.
FOX picked up
the idea straight-
to-series
with
only a loose idea
and Will Forte
(“Saturday Night
Life”)
attached
to
star
and
write the series.
Upon presenting
the
show
to
advertisers
in
May, they had
only a video of
Forte performing solitary
activities — singing the National
Anthem to an empty Dodgers
Stadium and getting food from an
empty grocery store, among other
things. That added up to a series
with an amount of promise, but
even more uncertainty. However,
upon watching the first three
episodes, it’s clear the network’s
risk has been rewarded. Over
the course of these episodes, the
comedy displayed some growing
pains, but it also showed great
potential.
“The Last Man on Earth,”
which counts “21 Jump Street”
directors Phil Lord and Chris
Miller
among
its
executive
producers, follows Phil Miller
(Forte), the titular last man on
Earth after a virus wipes out the
rest of the planet’s population. It
portrays the hijinks that ensue
and how he lives his life as the
only person in the world. At the
end of the pilot, the show expands
its world by introducing Kristen
Schaal (“Bob’s Burgers”) as Carol,
the last woman on Earth, and the
second and third episodes of the
show feature her interactions
with Phil.
The best aspect of “The Last
Man on Earth” is how it generates
the show’s inherently one-man
comedy style. His activities are
absurd, yet always enjoyable
to watch. The first episode is
almost entirely made up of things
like playing racquetball on the
presidential seal, creating a Jenga
tower that would put anyone else’s
to shame and going bowling with
a truck and a queue of fishtanks.
Forte plays each of these scenes so
casually, adding to each moment’s
level of humor. While this idea on
its own is not enough to sustain a
TV series (which is likely why they
introduced Schaal’s character),
it’s the best part of the show.
What’s more problematic is
Schaal’s character. They bring
her into the world to add a foil
for Forte to play off of, however,
they go slightly too far with this.
Her first episode (the show’s
second) is the worst of the three
because Carol isn’t given any
sort of nuance. She is OCD to the
extreme and follows the rules of
the “regular world” with constant
rigidity (like stopping at stop
signs), and perfectly juxtaposes
Phil’s messiness and complete
neglect of the rules. Schaal is
directed to turn up the volume of
her performance to full blast, and
it just comes off as obnoxious. Her
second episode does a lot better
by the character. It gives her more
notes to play with her wedding to
Phil.
“Last Man on Earth” is the type
of show that network executives
should make more often. It has
an incredibly weird premise,
but in the hands of an actor
like Forte and writers like Lord
and Miller, it turned out to be
highly entertaining. Sometimes
in television programming, it’s
worth investing in a risky premise
because of a belief that it could
be strong. Even if the show had
some rough growing pains, as
many sitcoms do, it’s a show that’s
engaging and worth watching.
FOX
“I don’t know if this is gonna fit me.”
B+
The Last
Man on
Earth
Series
Premiere
FOX
Sundays at
9:30 p.m.
GENDER AND MEDIA COLUMN
Why isn’t Will
Smith a cougar?
A
s I write this column
(in my Economics class,
as my professor stares
at me expectantly, assuming
I will know
the answer
to something
I don’t), I’ve
officially
been on
Earth 20
years, three
months,
30 days, 11
hours and 42
minutes. And
it took the
same brainpower to calculate
that that it would have to do my
Econ homework.
Age is just a number, right?
A number broken down into
smaller numbers and more
finite definitions until it has no
meaning. It’s why I get along
better with my mom’s friends
than my own. Age is just a
number — until it’s not.
Watching the trailer for
“Focus,” the sleek and sexy
con movie starring Will Smith
and Margot Robbie, I couldn’t
even get past the first few
moments without rolling my
eyes. I didn’t see the movie
— by all accounts it could be
funny or charming or smart.
But I just couldn’t watch
46-year-old Will Smith take
24-year-old Robbie under his
wing, showing her the ways
of the con world and maybe
falling a little in love. I couldn’t
stop thinking, “Why is that
allowed?”
Why are we, as an intelligent
audience, asked to suspend
our disbelief when it comes
to the age difference between
onscreen love interests? It was
the case in “Sabrina” 60 years
ago – a daddy-issue-laden
Audrey Hepburn was 25 while
her counterpart Humphrey
Bogart was 55 — and it still
happens all the time today.
Whether it’s part of the plot, as
“Focus” attempts with Smith
and Robbie’s veteran/novice
relationship, or not, it seems we
find it OK when men in movies
are AARP cardholders and
their girls barely out of braces.
Cursory research into this
disparity holds true, even
with award-winning movies.
Bradley Cooper was 15 years
older than Jennifer Lawrence
when they fell in bizarre love in
“Silver Linings Playbook.” (And
now Bradley is dating a model
17 years his junior, which begs
the question: is Bradley Cooper
kind of a skeeze?) Woody
Allen’s entire repertoire,
including last year’s “Magic in
the Moonlight,” features the
perfunctory objectification
of younger muses. It’s clear a
director has a problem when
the onscreen relationship
between Emma Stone (25) and
Colin Firth (54) barely bats an
eye among audiences.
Search “age difference in
film” on Wikipedia and the list
of films featuring older men
with younger women is more
than three times the length of
its reverse, older women with
younger men. A vast age gap
between a wrinkled man and
rosy-cheeked girl is often not
even addressed in the plot of
a film — it’s just something
we’ve come to expect in a
patriarchal society. In contrast,
when a woman is older than
a man in a movie, you betcha
the word cougar comes up.
The Wikipedia list alone is
laughable, featuring titles like
“Cougar Club,” “My Teacher’s
Wife,” and “Caught” — these
movies are defined by this
illicit age difference. What
does the other side have? Oscar
winners and box office hits.
When women are older
they are often represented as
unstable cougars, desperately
clinging to their youth or
fading self image — the
infamous Mrs. Robinson in
“The Graduate” comes to mind.
Or they are lonely women just
making a mistake, reclaiming
their sexuality — J.Lo as the
teacher gone rogue in “The Boy
Next Door.” This is a decided
type in film, a persona at the
forefront of a script. Older men
are rarely defined by their age
in reference to their younger
love interest, unless they
literally are predators. We all
know “Lolita” and shudder,
but Keira Knightley was only
19 when she and Jack Sparrow
had their almost-tryst in
“Pirates of the Caribbean,” and
no one ever talks about that in
hushed tones.
I know it may seem as
though I’m grasping for straws,
but there is a real discrepancy.
And it matters. Men are
valued for their strength, their
experience, their confidence;
all traits that grow with age.
Women are valued first and
foremost for their beauty, and
then their spontaneity, that
fresh, fleeting ingénue quality.
We are afraid for women
to get old. That’s it. Men can
age with dignity and humor,
developing distinguished gray
hair and endearing laugh lines.
As men in Hollywood age they
become wiser, mellower, less
inhibited. Women don’t have
that luxury — in real life that’s
why those who have the means
so often turn to plastic surgery,
and in Hollywood that’s why
26-year-olds are hired to fill a
role better suited thematically
for a 40-year-old. Meryl Streep
was once quoted saying, “When
I turned 40, I got 3 different
witch scripts in one year.”
That’s fucked up. (And to note,
that was 10 years after Streep
played a divorced woman
replaced by an 18-year-old in
Woody Allen’s “Manhattan.”)
Female actresses, both young
and old, deserve better. The
Margot Robbies of Hollywood
deserve to be offered roles in
which their sex symbol sta-
tuses aren’t salient character
traits. They shouldn’t always
be the targets of skewed power
dynamics, a plaything for
an older man. Older women
deserve roles that recognize
their age (and not in a negative
way) while still valuing them
as living, breathing, loving
human beings. That’s not to say
that age difference shouldn’t
be used as a storytelling device
— it’s important that movies
do recognize when age plays a
role in character decisions or
behaviors. But this needs to be
conscious, and should reflect
dynamics actually present in
the world.
My mom is four years older
than my dad, and growing up it
was always a thing. There were
usually jokes at parties about
Mary, the cougar. Not that it
really bothered my mom – she
was too busy living her god-
damn life to let something like
that irritate her. But it always
intrigued me. Would there have
been the jokes if my dad were
older? Movies are often an
inflated reflection on real life,
in this issue especially. I want
to live in a world where no one
comments on my parent’s age
difference, unless those same
people also call into question
an even more exaggerated age
difference like that in “Focus.”
Gadbois is writing angry
letters to Woody Allen. To
offer your support, email
natgadb@umich.edu.
NATALIE
GADBOIS
Movie experiences
change with company
By CONRAD FOREMAN
Daily Arts Writer
The experience you have
watching
a
movie
changes
depending on whom you watch
it with.
That may seem extremely
reductive, but I believe it’s true,
and I believe it’s a beautiful
truth. Think about it: Whether
your watch a movie alone,
or with family or friends,
the film doesn’t change, but
your perception of the film
can
change
significantly.
The reason why is fairly self-
explanatory: Different groups
create
different
dynamics,
which affect your perception
of everything around you, and
thus your perception of the
movie.
Let’s look at an example. I
like “Dazed and Confused” as
a movie. It’s fine. But it’s 100
times better when I watch it
with my two friends that can
quote the entire film. Their
enjoyment inspires me to find
pleasure from the same source.
“The Goods: Live Hard, Sell
Hard” offered me a similar
experience.
Enjoyment
is
contagious — as is disapproval.
An example on the opposite
end of the spectrum, for me, is
“22 Jump Street.” Walking out
of the theater after that movie,
I felt very negatively about it, to
the point that I believe perhaps
my reaction (and review) was
too harsh. However, the two
friends I saw it with also hated
it, and my negative perception
was reaffirmed walking out of
the theater, so until I experience
“22 Jump Street” in another
way, it will also have a sour
taste for me. The same goes for
“The Curious Case of Benjamin
Button,” which I saw with a
friend who was determined to
enjoy the film. He was so sure
that I would like the movie that
he promised I could kick him
in the balls if I didn’t. After
that, there was no chance I was
going to enjoy “Ben Button.” To
this day I think of “Benjamin
Button” as a three-hour bore-
fest. I’ll never know exactly
how much that opinion has
to do with the circumstances
under which I first saw the film,
but my money’s on a lot.
As a member of the FilmSquad
at The Michigan Daily, I fancy
myself something of a movie
buff, as do my peers. Each of
us often holds strong opinions
about certain films. For each of
us, the films we love and hate
are different. Sometimes we
disagree strongly about a film,
which speaks to the beautiful
truth to which I referred at the
beginning of the article: There
is no objective standard for art.
To me, it seems objectively
obvious that “Birdman” is a
unique, brilliant film in every
way — acting, cinematography,
soundtrack, narrative, etc. But
even this year’s Best Picture
winner
proves
divisive
for
some. My father summed up
“Birdman”
as
“Hollywood
making fun of stage people
making fun of Hollywood, and
underneath it all is the fact
that (Michael) Keaton played
Batman a couple times.” This
is blasphemy to me, but how
can I say that anyone is wrong
in their judgment about a piece
for which there is no objective
grading scale?
I know that what I’ve said
here isn’t groundbreaking, nor
particularly original. I just
wanted to take the opportunity
to use the platform I have
through the Daily to point out
some important obvious things
about movies. Any movie can be
enjoyed, no matter how shitty;
all you have to do is watch it
in the right environment, with
the right people. Any movie
can be hated, no matter how
masterful.
Maybe
the
real
point
is
that words like “shitty” and
“masterful” aren’t appropriate
to describe a film — only the
experience of watching the film.
TV REVIEW
COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK
Meaning of the bow
By BAILEY KADIAN
For The Daily
It’s time. The lights dim, the
audience roars and it’s your
turn to greet them. You are
no longer the character they
watched, but yourself, walking
toward center stage to face all
who watched you. You have
waited for this moment for
quite some time, and you are
ready to receive the praise that
they are eager to give you.
The
bow
calls
for
an
abandonment of your character.
The rule that demands “you
must never break character”
is dismissed for this moment
and the audience sees you just
as you are. The fourth wall is
gone, and now there is nothing
separating
you
from
your
character. The character you
were has been exchanged for
reality, and your audience now
recognizes you as you. Your
first steps toward center stage
make you realize that this is
your moment to acknowledge
them face-to-face.
Initially, you think they’re
thanking you. Their praise
indicates to you that your
audience is grateful for your
entertainment,
for
your
emotions, for your story. You
gave them all they needed to
engage in an alternate world
with alternate characters and
now you bow to accept their
appreciation. As the cheering
continues and you scan the
crowd, you realize this bow
means more to you than others
would think. Is your bow only
an exchange of your audience’s
gratitude toward you? Or does
this bow initiate a catharsis of
your own?
As
an
actor,
you
work
every moment of every day
to produce something that
an audience will love. You
work to eventually see that
your
audience
approves
of
the story you have told them
and appreciate what has been
communicated. However, your
bow does not work entirely
one way. There is an equal
exchange of thanks from the
audience to the performer, as
well as from the performer
to the audience. Your bow is
a form of submission to your
audience. You see it as your way
of telling them that the effort
you put towards every second
of rehearsal, and will continue
to put towards your art, is for
them. With that commitment,
you submit everything you are
to become a character for them
to grow with and relate to.
With this bow you say:
Thanks to you, audience,
because you are why I do what
I do. Thanks to you, because
your very applause confirms
to me that the hours I spent
rehearsing
lines,
learning
blocking,
running
numbers
and sacrificing time was worth
it. Thanks to you, audience,
because your praise eliminates
my uncertainty towards my art
and my fear and anxiousness
towards defeat. You are the
reason I wake up every day
inspired by a character that I
must become. I realize at this
moment that my art produces
a feeling of utter contentment,
and you are here to witness it.
As I stand here at center stage
to be thanked by you, I truly
owe you the thanks. If I didn’t
see you here in front of me
clapping and smiling, I wouldn’t
be doing what I love. My life
without theater would not be
fulfilling, so a thanks to you all,
because with this bow, I accept
the challenges that will come,
and I will graciously accept the
satisfaction of this moment.
I will graciously
accept the
satisfaction of
this moment.
CRITERION
I’ll watch anything, and I’m watchin’ you.
FILM NOTEBOOK