The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, September 28, 2016 — 5A

Every once in awhile, a 

band will release an album 
whose cover art is more than 
impressive. Rather than simply 
putting a pretty picture to a 
collection of songs, it profoundly 
influences 
the 
listening 

experience. 
Perhaps 
it 
invites, 

intrigues 
or 

just 
mystifies. 

In the best of 
cases, it evokes 
an 
emotional 

response 
from 

the 
listener 

before the music even starts. 
Whatever the exact case may 
be, Return to Love is one of 
those albums. Illustrated in 
immensely 
satisfying 
detail 

and contained by a thick white 
border, the cover’s naturescape 
is a crucial, almost necessary 
introduction 
to 
the 
album. 

Invoking 
nature 
and, 
by 

extension, solitude, it primes 
the listener for an experience 
centered 
on 
self-discovery. 

At the same time, the pure 
whiteness 
that 
surrounds 

this image indicates a crisp, 
aesthetically intelligent quality, 
setting a standard that the 
music itself surely matches.

On Return to Love, LVL 

UP’s third studio album and 
first for Sub Pop, the four-
piece outfit finds a highly 
rewarding 
medium 
between 

fuzz-infused punk bombast and 
lo-fi subtlety. After meeting at 
 

SUNY Purchase in New York, 
Mike Caridi, Dave Benton and 
Nick Corbo joined forces as LVL 
UP and introduced themselves 
to the world on 2011’s quietly 
released 
Space 
Brothers, 
an 

album 
comprised 
almost 

entirely of quick in-and-out jams 
— its 13 tracks clock in at just 
over 23 minutes total. Drummer 
Greg Rutkin joined them on tour 

— he’s now a permanent fixture 
in the band — though he doesn’t 
write any of the material. The 
other three split song-writing 
responsibilities roughly evenly, 
which is surprising given the 
generally cohesive nature of 
their 
work 
together. 
Now, 

following 2014’s breakthrough 

Hoodwink’d, Return 
to Love finds LVL 
UP crafting the most 
fleshed out, lyrically 
complex 
material 

they’ve released to 
date.

Opening on single 

“Hidden 
Driver,” 

the 
influence 
of 

’90s 
fuzz-folk 

is 
immediately 

apparent; one almost expects 
Jeff Mangum to jump in with a 
nasally “two-headed boy” after 
the opening chords. LVL UP’s 
lyrics are also just as inscrutable 
as Mangum’s always were. For 
a brief taste: “Hidden driver / 
forming shape inside my chest 
/ omnipotent in the way that it 
arrests / every sense and every 
lesson.” The exact meaning 
of these opening lines doesn’t 
ever become particularly clear, 
but the song finds the band 
grappling with the idea of god — 
God? — and the biblical Fall.

While fuzz permeates the 

album, some tracks are also 
characterized by touches of 
synthesizer. An absolute master 
class on restraint, the playful 
synth line that comes in at the 
two-minute mark (and only 
appears twice) on “She Sustains 
Us” is a testament to LVL UP’s 
arguably newfound maturity. 
This synth in particular, as well 
as other artificial sounds that 
crop up here and there — the 
sample that opens the track, for 
example — also add an exciting, 
almost genre-defying dimension 
to the band’s overall vibe.

Despite all of the change 

or 
deviation 
from 
previous 

direction 
that 
characterizes 

Return 
to 
Love, 
longtime 

fans need not be in dismay! 
Fuzz permeates, but refuses 
to dominate, and tracks like 
“Cut from the Vine” find more 
of the clean, singular guitar 
melodies that largely defined 
their previous releases. What’s 
more, the band members’ voices 
haven’t changed a bit. Still the 
perfect complement for their 
guitar-driven brand of quasi-
punk, their voices are never 
particularly urgent, and remain 
constant while the guitars set 
the emotional tone.

Bordering on monotone, LVL 

UP’s laid-back, gently lilting 
vocals bring a casual quality 
to an album whose thematic 
content could be considered 
anything but. Here, LVL UP 
confront the idea of a higher 
being on “Hidden Driver” and 
condemn someone who has 
recently betrayed a friend to 
“grow old and never find love.” 
In addition to covering all of 
the usual bases of indie lo-fi 
alt-rock, the band has widened 
their focus, singing beyond just 
their own distinctly personal 
experiences. 
They 
continue 

to embrace individuality, but 
have contextualized it with the 
knowledge of a much greater, 
much 
more 
significant 
and 

unpredictable unknown. The 
idea of a singular, omnipotent 
deity 
appears 
not 
only 
on 

“Hidden Driver”—see “Naked in 
the River with the Creator” and 
“Cut from the Vine — and could 
reflect the instability ubiquitous 
in recent years for the four New 
Yorkers. In interviews, they 
have said that they decided they 
would be going their separate 
ways if things didn’t come 
together. Thankfully, signing 
to Sub Pop seems to have had 
more of a humbling effect 
than an ego-inflating one. In 
small print — at the bottom 
of the aforementioned album 
cover, beneath the river, the 
mountains and the entirety of 
the lush landscape — are two 
words: “Thank you.” 

SUP POP

This looks like every all male indie band we’ve reviewed in the last five years.
Four member indie band LVL UP 
‘Returns to Love’ on third album

‘Returns’ finds itself between fuzz-infused punk and lo-fi subtley

SEAN LANG

Daily Arts Writer

FOCUS FEATURES

“As you can see here, we’re very lost.”

Completionism: the act of 

consuming all works by an 
artist, film director or musician.

Here is a completionist’s 

confession: I have refrained 
from watching films I knew 
would 
be 
good 
because 
I 

hadn’t watched their directors’ 
previous films. The same is true 
for albums and bands. I have, 
conversely, watched countless 
films I was 99 percent sure 
would be terrible beforehand 
(and those predictions were 
mostly right).

I 
suppose 
my 
obsession 

with completion goes back to 
“Moonrise Kingdom,” the 2012 
film by Wes Anderson, which 
was the movie that got me into 
movies. When I was younger, 
my form of rebellion against 
my parents was to reject their 
offers to watch movies with 
them in theaters or on home 
video. Unfortunately for me, my 
mother studied film in college, 
so her film literacy and taste 
have struck me as superlatively 
impressive since I developed an 
interest in film. In other words, 
I missed out.

But when I saw a trailer for 

“Moonrise Kingdom,” a twee 
love story between two young 
troubled teenagers on a New 
England island in the summer 
of 1965, my interest in film 
blossomed. I never acted on the 
desire — the demands of my high 
school debate schedule proved to 
be too much of an obstacle — but 
“Moonrise Kingdom” remained 
in the back of my mind, waiting 
to be serviced.

About a year later, in my 

senior year of high school, 
the film started appearing on 
television and I recorded it. 
Upon watching that fateful 
recording, I understood like 

never before how films could 
be so transforming. As soon 
as the film finished, I scoured 
the internet for all of Wes 
Anderson’s other films. For a 
few days before first semester 
finals, I locked myself in my 
room and watched all his works 
— “Rushmore” and “Fantastic 
Mr. 
Fox” 
made 
particular 

impressions on me — all while 
remaining keenly aware that 
a new film of his, “The Grand 
Budapest Hotel,” was due to be 
released in a few short months. I 
became obsessed.

That directorial deep dive 

has never left me. In the years 
since, captivated by a singular 
film and determined to watch 
the 
director’s 
remaining 

filmography, I have watched the 
works of Steven Spielberg, Noah 
Baumbach, the Coen Brothers, 
Terrence Malick, Woody Allen 
and countless others. There’s 
a certain joy in truly knowing 
a director. Freed from the 
blind spots of one’s neophyte 
friends, the completionist can 
trace the styles, subjects and 
collaborators of directors from 
small, hobbled-together debut to 
peak artistic craft (note: usually, 
but certainly not always, around 
the third or fourth film), to late-
period gem.

There are, of course, short-

comings. Not all films by a 
director — even some of the best 
directors — are good. There’s a 
lot of suffering in dedication. 

But those who find themselves 
in a deep dive can find some-
thing to love in any film by a 
director to whom they commit 
themselves. I don’t particularly 
love “The Darjeeling Limited,” a 
mediocre film by Wes Anderson, 
but its style adds to the broader 
tapestry of Anderson’s twee 
works and his oeuvre would 
probably be worse without it.

And I suppose it starts ear-

lier: my first art love was archi-
tecture and it still captivates me 
today. Growing up in the envi-
rons of Chicago, an architec-
tural mecca, I was exposed to 
countless works by Ludwig Mies 
van der Rohe and Frank Lloyd 
Wright. A life goal of mine is to 
see every Frank Lloyd Wright 
building ever built (and still in 
existence).

I’ve adapted the deep dive to 

music, too. Over the summer, 
my boss, in a company meeting, 
referenced Neil Young, and then 
looked at me and asked, in an 
apparent slight to my age, “Do 
you even know who Neil Young 
is?” I do in fact know who Neil 
Young is, but I couldn’t name any 
songs by him or Buffalo Spring-
field. As much as I claim to love 
the rock ‘n’ roll of the 1960s and 
1970s, I’m clearly missing many 
key names. I decided to listen to 
the discographies of all the art-
ists inducted into the Rock and 
Roll Hall of Fame. I started in 
June with Chuck Berry, moved 
into James Brown and now I’m 
working through Ray Charles. 
It’s taking forever: three artists 
over four months.

And yet, it’s been fruitful. 

These are legends, individu-
als whose work changed music 
forever. Art is a cyclical phe-
nomenon of copying, inspira-
tion and innovation. We owe it 
to ourselves to experience the 
enlightenment of discovery. The 
best place to start is with the 
masters.

A completionist’s story: 
an artistic confession

DANIEL HENSEL

Daily Arts Writer

Starting with the complete works of Wes Anderson, one 
writer learns not all works by great artists are great

B+

Return to Love

LVL UP

Sup Pop

PALADIN

“How does my breath smell?”

Movies 
about 
the 
elderly 

and teenagers are hard to get 
right. When they are successful, 
however, it feels even more 

rewarding. With elders, there 
are inevitable biases that explain 
why movies starring older actors 
(besides Michael Caine, Meryl 
Streep or Morgan Freeman) are 
less common. Essentially, viewers 
would 
rather 
watch 
young, 

beautiful actors in roles that 
don’t remind us of our impending 
death (or inevitable wrinkles). 
Jerry Lewis attempts to negate 
this with his performance in 
“Max Rose.” Sadly, any producer 
who sees the movie will be far 

WILL STEWART

For the Daily

Jerry Lewis doesn’t defend his icon 
status in 2013’s bland ‘Max Rose’

After premiering at Cannes, the film finally receives wide release

from eager to finance an elderly-
focused movie anytime soon.

Jerry Lewis’s (“The Nutty 

Professor”) career spans over 
half a century. From his work 
in the ’50s with 
Dean 
Martin 
to 

his 
philanthropy, 

Lewis 
has 
been 

one of the most 
prolific comedians. 
Today — although 
few 20-something 
year olds are fans 
— his name is still 
relevant.

“Max 
Rose”, 

written and directed by Daniel 
Noah (“A Girl Who Walks Home 
at Night”), stars Lewis as the 
titular character, a 90-year-old 
widower struggling through day-
to-day life. Lewis ventures away 
from comedy to more serious 
territory here, and his fans will 
be disappointed by the result. 
The movie premiered at Cannes 
in 2013, though it only recently 
gained wide distribution. What 
happened during these three 
years in between is unknown; 
unfortunately, 
“Max 
Rose” 

should have never made it past 
Cannes.

The 
movie 
begins 
with 

a 
montage 
of 
sentimental 

flashbacks of Max’s recently 
deceased wife that’s meant to 
tug at the viewer’s heartstrings, 
similar to the opening sequence 

of Pixar’s “Up.” However, unlike 
“Up,” “Max Rose” fails to come 
even close to as heartbreaking. 
His 
granddaughter 
Annie, 

lackadaisically played by Kerry 

Bishé 
(“Argo”), 

takes 
care 
of 

Max despite his 
stubbornness. The 
movie 
revolves 

around 
Lewis 

trying to construe 
clues of his wife’s 
infidelity 50 years 
ago. This plotline 
feels meaningless 
and does nothing to 

deepen the love Max Rose felt for 
his wife. Rather, viewers spend 
the entire time wondering why he 
even cares about this past scandal 
since his wife has just died.

The performances in “Max 

Rose” are the most painful 
feature. Lewis tries to express 
Max’s depression and mourning, 
but it never feels believable. The 
dialogue only fuels the poor 
acting; 
every 
sentence 
feels 

forced and unnatural, and every 
statement is overly dramatic, as 
if it were a part of a speech. His 
son, Christopher (Kevin Pollak, 
“A Few Good Men”), is especially 
guilty of supplying the worst 
lines, with small talk that feels 
like something overheard on an 
awkward first date. His deliveries 
are so unrealistic that it’s always 
clear that he is, in fact, acting in 

front of a camera with a film crew 
behind him.

“Max Rose” feels half-baked 

at best, almost like Noah failed to 
make a deadline in its production. 
Its plot is choppy and its acting 
feels like it was barely rehearsed. 
Even with fine tune-ups, it is 
unlikely that “Max Rose” would 
ever be a successful movie; it 
would take an entire overhaul.

Max Rose, the character, lacks 

any redeeming qualities, so much 
so that I hope no one I know 
ages like him. The movie does 
nothing to comment on the pains 
of getting old and portrays elders 
as 
stubborn 
and 
unpleasant, 

characteristics that should not be 
the only takeaways. There is no 
authentic development between 
Max’s family, and his friendships 
feel unrealistic. If “Max Rose” 
was trying to increase empathy 
toward elders, it failed.

“Max Rose” is nothing but a 

brief glitch in Lewis’s expansive 
career. As a comedian with a 
plethora of material, the movie 
will be quickly forgotten in his 
legacy. Considering that this 
could be one of Lewis’s last 
performances, viewers and fans 
will want to like it, but it isn’t 
worth pretending. Liking “Max 
Rose” only because Lewis is old 
is purposeless; fans will always 
be able to revisit their favorite 
material and enrich their lives 
with laughter.

D

“Max Rose”

Michigan Theater

Paladin

There’s a certain 

joy in truly 
knowing a 
director.

FILM NOTEBOOK
ALBUM REVIEW

FILM REVIEW

