‘Galavant’ wraps 
up with homages

Amid cancellation 
rumors, Season 2 
finale a success.

By MEGAN MITCHELL

For the Daily

Through all of its madness 

and 
cringe-worthy 
scenes, 

ABC’s “Galavant” might just be 
the only show 
on 
television 

that’s 
not 

bending 
over 

backwards 
for 

the 
audience’s 

approval. 
It’s 

the 
“friends 

with 
benefits” 

show that has 
absolutely 
zero strings attached because 
they might not make it another 
season. And trust me when I say 
that they’re well aware of this — 
it’s basically a “do whatever the 
hell you want” card, and they 
definitely swipe it in the season 
two finale. After all, this might 
be the end. Capital T-E “The 
End;” And if this is really it for the 
musical, then they certainly went 
out with one hell of a show.

The first part of the finale 

“Battle of the Three Armies” plays 
off of the “Hobbit” franchise’s 
“Battle of the Five Armies” in both 
name and style. If J.R.R. Tolkien 
had 
somehow 
written 
“The 

Hobbit” as a Broadway musical 
directed by Mel Gibson, then 
this 20-minute episode would 
hit the target dead-center. First, 
in arguably the catchiest episode 
recap in history and surprising 
throwback to “A Knight’s Tale”, 
the Jester (Ben Presley, “What 
We Did on Our Holiday”) gives 
us the lowdown on what’s been 
going on this season, which earns 

him a round of applause from the 
armies about to face each other to 
the death. Meanwhile, Princess 
Isabella Maria Lucia Elizabetta of 
Valencia (Karen David, “Castle”) 
faces her own challenges when the 
Valencian army suggests suicide 
as an alternative to battle, which 
leads 
to 
a 
“Braveheart”-style 

speech and a song.

“It’s a Good Day to Die” is 

frustratingly catchy. It exposes 
the Hortensia confidence and the 
ultimate fear of the Valencians 
when the battle begins; it even 
reprises 
a 
duet 
between 
a 

young couple whose house is 
unfortunately located right in the 
center of the battlefield. But despite 
these humorous inserts, emotions 
really rule most of this episode. 
Especially the hesitation shown 
by Queen Madalena (Mallory 
Jansen, “Young & Hungry”) when 
the magician Wormwood (Robert 
Lindsay, “Atlantis”) requests her 
use of dark magic to win the battle. 
“Actually, I’ve been having second 
thoughts about the dark evil way,” 
she spills. Even though it’s whiny 
and grabs a quick laugh, it’s totally 
believable — I mean, it took a 
while for even Anakin Skywalker 
to turn into Darth Vader. It takes 
a lot of thought, and apparently a 
Disney-esque musical number and 
synchronized choreography for 
the Queen to give in.

The first part of the season 

finale ends with a reunion of 
friends and the reprise of “It’s a 
Good Day to Die” that gives way 
to the clever “Oh please, this isn’t 
‘Game of Thrones!’ ” line that will 
most definitely be recycled by 
fans. Just as the Jester ponders 
leaving the audience on another 
huge cliffhanger similar to that of 
season one, the screen promptly 
switches to black.

The final part of the season 

finale begins with duet with 

Richard 
(Timothy 
Omundson, 

“Supernatural”) and his younger 
character’s 
counterpart 
(Alfie 

Simmons, “The Woman in Black 
2”) 
that’s 
cringeworthy, 
but 

stylistically pleasing. It highlights 
an important question we all 
might be pondering. What would 
our younger selves think about 
who we are today? So even though 
it’s incredibly cheesy and off-
key, there’s a deeper, emotional 
meaning much like that we’ve 
seen in the more recent episodes of 
“Galavant”. The writers are taking 
all the right stylistic chances with 
this episode.

We’re thrown back into battle 

and as Richard fights Wormwood, 
we finally see the true power 
that’s been previously dormant in 
Richard after the supposed death 
of the lizard/dragon Tad Cooper. 
The change between fighting 
freestyle and with a vengeance 
that Omundson shows is striking 
and quite terrifying, so I almost 
wish we could have witnessed it 
sooner. Now completely worthy 
of the “One True King” title that 
we’ve all been waiting for, Richard 
pursues lost love Roberta (Clare 
Foster, “Ripper Street”) in an 
attempt to save her from a life of 
becoming an old cat lady, earning 
him a ticket from the police on the 
way that hits us all in that secret 
“oh, c’mon!” spot, I’m sure.

Overall, the (possibly final) 

season finale of “Galavant” took 
chances that paid off in the long 
run, while still playing off the 
“cheese” factor it’s well known 
for. One last joke pokes fun at the 
unlikeliness of a renewal for the 
show and the possibility of the 
cast being sent to “crappy cable 
TV” before it finally all comes 
to an end. Almost. Because Tad 
Cooper finally turns into a big 
fucking dragon at the end, and I’m 
personally proud of that.

A-

Galavant

Season 2 
Finale

ABC

A case against the 
Canada Goose coat

STYLE NOTEBOOK

By HANNAH SPARKS

For the Daily

It’s that time again, the time 

when all of the Canadian Geese 
start to migrate to Ann Arbor, 
Mich. When the temperatures 
drop, we see an influx of these 
geese by the hundreds. If you 
haven’t caught onto my attempt 
at sarcasm yet, I’m talking about 
Canada Goose jackets. Having just 
transferred to this fine University, 
seeing every other person wear 
a Canada Goose is the very first 
thing I noticed.

For the record, I do own a Canada 

Goose, but in my defense it’s just 
a vest. How did Canada Goose 
manage to become so popular in 
these past five years? Apart from 
them being everywhere, some of 
the jackets are quite unique and 
come in fabulous colors: greens, 
blues, greys and red. Having said 
that, the majority of what I see is 
the same long, black fur hooded 
Canada Goose parka.

Prices for these beloved jackets 

start at $495 and can get as high 
as $1,275. Can we just stop and put 
that into perspective for a second? 
That money could go toward so 

many other things — paying rent, 
paying for insurance, a million 
Starbucks coffees and not to 
mention you get even get a plane 
ticket to Europe for those high 
prices. Also let’s not forget the 
last option — we could always just 
choose to put our money in the 
bank and save it, but that’s, like, a 
crazy concept.

Canada Goose jackets are quite 

literally made for and worn by 
people who are out in the Arctic. I 
know Michigan can feel like living 
in an icebox at times, but there are 
other jackets out there that can 
make you feel just as warm as that 
Canada Goose. Admittedly, when 
I first got my hands on my Canada 
Goose vest I was very eager to 
“show it off.” Being someone who 
values material things (sorry not 
sorry), I felt very proud to finally 
have my very own Canada Goose 
product. Yet, having owned it 
for two years now, I realize it’s 
nothing more than a warm vest 
with a cool patch on the front. 
There’s really nothing else to it. If 
anything, I should be feeling bad 
for all the geese that had to die for 
this product.

The 
“Kensington” 
parka, 

priced at $775, is definitely what 
more than half of the girls at 
the University are wearing. For 
the guys, the “Carson” parka 
seems to be the popular choice. 
These jackets are so expensive 
that they’re what I would call 
an investment piece. I struggle 
to believe that this many people 
like the same exact style, in the 
same exact color (black). Let’s be 
real. The jackets aren’t actually 
flattering, they’re just formless 
parkas. The jacket is hot right 
now. For a lot of people it’s just a 
fashion statement that will grow 
old in the next couple of years. 
I applaud everyone who has 
ventured outside of these two 
types and has decided to go with 
something different.

People tend to spend money 

on things they don’t necessarily 
care for, with money they don’t 
necessarily have, just so they 
can conform to the majority. 
To me, this is sad. Please only 
buy a Canada Goose if you truly 
want one. Although I do like my 
Canada Goose vest, and have to 
admit the jackets are good quality, 
I cannot deny the fact that they’re 
incredibly overrated.

ABC

You know they’re on their way to Red Lobster.

TV REVIEW

A

bout four weeks ago, 
I decided to grow 
a beard. I made my 

decision out of necessity: I 
was skiing out West where, on 
the 
first 

day of a 
six 
day 

excur-
sion, 
the 

wind 
and 
cold 

ripped 
apart 
the 
skin 

on 
my 

face 
into 

peeling, 
inflamed flakes of shedding 
epidermis. With my face burn-
ing red, tender to the touch, I 
needed some extra protection 
if I was to return to Ann Arbor 
without looking like Captain 
America’s nemesis, the Red 
Skull. After those six days, I 
decided to challenge myself 
and see how well (or poorly) 
I could get my barely visible 
bleach blonde scruff to grow. 
After a month, the results are 
satisfactory, better than I had 
predicted.

During that month, I also 

watched 10 Western films, 
old and new. Almost every 
single male character in these 
films, with the exception of 
Gary Cooper in “High Noon,” 
sports some mighty form of 
bristly, manly facial hair. Kurt 
Russell’s potent mustache in 
“Tombstone,” 
which 
grew 

even more formidable in “The 
Hateful Eight,” the rugged 
stubble 
of 
Clint 
Eastwood 

and 
Franco 
Nero 
in 
the 

“Dollars” trilogy and “Django,” 
respectively, 
Jeff 
Bridges’s 

scruffy, one-eyed sheriff in 
“True Grit” and even Leo’s 
dirty, 
disheveled, 
somewhat 

patchy mountain man look 
in “The Revenant” (which, I 
would argue, is most certainly 
a 
Western), 
all 
of 
these 

protagonists don better facial 
hair than I ever could. I find 
my own mildly bristled visage 
inadequate by comparison.

But of course, they’re actors; 

they have makeup departments 
to fix what they can’t grow, 
to make their beards and 
mustaches perfect. They are, in 
fact, perfect specimens of facial 
hair. And given their perfection 
and their pervasiveness and 
visibility, one realizes that 
facial hair has become integral 
to the Western hero. Because 
when 
I 
think 
about 
Kurt 

Russell’s Wyatt Earp without 
a mustache, he looks less 
grizzled, less haunted by his 
past as a soldiering peacekeeper 
(and it wouldn’t be historically 
accurate, but that’s beside the 
point). A clean-shaven John 
Wayne 
in 
“The 
Searchers” 

seems 
less 
desperate, 
less 

martial. And I have a hard 
enough time believing Leo 

could 
ever 
survive 
in 
the 

wilderness like Hugh Glass — 
the absence of his beard would 
make “The Revenant” beyond 
incredulous. I ask myself why 
this is.

Naturally, we can reason a 

couple explanations as to the 
characters’ beards: It’s the Wild 
West, so of course many men 
will be unkempt, since they 
have larger concerns at hand. 
And the costume and makeup 
departments likely want to 
remain historically accurate in 
the case of biopics, and many 
classic lawmen and outlaws 
grew some sort of facial hair.

But it’s very easy to write off 

these decisions to historical 
accuracy. I imagine most people 
don’t know what Hugh Glass 
and Wyatt Earp actually looked 
like, and no one would complain 
if they lacked facial hair. After 
all, film has influenced much 
of how we think about and 
perceive the West, for better or 
worse, as much as if not more 
than history itself. We have 
mythologized the West into, 
well, a Hollywood version of 
itself through years of mythic 
constructions in the 1930s and 
’40s, some deconstructions in 
the ’50s and some hyperviolent 
hyperboles in the ’60s and 
’70s (and most recently with 
“Django Unchained”). All of 
these films attack or build or 
borrow from the myth of the 
American West in a myriad 
of ways, but they are all tied 
to their bearded heroes and 
villains.

Most recently, I watched 

the 2007 remake of “3:10 to 
Yuma,” and the situation is no 
different. Christian Bale’s Dan 
Evans is an ex-Union soldier, 
who lost his leg during the 
war and a struggling farmer. 
He is tasked with escorting 
renowned outlaw Ben Wade 
(Russell Crowe) to the town of 
Contention to catch the train 
to Yuma prison. Both Bale and 
Crowe don the same short-
boxed, low-trimmed beard — 
these men are two sides of the 
same coin, a complicated mix 
of good and evil, success and 
failure, muddied by differing 
perceptions 
of 
justice. 
For 

Wade, justice is monetary, a 
give and take depending on 
actions dealt and received. 
Evans is more concrete: justice 
is honor and code, a duty to 
uphold “though the heavens 
fall,” as the saying goes. Over 
the course of the film, the two 

ideologies mesh and mingle, 
and morality and justice shift 
depending on the perspective.

That’s not to say that the 

facial hair itself dictates this 
idea, but that it links these 
two forceful characters and 
contrasts them with the others: 
the 
snooty, 
rich 
railroad 

man’s slicked moustache, the 
seasoned 
officer’s 
thicker 

mane, the out-of-his-element 
doctor’s modest moustache and 
the beardless, angry stowaway 
son of Evans. All of these other 
characters are wildly different 
from each other and serve 
mainly to highlight this central 
conflict between Evans and 
Wade, two titans of morality. It 
is here we find the heart of the 
Western.

Every tale set in the American 

West is tragic, because, in every 
case, no matter what happens, 
the 
story, 
the 
characters, 

the laws and the values will 
inevitably be left behind. But 
even in the nameless, endless 
stretches of sand and mountain 
ranges that time and progress 
will soon forget, the stakes are 
never higher. In the myth of 
the American West, a fight in 
the small town of Contention 
between two men with nothing 
in common but their beards 
can create an atmosphere rich 
with tension, so dangerous 
and fateful it might as well be 
a fight between God and the 
Devil. It’s an atmosphere that 
only the Western has been able 
to achieve so perfectly and 
consistently.

That’s 
why 
the 
Western 

will 
never 
disappear; 
our 

perceptions, 
historical 
and 

current, of good, evil, morality 
and 
justice, 
though 
they 

change and though we revise 
them through the years, are 
engrained in our consciousness, 
and engrained in the American 
Western. Even in films like 
“Unforgiven” (where the heroes 
are bearded and the villain is 
clean shaven) that completely 
reject and deconstruct the West 
for all of its ugliness. Though 
it’s a genre fixed in time, it is, in 
the end, timeless.

And 
if 
the 
Western 
is 

timeless, then so too are the 
beards that contribute to its 
ethos. I like to believe that the 
emphasis placed on a strong 
beard in these films is not due to 
the lack of cheap Gillette razors 
but to the evocation of the battle 
for justice and a bygone way of 
life that the beard symbolizes. I 
can only hope to one day honor 
that ethos, and grow something 
that might make Kurt Russell 
proud. 

This is a story of a boy and 

his beard. If you’d swipe right, 

email jbircoll@umich.edu. 

FILM COLUMN

A beard made for 

Westerns

My barely 

visible bleach 
blonde scruff.

JAMIE 

BIRCOLL

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, February 10, 2016 — 5A

