I

f I ask you to tell me about 
Adam McKay’s 2010 film 
“The Other Guys,” you’ll 

probably tell me it’s a buddy-
cop 
film 

starring 
Will 
Ferrell 
and Mark 
Wahlberg. 
You might 
recount 
the cameos 
from 
Samuel L. 
Jackson 
and 
The 

Rock as hypermasculine cops 
who absent mindedly jump 
off a building to their deaths 
in a less than heroic attempt 
to catch a perp. Perhaps you’ll 
remember 
Michael 
Keaton’s 

pretty hilarious turn as a police 
chief by day, Bed, Bad & Beyond 
floor manager by night. But you 
probably don’t remember much 
about the villain. It’s not the 
English mercenaries with guns 
and bad attitudes — they’re the 
antagonists. Steve Coogan plays 
the villain: a banker. It’s his 
bumbling attempt at covering 
investment losses that draws 
the antagonists in.

So 
it’s 
really 
not 
too 

surprising that the guy who 
brought us such comedy gold as 
“Anchorman” and “Talladega 
Nights” also brought us the 
most biting and, in my opinion, 
one of the more important films 
to come out in the last few years 
with “The Big Short.” It’s a 
movie that walks a very fine 
line 
between 
entertainment 

and education and succeeds on 
both fronts. The goal, I think, 
is to laugh for two hours, and, 
in the last five minutes, to get 
angry, fuming even.

But with whom are we 

supposed to be angry? The 
Banks, of course! Those crooks 
on Wall Street!

No, it’s not that simple.
Let’s examine the other big 

bank movie that most people 
(myself included) thought “The 
Big Short” would ultimately 
be: “The Wolf of Wall Street.” 
These are actually two very 
different movies; Where “The 
Big Short” focuses on hedge 
fund 
managers, 
“The 
Wolf 

of Wall Street” follows the 
investment bankers themselves. 
For three hours, we are seduced 
by this Wall Street life of excess 
and luxury and opulence. Even 
if you despise the movie, you 
can’t help but marvel a little 
bit at how much fun all these 
people had. All the drugs, the 
sex — even Jonah Hill looking 
his absolute worst can get some 
— and nothing ever goes wrong. 
Ever.

The point, of course, in 

flashing all this excess is to 
show just how irresponsible 
and ego-driven these people 
are, right? Wrong. The key is in 
the very last shot. Go watch it — 
I’ll wait.

That last shot is 24 seconds 

long, 
and 
it 
captures 
an 

audience. But it’s not just any 
audience — it’s you, you who 
desires wealth and power and 
influence just as much as the 
next guy, you who wants success 
with the minimal amount of 
effort. Look at these faces — 
they’re 
enthralled, 
they’re 

eating up Jordan Belfort’s coke-
dusted, slimy words. This man 
robbed them, he robbed you, but 
you’re fascinated, mesmerized 
and you yearn for a piece of his 
success.

“The Wolf of Wall Street” 

exists to remind you that guys 
like Jordan Belfort continue to 
thrive and that it’s up to you 
to be seduced by them or rise 
against them. But I think the 
movie itself seduced a lot of 
people, and its message got lost 
in a Quaalude-induced haze.

Which is why it’s appropriate 

“The Big Short” was released 
only two years after “Wolf.” It’s 
a second attempt at a similar 
message, only this time it’s far 
more blunt about it.

Rather than have a character 

break the fourth wall and 
directly tell the audience how 
much of a scumbag he/she 
is, as Leonardo DiCaprio did 
as Belfort in “Wolf,” McKay 
very smartly has celebrities 
playing themselves address the 
audience. “You didn’t listen the 
first time, “ McKay might have 
said. “So here’s Margot Robbie 
in a bathtub to explain it to 
you.” Well it got my attention, 
and the attention of every other 
individual in a packed theater 
on a Saturday night, regardless 
of gender or age.

McKay 
does 
the 
heavy 

lifting for us, witling down a 
very complicated issue (and 
certainly 
more 
complicated 

than the film suggests) into 
the bare bones so that we the 
plebeians can understand just 
how badly we got screwed over. 
So by the end of the movie, we 
are supposed to have laughed 
at the absurdity of it all, and 
then we’re supposed to get 
angry. “How could they do this? 
How inhumane!” we mumble 
to ourselves or exclaim to our 
friends and family as we exit 
the theater.

But that’s still not the whole 

story.

Because 
you’re 
forgetting 

that 
we’ve 
been 
spoon-fed 

information to make sure that 
we get it this time. And you’re 
also forgetting that we have 
seen clips of us plebeians living 
our lives, being completely 
ignorant of our own stupidity. 
Take, for example, the father 
of two who doesn’t check 
to make sure his landlord is 
making regular payments to 
the bank, or the stripper who 
takes out mortgages with zero 
money down on five homes and 
an apartment. The banks may 
have screwed them, but they let 
themselves get screwed.

I saw “The Big Short” with 

my family over winter break, 
and as we left the theater, I 
heard exclamations of anger. 
Many in the audience didn’t 
even get out of their seats, as 
though petrified by their rage. 
And as I sat with my family 
at dinner that night, as we 
discussed the movie, I said to 
them, “The biggest joke of that 
movie is, two days from now, 
none of these people will care 
or remember their anger or why 
they were angry in the first 
place.”

And I’m fairly certain I’m 

right, because people should 
be outraged, and they should 
be even more outraged that not 
only has nothing changed in the 
eight years since the collapse, 
but that the banks are bigger.

And 
we 
simply 
cannot 

forget that anger and betrayal, 
because 
there’s 
a 
primary 

election 
fast 
approaching 

and there’s a particular, very 
popular candidate who is very 
pro-Big Bank and blames the 
2008 
collapse 
on 
“shadow 

banks,” like AIG, as opposed 
to the actual banks that caused 
the actual problems (hint: four 
of her career top five donors 
are Citigroup, Goldman Sachs, 
JPMorgan Chase and Morgan 
Stanley).

I never expected the public 

to have a “Network”-style “I’m 
mad as hell, and I’m not going to 
take it anymore!” moment after 
seeing “The Big Short,” but I 
did expect a little more than 
awards speculation. Where’s 
the outrage? I can’t even find 
a wayward Tumblr warrior 
ranting about it. 

My 
point 
is 
this: 
“The 

Big 
Short” 
is 
more 
than 

entertainment — it’s a history 
lesson that doubles as a slap in 
the face to remind us just how 
badly we as a nation, not just 
Wall Street, screwed up. There 
are more educational, better 
researched and more academic 
media that better explain the 
heart of the 2008 collapse (the 
documentary “Inside Job” is 
a great place to start — Matt 
Damon narrates, if that helps. 
As is the book “The Big Short.”), 
but “The Big Short” is an 
accessible entry point that gets 
the job done.

To deny that we have a part 

to play, to feign ignorance, is 
painfully foolish. Go see “The 
Big Short.” Laugh, have a good 
time. And then let the pain sink 
in. And then get angry. Because 
if you don’t soon, when the next 
recession hits in the next 10, or 
15, or 20 years, if not sooner, 
it’ll be too late. And I really 
don’t think we need another 
film about the collapse of the 
American economy.

Bircoll is probably watching 

the History Channel. To give him 

a suggestion that isn’t “Ancient 

Aliens,” email jbircoll@umich.edu. 

FILM COLUMN

A history lesson from 

‘The Big Short’

JAMIE 

BIRCOLL

‘American Idol’ gives 
fans a final farewell

FOX

It’s Jenny from the block!!!

By HAILEY MIDDLEBROOK

Daily Arts Writer

I was late to the “American 

Idol” train. I didn’t see Kelly 
Clarkson win the singing com-
petition during 
its first season 
on FOX, nor did 
I watch Car-
rie Underwood 
rise in season 
four while still 
using 
a 
hair 

crimper.

I tuned in 

with the rest 
of America in 
2008. It was 
the seventh season of “Idol,” 
with the holy trinity of judges 
still present (Simon Cowell, 
Randy Jackson and Paula Abdul; 
a.k.a. bad cop, lukewarm cop and 
overly good cop). I was trans-
fixed. My eighth grade friend 
group watched religiously each 
week, our fingers poised over 
cordless phones to six-way call 
each other when something 
huge 
happened 
(OMG, 
he’s 

singing an acoustic version of 
Michael Jackson!!!) and to dial 
in votes for our favorites at the 
end of the show, punching their 
digits with surgical precision.

It was all very dramatic. 

Debates over which David was 
better — David Cook or David 
Archuleta, the two finalists in 
season seven — got heated at 
the lunch table, on the “Today 
Show” and in every tabloid 
magazine. At the season finale, 
“Idol” received over 97 million 
votes from viewers, the highest 
recorded number in the show’s 
history. Cook won over Archul-
eta by a margin of just 12 million 
votes. We cheered, we cried.

And then? “American Idol” 

fell hard.

The trinity broke up: Paula 

was first to go, leaving the judg-
ing panel after season eight. 
Simon, the group’s loved and 
hated leader (let’s be honest, 
his merciless commentary was 

really why we all watched the 
show), left in 2010. Randy, argu-
ably the most useless judge (his 
go-to advice: “Dawg, you’ve got 
to sell it”) held on until season 
13, long after the show ratings 
had plummeted. New judges 
filled in — Nicki Minaj, Mariah 
Carey, Steven Tyler, Kara Dio-
Gardi, even Ellen Degeneres 
took a turn — but like a Defense 
Against the Dark Arts professor 
at Hogwarts, no one stayed for 
long.

Despite host Ryan Seacrest’s 

apparent 
immortality, 
the 

show died. In May 2015, FOX 
announced that “American Idol” 
would run for a final season 15, 
dubbed the “Farewell Season.” 
Jennifer Lopez, Harry Connick, 
Jr. and Keith Urban would make 
up the season’s judging panel, 
with past “Idol” winners helping 
weed out the good and the bad at 
auditions.

Following tradition, the Janu-

ary premiere was spread out 
over two nights, but the audi-
tion process this year seems to 
be in overdrive: “Idol” show-
cased not one, but four cit-
ies, including Atlanta, Denver, 
San Francisco and Little Rock. 
Where Atlanta auditions alone 
used to fill two episodes, the 
cities are now distilled into 
45-minute segments of Golden 
Ticket 
winners 
(contestants 

who are approved to advance 
to Hollywood). The auditions 
were all the same: solid perfor-
mances, but a startling lack of 
funny/absurd/terrible tryouts. 
No hilarious “Pants On the 
Ground” guy (Larry Platt, sea-
son nine) or even an irritating 
“Bikini Girl” (Katrina Darrell, 
who auditioned in her bikini 
in season eight). Maybe “Idol” 
is trying to get artistic respect 
in its last days by cutting epic 
fails?

Here’s who they found: good 

singers with gripping backsto-
ries. Lee Jean, a 15-year-old 
whose brother died in 2012, 
stole the show in Atlanta with 

Ed Sheeran’s “I See Fire,” 
prompting J-Lo to squeal, “I 
just want to squeeze you!” Jor-
dan and Alex Sasser, an overly 
cheerful married couple, audi-
tioned in Denver together with 
a baby in tow, though only 
Jordan walked away with a 
ticket (leaving a very uncheer-
ful Alex). In Little Rock, Dal-
ton Rapattoni, wild-eyed and 
dressed like he was plucked 
from a Green Day music video, 
wowed with an indie-rock ver-
sion of “The Phantom of the 
Opera.”

But the biggest surprise came 

in San Francisco, when some 
guy named Kanye West hit the 
stage, his girlfriend Kim Kar-
dashian waiting expectantly 
outside. No, seriously. Kanye 
delivered an a capella version 
of “Gold Digger” and (shocker) 
got a Golden Ticket from the 
judges, making him probably 
the only person to announce his 
plans to run for presidency and 
audition for “Idol” in the same 
year.

Has 
“American 
Idol” 

changed? Yes and no. Look-
ing past the sob stories and 
J-Lo’s boy crush favoritism, 
there’s still some undeniable 
singing talent among contes-
tants. The show hasn’t failed 
because people can’t sing any-
more — “Idol” is just not catchy 
enough. There’s no meanness or 
sexual tension (looking at you, 
Paula and Simon) on the judg-
ing panel; no more atrocious 
auditions that become viral hits 
overnight. Cameras don’t fol-
low angry rejected contestants 
down the hall. Ryan Seacrest 
doesn’t even flirt anymore.

The bottom line is, “Ameri-

can Idol” is boring. It isn’t an 
epic fail in quality, but the 
show’s utter blandness and pre-
dictability make it impossible 
to watch. Still, I’ll give my old 
favorite the benefit of the doubt 
in its early stages — maybe one 
more star will come from it yet. 
 
 

B-

American 
Idol

Season Fifteen

Wednesdays 

at 8:00 p.m.

FOX

TV REVIEW

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, January 13, 2016 — 5A

