The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, November 2, 2016 — 5A

NETFLIX

It’s kilt season.
Guest’s ‘Mascot’ lacks 
luster of his prior films 

Mockumentary focused on mascot competition silly, but overkill

FILM REVIEW

A few months ago, GQ ran 

a health-focused profile of Bill 
Clinton. The former president 
was but a sliver 
of his former self, 
the color drained 
from his lips and 
his 
southern 

grit 
and 
charm 

absent 
from 
his 

defenses of liberal 
politics. 
Quietly 

devastating, 
the 

profile painted a 
portrait of greatness (scandals 
aside, President Clinton was 
indisputably 
a 
phenomenal 

politician) in decline.

Similar words could be written 

about Christopher Guest, the 
king 
of 
mockumentaries. 
A 

starring role in Rob Reiner’s 
“This Is Spinal Tap,” about a 
British hard rock band in decline, 
led to a brief stint on “Saturday 
Night Live “and then a string 
of phenomenal improvisational 
mockumentaries, “Waiting for 
Guffman,” “Best in Show,” “A 
Mighty Wind” and “For Your 
Consideration.” 
These 
films, 

planned but unscripted, brilliantly 
pick apart inane, niche worlds 
ripe for comedic emasculation: 
Small-town community theater? 
Dog shows? Folk music? Oscars 
fanaticism? Nothing is off limits 
for Guest and his repertory 
company 
of 
improvisational 

actors, who inhabit quirky roles 
with a deftness that defies human 
comprehension.

Guest, who would star in his 

films 
alongside 
the 
brilliant 

likes of Jane Lynch (“Talladega 
Nights”), 
Catherine 
O’Hara 

(“Home Alone”), Eugene Levy 
(“Finding Dory”) and so many 
others, showed just as much 
brilliance in front of the camera 
as behind it. But in “Mascots,” his 
return to filmmaking after a ten-

year hiatus (albeit interrupted by 
a TV show, “Family Tree,” and a 
wonderful segment at the 2012 
Oscars), Guest is only a remnant 
of his former self, color faded from 
his face like the former president. 
Reserving himself to a small 

role, and lacking 
O’Hara and Levy, 
his two greatest 
stars, Guest’s latest 
project resembles 
more an off-kilter 
impression 
of 

himself 
than 
a 

further 
addition 

to his impressive 
oeuvre.

Perhaps that’s because the 

subject of the film — a mascot 
competition — feels like a rehash 
of “Best in Show,” which focused 
on a dog show competition. 
Quirky characters from around 
the 
world, 
dedicated 
to 
a 

pointless competitive activity, 
are introduced one by one and 
descend on the host city, mix 
and mingle and then compete 
(with a number of setbacks) until 
a winner is named. But it’s not 
just the context that feels overly 
familiar; so many of the specific 
events and character types that 
feature in “Best in Show” return 
in “Mascots,” which renders 
the 
film 
utterly 
predictable, 

especially if one has seen “Best 
in Show” countless times like me. 
Even the opening scene — a couple 
in the competition bickering with 
each other in a Shakespearean 
depiction of ill fate — is directly 
copied. It’s unfortunate because 
Guest’s 
films 
revel 
in 
their 

imagination 
and 
creativity. 

Predictability ought to be an 
anathema, rather than a defining 
feature of a Guest film.

Perhaps it’s also the strong 

sense of removal the film can’t 
help but evoke. Netflix is a great 
platform for experimentation, but 
its penchant for expressive color 
palettes (think the bright pinks 
and yellows in “Unbreakable 

Kimmy Schmidt” or the intensely 
faded colors in “House of Cards”) 
gives “Mascots” a sheen of artifice 
that ruins its lived-in world. 
Mascotery, as the characters call 
it, isn’t nearly present enough 
as a competitive field in pop 
culture for us to really laugh. 
Dogs aren’t particularly silly in 
and of themselves, but dog shows 
are rather ludicrous. The Oscars 
aren’t inherently ripe for humor, 
but the pageantry surrounding 
the desire to be nominated for 
one is. I had thought that mascot 
competitions were an invention 
of 
Guest 
(Google 
corrected 

me — they are in fact real), but 
mascots themselves are a rather 
funny concept. The added layer 
of a competition seemed to be 
overkill.

That’s not to say the film isn’t 

worth watching. Anytime Guest’s 
regulars are assembled on screen, 
hilarity ensues. I lost it when 
Jennifer 
Coolidge 
(“Legally 

Blonde”) 
and 
Bob 
Balaban 

(“Moonrise Kingdom”) appeared 
as 
a 
wealthy, 
disinterested 

couple. Parker Posey (“Dazed and 
Confused”) and Ed Begley Jr. (“St. 
Elsewhere”) are funny as ever. 
Fred Willard’s (“Anchorman”) 
appearance 
and 
troublingly 

funny aloofness on any screen is 
cause for celebration. And while 
Guest’s younger generation of 
new collaborators don’t quite 
rise to their predecessors’ level, 
they still add blissfully funny 
moments.

“Mascots” isn’t so much a 

failure as it is a disappointment. 
Each laugh amplified the silences 
in between, of which there 
were far too many, when the 
awkwardness between characters 
simply proved too artificial, too 
phony or too familiar. Guest’s 
model is perhaps unsustainable 
— luck no doubt plays a role in 
encountering terrains well suited 
for comedic deep dives — but I 
never expected Guest’s fortune to 
run out. 

DANNY HENSEL

Daily Arts Writer

C

“Mascots”

Now Streaming

Netflix

LIL WAYNE

“Smell my armpit!”

Celebrity culture and its inter-

textuality have always caused 
tension in hip hop, a genre found-
ed on authentic-
ity. Famous people 
strive to control 
their public per-
ceptions by pre-
senting themselves 
through 
care-

fully crafted, often 
glamorous lenses, 
but rappers have 
traditionally been 
expected to por-
tray themselves unashamedly. At 
the art form’s inception, cyphers 
occurred on street corners, and 
lyrics 
represented 
livelihoods. 

Fibs were pounced on. Word was 
bond.

By the 2000s, hip hop had 

exploded into the mainstream and 
its fanbase evolved into a reliable 
market. Clothing labels, movies 
and TV shows emerged, all repre-
sented by rappers, the 21st-centu-
ry rock stars and starry-eyed fans 
were expected to purchase the 
products. Veterans who retired or 
lost steam — Diddy, Jay Z, 50 Cent 
and more — expanded into less 
artistic industries and the expres-
sive lifestyle that the genre once 
stood for started to dissolve into a 
corporate scheme. Artists’ focus-
es seemed to switch to creating 
crossover hits and earning enough 
celebrity status to do an expensive 
endorsement. Hip hop’s humanity 
was dwindling.

Throughout the aughts, Lil 

Wayne combatted this mental-
ity switch ferociously. He released 
what felt like infinite mixtapes 
of fully engaged lyrical exercises 
for free on the Internet and chal-
lenged peers to match his work 
ethic by rapping on beats that 
belonged to them. From 2003 to 
2007, he pushed out 11 free proj-
ects and two major-label albums. 
In between his own hits, he 
hopped on other artists’ songs to 
stay creative. An avid sports fan 
and 
self-described 
competitor, 

he started rapping at eight-years-
old and released his first album 
at age 15. Much like Michael 
Jackson, Dwayne Carter seems 
to view himself as a performer 
first, human being second. He 

never “turns off” Lil Wayne. Years 
before hip hop’s morphing with 
social media, he worked endlessly 
to be present in his fans’ lives.

It should be unsurprising, then, 

that Lil Wayne’s first literary 
endeavor is a chillingly personal 

memoir. But what’s 
most intriguing is 
its setting: Rikers 
Island Correctional 
Facility. In Novem-
ber 2010, Lil Wayne 
was sentenced to a 
year in prison for 
firearm possession, 
and though other 
rappers have served 
time 
— 
notably, 

Bobby Shmurda, who’s still incar-
cerated, and Gucci Mane, who was 
released in June — few have done 
it with the theatrical quality of Lil 
Wayne, who was well-represented 
by his then-rookie prodigy, Drake, 
during his absence and even 
appeared on new songs from jail.

Lil Wayne’s first book — titled 

“Gone ’Til November” and pub-
lished in his handwriting — 
offers unfiltered glimpses at the 
thoughts and emotions that fueled 
the rapper’s persistence through-
out his incarceration. It’s more of 
a cathartic clearing of conscience 
than a project designed for fans: 
the journal is part of a daily regi-
men that Wayne creates to stay 
busy and sane. His other routine 
activities include watching televi-
sion in the dayroom, listening to 
sports on the radio, praying and 
making phone calls to friends, 
family or his children (whom he 
refuses to allow to see him in pris-
on, despite never wasting a visita-
tion day).

On the second day of his 

sentence, 
Wayne 
becomes 

acquainted 
with 
a 
group 

of inmates that he calls a 
“brotherhood,” and its members 
ease each others’ time by sharing 
food, wisdom and conversation. 
A lot of the group’s activities 
are documented in “Gone ’Til 
November” — cooking dinners 
with items from commissary, 
watching sports and fantasizing 
about the outside — and Wayne 
narrates their routine with an 
underlying sense of gratitude. 
When Flea, one of his peers, is 
released, he says: “I am happy like 
I am getting out.” When Coach, 
another peer, wants to marry 

another inmate, Wayne grabs a 
Bible and officiates the ceremony. 
He often sounds stripped from 
star power and humbled by his 
surroundings. Wayne sincerely 
cares about his peers’ happiness.

Yet “Gone ’Til November” is 

filled with analyses of different 
guards and the special privileges 
that each grants Lil Wayne. On his 
first day, two female guards are 
suspended for leaving their posts 
to seek him out and Wayne accepts 
the news as proof that attracted 
fans will pursue him anywhere. 
The most exciting thing about this 
book is its constant and inevitable 
Lil Wayne-ness: even while incar-
cerated, his optimism and humor 
remain mostly intact. His visitors 
include Diddy, Chris Paul and 
Kanye West; he makes a phone 
call to order a new Ranger Rover 
after seeing it in a commercial; 
he doesn’t wear the same pair of 
underwear more than once.

It’s been years since Lil Wayne 

released a relevant solo album. 
With “Gone ’Til November,” he 
offers something different to 
appease fans while court battles 
with Birdman, his former busi-
ness partner and father figure, 
continue to restrain his musical 
freedom. In the book’s preface, he 
notes that he didn’t initially intend 
to publish the journal. Thus, some 
sections are scarily dark and hope-
less. Wayne’s willingness to share 
such deeply pained material is 
another example of his unswerv-
ing commitment to pleasing fans.

During a mild confessional that 

occurred on Twitter last month, 
Lil Wayne hinted at his retire-
ment and publicly dreaded his 
own helplessness. He claimed that 
his final album, Tha Carter V, is 
finished and sitting in a drawer, 
waiting to be released at the con-
venience of Birdman. “I AM NOW 
DEFENSELESS AND MENTAL-
LY DEFEATED,” he wrote. It’s an 
upsetting road to retirement for a 
performer who was once the best 
at his craft, who has been cited 
as a major influencer by younger 
stars like Kendrick Lamar and 
Chance the Rapper, who actively 
steered hip hop toward its mod-
ern, anarchic race to release music 
constantly. He should at least be 
able to walk away from his field 
at peace. Lil Wayne tweeted that 
he: “ain’t lookin for sympathy, just 
serenity.” I hope he’s able to find it.

SALVATORE DIGIOIA

Daily Arts Writer

‘November’ full of heart, history

Lil Wayne memoir chronicles his experience being incarcerated

It’s the blurring of traditional 

gender roles with non-conforma-
tive ones; it’s the cognitive dis-
sonance that accompanies men 
acting as women 
and women as men; 
it’s the reversal of 
sex and sexuality 
in a play written by 
one of literature’s 
most eccentric, con-
troversial 
homo-

sexuals. It’s a case of 
mistaken identity.

As written, “The 

Importance 
of 

Being Earnest” is a 
comedy masked in 
layers. Written by Oscar Wilde and 
published in 1895, the play centers 
around relationships, specifically, 
the relationships of two men and 
women who fall in love over the 
course of the play. But of course, 

simplicity is not an option in a Wil-
dian world or in a comedy, and as 
these two men, Jack and Algernon, 
pursue courtship, they digress into 
a web of lies tied together by the 
name “Earnest” — the man they’re 
both pretending to be.

Apparently, according to Wilde, 

women prefer a man 
named Earnest; it’s 
the 
predominant 

aspect we look for 
in a man. As confu-
sion arises over the 
course of the writ-
ten play and the 
men’s lies devolve 
into 
chaos, 
their 

façade is mercifully 
put to an end. But in 
a campus produc-
tion from the Rude 

Mechanicals, a key aspect of the 
facade persists through the cast.

Opening 
Thursday, 
Rude 

Mechanical’s production of “The 
Importance of Being Earnest” fea-
tures an all-female cast with the 

exception of one boy, who will be 
playing Lady Bracknell, a role tradi-
tionally played by a man dressed in 
drag. A play that is already charac-
terized by deceit, this feature adds 
an entirely new dimension to the 
dynamics of deception.

“It was an interesting season 

for the U-Prod mainstage. They 
had very male heavy casting, so 
we were trying to figure out how 
we could compensate for that in a 
show that has a decent sized male 
cast,” School of Music, Theater 
and Dance junior Elle Smith. “My 
assistant director and I were brain-
storming and trying to figure out 
how we compensate for that. We 
had this idea, that originally wasn’t 
anything we were ever expecting to 
do, but then thought, ‘An all-female 
production of Earnest? That could 
totally work.’ And then we realized 
that it really could work.”

Taking place in post-war Britain 

during the 1950s, in this adaptation 
not only will the men be played by 
women; there won’t be men at all 

NATALIE ZAK

Daily Community Culture Editor

Rude’s original spin on ‘Earnest’

Resurrected theater troupe takes on Oscar Wilde’s most famous play

COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW
— the traditional characters are 
revisioned as women disguising 
themselves as men in an attempt 
to come to terms with both the 
spheres of separation instilled in 
the 1950s home, as well as the spec-
trum upon which their sexuality 
lies.

“During the 1950s and coming 

off of World War II, there were 
more women in the workforce, so 
we’s picturing Jack and Algernon 
and their female identities as they 
would have been involved in that,” 
Smith said. “But then, “Oh, the 
men are back from war’ and they 
lose all this independence they had 
during the war time, so they create 
these two male alter egos that they 
wouldn’t have been able to have as 
women.”

All of this — the elaborate analy-

sis of these women, their sexual-
ity and their places in a post-war 
society — exist under the umbrella 
of the original play’s script. Noth-
ing has been verbally changed to 
accommodate this drastic creative 
interpretation of the play. Through 
the careful emphasis on certain 
pronouns and pointed stage direc-
tion, the goal of conveying these 
women’s stories is achieved, and at 
no cost to the central theme of love.

“We’ve been playing with this 

idea that the character Jack is a les-
bian, and the only way she can work 

through her sexuality is by pre-
tending to be a man,” Smith said. 
“Whereas Algernon, who is essen-
tially Wilde inserted into the play, 
loves everything and does every-
thing and lives this life of complete 
pleasure and finds herself caught 
off guard by Cecily and surprised 
by falling in love with her.”

As the first of two shows put on 

by Rude Mechanicals this year, 
“The Importance of Being Ear-
nest” opens their 20th anniversary 
season. Rude is re-solidifying its 
place on campus under the leader-
ship of producers Lindsay Harkins, 
a SMTD senior studying perfor-
mance arts management, and Vio-
let Kelly-Andrews, a SMTD junior 
in the same program.

“It’s mostly about us trying to 

give Rude more credibility now by 
continuing producers. Because it’s 
student-run theater, it’s really just 
about opportunity and experiences 
for students,” Kelly-Andrews said. 
“People don’t know about Rude 
Mechanicals yet though because it 
has only just been raised from the 
dead.”

“Earnest” appears to be a strong 

promise from Rude Mechanical’s 
resurrection. Broaching sexuality 
and gender as accepted in 2016 and 
placing it in the 1950s with a script 
from the 1890s brings “an inter-
esting mix of ideals from differ-

ent generations that actually work 
really well together” Smith said, 
while also adding to the continuous 
layers that envelop this production.

And although Rude has only 

recently been revived, as an under-
dog it has room to grow, along with 
a vast community of students in 
and outside of SMTD who audition 
for shows.

“We’re definitely the underdog 

but that’s what makes it exciting,” 
Violet said. “The payoff is so much 
more worth it. When we accom-
plish something it’s a huge accom-
plishment, and it’s an amazing to 
feel like you’re working on some-
thing that’s brand new but also 
been around for a while.”

Just like the play itself, Rude 

Mechanical exists within the curi-
ous paradox of old and new, having 
both a sense of freshness and youth, 
while also holding a certain legacy. 
But this paradox plays to their 
advantage, for as Smith’s direction 
of “Earnest” demonstrates, any 
limitations can be handled — and 
handled in style.

There’s an underlying sense that 

Wilde would approve of the direc-
tion his beloved play has taken in 
this production, for as Algernon 
exclaims in one of his Wildian epi-
taphs, “In matters of grave impor-
tance, style, not sincerity, is the 
vital thing.”

The Importance 

of Being Earnest

Fri. and Sat. at 8 

p.m., Sun. at 2 p.m.

Lydia Mendelssohn 

Theater

Students and Seniors 

$8, Adults $10

“Gone ‘Til 

November: A 

Journal of Rikers 

Island”

Lil Wayne

Plume

BOOK REVIEW

