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Monday, November 28, 2016 — 5A

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ACROSS
1 “Get lost!’
6 Google __:
geographical app
10 Ruth with bats
14 Egypt’s capital
15 They may clash
on a movie set
16 Environmental sci.
17 *Power source
that plugs into a
computer port
19 Physics particle
20 Andes, e.g.:
Abbr.
21 Against
22 Make amends
(for)
23 *“Airplane!” flight
number, to the
control tower
26 Boats with
double-bladed
paddles
29 Forget to include
30 Mosque leader
31 Address for
Bovary
33 Having one flat,
musically
36 *Carl Icahn or
Michael Milken
40 Billy the __
41 Father or son
New York
governor
42 Head, to Henri
43 Suffix with joke or
pun
44 Gratify
46 *Castle gate-
busting weapon
51 Going on, to
Sherlock
52 Lily pad squatter
53 Sock hop site
56 “The Mod Squad”
cop
57 Home of the
player at the
ends of the
answers to
starred clues
60 Actor Estrada
61 Be complicit in,
as a caper
62 Giraffe kin
63 Exec’s asst.
64 TiVo
predecessors
65 Jotted down

DOWN
1 Film on stagnant
water
2 Film credits list

3 Barbecue fare
4 Smile shape
5 Iroquoian people,
or a hair style
named for them
6 Fred or Ethel of
old TV
7 Texas A&M
athlete
8 19th-century
master of the
macabre
9 Old Rus. state
10 “Get lost!”
11 Follow, as a tip
12 Trailblazing
Daniel
13 Roundheaded
Fudd
18 Yucatán years
22 Jungian inner
self
23 Pack (down)
24 Calf-roping event
25 Poet Khayyám
26 Punt or field goal
27 Mine, to Marcel
28 One of 100
between end
zones
31 Native New
Zealander
32 Source of quick
cash, briefly
33 Brainstorm

34 Butterfly catchers
35 For nothing
37 Eight-musician
group
38 Regretful sort
39 Bulleted list entry
43 Heavyset
44 Plum’s title in
Clue, briefly
45 Blue or black
water of filmdom
46 Hay bundles
47 Burning

48 Mixer with gin
49 Player
referenced in 
57-Across’ clue,
briefly
50 Southern side dish
53 Tiny biting insect
54 “Eek!”
55 Hotel room cleaner
57 Cleveland cager,
for short
58 “Easy as” letters
59 Old studio letters

By Jake Braun
©2016 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/28/16

11/28/16

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Monday, November 28, 2016

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

xwordeditor@aol.com

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COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK

A couple of weekends ago you 

might have noticed a host of well-
dressed people streaming down 
the sidewalks in the vicinity of 
the intersection between North 
University Avenue and South 
Thayer Street. Or perhaps, if 
you drive, you might have found 
yourself bumper-to-bumper in 
the sort of traffic jam normally 
reserved for game day. Either was 
rather likely, and the occasion 
was something which hadn’t 
happened since 2009 — the Berlin 
Philharmonic was in town.

My guess would be that it took 

around $81,000 to bring them 
across the ocean, given the price of 
airfare and the number of people. 
Tack on the expense of organizing 
everything, the negotiation with 
venues, the booking of hotels, the 
food, the chartering of busses 
and it doubtlessly amounts to a 
small fortune. In the end it must 
have been profitable, I suppose, 
but whoever managed it must 
have been a logistical mastermind 
with Herculean endurance, and 
I wouldn’t want their job for the 
world. Which is to say I’m really 
glad that someone did it, because 
the result of all that effort was a 
fantastic experience for thousands 
of people.

As a bit of background, the Berlin 

Philharmonic is widely considered 
to be one of the top four or five 
orchestras in the world, competing 
with the likes of the London and 
Vienna Symphonies. So to say that I 
was excited when it was announced 
they would be coming to Ann Arbor 
is an understatement. I bought 
my ticket well in advance, and 
looked forward to it all semester 
and all of the summer before that. 
I even spent a few days in Berlin in 
August, and while there declined 
to seek out any performances that 
might be happening, in anticipation 
of the Ann Arbor concert.

It 
certainly 
wasn’t 
a 

disappointment. 
Berlin’s 

reputation is well deserved, and 
the direction of Simon Rattle was 
stellar. I might even go so far as 
to say it was the best orchestral 
performance I had ever witnessed, 
and I’ve seen a fair few. Throughout 

the concert, the ensemble of over 
a hundred musicians played as if 
one. Every gesture was shaped 
together, each stream of sound 
perfectly balanced against the 
others. And the sounds they made 
were marvelous. The sweeping 
motions of the strings felt as if 
they were lifting you off the floor, 
and when the brass section played 
with all their might you felt it 
reverberating in your bones.

Aside from awe at the orchestra’s 

technique, 
the 
performance 

also left me with a few thoughts. 
The program I watched was in 
two parts: the second half was 
Brahms Symphony No. 2, a fairly 
conventional 
orchestral 
choice 

(and a personal milestone — 
I’ve now seen all the Brahms 
symphonies live), and the first half 
was a non-stop performance of 
music by Schoenberg, Webern and 
Berg, collectively known as the 
Second Viennese School. This was 
not a conventional choice. In fact, 
I’m fairly certain that until Berlin 
I had never attended an orchestral 
concert with music by any of those 
three, let alone all of them on one 
program. And in a word, I was 
thrilled — though not everyone 
agrees with my ecstasy.

I think I might be in the 

minority in this, but I love atonal 
music. While most people feel that 
it’s ugly, weird and just all around 
unpleasant to hear, I find it to be 
beautiful, colorful, expressive and 
liberating. And when you think of 
atonalism, it’s the three composers 
of the Second Viennese School 
who immediately come to mind. 
Partially 
because 
Schoenberg 

“invented” atonality, he and his 
pupils Webern and Bern are 
inextricably bound-up with it, but 
since that trio there have been 
countless composers who followed 
their footsteps, the atonal aesthetic 
coming to be the primary feature 
of 20th century Modernist music. 
Many of them have influenced 
the way that I work and think as a 
composer, so to hear the original 
atonal masters was a valuable 
experience.

After the concert I overheard 

many of the conversations going 
on around me. Many of them went 
something like this: “I wasn’t 
really sure about the first half, 
but the Brahms made it all worth 

it.” I found a similar sentiment 
expressed 
throughout 
the 

comment section of the University 
Musical Society website. And I 
understand why people might 
feel that way. I don’t agree with 
them, but there was a time when 
I might have, and it’s not my place 
to say someone’s musical taste 
is wrong. Coming to love atonal 
music was a long process, hours 
upon hours spent listening as I 
slowly started to understand the 
syntax and unlearned many of 
the assumptions I had about what 
music was. That’s not necessarily 
for everyone, but that is what 
everyone heard at the Berlin 
concert, which is why I find 
Maestro Rattle’s choice to include 
this music endlessly fascinating.

What should be included in an 

orchestra’s 
repertoire? 
Whose 

opinions should carry the most 
weight when deciding? On the 
one hand, part of an orchestra’s 
role is to “entertain,” so to speak. 
When someone goes home after 
an evening at the symphony it’s 
generally 
assumed 
that 
they 

should have had a good time. 
It follows that the tastes of the 
audience 
should 
bear 
upon 

the 
programming 
decisions. 

But orchestras also serve as 
champions of the arts. They 
should, ideally, expose people to 
types of music they have never 
really experienced, and promote 
works both by living composers 
and from periods that are less 
popular. In addition to providing 
enjoyment, they should challenge 
their listeners. The latter role 
might even be more important. 
The classics and sure-fire hits 
don’t need championing — they’re 
already ensconced in our culture.

At the end of everything, an 

approach like the one Rattle 
took is probably the best. Mixing 
the 
tried-and-true 
with 
the 

unconventional 
on 
the 
same 

program ensures balance. Ears 
searching for old favorites and 
exciting new worlds are both 
appeased. And by putting the 
Second Viennese School on a 
major program, it goes a long way 
towards normalizing them, and 
making them seem less new. Not 
that there’s any rush — the last of 
the three only died 65 years ago, 
after all.

DAYTON HARE
Daily Arts Writer

My love for the Berlin Philharmonic

Their performance in Ann Arbor solidified their top-notch status

“The Eric Andre Show” is TV’s 

hardest sell. Sure, it airs on Fridays 
at midnight on the adult-oriented 
version of Cartoon Network — and 
that sentence alone has surely 
already lost me a few readers — 
but I’m so ardent in my “Ranch!” 
fervor that it’s a wonder my 
proselytizing hasn’t gotten me 
blocked from multiple contacts. 
Yet, despite innumerable pleas 
to friends, family and coworkers, 
my conversion rate is dispiritingly 
low.

I can’t say I’m surprised. 

Eric 
André’s 
(“Man 
Seeking 

Woman”) 
underappreciated 

series, which recently completed 
its fourth season, is a collection 
of compact, 12-minute bursts of 
pure, unbridled energy. It is (at the 
risk of using up all my adjectives 
too 
early) 
at 
once 
explicit, 

uncomfortable, hilarious, graphic, 
deadpan, 
raunchy, 
disgusting, 

absurdist, 
ironic, 
awkward, 

progressive, horrifying, manic and 
the televised embodiment of WTF.

It is, in one word, a miracle.
Ostensibly a parody of public 

access talk shows, “The Eric 
Andre Show” is the brainchild of 
the irrepressibly insane comedian 
whose name — and sensibility — 
it bears. Each episode features 
André as the odd, insecure host 
of a late-night show alongside 
comedian 
Hannibal 
Buress 

(“Broad City”), who literally does 
nothing more than stand on the 
side of the set and chime in with 
random asides. The title sequence 
features a live band, and then 
André subsequently tackling the 
drummer of said live band, as 
well as destroying his purposely 
cheap-looking set, on every single 
episode. And guests — many 
of whom simply have no idea 
what they’ve signed up for — are 
subjected to “interviews” that are 
abruptly spliced between on-the-
street segments.

That’s about as much formal 

structure as the show cares to 
have; 
beyond 
this, 
anything 

goes. Prerecorded segments are 
YouTube-ready, 
hidden-camera 

sketches 
that 
transgress 
the 

boundaries of comfort and good 
taste and, in some cases, the law. 
A few personal favorites: the 
aforementioned recurring series, 

“Ranch It Up,” in which our host 
spouts non sequiturs borne of 
an untethered writers’ room to 
passersby on the street before 
chugging a bottle of Hidden 
Valley Ranch; one in which André, 
covered in cereal and adorned 
with a dog collar, moans to subway 
passengers that he “did not, 
unfortunately, get the job at the 
Froot Loops factory” and proceeds 
to pour milk all over his crying face; 
another subway sketch in which 
André, dressed as a mailman 
and rocking Heelys, begins to rip 
apart letters and fake mail to the 
horror of people nearby, all the 
while screaming “I HATE MAIL! 
I HATE MAIL!” and ending 
with a lovely performance of the 
pan flute; and the crown jewel, a 
recurring sketch called “Bird Up!” 
that, in one episode, inexplicably 
ends with André, in a neon-green 
super suit and a toy bird glued to 
his shoulder, fingering the mouth 
of a woman on the street while 
repeatedly chanting the phrase, 
“YAH BOOBAY.” Yes, I know what 
you’re thinking — 126 years of 
editorial freedom, all culminating 
in that sentence.

Celebrity 
interviews 
are 

similarly odd. André’s stated 
mission is to make his guests 
as uncomfortable as possible. 
And by extension that means his 
viewers, too. Just as the camera 
often jarringly cuts to Buress 
doing 
something 
incredibly 

stupid, like screaming into a bite 
of a Hot Pocket, we are often 
treated to the most intimate, 
awkward and discomfiting of 
host-guest interactions. André 
alternately cranks the heat up 
on his set to sweltering levels, 
places cockroaches underneath 
his guests’ seat cushion, literally 
flashes Seth Rogen or, in one 
notorious sequence, prompts a 
genuinely heated walkout from 
Lauren Conrad after eating fake 
vomit from his desk.

The series’ comedic sensibility 

borders on nihilism, and it is 
the medium’s most fully formed 
simulacrum of utter anarchy. And 
in between moments of complete 
disgust, you realize that there’s 
much more brains behind the art.

It’s entirely plausible to detect, 

in André’s show, a scathing 
critique of the concept of modern 
American celebrity, or a cleverly 
disguised satire of racial politics 
in late-night television. And that 

subtext belies André’s prodigious 
perceptiveness and intelligence 
— 
something 
not 
normally 

associated with a show so devoted 
to lowbrow dick jokes and 420 
references.

If the static sameness of 

late-night 
television 
is 
the 

unquestioned norm, then “The 
Eric Andre Show” is here to 
detonate the status quo with 
a brashness that veers toward 
hyper-masculine arrogance, but 
is nonetheless revolutionary. Since 
their inception, talk shows have 
been constructed to mitigate the 
masses, to cast the widest net 
and reel in the largest audience 
by substituting inoffensiveness 
where dissidence might be more 
potent. This show isn’t interested 
in that.

A Berklee College of Music 

graduate, 
André 
toys 
with 

conventions like the “in-house 
band” in ways that are ostensibly 
base but slyly subversive. The host, 
who traded in the stand up bass 
for stand up comedy less than a 
decade ago, is more concerned 
with in-your-face humor than 
the air of smugness that often 
permeates shows like “The Daily 
Show” and “Last Week Tonight.” 
His influences are less Johnny 
Carson and more “Space Ghost 
Coast to Coast”; the show operates 
like an absurdist’s pastiche of 
“Jackass,” “Da Ali G Show” and 
Tyler, The Creator’s short-lived 
“Loiter Squad.”

And while there’s much to 

deconstruct, there exists the 
timeless 
pleasure 
of 
simply 

appreciating a show willing to 
traffic in comedy that is at once 
gleefully tasteless and legitimately 
boundary-pushing.

I find it difficult, however, 

to write about this marvel of a 
series and capture the distinct 
and exhilarating experience of 
actually watching it. To put it 
bluntly, this is the only show not 
named “Veep” currently on air that 
can elicit sincere tears of laughter 
in the solitary confinement of my 
bedroom.

So while the arbiters of good 

taste might deem “The Eric Andre 
Show” too niche for a mainstream 
audience, I bristle. That’s a fair 
characterization, sure, but it also 
misses the point. “The Eric Andre 
Show” is brilliant, uncomfortable 
and proudly, defiantly not for 
everyone. I plan to keep watching. 

‘Andre’ is glorified WTF

NABEEL CHOLLOMPAT

Daily Arts Writer

Off-beat Adult Swim staple is supremely underrated TV

A slow movie may not have 

the action or pacing to keep an 
audience’s attention, but there is 
always something to 
keep them invested, 
be 
it 
character 

or 
performance. 

Director 
Robert 

Zemeckis 
(“Back 

to the Future”) has 
done well with this 
type of movie in the 
past; “Cast Away” 
and “Flight,” both 
slow moving character pieces, 
rank among his best work. His 
newest film, “Allied,” is a different 
story. During the first half, it offers 
the viewer next to nothing to 
invest in, and by the time it gets the 
story rolling in hour two, it’s nearly 
too late.

Not all of these failings can 

be blamed on Zemeckis, because 
the script from Steven Knight 
(“Peaky Blinders”) is at least 
partially accountable as well. 
For the first half of the movie, 
scene after scene passes without 
making any significant progress 
in the development of character 
or plot. It seems to be biding time 
until something exciting finally 
happens at the end of the first 
act. At this point, the characters 
would ordinarily be holding the 
film together, but neither of them 
are all that engaging. They’re both 

shown to be competent spies, but 
that alone isn’t enough to capture 
one’s attention and hold it for any 
amount of time.

Some of the blame also has to 

go to the performers, in particular 
Brad Pitt (“Fight Club”), who plays 

Max Vatan. It’s 
something of an 
understatement 
to call Pitt a “good 
actor,” and he has 
improved 
with 

age — as his turns 
in 
“Inglorious 

Basterds,” 
“Moneyball” and 
“The Tree of Life” 

can attest. It’s hard to say what his 
problem is in “Allied,” but he comes 
across as flat for the bulk of the 
runtime. Even at Max Vatan’s most 
emotional, most intense moments, 
he seems almost incapable of 
emoting beyond slightly raising 
his voice or pouting. It’s telling 
that his best moment on screen is 
a scene in which he shuffles a deck 
of cards in magnificently over-the-
top fashion.

That blame doesn’t necessarily 

extend to the entire cast though. 
Marion Cotillard (“Inception”) 
gives a layered performance as 
Marianne Beauséjour once the 
script gives her something to work 
with, and is unarguably the best, 
most interesting part of the movie. 
The script calls for her to be 
potentially duplicitous, yet likable 
enough that the viewer roots for 
her to be truthful, and she walks 

the line with ease. Jared Harris 
(“Mad Men”) doesn’t get as much 
screen time in his supporting role 
as Max’s commanding officer, but 
even he adds more humanity and 
emotion to the affair than Pitt.

To the movie’s credit, “Allied” 

does 
get 
progressively 
more 

interesting as the story comes 
together. As Max begins to look 
into 
the 
accusations 
levelled 

against his wife, the viewer is 
forced, to a certain extent, to put 
themselves in his shoes. It’s hard 
at that point not to feel a little 
sympathy for him, even if he is 
the least fascinating part of the 
ordeal. Zemeckis even manages 
to draw out the suspense in a 
couple scenes; a sequence taking 
place under the cover of dark in 
a French jailhouse is particularly 
memorable for its intensity.

It’s ultimately sad that that 

same intensity — or at least level 
of engagement — did not spread 
to the rest of “Allied.” It clearly 
holds the markers of greatness. 
Zemeckis has directed some of the 
most iconic films ever made, Pitt 
and Cotillard are both spellbinding 
when they’re operating at the top 
of their game and Knight proved 
with “Locke” that the man can 
write a minimalist script with 
the best of them. Here, much 
of that talent feels squandered. 
“Allied” isn’t a complete loss, as 
it does slowly become an above-
average romantic thriller near 
its climax, but it is certainly a 
disappointment.

JEREMIAH VANDERHELM

Daily Arts Writer

Historical war drama ‘Allied’ holds 
streaks of greatness, but disappoints

Newest film from director Robert Zemeckis is both slow and boring

C+

“Allied”

Rave & Quality 16

Paramount Pictures

FILM REVIEW

TV NOTEBOOK

