6A — Monday, November 21, 2016
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
KENDALL JENNER
In the words of Paris Hilton, “that’s hot.”
Somewhere, on the night
of
Kendall
Jenner’s
21st
birthday, Paris Hilton laughed.
Not because she was denied
access to a club — although
her track record is not clean of
such incidents. No, that brisk
November
evening,
Hilton
laughed for all that she once
loved.
The outfit Jenner donned
for her special day was a direct
reference
to
everything
the
fashion world has worked to
forget: the first ten years of the
21st century. She found a photo
of Hilton in a racy crystal slip,
and redid it in the form of a nine
thousand dollar imitation.
2006 was back, if only for a
night.
This is not me urging you
resurrect your shutter shades and
Livestrong wristbands. Please do
not. Rather, I’m here to address
what
most
industry
experts
have long since stuffed in a junk
drawer alongside their Neopets.
No, not their Hannah Montana
Fan Club memorabilia (which
I definitely do not have). I’m
talking about early 2000s fashion
in the United States of America.
The fashion of this
first
decade was, above all, fun. Color
coordination was a must. If you
didn’t have pink clip-in hair
extensions, you could probably
say goodbye to your Pictochat
group. Using a scarf as a belt?
Congratulations on your street
cred. Not even the popularity of
TV programs like “The Fashion
Police” (may Queen Rivers rest
in peace) could stop Ashley
Tisdale from wearing a pleated
skirt over her gauchos. I can’t
really pretend to know what
sparked this ten-year wave of
rampant eccentricism, but I sure
am glad I was here to see it wash
over an entire country.
Though some of the most
poignant
examples
of
this
movement
involve
women’s
fashion, men, too, made their
fair share of bold clothing
choices. Baggy jeans for the hip-
hop set, fedoras for the scholarly
types. Before he became the
poster child of the modern-day
streetwear movement, Kanye
West was a 2000s fashion icon,
advocating for neon sweaters
and unnecessary scarves simply
by wearing them in public.
Perhaps such quirkiness was
merely an outgrowth of the
slightly-more-punk yet slightly-
less-everything-else fashion of
the nineties. It’s probable. But
perhaps it stood for something
more, a form of release for a
nation in grieving. The early
aughts of America were the
perfect breeding ground for a
strange form of nuanced sadness,
one that still perpetrates our
lives today. It cannot be a
coincidence that some of the
most
iconic
movies,
books
and clothing trends American
popular culture has ever set
forth came to light in a time
of tragedy. I’m not saying that
nationalism was on the forefront
of every woman’s mind when
she put on a tie-dye poncho, but
there may have been something
subconscious involved, a desire
bubbling beneath that crocheted
surface.
As is historically the case,
this Western-derived movement
rippled across the world in no
time. In 2002, Versace debuted
a couture collection full of
gem-covered gowns in hues of
lime green, hot pink and, on
several occasions, rainbow. At
the same time, commonplace
stores
like
Target
boasted
brightly
patterned
dresses
that
were
supposed
to
be
worn over leggings. By 2005,
nearly everyone in the clothing
industry had both feet in the
fun-loving
bandwagon,
from
high-end designers to bargain
brands. Even Abercrombie, the
most subdued (and overpriced)
of every mall’s mega-retailers,
offered up their fair share of
bubble skirts and lace-trimmed
camis (both of which were,
indeed, overpriced).
We
can’t
talk
2000s-era
fashion without making mention
of celebrity clothing lines. Jay
Z and Damon Dash’s Rocawear,
Avril Lavigne’s Abbey Dawn,
Miley Cyrus’s collaboration with
Max Azria for Walmart. For
many of the decade’s rich and
famous, the notion of creating
a personal brand appeared to
mean more than the clothes
themselves. In other words,
we may never have seen Miley
wearing
the
cheetah
print
pants from her own collection,
but it didn’t matter. The charm
brought about by a big name,
coupled with an adherence to
the style of the decade, was
enough
to
make
celebrity-
curated clothes a “thing” for a
brief moment in time.
But why should we care about
any of this in 2016? We have
iPhones and a celebrity as our
president-elect. Why does it
matter what we were doing ten
years ago?
It’s common knowledge that
the trends of the past shape what
we wear in the present, so it only
makes sense that elements of ’00s
fashion have made a resurgence.
I was going to say that they “have
come back to haunt us,” but I
am wearing a tattoo choker as I
write this, so I’m not one to talk.
All kidding aside, look around.
Tracksuits are back for both
men and women. “Bellybutton
shirts” have been reincarnated
in through the modern crop top.
Rapper Tyler, The Creator is at
the helm of a successful, color-
happy clothing label, Golf Wang.
I don’t speak French, but I can
confidently say that 2016 has
given me a sense of fashion déjà
vu that I have yet to experience
at any other time.
No, Kendall Jenner’s 21st
birthday
number
was
not
groundbreaking.
It
was
a
friendly reminder of fashion’s
blinged-out, bubbly past, one
that we so often forget in lieu of
the stone-cold seriousness that
plagues the industry today.
I hope Paris Hilton is still
laughing.
Her
Cavalli-meets-
Juicy Couture sense of style once
meant the world to an entire
industry. Who knows? Perhaps
this form of fashion will come
back in full force, hair crimped,
denim miniskirt riding up just a
bit too high.
Thank you, 2006. I’m sure we
haven’t seen the last of you.
TESS GARCIA
Daily Arts Writer
An ode to the fashion of the aughts
Remembering a time where Paris Hilton and Pictochat reigned
Thrillers have one job, and it’s
in the name: they need to thrill
their
audience.
Everything,
be it the performances, the
direction or the editing, is
in the service of aiding and
abetting the adrenaline junkies
in the theater in getting their
high. When it works, as it did
with last year’s spectacularly
unnerving “The Gift,” the result
is a movie that stays with the
viewer long after the credits
have rolled. When it doesn’t, as
is the unfortunate case of “Shut
In,” the outcome is nothing
more than an hour and a half of
wasted time.
The premise, to be fair, is
an innately creepy one. Mary
JEREMIAH VANDERHELM
Daily Arts Writer
Cheap jump scares ruin the potential
of vaguely scary thriller ‘Shut In’
Disappointing ghost story starring Naomi Watts is no ‘The Ring’
(Naomi Watts, “King Kong”)
is a child psychologist who
has to split her time between
her practice and caring for her
catatonic son, Stephen (Charlie
Heaton, “Stranger
Things”). After a
young boy (Jacob
Tremblay, “Room”)
goes missing and
is presumed dead,
she begins to think
that his spirit is
haunting her. As
a massive winter
storm bears down
on them, Mary and the spirit
— or whatever is causing the
disturbances — are trapped
indoors.
That synopsis has a few things
going for it: a claustrophobic
setting, a fear of the unknown
and a bit of a man (or woman,
as the case may be) vs. nature
theme. Somewhat stunningly,
director
Farren
Blackburn
(“Marvel’s
Daredevil”)
manages to take that promise
and do absolutely nothing with
it, instead choosing to focus
on the same hackneyed jump
scares that plague every two-bit
horror or thriller flick.
Mary
hears
something
outside. A raccoon jumps out
at her. She hears something
upstairs. The kindly gentleman
who has taken a liking to her
jumps out at her, as one does.
Something supernatural jumps
out at her. It’s a dream. It’s the
same fake-out nonsense that
has become the bane of these
types of movies,
put in by writers
who have realized
that they don’t
have
anything
interesting
in
their
film
to
keep
audiences
invested.
“Shut In” fits
that
profile
to
a T. The constant fake-out
jump scares are tedious, but
at least predicting how the
overwrought
build-up
will
amount to nothing can become
a game in and of itself. Beyond
that, the movie offers nothing.
The performances, beyond a
sadly
underused
Tremblay,
range between disinterested
and hammy to the point of
hilarity.
After
the
initial
eeriness of the premise wears
itself out, there’s no tension
at all, just scene after scene of
jump scares and Mary worrying
about jump scares.
With all that in mind, the
first two acts of “Shut In” are
bad, but they’re forgettably bad.
They’re inoffensively bad, more
flat-out boring than anything
else. Then the third act begins,
and it begins with a twist
so ill-advised and laughably
ridiculous that it genuinely
boggles the mind. There’s no
build-up to it, no foreshadowing.
It’s just a sudden left turn for the
story to take for no other reason
than, “Hey, other thrillers have
twists. We should have a twist,
too.”
What follows is a solid five
minutes of exposition, so the
audience
understands
that
the subject of this twist is
singlehandedly
responsible
for everything bad that has
happened in the movie. What it
amounts to is an extended game
of hide-and-seek, with Mary
hiding in a closet for what feels
like a small eternity. Once again,
there’s no tension, because
not only does the audience
not care about the characters,
they’re still recovering from the
hilarious shock to the system
that was that twist.
“Shut In” could have been a
tense, claustrophobic thriller
with a talented cast. Instead, it
never fails to treat itself with the
utmost seriousness, even in its
silliest moments, and it settles
for something lesser. It’s boring
and lazy in its storytelling, and
outside of some genuinely well-
shot moments, there’s little
above average or even plainly
average to the rest of it.
EUROPACORP
“Where’s Barb?!”
D
“Shut in”
Rave & Quality 16
EuropaCorp
COLUMBIA RECORDS
Actually, the ‘Shrek’ soundtrack is his lasting legacy.
A cult-favorite poet from
Quebec
who
wrote
the
most
ubiquitous
song
of
his
generation,
who
didn’t
command the largest audiences
of his career until he was in his
70s, who had limited vocal range
but an endless vocabulary —
Leonard Cohen looms as such a
large figure in music because he
never followed expectations or
conventional wisdom, building
the kind of career and biography
that will never be replicated.
His acclaimed catalog of music
and writing, coupled with that
transfixing voice, strong sense of
style and Zen disposition, make
you want to hang onto his every
word, to try and use all he says a
guide for living. He’s a musician
second and a philosopher —
lover of wisdom — first.
Songs of Leonard Cohen,
the singer-songwriter’s nearly
50-year-old debut record, still
holds up as perhaps his most
essential work. It’s not the
album with “Hallelujah,” but it
contains many of Cohen’s most
beloved and oft-covered songs.
It’s an ideal entry point into
a lengthy, impressive career
that never followed any kind
of straightforward path. It was
released in the ’60s, when folk
music dominated the charts, but
even now that its style feels of a
different era, the idiosyncratic
work of Songs remains an
important, easy-to-obsess-over
work of art.
Cohen announced himself
in the most unbelievable way
with “Suzanne,” the immortal
opening track of Songs. The song
is an out-of-body experience, as
Cohen narrates an encounter
by a river with a dream-like
vision of a woman, with whom
he draws explicit parallels to
Jesus Christ. It’s barely a pop
song, but rather a search for
enlightenment — one man trying
to understand life with just an
acoustic guitar and a desire for
connection.
Cohen positions himself as
an old-school troubadour on
Songs, a timeless artist looking
for meaning through his muses
and stories. Many of these tracks
are about people he has crossed
paths with, especially women
who have inspired him, and
they’re all poetic ballads and
epics in the folk and storytelling
tradition. “Suzanne” may as
well be Athena. “Marianne”
is Eurydice. These songs are
worldly, detailed and multi-
faceted
—
understandable,
considering Cohen was already
an accomplished writer before
his music career and didn’t
release this album until he was
33.
Unlike
many
other
folk
singers of his era, Leonard
Cohen was never known for
acidic wit or complexly funny
turns of phrase, and he stays
remarkably
clear-headed
throughout Songs. While Dylan
would tell a departing lover,
“You just kind of wasted my
precious time,” Cohen offers
only, “Hey, that’s no way to say
goodbye.” While Van Morrison
would collapse into a puddle of
ecstasy upon meeting a woman
who seems like Jesus, Cohen
stays calm, letting the listener
absorb all he has to say without
embellishment.
But despite Cohen’s quite-
earned reputation for deep-
thought
seriousness,
his
warmth and sense of humor are
consistently underrated. “Sisters
of Mercy,” which closes side one,
is one of the album’s true joys.
Written about two hitchhikers
Cohen
met
in
Edmonton
and scored with celebratory
percussion, “Sisters” is a simple
ode to human interaction and
spontaneous gifts, as Cohen
thanks the two women for
inspiring this song. It’s music
that shows how one can be
occupied with the meaning
of life while still appreciating
the everyday wonders. A lot of
people characterize Leonard
Cohen
as
“depressing,”
but
that deep voice belies a warm
romantic, one who’s always
hopeful for a better world even
in his lowest moments.
Undeniably, Cohen’s legacy
will be “Hallelujah” in the way
Frost’s is “The Road Not Taken”
and Da Vinci’s is the Mona
Lisa. It’s a brilliant piece of art
that has earned an unlikely
place in the mainstream public
consciousness. For as long as
people sing, that song — in forms
both transcendent and awful —
will always be.
But it’s more than worth it to
explore Leonard Cohen beyond
just “Hallelujah.” As Songs of
Leonard Cohen and his entire
body of work demonstrates, he
was an immensely intelligent
artist
with
empathy
for
everyone. To listen to Leonard
Cohen sing in that uniquely
transfixing voice was to learn
and to live, to dream of and to
believe in a vision of the world
only someone as strange and
thoughtful and beautiful as him
could truly understand.
Goodbyes
and
hellos,
adventures and failures, the
holy and the broken — he
sang about them all. Leonard
Cohen helped put us in better
touch with the world, and he
connected his listeners to the
wonders of living. Cohen could
take emotions that you couldn’t
quite describe yourself and
spin them into grand tales that
explored the mysteries of love
and life while never losing touch
with the basic humanity these
feelings came from.
Remembering Leonard
Cohen by his debut album
ADAM THEISEN
Managing Arts Editor
It takes a deeper cut than ‘Hallelujah’ to understand the
importance and legacy of the late, great musician
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