The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, January 11, 2017 — 5A
‘Portlandia’ fails to match
past seasons’ offerings
While latest season delivers on signature humor, a dependence on
guests takes away from potential success and originality
‘La La Land’ and ‘Swing Time’ have a penchant for
dreaminess and nostalgia that brings love for art to life
Following its fifth season,
“Portlandia” was renewed for
not one but two new seasons.
IFC can’t get enough of Fred
Armisen (“SNL”) and Carrie
Brownstein (“Transparent”),
the
dynamic
duo
and
co-creators/
stars
of
the
sketch
series.
And neither can
audiences.
The
show’s
quirky
comedy
lives
on the edge of
the
primarily
parodic
sketch
humor
it
employs,
with
characters
and
scenes
ranging
from
affably
satirical
to
grotesquely
bizarre.
Yet after seven seasons, it’s
become clear that Armisen and
Brownstein have no shortage
of crazy comedy to dole out
within a structure that serves
boundlessly as a vessel for
their original content. Their
sketches
turn
themselves
and their audiences on their
heads,
employing
every
sharp tool of wit and over-
the-top
performance
to
push the boundaries of their
fictionalized
version
of
Portland, Ore.
While
the
miscellany
of content and apt parody
typically work to the benefit
of the show’s inexhaustible
writing and humor, the season
premiere suffered under the
lack of a cohesive tone. As
we’re shuffled from scene
to scene, one sketch swells
from subtle, acute humor to
slapstick visual comedy and
subsequent
disappointment
for both its fictional characters
and the audience at home.
Perhaps this last sketch
is designed self-reflexively,
poking fun at the difficulty
of engrossing storytelling. In
it, Armisen and Brownstein
play a couple desperate to
dazzle dinner guests with an
impressive
anecdote.
After
hearing their friends recount
how Tom Hanks pretended
to mug them in Venice, the
couple
goes
to
extreme
lengths, soliciting the help
of a performing arts teacher
(Claire Danes, “Homeland”)
to instruct them in the art of
dramatic storytelling.
However, the result of their
efforts is less art and more
artifice.
The
couple
shocks
their
guests
with a dramatic
retelling
(drum
beating
and
vibraslap ringing
included) of what
is likely the most
anticlimactic
story ever told,
bringing
the
sketch’s
short
life to an equally
unsatisfying
end. Though it’s clear what
the sketch is getting at, its
predictable (albeit kind of
funny) arc falls flat.
Another sketch that fails
to fulfill its comedic promise,
despite its amusing pretense,
is Armisen and Brownstein’s
depiction
of
a
couple
of
another kind: the goth Vince
and Jacqueline. As they flip
back
and
forth
between
deceptively dark personas and
Bed, Bath & Beyond-loving
stock characters — sometimes
abruptly though often too
subtly — the two meander
through what ultimately turns
out to be a half-baked sketch.
At each turn, it falls short of
its promise to be funny. The
Bed, Bath & Beyond employee,
seems as unfazed by the
characters’ bizarre behavior
as we’re expected to feel,
but the discrepancy between
reality
versus
expectation
just doesn’t achieve the full
comedic impact the sketch is
designed to accomplish.
In an even more pointless
one-part sketch – a commercial
selling children’s toys made
out of “100 percent organic”
men’s beards to expose them
to germs early on – the strange
humor falls short of making its
point or making us laugh. It’s
sly and it’s snarky, like much
of “Portlandia” ’s best, but it’s
a little too on-the-nose.
However, the series still
benefits
from
the
aid
of
returning
guest
stars
like
Natasha Lyonne (“Orange Is
The New Black”) and Vanessa
Bayer (“Saturday Night Live”),
who help bring the show’s
unconventional
characters
and scenarios to life with
convincing dynamism.
After Bayer, playing a tired
traveler, arrives at her hotel,
she is met by the the bell boy
(Armisen), who relentlessly
explains the use and and
function of every single hotel
room item, from the light
switches to the bathrobes.
He
even
embellishes
his
demonstrations
with
little
theatrical bits, much to the
weary guest’s vexation. The
simple play on conventional
hotel
check-in
experiences
taken to the extreme is a prime
example of one of the show’s
better
executed
sketches.
The premise sets a perfect
background
against
which
Armisen
demonstrates
his
idiosyncratic humor and Bayer
plays the great sport that goes
along with it all (that is, until
she flings herself out her hotel
window only to be caught by
Armisen, who she’s trying to
escape form in the first place).
Though the series premiere
isn’t a shining example of
Armisen’s
and
Brownstein’s
distinct talents, it nonetheless
delivers a compelling enough
sequence
of
sketches
that
convey their keen awareness of
the ingrained and unfortunate
circumstances of our society.
While
not
laugh-out-loud
hilarious, it still entertains.
I’m
not
convinced
though
that the comedic duo is by any
means settling. The best part
of “Portlandia” is that we never
know what to expect, and that’s
precisely the quality that a show
nearing its end must hold on to
if it’s to make a charming and
memorable exit. Luckily, we
have a full season to look ahead
to and Armisen and Brownstein
aren’t going anywhere anytime
soon — except to Bed, Bath &
Beyond, that is.
IFC
If you’d like to usher Matt Gallatin’s demise, please email anay@umich.edu promptly.
SHIR AVINADAV
Daily Arts Wrtier
All Things Reconsidered:
Looking back on ‘FWN’
As we enter 2017, it seems
only fitting to look back on
some
of
the
most
pivotal
albums from the year 2007,
now shockingly a decade ago.
As I was a mere eleven years old
at the time, my music taste was
still very questionable, and I’m
not going to go into detail about
the albums I listened to back
then (Linkin Park, anyone?).
Instead, a brief Google search
tells
me
that
the
Arctic
Monkeys’ sophomore album,
Favourite
Worst
Nightmare,
was released that year. At the
time of its release, there was a
lot of pressure on the band to
produce something as strong
as their record-breaking first
album, Whatever People Say
I Am, That’s What I’m Not.
Of course, this pressure was
unnecessary — the album has
since gone triple platinum in
the UK.
From the first chords of
FWN, it’s loud, brash and very
fast. This is the ‘classic’ Arctic
Monkeys’ sound that so many
people fell in love with, and
it’s a defining album of indie
rock in the mid-late ‘00s. The
band is now a regular festival
headliner, and it’s hard to
imagine they were destined for
anything else when listening
to this album. The songwriting
prowess has been there from
the very start. If you stripped
the album to just a single
instrument, it would still be a
great listen.
In stand out track “505,”
a song about romance and
distance — the remnants of
the band’s long world tour
before this album is clear. This
is a more cultured band than
they were in their debut, and
it shows in nearly all of the
tracks. Frontman Alex Turner
seems more self-aware, and
the
instrumentals
carry
a
wide array of influences, like
The Smiths and Oasis. This is
an album that was written on
the fly, with nearly half the
tracks performed and played
live before the album was even
released. But, for such a speedy
release and apparently thrown-
together track list, there are
no signs of sloppiness. With
perfect production, there is
no drop in quality from their
debut album.
Although
musically
FWN
still stands on its own, some of
the lyrics are somewhat jarring,
even ironic now. Turner has
always written about “fakes”
and “the industry” with an
outsider’s
perspective
(see:
“Fake Tales of San Francisco”
from
their
debut,
and
“Brianstorm” from FWN). But
considering where the Arctic
Monkeys are now, that struggle
with the concept of fame feels
odd in retrospect — they’re
now
a
major,
mainstream
band. Compared to their most
recent album, AM, which has
songs about Alexa Chung, and
others inspired by Drake and
Lil Wayne, this album is a large
jump in tone. FWN era Arctic
Monkeys were those cool indie
kids from Sheffield who built
a following on Myspace. On
AM, Arctic Monkeys have all
moved to Los Angeles and now
ride motorcycles in the Mojave
desert in their free time.
Clearly, artistic progression
isn’t a bad thing, and the band
is an example of that. With the
several albums between FWN
and AM, Arctic Monkeys have
showcased all manners of style,
and the individual members
of the bands have explored
their
own
voice
(drummer
Matt Helders played for Diddy
under an alias). It’s a testament
to just how good this band has
been throughout their varied,
decade-long existence. You can
still go to an indie night club
and hear “Brianstorm” sung
back to the DJ, almost word
for word, ten years later. That’s
how you know you’ve written a
classic.
MEGAN WILLIAMS
Daily Arts Writer
A Technicolor World
Made Out of Music & Machine
In my elementary school
music class, in addition to
learning to play the recorder —
and we played a lot
of recorder — each
year we watched
one movie musical.
In the third grade
it
was
“Singin’
in the Rain.” It’s
hard even now to
describe
what
it
felt like to watch
something like that
for the first time.
Sitting on the choir
risers,
craning
my neck to watch
from the small VCR-only TV
hanging from the corner of
the ceiling. It reminds me of
a poem by Marilyn Nelson,
in which she recalls hearing
poetry for the first time. The
room melted away, and it was
just me and Gene Kelly and
Debbie Reynolds.
I have been looking all over
for that feeling. And I have
found it here and there, in
moments of other movies. But
rarely (almost never) as wholly
as I did when watching “La La
Land.”
Recently in my columns, I
have praised a lot of movies
for
being
“anti-referential,”
which, in addition to being
pretentious as hell, I defined as
movies that exist on their own,
without homage or reference
to film history. Movies without
acknowledgement
of
the
base they were built upon —
movies wholly unlike those of
Tarantino, which exist, almost
entirely, as a series of film
references and homages.
“La La Land” isn’t “anti-
referential” (and really, nothing
can
be);
it’s
anti-cynical.
It’s
purely,
unabashedly
enthusiastic. It loves without
embarrassment the foundation
it was built upon. When Ryan
Gosling slides around that light
post I could feel in my chest
the smallest of flickers, a little
spark of love.
“La La Land” is a film built
on a foundation of
love, one that pulses
through every shot,
every beat and every
note.
And it wasn’t just
another movie about
the magic of movies; it
was a movie that was
magic.
That’s
why,
as I left the theater,
I was overwhelmed
with emotion. Movies
like “La La Land”
remind me why I love
what I love.
Something I want to do
more is give suggestions for
companion pieces for recent
movies I have loved. I have a
pairing suggestion for “La La
Land.” For maximum effect,
read Zadie Smith’s latest novel,
“Swing Time.” The book is
about two girls, both dancers.
One “has it” and the other does
not. But Smith chooses to give
voice to the one who is never
going to make it as a dancer.
Through her, the audience
sees the world through the
eyes of someone who loves
dance, and more specifically
movies about dance — the very
same Fred Astaire and Ginger
Rodgers-type thing that has
its fingerprints all over “La La
Land.”
Much like “La La Land,”
“Swing Time” is interested
in the way art, especially
film and dance, shape our
understanding of the world.
Much of how the narrator sees
and interacts with the world
is shaped by the musicals she
watched as a child. She talks
about these movies in a way
that mirrors how I found
myself talking about “La La
Land.” At one point she notes:
“The opera-like comings and
goings, the reversals of fortune,
the outrageous meet cutes and
coincidences.... To me they were
only roads leading to the dance.
The story was the price you
paid for the rhythm.” This is,
of course, the perfect rebuttal
to the argument that the plot
of “La La Land” is unrealistic.
The plot is not the point! The
point is the spectacle that the
plot lets happen, the song and
dance, the pure splendor of the
whole production.
Another thing the two share
is a certain self-awareness
of their own nostalgia and
the danger that that kind of
dreaminess carries. It seems, at
first, in “La La Land” that Mia’s
is more enthralled in her own
nostalgia — early shots of her
stand out for their saturated
colors and her final ballad is an
ode to the “fools who dream.”
But,
it’s
Sebastian’s
brand
of nostalgia, as well as the
desperation that accompanies
it,
that
becomes
crippling.
He’s so wedded to his own
idea of what jazz needs to be
that he can’t adapt his dreams
to the reality of his world. His
nostalgia becomes his ethos
and Mia must leave him behind
— surrounded, quite literally,
by relics of the past — as she
moves forwards toward her
own success.
The
narrator
in
“Swing
Time” falls somewhere close to
Sebastian’s breed of nostalgia,
although hers is a little more
complex. It’s nostalgia both
for the art (in this case, movie
musicals) of her childhood,
but also the childhood itself
and the friendship she has that
colors most of that time.
Although
perhaps
more
the darker cousin than “La
La Land” ’s true companion,
“Swing Time” is enhanced
by and in turn enhances the
viewing of the movie. I cannot
suggest
either
one
highly
enough.
MADELEINE
GAUDIN
Senior Arts Editor
FILM COLUMN
TV REVIEW
B-
“Portlandia”
Season 7 Premiere
IFC
Thursdays at 10
p.m.
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MAKER. AIN’T THAT SOMETHING?
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MUSIC NOTEBOOK
Arctic Monkeys’ loud and brash second record, ten years later
This is a more
cultured band
than they were in
their debut