The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, January 27, 2016 — 5A

Lisicky to read in A2

By MARIA ROBINS-SOMER-

VILLE

Daily Arts Writer

“Find out what you love. Those 

books are your greatest teachers,” 
author Paul Lisicky said, offering 
his advice to aspiring writers in a 
phone interview with The Michi-
gan Daily. Lisicky is the author of 
five books and currently teaches 
in 
the 
MFA 

Creative Writ-
ing Program at 
Rutgers 
Uni-

versity. 
His 

most 
recent 

publication 
is 

The 
Narrow 

Door, 
from 

which he’ll be 
reading on Fri-
day at Literati.

The Narrow Door, accord-

ing to Lisicky, is a memoir that 
explores the process of mourn-
ing in honor of his dear friend 
and fellow writer Denise Guess 
who passed away six years ago. It 
also tracks the decline of his rela-
tionship with his husband, Mark 
Doty. 

“In part it’s an investigation of 

our friendship but it also wants 
to think about what the loss of 
her unkenneled in me,” Lisicky 
said. “It’s about our friendship; 
it’s also about the breakup of my 
long relationship. It’s about Joni 
Mitchell. It’s about storms. It’s 
about Vincent Van Gogh. There 
are a lot of side pieces that I hope 
activate the main story lines.”

Lisicky defined his arrival in 

the writing world as an amalga-
mation of his early identities as a 
musician and an introvert — two 

factors that have allowed him to 
explore the way an inner voice is 
translated into art.

“I think I probably started 

writing because I sensed that I 
was smarter inside than I was 
able to express to other people,” 
Lisicky said. “I was so shy that 
I rarely talked in the classroom, 
never raised my hand, and would 
fumble if someone called on me. I 
think I had a low level fear that I 
might have just seemed a little bit 
dim and it was important for me 
to develop my language at least 
on the page.”

Although he identifies as an 

introvert, the candor and enthu-
siasm with which he spoke sug-
gested otherwise. He expressed a 
passion for his work as a creative 
writing instructor and anticipa-
tion for the travels that will allow 
him to share his works with a 
larger audience.

That being said, he also clari-

fied the inherent introversion of 
the creative process.

“I think every writer has to be 

in large part an introvert because 
so much of what we do is about 
the investigation of the inner life 
and we’re thinking about privacy 
and hiddenness. It just goes with 
the territory I think,” he said.

Lisicky said his experiences as 

a musician have allowed him to 
explore the way his inner voice 
manifests itself in a public way. 
He joked that his singing voice 
is “not terribly distinguished” 
in the way that his expression 
through his prose is.

“There’s not that much subtle-

ty and nuance in my singing voice 
but weirdly I feel like I know how 
to go after shadows and nuances 

and complicated sounds in my 
written voice,” he said. 

Having achieved a level of pres-

tige as writer, it was surprising to 
hear that Lisicky’s early ambition 
was to pursue music; writing was 
something that came serendipi-
tously.

“I was a musician, and I was 

very serious about it through my 
mid-20s,” Lisicky said. “It was 
really hard to turn my energy 
away from that world initially. I 
ended up taking a creative writing 
workshop on a whim and it was 
just out of a sense of play.”

His 
musical 
experience 
is 

inseparable from his writing — 
although Lisicky writes mostly 
prose, his grasp of sound gives his 
work a poetic quality.

“I still think of music in rela-

tion to what I do,” he said. “I think 
about music in relationship to 
how I phrase a sentence, where I 
pause and where I put commas so 
I always start with a voice before 
I start with image. I believe that 
has to do with my origins as a 
musician or a frustrated singer.”

Lisicky identified the work of 

another Joy Williams as writing 
that he’s always admired.

“That work still nourishes me, 

still teaches me, still reveals facets 
of itself every time I come back to 
it,” he said.

He seeks to embody the reflec-

tive, that which amplifies itself in 
a way that generates surprise and 
evolution with each encounter. 
These themes prove increasingly 
relevant in The Narrow Door, 
which presents an exploration 
of loss and the nuances of emo-
tional vulnerability that grow and 
change with age. 

Paul Lisicky

Literati

Friday, Jan. 

29 7 p.m.

Free

TV REVIEW
Clownin’ in ‘Baskets’

By MATT BARNAUSKAS

Daily TV/New Media Editor

TV 
comedy 
has 
grown 

increasingly diverse in an era of 
unmatched choice in television, 
a 
time 
that 

FX President 
John Landgraf 
has 
referred 

to 
as 
“peak 

TV”. 
From 

traditional 
multi-camera 
fare, 
com-

monly 
seen 

on 
networks 

like 
CBS 
in 

the 
form 
of 

shows like “The Big Bang The-
ory” and “Two Broke Girls,” 
to the insanely twisted buddy 
dynamics explored by the likes 
of “Broad City” and “Workahol-
ics,” television comedy is a vast 
landscape with shows that blur 
the lines between the comedic 
and dramatic (“Jane the Virgin” 
and “Shameless”) or completely 
dip into the absurd (“Man Seek-
ing Woman” and “Review”).

“Baskets” is a beneficiary of this 

broad comedic spectrum. With 
its odd subject matter, off-putting 
protagonist and occasionally delib-
erate slow pacing, “Baskets” is a 
show that very well, might not 
have existed in any other time of 
television — presenting an alterna-
tive comedic choice for audiences.

Co-created 
by 
Louis 
C.K. 

(“Louie”), Zach Galifianakis (“The 
Hangover”) and Jonathan Krisel 
(“Portlandia”), “Baskets” follows 
failed clown Chip Baskets (Gali-
fianakis) as he returns to Bakers-
field, California after dropping 
out of a French clown academy, 
due to the fact that he can’t speak 
French. Best viewed with a raised 
eyebrow, Chip isn’t the most 
approachable figure. Portrayed 
with simultaneous deadpan and 
boiling volatility by Galifianakis, 
the character is funny but also 
incredibly pathetic. Failing in his 
artistic ambition, the poor guy 
clings to any hope of achieving his 
dream as he becomes a completely 
out-of-place rodeo clown, mar-
ries an unloving French woman 
(Sabina Sciubba, “Stop Here”) and 
struggles to pull together $40 so 
his new wife can get HBO. It’s a 
sad, pitiable existence, but Gali-
fianakis sells it, defiantly saying, 
“I am a clown. I always will be a 
clown!”

Chip is the definition of a sad 

clown, yet no one (except the 
audience) is laughing at him. If 
you placed him in the famous 
Pagliacci joke, the doctor would 
still recommend Pagliacci. Chip 
would bring up that he is a clown 
as well and the doctor would say 
that he’s never heard of him. That 
is the existence of Chip, trapped 
in unhappy anonymity.

Directed by Krisel, the first 

episode, “Renoir,” effectively cap-
tures Chip’s washed out existence. 

Trapped in Bakersfield, Chip 
is cast against the flat browns 
and tans of the desert area as he 
reaches for any sort of relevancy, 
or even dignity for that matter. As 
insurance agent and possibly only 
friend Martha (Martha Kelly, 
“Ladies Night Out”) drives Chip 
to his motel, the clown mutters, 
“It’s only permanent.” With its 
dead end town, “Baskets” touches 
on the fear of failure and what 
might happen if we don’t accom-
plish what we initially set out for.

Lightening up this somewhat 

depressing reality is the usually 
absurd humor, often provided 
by the residents of Bakersfield. 
Particular standouts are Chip’s 
mom (Louie Anderson, “Life with 
Louie”) who expresses her disap-
pointment with her son, all with a 
smile on her face, and Chip’s twin 
brother Dale (also played by Gali-
fianakis), “dean, student, and jani-
tor” of Baskets Career College.

With so many choices in TV 

today, “Baskets” presents an 
alternative experience for a niche 
audience, with an almost depress-
ing premise that successfully 
doesn’t fall into misery by the 
graces of its mix of deadpan and 
ridiculous sensibilities. In fact, 
underneath the entire struggle is 
a sense of hope at the end of the 
episode. The appearance of a new 
title card signals a new beginning 
for Chip as he begins his journey. 
This clown may just get the last 
laugh yet.

FILM COLUMN

Spike Lee’s 

cinematic activism
A

s I sat in my seat at 
the State Theater this 
weekend, I had the 

unfortunate experience of seeing 
the trailer for Michael Moore’s 
new movie, 
“Where 
to Invade 
Next.” When 
the trailer 
finally ended 
after two-
and-a-half 
minutes of 
self-aggran-
dizement, 
I shook my 
head and softly muttered under 
my breath, “God, I hate Michael 
Moore.”

You can still subscribe to the 

same ideology as Moore while 
flatly loathing him, his films 
or what he stands for. What-
ever purpose or original intent 
Moore has when he concocts his 
so-called documentaries, the 
final cuts never seem to show 
it — whatever points or opinions 
he happens to raise, they play 
second fiddle to his own ego 
inflation.

The most blaring instance of 

his agenda setting that comes to 
my mind gets played out in his 
2002 film “Bowling for Colum-
bine,” where he “explores” guns 
and gun culture in America. He 
asserts that we as a nation are 
gun obsessed, that war monger-
ing is engrained in our public 
consciousness.

“That’s an interesting opinion, 

Mr. Moore. Please provide your 
evidence.”

Moore goes to a bank in 

Michigan where they have a spe-
cial offer: open a specific bank 
account, get a gun. Moore opens 
a bank account, and, minutes 
later, he walks out with a gun. He 
says this demonstrates the lax 
standards by which we hand out 
guns — no waiting period from 
this bank/apparent arms dealer. 
Clearly we live in a messed up 
country.

Except that scene is complete-

ly fabricated. Yes, that bank with 
that deal exists, but it mandato-
rily institutes background checks 
and three day waiting periods, 
per the law. Moore convinced 
the bank to give him the gun 
immediately because of “time 
constraints” with filming, but 
that caveat obviously didn’t make 
it into his film. Michael Moore 
lied, he fixed the rules to meet his 
agenda so that he could walk out 
of this bank with a gun held high 

and declare, “I, Michael Moore, 
am smarter than the system, and 
for that I am wiser, even better, 
than you.”

I don’t appreciate being lied 

to. And I don’t appreciate Moore 
flaunting his self-importance, 
especially because he disguises it 
under a mask of so-called “truth” 
that would otherwise inspire 
social change. And yes it’s pos-
sible to view his films as an impe-
tus for discussion, but because 
it’s a documentary, a genre asso-
ciated (falsely) with neutrality, 
people will likely accept it at face 
value as truth. Spreading false 
information is dangerous, no 
matter how good your cause, and 
empty practices in narcissism are 
a waste of time.

Which is why viewing “Chi-

Raq” last week was so refresh-
ing. This was the first Spike Lee 
film I had seen, not including the 
various snippets of “Inside Man” 
that get replayed on cable, and I 
knew little about him beyond the 
following: his film “Do the Right 
Thing” is considered a mas-
terpiece, he is prone to making 
provocative statements and he is 
boycotting the Academy Awards 
this year.

Here is a film that explores 

the same grim topic as Moore, 
guns in America, but explodes 
with vibrancy, color and emo-
tion. It follows the same premise 
as the play it’s based on, Aris-
tophanes’ Lysistrata, where a 
group of women withhold sex 
from bloodthirsty men until they 
agree to put down their arms. It 
is, above all else, a satire: in Lee’s 
world, the withholding of sex 
enacts global social change and 
ends gang violence, police bru-
tality, war, etc.

Of course, sex strikes are not 

the real, achievable solution the 
film proposes but the mecha-
nism by which Lee delivers his 
message. Instilled in this comic 
narrative are incredibly power-
ful images that are sure to reso-
nate, most notably a wrenching 
two minute scene during which 
a grieving mother desperately 
tries to clean the sidewalk of 
her daughter’s blood, spilled in a 
gang-related shooting the night 
before.

Lee tackles this topic of gun 

violence (gang-related, police-
related, military, etc.) with grace 
and the occasional challenging 
comment. His mission is not to 
preach (though he does, more on 
that momentarily) but to get the 
dialogue rolling — he offers no 

practical solution except to get 
people talking.

The centerpiece of the film is 

the rousing eulogy for the afore-
mentioned daughter, delivered 
by John Cusack’s Father Cor-
ridan. In it, Cusack blasts the 
gangs, the police, the public’s 
indifference and lack of motiva-
tion, racism, all of these core 
societal issues. It’s supposed to 
raise questions, to get us think-
ing. But what struck me the 
most was not the speech itself: 
why does Lee have the only 
substantial white character in a 
film otherwise occupied by black 
characters give the most direct 
condemnation of the American 
way of thinking? Is it because 
Cusack is the most visible of the 
cast? Is it because the real-life 
priest he’s based on is also white 
and Lee was staying factual? Or 
is it because Lee believes white 
people will only listen to a white 
man?

I don’t know the answer to 

this question, nor any question 
the film proposes. But I read a 
wealth of information on Lee and 
the reception of “Chi-Raq,” the 
criticisms it draws, and I thought 
on its reflection of America as a 
whole, which I imagine was Lee’s 
goal.

The beauty of the film stems 

from its absurdity. To quote 
from my favorite graphic novel, 
“Watchmen”: “He saw the cracks 
in society … he saw the true face 
of the twentieth century and 
chose to become a reflection of it, 
a parody of it.” And from the par-
ody of “Chi-Raq”— the hypersex-
ualized women, the hyperviolent 
men, the frequent breaking of 
the fourth wall, the music video 
moments, the outrageous practi-
cality of a sex strike — we find the 
truth of ourselves. The punchline 
should be just that: a punch.

That is effective cinematic 

activism; that grabs and holds the 
attention. Instead of basing his 
film on his own self-importance, 
his self-sacrifice in the name of 
“truth,” Spike Lee offers us a 
fantastical but equally salient 
portrait of America. I imagine 
had “Chi-Raq” received a larger 
distribution, and if more people 
saw it instead of Michael Moore’s 
latest (or any film of his), the 
dialogue “Chi-Raq” wants us to 
have, that the film very literally 
ends with, might actually occur. 

Bircoll is starting fights in movie 

theatres. To provoke or diffuse, 

e-mail jbircoll@umich.edu.

JAMIE 

BIRCOLL

B

Baskets

Series Premiere 

Thursdays 

at 10 p.m.

FX

COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW

Race in ‘Translation’

By VANESSA WONG

Daily Arts Writer

I first watched “Lost in Trans-

lation” in high school. I got 15 
minutes in and stopped because 
it made me feel so disgusted — 
like I was disgusting. At the time, 
I didn’t know why. That was 
before I learned anything about 
Asian American activism, before 
I even realized that Asian Ameri-
cans were discriminated against. 
But after seeing the title on the 
State Theater’s board of features 
while walking home last week 
and remembering that there’s 
a famous movie with actors I 
love and by a director I love that 
I hadn’t gotten through yet, I 
watched it again and I finally 
understood — it’s grossly offen-
sive.

There is a repeating motif of 

Bob (Bill Murray, “St. Vincent”) 
and Charlotte (Scarlett Johans-
son, “Under the Skin”) being the 
only ones awake at night, mind-
lessly clicking through TV chan-
nels until the time difference loses 
its hold on them. It’s framed as a 
moment of cultural alienation, but 
since the content of the shows — 
over-the-top aggression in action 
movies, ditzy looking reality TV 
girls — is typical, the only thing 
engineering the feeling of being 
“lost in translation” is the Japa-
nese voice itself. It’s quiet, but the 
incomprehensible, loud Japanese 
are the cackling cacophony that 
interrupts the silence, jarring 
these poor white people out of 
their element. Universal behavior 
is reinterpreted with a Western-
er’s self-conceit, racialized and 
portrayed as “bizarre” interac-
tions with a foreign culture.

Furthermore, 
it 
otherizes 

Asians, exaggerating negative ste-
reotypes as its source of humor. 
A simpering, high-pitched pros-

titute begs Bob to “Lip my stock-
ings! Preas! Preas!,” and when he 
goes along with it out of amuse-
ment and derision, she rolls 
around on the floor kicking her 
feet up absurdly, “Don’t touch 
me! Hep preas! No! No!” It’s the 
peak of the hypersexualized, 
submissive and morally strange 
Asian woman stereotype. Mur-
ray constantly mocks the Japa-
nese for their accented English 
by repeating them the “right” 
way and questioning his Japanese 
director’s vision as if it’s stupid just 
because of the way he conveys it. 
The Japanese are portrayed as 
flat, hollow characters with no 
thoughts of their own, as if they’re 
just there for the white people to 
laugh at. We don’t laugh because 
we are confused, or because we 
are embarrassed at our own sense 
of 
cultural 
misunderstanding. 

We laugh because all these Asian 
people are just so weird. All these 
stereotypes are true, but are pur-
posely exploited for cheap jokes, 
like an elevator scene where Bob 
towers at least a foot over a horde 
of tiny Asian men while in other 
scenes, there are clearly Asian 
actors his height.

Even the aspects of Japanese 

culture that are portrayed posi-
tively are done through a ste-
reotypical lens. The first time 
Charlotte 
genuinely 
smiles, 

it’s observing monks chanting 
prayers in a Buddhist temple, 
approaching women in kimonos 
arranging flowers while tender, 
serene background music drifts 
quietly in the background. Japa-
nese culture is only used for the 
white protagonist to find herself, 
and even the speaker introducing 
her to Buddhism is another white 
woman, not a Japanese person 
who carries that history.

“I know I’m not racist,” director 

Sofia Coppola insisted in an inter-

view with the Independent, and I 
believe it. People may say that I’m 
being too sensitive, too politically 
correct. After all, 60 years ago, 
Katherine Hepburn was prancing 
around in yellowface for “Dragon 
Seed.” I get that the point of the 
film is to show how alienating it is 
to be alone in a different world, to 
feel like no one understands you. I 
get that all of these characters are 
flawed. They project their own 
insecurities onto their surround-
ings, so we shouldn’t take their 
opinion as fact. The one-dimen-
sionality of the Japanese charac-
ters, portraying the mundane as 
different — I understand the value, 
even the necessity, of these artistic 
decisions.

This is where things get a little 

muddy. Having grown up in the 
West, even I view some of the 
same things the film mentioned 
as something weird, or different 
from what I’m used to. So these 
feelings are perfectly valid, and 
pointing out these differences is 
how Coppola gets us to connect 
with her characters. But empha-
sizing the difference taps into our 
base instincts of xenophobia — 
encouraging the intended Western 
audience to draw on that point of 
twisted personal empathy in order 
to propel the film forward.

I really wish this film could 

have succeeded in another uni-
verse. It might have felt a little less 
exploitative if a white girl from a 
privileged family hadn’t directed 
it. Maybe it would have worked 
well if an Asian had portrayed the 
same feeling of isolation in Amer-
ica. But because there are so few 
films featuring Asians, the rare 
ones that do must work to undo 
centuries of stereotyping. Unfor-
tunately, the thematic premise 
of “Lost in Translation” makes it 
inherently impossible to maintain 
sensitivity.

FILM NOTEBOOK

COURTESY OF FOCUS FEATURES

“Lemme hear you say haaaaaay Ms. Carter.”

