The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts & Opinion
Wednesday, October 21, 2015 — 5A

‘Mommy’ scares 
with disturbance

Messed-up Austrian 

horror film will 
bend your mind 

By BEN ROSENSTOCK

Daily Arts Writer

Like most modern horror films, 

the new Austrian film “Goodnight 
Mommy” aims 
more to be dis-
turbing 
than 

genuinely scary. 
After some early 
atmospheric 
thrills, the film 
turns to blood, 
gore and body 
horror. 
Still, 

“Goodnight 
Mommy” offers conclusive proof 
that horror built on mind-bending 
twists and sheer fucked-upedness 
can be just as effective as horror 
built on sustained terror.

After an unspecified accident 

that left her badly hurt, a nameless 
mother (Susanne Wuest, “Antar-
es”) undergoes a serious operation, 
leaving her face wrapped in ban-
dages. After finding mysterious 
photographs and observing their 
mother’s strangely cold behavior, 
identical twins Elias and Lukas 
(newcomers 
Elias 
and 
Lukas 

Schwarz) begin to suspect that the 
woman in their house is an entirely 
different person from their moth-
er. Over the course of the film, the 
twins make it their mission to fig-
ure out this new woman’s identity 
and locate their real mom.

The first half of “Goodnight 

Mommy” follows a familiar pat-
tern in horror. It’s a normal day 
until strange things start popping 
up. Gradually the events become 
odder and more sinister until they 
climax in bloodshed and insanity. 
Elias and Lukas’s mother imposes 
strict bedtime rules, completely 
lacking the warmth they remem-
ber, and in one scene featuring a 
game like 20 Questions, she fails 
to guess that the person they’re 
describing is herself. By the time 
half of the film has passed, Elias 

and Lukas are determined to find 
their real mother.

If the first half seems predict-

able, its slow pace is easily made 
tolerable by a few key details. Writ-
er-directors Veronika Franz (“Dog 
Days”) and Severin Fiala (“Kern”) 
are fantastic at creating atmo-
sphere; the film’s secluded setting 
in a house far from town is almost 
always framed in broad daylight, 
which somehow seems even more 
threatening than in darkness. The 
trees shake softly in the wind, the 
pond’s surface gently rippling, and 
Olga Neuwirth’s score is kept to a 
minimum to disquieting effect.

Another big strength of the slow 

build-up is the dynamic between 
Elias and Lukas. As the protago-
nists, the Schwarz twins convey a 
deep bond with few words. What’s 
most refreshing about their fear 
of their mother’s impostor is how 
naturally and understatedly it 
develops. There’s no artificial 
revelatory moment when the char-
acters find one final piece of proof 
that the woman isn’t their mother. 
They begin to accept it slowly and 
without melodrama. When one 
twin lies crying on the bed, the 
other tenderly lays a hand on his 
side. Before long, the twins are 
calmly preparing for battle, sharp-
ening sticks as makeshift weapons 
and sleeping in shifts. Elias and 
Lukas are fascinating in their silent 
drawing of conclusions, unusual in 

a genre filled with brash, ignorant 
protagonists unequipped to dis-
cover the obvious truth.

After 
the 
halfway 
point, 

though, 
“Goodnight 
Mommy” 

dives into insanity, bombarding 
viewers with unsettling images 
and incredulous revelations. The 
shock of some twists will depend 
entirely on viewers’ prior experi-
ence searching for twist endings. 
In retrospect, some are foreshad-
owed to the point of obviousness, 
but thanks to the film’s dedication 
to misdirection, it’s easy to ignore 
the signs pointing there.

Though 
third-act 
realiza-

tions answer some questions, 
and though the film leaves its 
characters’ fates clear, there are 
threads throughout the story 
that remain unexplained and 
ambiguous. Many of these can be 
explained psychologically with-
out any strict logistical sense, 
but some red herrings don’t quite 
fit with the truth in any appar-
ent way. References to the past 
are kept vague, like the nature 
of the mother’s accident. The 
film’s understated quality may 
be both its greatest strength and 
its greatest flaw; though highly 
retentive viewers looking for clo-
sure may crave handy flashbacks 
explaining the entire backstory, 
“Goodnight Mommy” is ulti-
mately a better movie because it 
refuses to spell everything out.

B+

Goodnight 
Mommy

RADiUS

State Theatre

FILM REVIEW

RADIUS

He’s from the rough side of ‘Where the Wild Things Are.’

‘Jane the Virgin’ still 
a crowd-pleasing hit

TV REVIEW

By BEN ROSENSTOCK

Daily Arts Writer

“Jane the Virgin,” one of the 

most exciting new shows of last 
year, has finally returned as hilari-
ous, fun and poi-
gnant as ever. 
After a 22-epi-
sode first sea-
son that ate up 
plot at a frantic 
pace, it was hard 
not to wonder if 
the show would 
come back and 
struggle to find 
a new story to 
tell. Judging by 
this 
premiere, 

though, “Jane” 
is as fast-paced as ever, still main-
taining its big laughs and big emo-
tional beats.

Where we last left off, Jane Vil-

laneuva (Gina Rodriguez, “Filly 
Brown”) had just given birth to a 
son, who was promptly kidnapped 
by an employee of criminal mas-
termind Sin Rostro. “Chapter 23,” 
the second season premiere, fol-
lows Jane and her two love inter-
ests, ex-fiancé Michael (Brett 
Dier, “Ravenswood”) and baby-
daddy Rafael (Justin Baldoni, 
“Everwood”), as they search for 
baby Mateo.

It would be difficult to maintain 

the show’s sense of fun if Jane’s son 
remained missing for long, so it’s a 
bit of a relief to have Mateo back 
in his mother’s arms after roughly 
10 minutes of the premiere. Luck-
ily, that particular story, like every 
other story on “Jane the Virgin,” is 
told efficiently and quickly, and its 
conclusion only means the show 
has more time to explore other 

plots. After Jane’s father, telenove-
la star Rogelio (Jaime Camil, “The 
Poor, Rich Family”), tweets about 
Mateo’s kidnapping, paparazzi 
begin bombarding Jane outside 
her home. Meanwhile, Michael 
reluctantly gives Rafael advice that 
may bring him closer to Jane, and 
Rafael’s ex-wife, Petra (Yael Grob-
glas, “Reign”), plans to inseminate 
herself with Rafael’s one remain-
ing sperm sample. All of these 
subplots are as entertaining and 
funny as ever, and the Latin Love 
Narrator (still fantastically voiced 
by Anthony Mendez, Emmy-nom-
inated for Outstanding Narrator) 
helps keep them straight with his 
helpful and self-aware voiceover.

Still, amid all the soap opera 

drama with drunken Vegas wed-
dings and secret inseminations, 
the most poignant scenes are the 
ones focused on the understated 
drama of Jane’s role as a new moth-
er. Throughout the episode, Jane 
struggles with the seemingly halt-
ed production of her breastmilk, 
and worries that Mateo weighs 
too little. The heart of “Jane the 
Virgin,” more than theatrical mur-
der plots and passionate romance, 
has always been the relation-
ships among the three Villaneuva 
women, and it’s heartwarming to 
once again see Jane’s mother and 
grandmother, Xo (Andrea Nave-
do, “One Life to Live”) and Alba 
(Ivonne Coll, “Glee”), comfort her 
throughout her first week as a 
mother. Rodriguez invests Jane’s 
private domestic conflicts with 
such heart and feeling that when 
her milk does finally come out, it’s 
just as powerful and significant as 
a romantic embrace.

One of the best side effects 

of the show’s swift pace is that 

characters’ secrets don’t remain 
hidden for very long. In a lesser 
show, Xo and Rogelio would keep 
their Vegas wedding secret from 
Jane until the season finale, but 
in one of the few moments of 
downtime late in the episode, 
Xo admits the truth to Jane and 
Alba, who laugh it off and tease 
her. On a smaller scale, Rafa-
el readily admits to Jane that 
Michael was the one who gave 
him fatherly advice, so Jane isn’t 
tempted to see Rafael with rose-
colored glasses.

Speaking of which, “Jane the 

Virgin” may have the best love 
triangle on TV. In a different ver-
sion of this same show, Michael 
might be the whiny, unfunny sec-
ond choice, bland compared to 
Rafael’s charismatic playboy per-
sona. Viewers are given reasons 
to love both Rafael and Michael, 
though. Michael may not have 
the sexual magnetism of Rafael 
(exemplified by Baldoni’s shirt-
less torso as he cradles Mateo 
near the end), but his chemistry 
with Jane is just as passionate, 
emphasized with playful jokes 
that show their genuine connec-
tion. Sure, Michael is the clear 
“nice guy” type, but he’s not the 
boring sap that phrase sometimes 
implies. Besides, some of the fun-
niest scenes depict the adorable 
bromance between Michael and 
Rogelio, one of the best character 
pairings in the show.

“Chapter 23” kicks off the sec-

ond season of “Jane the Virgin” 
by giving viewers what they want: 
countless 
laughs, 
ridiculously 

fast-moving plotlines and a sense 
of joy that characterizes few other 
shows on television. It’s going to 
be a great season.

A-

Jane the 
Virgin

Season 2 
Premiere 
Mondays 
at 9 p.m.

The CW

M

y older sister Theresa got married two 
weeks ago, and my sister Michelle was 
the maid of honor. Theresa, the bride, 

was calm. Michelle was not.

For Michelle, the wedding 

was the culmination of 12 
months 
of 
planning. 
She 

had 
survived 
the 
Vegas 

bachelorette 
party. 
The 

flowers arrived in Milwaukee 
and were arranged just so. 

Two 
days 
before 
the 

wedding, she FaceTimed me. 
“The speech,” she cried. “I 
forgot about the speech.”

I led her through some 

breathing 
exercises 
I 

remembered from a video about giving birth. 
“In through the nose,” I said, ad-libbing. “Out … 
through the nose.”

Public speaking isn’t one of Michelle’s talents. She 

has enough of them. She’s a nurse at Northwestern 
Hospital in Chicago and much brighter than me or 
Theresa.

But Michelle also had a childhood speech 

impediment. It left her with an acute phobia of 
public speaking. She perfected her speech through 
years of speech therapy. That, and intensive 
bullying by me and my sister Theresa.

“Mithelle thells thea thells down by the thea 

thore,” we’d mock when she did her speech 
exercises.

I regret that now, but, you know, kids can be 

cruel, especially shitty kids like me and Theresa. 
You can bully children out of anything. Theresa 
and Michelle bullied me out of my Britney Spears 
phase. Michelle and I bullied Theresa out of calling 
mom “Mommy” when she was 14. It’s a natural part 
of the sibling ecosystem.

The difference was my mom never stepped in 

when Theresa and I got picked on. But if we mocked 
Michelle’s S sounds, my mom would explode. It was 
a guaranteed grounding at the least. “She never 
stands up for us,” we’d grumble on the way to our 
rooms. “It’s not our fault the girl can’t thpeak.”

We didn’t understand the trauma that comes 

with speech problems and why 
my mom was so protective. 
Theresa and I were 12 and 
eight, respectively. To us, it was 
blatant favoritism.

Soon 
Michelle’s 
speech 

problems became the nuclear 
bomb of West family fights. You 
could whip it out once every few 
years, and only if the situation 
was approaching critical mass.

I used it when Michelle 

and Theresa threw me into a bedpost. Only after 
I exhausted all other ammo: “Do you think you’re 
thtrong? How’s your thpeech class going, Mithelle?” 

This was years after Michelle perfected her 

speech, but she still beat the crap out of me. I thought 
my mom would chain me up in the basement until I 
was 30. “Do your wortht, woman!” I yelled, laughing 
manically as she dragged me to my room.

I didn’t use the nuclear insult again until I 

was 19, when I was a sophomore in college. It 
was December and I was visiting my sisters in 
Milwaukee. At the time, they both went to college 
at Marquette University, where my dad had gone. 
It’s sort of the family school. I grew up a Marquette 
basketball fan. It was a bit of a shock when I chose 
to go to Michigan, five hours away from home.

My parents were in town for a basketball 

game, so they took us to get dinner at a restaurant 
downtown. My sisters and my dad talked about 
the season so far — I’d stopped watching. I didn’t 
actually talk much through the meal.

Then we headed to the Old German Beer Hall, 

a Milwaukee stein-and-polka joint. It’s been a 
Marquette student favorite since my dad was in 
school in the ’70s. My sister’s friends showed up 
— my parents knew them pretty well. Again, the 
conversation strayed into things I knew nothing 
about. My family talked about Milwaukee bars, 
sports teams, etc. They referenced nights I’d 
missed, and they’d have to recount them for me, the 
Ann Arborite.

Since I had nothing to say, I had plenty of 

time to drink. I worked through a few boots 
of Hefeweizen. I watched the band play polka 

versions of classic rock songs.

I hinted to Michelle that I wanted to leave, since 

I was staying on her couch. She didn’t want to go, 
but we stumbled to the edge of campus through 
the snow, toward her apartment.

We passed a chili joint called Real Chili and she 

dragged me inside. Fifty students waited in line 
for a bowl. “It’s the best chili in Milwaukee,” she 
said. “Probably in the country. Dad used to come 
here when he was a student and play Risk in this 
booth for hours. Theresa and I get it every Friday.”

“I get this pizza called South U at Michigan. It’s 

probably the best pizza in the world,” I lied. “It got 
like, a bunch of awards. It’s real New York style — 
not anything you’d get in Milwaukee.”

She wasn’t paying attention. She pointed at my 

bowl of chili. “Here: you’ve gotta mix it up. No 
— you’re doing it wrong. All the beans are at the 
bottom. Dad says that’s the best part.”

“You don’t have to be thuch a bitch about it 

Mithelle,” I said. “It’s just thitty thtupid chili.” 

I slept on a bench outside her apartment that 

night. We had a screaming match over chili, of 
all things. You’re not better than this chili! was the 
central theme, and You can’t turn your back on the 
family chili, Tommy!

Michelle almost went to Michigan, too. She 

got in, a fact she never lets me forget. When she 
visited, she said no one looked happy. It was 
too competitive. Even the partying seemed 
competitive. So she chose Milwaukee, and the 
family chili.

Milwaukee is a poor city, barring a few 

lakeshore neighborhoods. Marquette University 
sits between downtown and the less-privileged 
neighborhoods. I shared a bench with two other 
homeless people.

But in an hour Michelle came down and picked 

me up off the bench. I was frozen, drunk and 
angry and grateful and trying not to be tearful 
around my sister. She supported me upstairs.

I told her that, in a lot of ways, she was right 

about Michigan. I wasn’t happy sophomore year. 
I missed feeling smart in high school. I missed 
feeling athletic. I missed having my best friends. I 
missed having fun that wasn’t just fucked up times. 

I missed my family. I didn’t like 
coming home and feeling like a 
stranger.

Two years after that night, 

I listened to Michelle nail the 
maid of honor speech. She told 
the story of Theresa and Dave’s 
engagement. It went like this: 
Dave was about to propose on 
the shore of Lake Michigan. 
Then another family came 
down and started spreading 

the ashes of a loved one. Dave panicked. He knelt 
down and proposed anyways, and my whole 
family (me included) cheered. We felt bad about 
the family spreading ashes, but it was one of the 
happiest moments our family has ever had. How 
could we not cheer?

Once the guests stopped laughing, Michelle tied 

the speech up with a comment about the circle of 
life. It was flawless. The room loved her comedic 
timing, her tear-jerking sincerity. They ate it out 
of her hands.

I hated it. As kids, we decided I would be the 

funny one, Theresa would be the cool one and 
Michelle could have the brains.

But Michelle’s grown out of that role. She can 

be smart and funny now. Maybe not cool, but give 
it a few years.

Around 3 a.m., after everyone was good and 

drunk, Theresa ordered three vats of real chili to 
the hotel. Me, my Dad, Michelle, Theresa and now 
Dave sat in the lobby and ate. We stayed up talking 
until Michelle’s head literally hit the table. She 
was exhausted from 12 months of planning and 
the greatest wedding speech of all time.

Dave has this absurd laugh — it sounds like a 

hyena getting shock therapy. When I first heard 
it, I pulled Theresa aside to ask if she knew her 
boyfriend was a serial killer. Michelle and I 
probably could have bullied it out of him, though. 
But we don’t really do that anymore. Because he’s 
our brother, and we love him. 

— Tom West can be reached 

at tkwest@umich.edu. 

TOM

WEST

Speaking clearly

She perfected her 

speech through years 

of speech therapy. 
That, and intensive 

bullying.

