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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