2B — Thursday, January 12, 2017
the b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
‘Lion’ flawed but evocative
UofMixtape: Cold Open
Oscar bait is a funny thing,
isn’t it? The notion of film
for the purpose of awards
attraction
is
troubling,
not
only because the film’s quality
may be affected
by
studio
or
distributor
attempts to make
it more palatable
or
moving,
but
because the entire
content of a film is
dependent on its
supposed “social
importance.”
Consider
the
advertisements
that
appeared
across
Los
Angeles
before
the
Oscars
in
support
of
“The Imitation Game,” the
2014 biopic of gay computer
science pioneer Alan Turing.
“Honor this man,” read the
advertisement. But that’s not
the film’s fault (though, no
doubt, the screenplay, with
its repetitive “inspirational”
platitudes, had Oscar gold on
its mind); the problem with the
Oscar bait-centered criticism
is that it can deride a perfectly
good movie.
“Lion” might be one of those
movies — which is a shame,
because
it’s
emotionally
powerful and well-constructed,
and doomed to a marketing
campaign
that
directs
filmgoers to see this movie
because
it’s
an
Important
Movie. “Lion” begins a few
decades ago in an Indian slum,
where
Saroo
(the
aborable
young newcomer Sunny Pawar)
becomes separated from his
brother
at
a
train
station.
Saroo goes looking for his big
brother and ends up napping
on a stationary train, which
later begins to move across the
country. Saroo, lost in Calcutta,
where the natives speak Bengali,
not Hindu, bounces from a home
to a group of children on the
street to, finally,
an
orphanage,
from which Saroo
is
later
adopted
by
the
Brierley
family, a couple
from
Australia
(Nicole
Kidman,
“Genius,”
and
David
Wenham,
“300: Rise of an
Empire”).
The first half of
“Lion” is some of
the best filmmaking of the year.
Pawar’s performance is riveting,
perhaps because he doesn’t fall
for any of the typical mistakes
child actors do, namely line
recitation rather than acting.
Pawar is not only convincing
as
the
young
Saroo,
he’s
captivating. So is his brother,
Guddu (another first-time actor,
Abhisek Bharate), but he’s given
considerably less screen time,
understandably. Greig Fraser’s
(“Rogue One: A Star Wars
Story”) cinematography is partly
responsible, transforming an all-
too-typical cinematic image of
Indian poverty (see: “Slumdog
Millionaire”) into breathtaking
storytelling. It’s all the more
surprising that the film was
directed by Garth Davis, who
only has a few short films under
his belt, and no feature films.
Davis demonstrates a mastery
of the camera, especially in the
first half, that should serve as a
calling card for years to come.
“Lion”
finds
its
premise
in the second half, where a
20-something
Saroo
(Dev
Patel, “The Man Who Knew
Infinity”) — adorned with a
mane of long hair that, perhaps,
hints at the film’s title — has
all but renounced his Indian
heritage, proudly boasting his
Australian upbringing. But it’s
the mid-2000s, the inception
of the information age, and
when someone mentions Google
Earth, then new, the idea of
locating his home strikes at
Saroo. The film thus becomes
a procedural, long takes of
Saroo obsessively working on
his
computer,
mapping
out
the region and possible train
routes. He descends into a sort of
chaotic fugue state; he becomes
aggressive towards his girlfriend,
Lucy (an uncharacteristically
bland Rooney Mara, “Carol”).
He doesn’t get along with his
adopted
brother,
also
from
India, who did not adjust as
well twenty years before. The
second half is stuffed with these
tropes of procedural drama,
and it proves rather distracting.
Screenwriters (in this case, Luke
Davies, who also wrote last year’s
“Life”) often must take dramatic
liberties with source material,
but must it be so melodramatic?
But the power of “Lion” is
indisputable.
Its
emotional
potency is in no small indebted to
its heartbreaking subject matter
— just imagine mysteriously
losing your family with no
closure — but Davis’s direction,
far
superior
to
Davies’s
screenplay, breathes life into a
fascinating story, which could
have made for an otherwise
achingly dull movie in another
director’s hands.
B+
“Lion”
The Weinstein
Company
Quality 16
What you have here, folks, is
one hour and fourteen minutes
of frustration, sadness, and
longing (in more or less that
order). The finest collection
of melancholy this side of
the Mississippi, if I do say so
myself. These are the songs
that soundtrack my late walks
in the falling snow — the less
visibility, the better. This is the
music in which I find comfort
during long drives, the snow
not only piled high on the sides
of the road, but obscuring the
street itself, challenging our
tax dollars to wake someone up
at three or four or five in the
morning so that we don’t lose
our minds come morning rush
hour.
The
playlist
begins
with
harsher
sounds
—
the
unforgiving
guitar
riff
on
“Sister” is a recent favorite,
Cloud
Nothings’
distorted
power-punk album features a
cover reminiscent of a ski lodge
(a detail that has always had
an important bearing on how I
hear their music), the bombast
of Preoccupations’ “Continental
Shelf” features chunky guitars
and
stark
production,
and
Will Toledo’s work as Car Seat
Headrest is pleasantly fuzzy
lo-fi.
Songs by Ypsilanti-local Fred
Thomas
and
The
National-
soundalike
Black
English
provide
the
transition
to
acoustic, where Pedro The Lion
begin the “sadness” portion
of the ‘list. The
Microphones’
“I
Want
Wind
To
Blow”
is
an
unhurried,
cluttered
piece,
juxtaposed
with
the
quiet
urgency of Super
City’s “Run The
Home.”
Next,
we
introduce
quiet urgency to
electric guitar (and a full band)
with Rainbow Kitten Surprise’s
poignant “Cold Love” — just
wait for those harmonies in the
final minute.
From here, we enter the
“longing” portion, beginning
with a chamber-pop detour
featuring the likes of Stars,
Beirut, and San Fermin, as well
as a track by Owen Pallett (whose
work is appropriate in context,
but too experimental for me to
comfortably label “chamber-
pop”). Net we have an arguably
indulgent pair of songs, “Too
Much” by Sampha — a piano-
and-vocals-only version of the
Drake song (which Sampha
helped write and produce) —
and “Sweet Chin Music” by
Milo, a whimsical downbeat
rap that casually
samples a Bon
Iver song.
Rounding
out
the
final
fourteen minutes
is
the
glitchy
“Murmurs,” the
hollow-sounding
“Chamakay”
with
its
oddly
dark
vibe,
the
excellent, pared-
down
“Chinatown”
from
Girlpool’s even more excellent
2015 debut and, finally, “Coldest
Night of the Year,” by Vashti
Bunyan (probably most well
known for her collaboration
with
Animal
Collective),
a
track which I’ll readily admit I
may or may not have tacked on
for novelty.
DANIEL HENSEL
Daily Film Editor
SEAN LANG
Daily Arts Writer
Do you ever experience
that feeling when you open
your
refrigerator
to
find
that you have absolutely no
desire to make what you
would normally make with
the items before you? Does
a gloom settle over you? Do
you then pray to the food
gods for inspiration to strike,
awaiting the deliverance of
an
important,
life-altering
culinary message from above?
I found myself precisely
in
this
position
just
a
few
days
ago, staring into a
refrigerator packed
with items I had
no
right
moping
over. But just as
you
look
into
a
bursting
closet
without
a
clue
what to wear, you
may find yourself
looking into your
food supplies at a
standstill — feeling
hungry and lackluster.
But just as this feeling
began to settle in, growing
more pressing with each growl
emitted
by
my
frustrated
stomach (if it could talk, it
would have probably said
“Just feed me already”), an
idea took form in my head —
a beautiful, appetizing idea.
At that moment, I decided to
make pierogis.
Yeah, I bet you didn’t see
that coming.
Some
people
have
photographic memory; most
people, like myself, have just a
normal memory. But because
it’s in my nature to constantly
be thinking about food, I have
a peculiar habit of recalling
bygone recipes at a moment’s
notice.
This time, I remembered
seeing a recipe for caramelized
onion and mushroom pierogi
that had stood out to me while
browsing the many appetizing
recipes concocted by online
food bloggers. I remembered
that the dough seemed fairly
easy,
requiring
just
flour
and yogurt (in addition to
the eggs, water, oil and salt I
already had on hand). I also
remembered that it sounded
freaking amazing, and long
ago, I had tucked it away in
some abandoned bookmark
or Pinterest board like the
countless
other
recipes
I
excitedly resolved to make
before saving them for later.
So, after the recipe that
had faded from my memory
suddenly
sprung
back
to
mind, I got to work
by assembling my
already
available
ingredients before
making the little
Polish
dumplings.
Pierogis remind me
of
my
grandma’s
kreplach (a Jewish
dumpling
filled
with
meat),
only
layered
and
typically filled with
potato and cheese
instead.
Perhaps
the methods of preparation
are similar, but they both
comprise the collection of old-
school recipes brought over
by families from countries
outside the U.S. and passed on
through generations. Therein
lies the essence of comfort
food, and the appeal of both
making and consuming the
pierogi.
The
dough
required
surprisingly minimal effort
and was easy to handle (aside
from my practiced pie dough
making,
I’m
pretty
much
doomed when it comes to
dough). I sautéed my onions,
garlic and mushrooms in a pan
before adding the spinach and
letting the leaves wilt in the
pan of steaming vegetables. I
took a lot of liberty with this
step of the process, opting
to stray from the recipe’s
filling and make a simplified
version suited to my own taste
instead — adding goat cheese
and spinach in place of the
prerequisite mashed potato.
Finally, the pierogi dough
was ready to be rolled out, cut
into circles using (what I think
was clean — it’s sometimes
hard to tell in our kitchen of
seven) glass and carefully
dealt a spoonful of stuffing
before
being
folded
over
into their familiar crescent
shapes.
With
mounting
anticipation (the water could
not have taken longer to boil) I
carefully dropped my pierogi
into the salted, bubbling water
and watched as, one by one,
they lazily floated up.
Then, after scooping them
out and letting them rest, I
fried them in a generous pat
of sizzling butter until they
crisped up to a nice golden
brown. And after less than
an hour’s work, I had a whole
tray of savory mounds of fried,
mushroom filled dough to
show for my efforts.
Though
delicious,
the
doughy pockets aren’t the
moral of this mouth-watering
tale. I had, in an instant, been
transported to another world.
One where I could access
memories, tastes and feelings
that are otherwise unavailable
to me. And all because I had,
in the depths of complacency,
decided to do something to
counter the immobility that
comes with feeling uninspired
and weary.
People generally shy away
from
the
unknown,
idly
resigning
to
the
familiar
ease of a meal repeatedly and
unceremoniously
prepared.
While there’s nothing wrong
with this, it’s the very habit
that we vow each January to
spur in favor of something
new and better. It’s the time of
year again when we all resolve
to do something different.
So, maybe start with the
small changes that seem more
daunting than they really are.
Do
something
differently.
Make
something
different.
And
even
if
your
dough
betrays you and tears as you
fold a particularly overstuffed
dumpling, at least you tried
and can feel assured that
you’re better for it.
New year, old pierogies
This is the music
in which I find
comfort during
long drives
Emotional drama shines in its first half but a change in storytelling
approach leaves the film’s cumulative impact marred in melodrama
Vivienne Westwood
This
was
Westwood’s
first men’s show ever on the
London schedule, but it would
be silly to call it just a show
for men. Her runway showed
both men and women wearing
everything
from
double-
breasted,
broad-shouldered
suits
to
garish
dresses.
Westwood’s collections have
been fairly adventurous for
as long as I can remember,
but this collection may take
the cake in terms of blurring
the gender normative lines of
clothing with men in dresses
and miniskirts.
One of the themes that
was
ever-apparent
during
this collection was the sea of
faces printed onto garments:
faces from puppets, comical
faces and even what looked
like Westwood’s own face. All
in all, this collection felt like
a day spent at the carnival,
and sometimes that sort of
whimsical look is just what
you need.
Craig Green
Recently crowned British
menswear designer of the
year,
Craig
Green
doesn’t
miss a beat jumping into his
Fall 2017 collection. This feels
like
Green’s
furthest
dive
into textures and fabrics like
wool and fleece — which were
heavily used in this collection.
When viewing this collection, I
personally threw the question
of “Could I see myself wearing
this?” out the window. Not
because it doesn’t feel wearable,
but because when looking at an
outfit, it’s a bit difficult to tell
how many distinct garments
are being worn, but that’s a
common theme with Craig
Green’s shows.
I started asking myself what
sort of story this collection told.
All of the looks felt particularly
utilitarian:
Some
models
were wearing helmets while
others wore what can only be
described as body armor. What
is this looming doomsday or
battle that many of his models
seem so adequately prepared
for? Maybe it’s a war or maybe
it’s just the general dismal
feeling in the air these days.
J.W. Anderson
Simply put, this collection
was a lot of fun. From the
barrage
of
colors,
to
the
crocheted
patches,
pockets,
scarves and sleeves. It all makes
me want to call up my mom and
ask her to break out the crochet
hook and make me a cool patch
for a sweater so I don’t have to
spend my rent money on one of
these when they drop.
One thing, for me, was
that this collection felt quite
wearable in general (which
can be refreshing). When I
first viewed the collection, I
remember thinking to myself,
“Wow, I could totally see
myself wearing this” on many
occasions, which was certainly
more difficult to say during
the Craig Green and Vivienne
Westwood
collections.
This
collection
confirmed
two
things for me: that oversized
and exaggerated silhouettes
are in for this year and that
Michele’s Gucci has influenced
other designers as well. I
expect to see more wide pants
and over-the-top designs in
other collections to come in
2017.
SHIR
AVINADAV
Daily Food Columnist
London Men’s F
/W Recap
THE WEINSTEIN COMPANY
When people can’t find movies for you don’t involve poor Indian kids.
VIVIENNE WESTWOOD
Trainspotting.
FOOD COLUMN
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
FILM REVIEW
STYLE REVIEW
NARESH IYENGAR
Daily Arts Writer