6A — Monday, December 14, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

TV COLUMN

The true meaning of 
Netflix Christmas

I’m a sucker for Christmas. I 

love tacky store windows with 
paintings of reindeer and piles 
of crunchy fake snow. I love the 
way the smell of molasses drifts 
to my bedroom 
all the way from 
the kitchen 
when my mom 
bakes ginger-
bread men. I 
love the cringe-
y Christmas 
music, espe-
cially Michael 
Buble’s aggres-
sively no-homo 
cover of “Santa Baby.” But most 
of all — more than all the holi-
day pop culture and more than 
spending time with my friends 
and family — I love Christmas 
episodes of TV.

Christmas on TV is goddamn 

magical, a sparkly time of year 
when characters say what they 
feel and hug and show each 
other the meaning of friendship. 
There’s a reason why Christmas 
episodes of sitcoms are often 
cited as their finest hours — “Mr. 
Hankey, The Christmas Poo” 
from “South Park,” “The One 
with the Holiday Armadillo” 
from “Friends” and “The Strike” 
from “Seinfeld,” to name just a 
few classics. TV Christmases 
tend to be warm and satisfying, 
but are also saturated with drama 
and intrigue. The holiday coin-
cides with the mid-season break 
that many network series take at 
the end of the calendar year, fol-
lowing the traditional “Novem-
ber sweeps” period where shows 
try to garner key ratings by pro-
viding jam-packed and exciting 
episodes.

No matter your religious affili-

ation (or lack thereof), Christmas 
episodes are prime entertain-
ment. I grew up without any 
religious affiliation. Though I 
have relatives who celebrate both 
Christmas and Hanukkah, the 
holidays were always a time for 
decorations and fun secular din-
ners for our branch of the Gilke 
family tree. Christmas episodes 
are designed to appeal equally to 
those who celebrate the holiday 
and those who do not. Whether 
you celebrate Chrismukkah or 
are a godless heathen like myself, 
there’s a special, heartwarming 
joy in watching that “West Wing” 
Christmas episode.

In preparation for this column, 

I took a break from studying 
for finals to chill with Netflix 
and revisit a few of my favorite 
Christmas episodes from recent 
years. “The O.C.” ’s “Chrismuk-
kah” and “Seinfeld” ’s “The 

Strike” have already achieved 
cult status, but other shows have 
turned out some equally great 
holiday episodes.

I was obsessed with the late, 

great NBC series “Community” 
in high school. (“Obsessed” is 
an understatement; if you could 
crack open my skull at any 
moment, Abed quotes would pour 
out instead of blood.) I could list 
off 20 episodes I know by heart, 
but two of my absolute favorites 
are the show’s Christmas-themed 
installments, “Regional Holiday 
Music” and “Abed’s Uncontrol-
lable Christmas.”

“Abed’s Uncontrollable Christ-

mas” should be the model of a 
perfect Christmas episode. Most 
of the episode’s events take place 
in Abed’s increasingly unhinged 
mind, as he hallucinates the 
study group being claymation 
characters and going on a WIlly 
Wonka-style journey to find the 
true meaning of Christmas. It’s 
simultaneously funny, heartfelt 
and deeply melancholy, as all 
holiday episodes (and holidays) 
tend to be.

The holiday season is an emo-

tionally complex time of year. 
For those of us who have recently 
lost family members or suffered 
a break in our nuclear unit, a 
holiday can serve as a reminder of 
all those bygone “perfect” Christ-
mases or Hanukkahs or Kwan-
zaas. Holidays as a construct are 
full of warmth and happiness, 
so every imperfect one feels like 
there is something missing. The 
ritual is disrupted.

As Abed takes his friends on 

an animated journey through the 
annals of his mind, it is eventu-
ally revealed why he is imagining 
the world in claymation. In the 
past, Abed’s mother came to visit 
him every Christmas season. But 
she sends him a letter saying that 
she won’t be able to make it this 
year — she has moved on, remar-
ried and built a new family. Abed 
doesn’t have a place in it. The 
“uncontrollable Christmas” the 
episode portrays is his attempt to 
reconcile the lost ideal of a per-
fect holiday with the lonely state 
of mind he’s in. He’s stranded 
alone at school for the holidays, 
and even pop culture can’t fill the 
void that his estranged family 
left him.

Toward the end of the epi-

sode, “Community” reveals the 
alternative to traditional fam-
ily holidays. Friends are just as 
important of a familial unit, and 
Abed’s pals rescue his holiday. As 
Abed’s animated self (literally) 
freezes into a catatonic ice block, 
and it’s up to the study group to 

sing a sweet song and melt his 
heart. Abed’s mother may have 
broken their tradition, but his 
friends patched the holiday back 
together.

One of my other favorite 

holiday episodes is “Christmas 
Party,” from season two of 
“The Office.” This installment 
is meaner-spirited than “Com-
munity,” and all the sourness is 
due to Michael Scott, the acer-
bic but lovable boss from Hell. 
In “Christmas Party,” Michael 
organizes an impromptu white 
elephant gift exchange because 
he’s dissatisfied with the hand-
knit oven mitt that Phyllis made 
for his present. Michael preaches 
the merits of expensive presents: 
“It’s, like, this tangible thing you 
can point to and say, ‘Hey Man, I 
love you this many dollars worth.’ 
” In his eyes, a cheap gift is basi-
cally a fuck-you to his entire exis-
tence. For us watching, it’s a very 
public (and hilarious) demonstra-
tion of his poor character.

But since this is “The Office,” 

a show where every biting joke 
is met with equal sweetness, one 
of the episode’s subplots deals 
with Jim’s heartfelt gift to Pam. 
He buys her a teapot stuffed with 
inside jokes — and a card pre-
sumably confessing his crush on 
her — because “Christmas is the 
time to tell people how you feel.” 
The teapot gets passed around 
at the gift exchange, but even-
tually ends up back with Pam, 
because she realizes that Jim put 
it together just for her.

If I’m a sucker for Christmas, 

I’m even more of a sucker for 
romantic gestures, and this is 
right up there with the best 
of them. (Jim-and-Pam is my 
paradigm of perfect love, and 
that is my cross to bear.) On TV, 
Christmas is a time for telling 
people how you feel. This often 
takes the form of a kiss or a 
sweet gesture to close out a mid-
season story arc, but just as fre-
quently, telling people how you 
feel means demonstrating your 
commitment to a friendship and 
picking up someone’s fallen spir-
its, like Abed’s friends do for him 
in the “Community” episode. 
Maybe because I missed a Bible 
lecture, but I don’t really know 
the true meaning of Christmas 
— nor do I really care. According 
to TV, Christmas is made of plot 
sweetness, friends and family 
and a teapot stuffed with inside 
jokes.

Gilke is celebrating 

Chrismukkah. To donate 

a Santa dreidel, e-mail 

chloeliz@umich.edu.

CHLOE 

GILKE

MUSIC COLUMN

To the people who 
stand still at concerts

“

We’re not a serious band,” 
Carrie Brownstein remind-
ed the fans at Royal Oak 

Music Theatre last week. She 
was looking out at a packed 
crowd of hun-
dreds, but most 
of what she 
could see was 
blank, unemo-
tional faces. 
Her band was 
mid-set, just 
absolutely tear-
ing through 
tracks from all 
across their 
career, but all 
these bearded dudes and flannel-
wearing mid-30s couples just 
looked dead inside.

This was at a Sleater-Kinney 

show, and Sleater-Kinney was 
being fucking incredible (as 
usual), so I don’t think unmet 
expectations were the problem. 
Brownstein played guitar like a 
true possessed rock star, convuls-
ing around the stage and wreak-
ing havoc on the music. Corin 
Tucker’s voice remains one of 
the great mysteries of the world, 
howling in this powerful, soulful 
way that nobody will ever be able 
to recreate. And Janet Weiss is an 
underrated stud on the drums, 
skillfully providing the backbeat 
to Brownstein and Tucker’s fire-
and-ice musical interaction. But 
through no fault of the band’s 
own, the crowd just really, really 
sucked, and it brought down the 
whole performance just a bit. 
Brownstein had no external ener-
gy to feed off of, everything going 
on off stage was dull and there 
were none of the beautiful com-
munal moments that make get-
ting together with tons of people 
to listen to music worth it.

I hate to say it, but I kind of 

saw it coming. I went to the 
Sleater-Kinney show by myself, 
because while last week was 
crazy hectic for any student, I’m 
the kind of person who will do 
whatever he can to see his favor-
ite band live. I know that going 
to shows alone can be a risky, 
potentially awkward endeavor, 
but I wasn’t worried. I covered 
Sleater-Kinney in Chicago back 
in the summer, and for that set I 
was also entirely among strang-
ers. But while I was camped out 
for hours at the front of the stage 
at Pitchfork, I was surrounded by 
young die-hard fans with weird 
hairstyles who were just insanely, 
infectiously hype to see the band. 
So whether I knew them or not, 
in Royal Oak I was going to be 
with my people.

Flash forward to actually get-

ting inside the venue, and the 
entire vibe is different. I’m one 
of the youngest people in a room 
filled with all these suburban hip-
ster couples who could barely be 
bothered to smile. I didn’t want to 
judge based on appearances (after 
all, they looked like I’ll probably 
look in 15 years), but once the 
show started, nobody acted any 
different. The crowd was quiet, 
standing around like statues and 
just looking like they were there 
out of obligation. There was no 
dancing, no connection among 
strangers and no sense that peo-
ple were excited or felt like what 
they were seeing was special. 
And this was right in the front 
of the main floor, where most 
people stand outside for hours to 
be. Don’t get me wrong, I still had 
loads of fun watching S-K play 
some of my favorite songs back to 
back to back to back, barely tak-
ing a breath in between, but I def-
initely felt isolated, like there was 
a serious detachment between me 
and all the older people around 
me. There was a guy in a baseball 
cap right in front of me, literally 
as close to the band as you could 
possibly get, and he never moved 
except to half-heartedly clap 
after some of the songs — and 
he was indicative of most of the 
crowd. All these “fans” with the 
best spot in the whole venue just 
looked so bored.

I realize you’re not reading 

music columns from a college 
kid to get told what to do, but 
if you’re going to spend money 
on a band you like and go to a 
concert, why act so uncaring and 
unmoved about it? Just think 
about how unreal it is to go to 
a show, any show — how our 
brains inexplicably recognize 
the noise coming from the stage 
as beautiful, invaluable bril-
liance and make us do weird, 
stupid shit like losing our voices 
by singing along on every cho-
rus and shouting “I love you!” 
at the musicians or completely 
forgetting ourselves while we 
dance. And if you were at the 
Sleater-Kinney show last week, 
think about the unique power of 
Brownstein, Tucker and Weiss 
and why you care about them 
enough to spend a night in their 
presence, and please try to figure 
out why you couldn’t smile or at 
least act engaged.

I know most concerts aren’t 

real conducive for going all-out 
“Saturday Night Fever” and 
clearing a huge space for yourself 
to show off on the dance floor, 
and I admit that I’m at a bit of 
an advantage compared to most. 
I can stand in place and just 

whip my long hair or do some 
sort of semi-coordinated arm 
movements and not feel too self-
conscious about it, but you don’t 
even have to move that much, 
especially if you’re at a lower-key, 
melancholy or acoustic show. I’m 
not saying you have to be sweat-
ing and out-of-breath after the 
show, just ready to crash into bed 
as soon as the last note ends, but 
you’re probably going to a concert 
because an artist’s music moves 
you in some way, and to share 
that with people, especially when 
you’re all packed in at a festival 
or a punk club, can be a really 
rewarding, memorable thing, 
especially when everyone does it 
all together.

And I get, too, that if you’re in 

your 30s or older, you may not be 
completely, religiously obsessed 
with music in the same way 
you were in college or earlier. 
I shudder just a bit at this ever 
happening to me, but I have to 
be honest with myself and say 
that a lot of the adults I saw at 
S-K weren’t all that superficially 
different from me with their pale 
faces and dark-rimmed glasses 
and unkempt hair. But I’m taking 
this Sleater show as a warning — 
even if responsibilities and work 
and the general stress of being a 
grown-up keep me from indulg-
ing myself with music as much as 
I do now, I can’t ever let myself 
treat having fun at a concert as a 
chore, and I can never let myself 
lose touch with the heart-burst-
ing happiness I feel whenever 
I’m at a wild show with unhinged 
music fans doing crazy shit.

So to the one girl who 

screeched “I fucking love this 
song!” while Brownstein was 
just tuning her guitar, to the 
guys scattered throughout who 
were furiously nodding their 
heads and even jumping up 
and down at times, I thank you 
for giving a shit. To the Arctic 
Monkeys fans who turned GA 
at The Fillmore into a whirlpool 
of bodies a couple years ago, to 
the people who threw at least 
five grams of weed onstage 
at a Schoolboy Q show, even 
to the oversexed couple who 
kept bumping into me at that 
Chance the Rapper show — to 
everyone who has helped turn 
the concerts I’ve gone into the 
bizarre explorations of human-
ity they’re meant to be, I wish 
you had been at Sleater-Kinney 
last week.

Theisen is whipping his hair 

back and forth. To talk about 

the new Willow Smith record, 

e-mail ajtheis@umich.edu.

ADAM

THEISEN

Viola Davis (“The Help”), Alfie 

Enoch (the “Harry Potter” series) 
and Matt McGorry (“Orange is the 
New Black”).

Just two years ago, Falahee was 

catering parties in New York. A 
year and a half ago, he led life in 
L.A. as a Lyft driver. Now 26 and 
home for the holidays, Falahee 
gets approached for a photo while 
browsing at Bivouac, and he and 
his family are still slightly in awe 
of the recognition that follows 
him. He has noted before how his 

big Italian family has a tradition 
of hand-rolling gnocchi, and this 
year is no different.

“I come from a really supportive 

family. But my grandma still jokes 
with me like, ‘When are you going 
to get a real job?’ ” he laughed.

With a whole week home, 

Falahee ate his way through his 
favorite local spots, remedying 
his flu with an Arbor Brewing 
Company draft. Despite being 
sick, he played football in the 
rain with old friends and cheered 
on Michigan against Ohio State 
in The Big House. He caught 
up on his reading list, which 
included 
Ta-Nehisi 
Coates’s 

“Between the World and Me,” 
Patti Smith’s “M Train” and Elon 
Musk’s biography. In multiple 
Instagrams, he documented his 
obsession with the Settlers of 
Catan board game, of which he 
raved, “I mean, have you played? 
It’s incredible!”

Well-read and proudly nerdy, 

Falahee is the third child of four 
in a very academic family. His 
younger brother, Michael, whom 
he enjoys playing the guitar with, 
graduated pre-med from the 
University last May. His older 
sister, a lawyer, saved him and his 
“Murder” castmates from relying 
on “Legally Blonde” to learn 
courtroom jargon.

In his senior year of high 

school, 
Falahee 
dual-enrolled 

at Pioneer High School to join 
their Theatre Guild (PTG), which 
School of Music, Theatre & Dance 
students help instruct. When one 
of his student teachers pulled him 

aside and asked if he’d consider 
doing theatre at a collegiate level, 
Falahee decided to seriously 
audition around the country.

While he may not have been 

accepted 
to 
the 
University’s 

School of Music, Theatre and 
Dance, he graduated from New 
York 
University’s 
prestigious 

Tisch drama program in 2011.

“I went from being this guy 

who played sports in high school 
to taking a ballet class in New 
York City,” he said.

However, Falahee reflected 

on the value of pursuing acting 
through higher education.

“I think there was definitely 

a lot I learned in college, I got 
a lot of experience I wouldn’t 
have,” 
Falahee 
said. 
“But 

especially since we invest so 
much in academia now, the 
amount we pay to go to NYU 
… I don’t know.” Nevertheless, 
he justified that it was less the 
university experience and more 
being in “the center of the world,” 
surrounded by theaters in New 
York City, that influenced him 
most as a performer.

In fact, while at NYU, he 

saw Viola Davis and Denzel 
Washington 
co-star 
in 
the 

Broadway 
revival 
of 
August 

Wilson’s play “Fences.” Little 
did he know, he’d one day find 
a maternal figure in Davis, and 
Washington would one day listen 
in on his table read.

Now, it’s no secret (unless just 

an elaborate social media cover-up) 
that the entire “Murder” cast has 
become a close family. Falahee told 

me about a continuous prank on set.

“I know, I get to watch Viola 

Davis act in front of me, but 
when it’s the same two pages 
for 14 hours, it’s exhausting,” he 
said. “So Matt (McGorry) and I 
have this thing where we try to 
make each other laugh during 
the serious court room scenes … 
Alfie (Enoch) and I are holding 
it in, biting our lips to the point 
of self-harm. Aja (Naomi King) 
is over there falling asleep. It’s 
hilarious.”

Then, when asked about his 

“bromance” 
with 
“Murder” 

co-star McGorry, Falahee was 
quick to respond: “Oh yeah, it’s a 
real romance.”

Their playful friendship and 

teasing on social media translates 
to real life as well.

“Matt’s just so funny. We’ll get 

together sometimes and just read 
Shakespeare to exercise different 
muscles,” he said. “He’ll send 
me these emails that are written 
entirely in iambic pentameter.”

Along 
with 
admiring 
his 

co-stars, 
Falahee’s 
acting 

inspirations constantly change 
as he matures as an actor. Most 
recently, he has been fascinated 
with Tom Hardy (“Mad Max: 
Fury Road”).

“I go through these phases 

where I have an obsession with 
one actor,” he explained. “I’ll just 
watch everything they’ve ever 
been in.”

In 
addition 
to 
“Murder,” 

Falahee plays Frank Stringfellow 
in “Mercy Street,” a new PBS 
original series about the American 

Civil War to premiere on Jan. 17 — 
a show Falahee detailed extremely 
passionately. His own fascination 
with the Civil War started when 
his father took him and his two 
brothers to visit Gettysburg when 
they were younger.

“I 
never 
thought 
I’d 
be 

spending 
half 
my 
year 
in 

Richmond (Virginia)” he said. 
“But (the show is) so relevant 
to 
everything 
that’s 
been 

happening in the world right now 
… race relations between African 
Americans and whites.”

In 
thinking 
about 
future 

projects, Falahee noted how he 
would love to eventually return to 
musical theater, which he started 
with in the PTG. He recently 
saw “Hamilton” on Broadway 
and “Elf the Musical” while back 
home, but he laments his crazy 
filming schedule for having little 
time to see more shows. A lover 
of animation and the “Toy Story” 
series, Falahee’s other dream role 
would be a cartoon character.

Though he has become very 

well-adjusted in the Hollywood 
spotlight, Falahee has one piece 
of advice for up-and-coming 
actors — a note taken from Matt 
Damon: “Don’t do it.”

“I know it sounds funny, but 

I’m being serious,” he said. “I 
realize how privileged I am to be 
where I am, but you have to be a 
little crazy and insane to pursue 
it.”

To be successful, to be on a 

show titled “How to Get Away 
with Murder,” I guess you have to 
be at least a little mad.

FALAHEE
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