The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, February 23, 2016 — 5
Owens biopic ‘Race’
runs slow and steady
By LAUREN WOOD
Daily Arts Writer
The goal of historical dramas
and biopics is often to enhance our
understanding of past events and
to shine a light
on
moments
that may have
dimmed
over
time.
These
films can help
reshape
our
understand-
ing of current
events we face,
adding depth to
today’s problems by demonstrat-
ing their echoes throughout his-
tory. “Race” is the latest of these
biopics.
“Race” tells the story of Olym-
pic runner Jesse Owens (Stephan
James, “Selma”) and how he won
four gold medals at the 1936 Berlin
games, held in the middle of Nazi
Germany. After coming to Ohio
State University as one of the first
black athletes and facing bigotry
from other players and coaches,
Owens’s qualification for the Ber-
lin Olympics only augments his
struggle to succeed when the
NAACP calls on him to withdraw
from the games in solidarity with
the Jewish people. Attending the
games with the hope that defeat-
ing Germany will send a greater
message, the film explores the poli-
tics behind the involvement of the
U.S. in the Olympics and the way
Owens’s race plays into decisions
at levels as large as international
relations and as small as congratu-
latory remarks after a race.
The film addresses race from
a vast array of angles, living up to
its name and depicting the multi-
faceted complications that come
from tackling such a pervasive and
complex subject. From the first
time Owens boards the bus to Ohio
State for his first semester, we see
snide comments from the white
women sitting in the front, and
these microaggressions escalate to
confrontations in the locker room
or interactions with other teams’
coaches. Establishing the per-
vasiveness of racial inequality in
Owens’s everyday life sets the floor
of the film well. When we do move
onto larger issues, such as his deci-
sion whether or not to compete in
the games, or the prejudices of the
German Olympic committee, these
are not the only times his race is a
point of contention. Additionally,
the film ends on a note of contin-
ued bigotry in the United States,
with a scene of Owens and his wife
arriving at a dinner at the Astoria
held in his honor and being forced
to use the service entrance behind
the hotel. The image of the two
walking through a bustling, dirty
kitchen in elegant evening wear is
shocking and honest, ending the
film on a sober note.
There’s a huge amount of
screen time devoted to interac-
tions
between
the
American
Olympic Committee and Joseph
Goebbels, Nazi Germany’s director
of propaganda (Barnaby Metsch-
urat, “L’auberge espagnole”), as
the two angrily argue over Ger-
many’s treatment of the American
athletes, both Black and Jewish.
What’s interesting about these
moments, though, is not just the
way these athletes’ ability to com-
pete in the Olympics is based on
white officials’ opinions about race,
but the way the officials’ power
and brutality seem to go hand in
hand. Leni Riefenstahl (Carice
van Houten, “Game of Thrones”)
is problematically seen as more of
a heroic, anti-establishment artist,
instead of Hitler’s close friend and
Nazi supporter.
The instances of camaraderie
between athletes on the Olympic
team, regardless of race or coun-
try, is a powerful inclusion to the
story, and one of the most striking
moments of the film comes from
the on-field friendship between
Owens and fellow German com-
petitor Lutz Long (David Kross,
“War Horse”). Once Long fouls
and disqualifies himself from the
long jump, he invites Owens to fin-
ish the competition, the two then
taking a victory lap together in cel-
ebration of the new world record.
Looked down upon scornfully by
the Nazi officials at the top of the
stadium, there is a sense of prog-
ress and unity on the field, and a
glimmer of hope in the drab land-
scape of the time.
KANYE WEEK
Breaking: Kanye is
an asshole, still OK
By CARLY SNIDER
Daily Arts Writer
Kanye West is an asshole: an
incredibly talented, multifacet-
ed, boundary-pushing asshole.
But despite the feelings you
may have about him as a per-
son, to deny his societal clout
and musical prowess is naïve.
His ability to maintain an enor-
mous global fan base despite
his aggressive persona and
lyrical styles is both impres-
sive and puzzling. He shames
women and other social groups,
but wraps it in such impres-
sive packaging that it is hard to
resist. Listeners are in love with
the madness — the suspense of
not knowing what the icon will
do next. West’s views are often
problematic
and
offensive,
leaving it up to the listeners to
decide if the power of his music
is enough to outweigh his, at
times, unsavory personality. As
a young woman, I have a hard
time justifying my support of
the artist in his often sexist and
unkind artistry.
Take West’s “Cold,” feat. DJ
Khaled, as just one example of
’Ye’s paradoxically brilliant and
distasteful nature. In just the
first verse of this track alone,
West disses PETA, brings up
monetary inequalities between
races in America and reminds
listeners that he can snag a “bad
bitch without no flaws.” The
song goes on to name drop Anna
Wintour, model Anja Rubik,
Jay-Z and Wiz Khalifa. West
wants you to know that famous
people respect him too, not just
public peasants.
It wouldn’t be a true Yeezy
track unless the rapper called
someone out in a not-so-sub-
tle fashion. As the track was
released in 2012, it comes as no
surprise that West’s scorching
gaze fell upon Kris Humphries.
It was around this time that
’Ye’s future fiancé was involved
with Mr. Humphries, prompt-
ing ’Ye to vent his jealousy in
the most appropriate way pos-
sible — an aggressive verse
threatening to get Humphries
dropped from his team.
“Cold” is arresting, surpris-
ing and not for everyone, just
like the artist who wrote it. Its
soundscape is abrasive, with
repetitive beeping tones, yells
and coughs from West and
Khaled. Lines like “Don’t talk
about style cause I embarrass
you / Shut the fuck up when
you talk to me ‘fore I embar-
rass you” are not for the weak of
heart, but neither is West. The
song hints at the artist’s ever
rising dreams for himself, like
being the creative director of
Hermes, and his never-falter-
ing self-confidence. His belief
in himself is both enviable and
overbearing. It proves that
Kanye really does love Kanye
more than anyone else. (Sorry,
Kim.)
West is a prime example of
the relationship between an
artist, their work and public
opinion. Is it the public’s job to
differentiate between an art-
ist and their work, then judge
each accordingly? Or are art-
ists to be taken as a whole?
These questions become even
more
convoluted
when
the
artist in question is guilty of
transgressions that are deemed
essentially harmless — making
sexist comments or being elit-
ist, rather than committing a
hard crime. I think that these
kinds of questions can only
be answered on an individual
level. West is undeniably iconic
and deserves to be honored for
the art he has produced and
inspired. I think that Yeezus is
a masterpiece and that West is
nothing if not driven. But, he’s
also a jerk. And I am still unsure
how exactly to think of him, and
am doubtful that I ever will.
TV REVIEW
‘11.22.63’ struggles
to engage its viewers
By MEGAN MITCHELL
Daily Arts Writer
On November 22, 1963, Presi-
dent John F. Kennedy was assassi-
nated when his motorcade passed
through Dealey
Plaza during a
visit to Dallas,
TX. Shots heard
originating
from the Texas
Book
Deposi-
tory led to the
arrest of Lee
Harvey Oswald
for the murder
of the president. When Oswald
himself was assassinated before
we could hear his account of what
happened on 11/22/1963, the fuel
that would light the flame of con-
spiracy theorists began its slow
burn.
“11.22.63” is a Hulu miniseries
adapted from the Stephen King
novel of the same name. The prem-
ise explores the complex idea of
time travel and the implications
that might arise if people mess
with time. It’s a butterfly effect that
basically boils down to “If you fuck
with the past, it’ll fuck with you.”
Specifically, the series presents the
idea of altering a fixed point in time
— the JFK assassination. Show-
runner Bridget Carpenter (“Friday
Night Lights”) and producer J.J.
Abrams (“Star Wars: The Force
Awakens”) head the adaptation of
the novel into an 8-part series.
“11.22.63” may work well as a
novel, but it ultimately falls short of
expectations as a television series.
If anything, the adaptation serves
as a dramatic period piece with a
savvy science fiction hook. Playing
off of concepts that stemmed from
successful predecessors such as
“The Twilight Zone” and “Back to
the Future,” the series tries to uti-
lize the goodwill associated with
depicting American history. And
while the target audience is most
likely aimed at the baby boomer
and millennial generations, the
time commitment of the first
hour-and-20-minute episode is
unrealistic. Although it isn’t much
longer than an episode of “Game of
Thrones,” the show lacks “GoT” ’s
emotional payoff when the episode
is finished. With “11.22.63,” you’re
left feeling emotionless and with-
out a desire to continue to the next
episode. Frankly, it is an easy show
to forget.
Diner owner and apparent time
traveler Al (Chris Cooper, “The
Muppets”) believes that if the
assassination of JFK is averted,
then events that led to advance-
ments in Vietnam by JFK’s succes-
sor, President Lyndon B. Johnson,
and the assassination of Robert
Kennedy would never have hap-
pened. It’s an interesting idea, but
as he’s a Vietnam veteran himself,
the question arises of whether Al’s
motives are self-serving and lim-
ited to his own motivations. How-
ever, when Al is diagnosed with
cancer, he entrusts the secret of
time travel to friend Jake Epping
(James Franco, “The Interview”),
an adult educator and recently
divorced deadbeat, in the hopes
that he will travel back to the past
and carry on Al’s mission. The
delivery in the present day seg-
ment of the premiere is a sloppy
portrayal of the ordinary meeting
the extraordinary. While Franco
is unconvincing as a small-time
man who has given up trying in
life, Cooper’s Al is reminiscent of
Eastwood’s “Gran Torino” perfor-
mance, but trading in conviction
for wide-eyed madness.
The portal in time, aptly dubbed
the “rabbit hole,” is located in the
diner closet, and is where Stephen
King’s influence melts smoothly
into that of J.J. Abrams. An end-
less black Hitchcockian hallway
engulfs Jake for a few slow seconds
before we are transported to the
glittering brightness of the ’60s,
sans the trademark lens flares. As
soon as Jake Epping steps through
the portal, so does Franco, who
shines in his fish-out-of water per-
formance, caught in the ambiance
of the 1960s. As Franco becomes
more comfortable with his sur-
roundings, we feel that he is more
sure of himself in his performance.
However, as is the case with any
Stephen King adaptation, sus-
penseful music and horror scenes
lie just around the corner of each
commercial break.
A supernatural edge slices into
the past at unexpected moments,
eliciting a “scare jump” from the
audience. Later, Jake edges clos-
er to George de Mohrenschildt
(Jonny Coyne, “Nightcrawler”), a
friend of Oswald that Al suspected
was in touch with the CIA and ulti-
mately persuaded Oswald to assas-
sinate Kennedy. After following
Mohrenschildt to the restaurant
El Conejo, Jake is almost set on fire
and crushed to death by a falling
chandelier as history pushes back
against his actions; a telephone
booth is run down and strangers
warn Jake of his unwanted pres-
ence in the past. Tragedies liter-
ally fall out of the sky in “11.22.63,”
and we’re never sure what the
outcome of the domino effect will
play out for the cast. The trailers
show much promise from King’s
side, so hopefully we’ll get to see
his influence later on as the mini-
series picks up pace in accelerating
towards its ultimate end game —
November 22, 1963.
FORECAST
One of these leads will be eligible for an Oscar.
FILM REVIEW
B
Race
Rave &
Quality 16
Forecast Pictures
C+
11.22.63
Series Premiere
New episodes
on Mondays
Hulu
‘Broad City’ back
and wild as ever
Third season
premiere is another
wacky adventure in
New York City
By MARIA ROBINS-SOMER-
VILLE
Daily Arts Writer
They talked openly about
pooping and wore the same
outfits more than once. They
worked thank-
less jobs just
to make ends
meet.
They
were
sweaty,
hungry
and
stoned a lot of
the time — self-
titled
“Jew-
esses
tryna
make a buck.”
At “Broad City”
’s inception in
2014, Ilana Wexler (Ilana Glaz-
er, “The Night Before”) and
Abbi Abrams (Abbi Jacobson,
“Inside Amy Schumer”) were
unlike the majority of female
television protagonists. They
played on New York as if it were
an adult playground.
“Broad City” ’s third season
premiere “Two Chainz” lives
up to this unvarnished and
wacky depiction of the duo’s
mishaps as hedonistic and self-
proclaimed queens. The show is
often compared to “Girls” due
to its focus on twenty-some-
thing women in New York, but
a much more accurate com-
parison would be “Curb Your
Enthusiasm”
or
“Seinfeld,”
which feature irreverent humor
through
meditation
on
the
mundane.
The episode opens with a
split frame. We see Abbi and
Ilana in their respective bath-
rooms, engaging in a wide range
of activities on their porcelain
thrones. They get high, have
sex and eat chocolate. Set to
Lizzo and Caroline Smith’s “Let
‘Em Say,” the show’s opening
scene announces that “Broad
City” is back and irreverent as
ever. Here are two besties who
are confident in their fabulous-
ness and unabashed about their
slacker-stoner lifestyles.
The next scene encapsulates
what often holds “Broad City” ’s
comedic essence together — the
amplification of the trivial, jux-
taposed casually with the seri-
ous. While in pursuit of brunch,
Ilana talks about the plight
of oppressed Saudi Arabian
women in the same breath as
her masturbation habits. Ilana
frequently tries to express well-
meaning but often misguided
expression of cultural political
awareness; she expresses her
discontent about the turmoil to
Abbi but almost cries when the
waiter tells her the brunch deal
no longer includes bottomless
mimosas. True tragedy.
The sweetness of “Broad
City” ’s humor stems from the
deeply affirming and unshake-
able love between the best
friends. When Abbi demon-
strates insecurity and unease,
Ilana lifts her up. In a moment
of doubt about her fashion
quotient, Ilana reassures her
that she looks “sexy and viva-
cious, like young wife material,
but taut and teasy still.” When
Abbi responds to a sleazy man
calling out “Nice ass!” with
a “Yeah, I know,” we know
Ilana’s
constant
affirmation
has likely helped cook up the
quippy retort.
Even
Lincoln
(Hannibal
Buress, “Neighbors”), Ilana’s
loveable friend with benefits,
aids in the show’s subverting
of traditional gender roles. He
expresses sensitivity through
funny banter about “Sex and
the City,” and by proudly call-
ing his mother after his gradua-
tion from trapeze school.
Another feature of the show’s
comedy is exaggerated interac-
tion with features of the urban
landscape.
Abbi
gets
stuck
inside of a porta potty. A ware-
house sale becomes a literal bat-
tleground. The women engage
in spitfire shade-throwing with
a pretentious brunch host. Ilana
and Abbi nonchalantly find
themselves at an overtly phal-
lic art show. They travel by foot,
bike and truck with a fluidity
that is distinctly urban in a way
that lends itself to the show’s
surreal humor. The physical
movement is key, keeping ener-
gy high and punch lines quick.
Abbi and Ilana have contin-
ued to reclaim the word “broad”
in multiple senses. “Broad,”
typically used as old-fashioned
slang for women, now cel-
ebrates the flawed, spontane-
ous and fluid nature of being a
woman. The humor is “broad,”
too; it provides an inclusive,
open landscape for more superb
comedy to come.
COMEDY CENTRAL
“Dude, your shirt’s hanging on a pole.”
TV REVIEW
A
Broad City
Season Three
Premiere
Wednesdays
at 10 p.m.
Comedy Central