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.”