Charlize Theron (“The Fate 

of the Furious”) proved herself 
to be one of Hollywood’s biggest 
badasses after her performance 
as Imperator Furiosa in George 
Miller’s 
recent 
masterpiece 

“Mad Max: Fury Road.” In an 
industry where men dominate 
both on and off-screen, Furiosa 
was a much needed change 
after years of watching super 
masculine, pumped-up dudes 
fight bad guys. “Atomic Blonde” 
shows 
Theron 
and 
all 
her 

badassery, though this time 
playing 
Lorraine 
Broughton, 

a secret agent in 1989 Berlin. 
Despite many of the movie’s 
shortcomings, 
Theron 
solidifies 

her 
status 
as 

Hollywood’s go-to 
action star capable 
of snapping necks 
and fighting with 
nothing but a shoe. 

“Atomic Blonde” 

takes 
place 

during the final 
days of the Berlin Wall, but 
describing the movie’s plot is as 
complicated and stressful as the 
Cold War itself. Broughton is a 
secret agent sent to recover a 
confidential list of every Soviet 
field agent following the death 
of an English MI6 agent. From 
here on, the movie becomes 
increasingly confusing and hard 
to follow. The entire premise is 
built around trying to figure 
out which spy is allegiant to 
which country, which is a 
weak foundation and “Atomic 
Blonde”’s ultimate downfall.

Distracting 
from 
this 

mayhem are the many brilliantly 
choreographed 
action 

sequences. Theron, who tested 
her fighting chops briefly in 
“Mad Max,” is the centerpiece 
to every on-screen brawl. Her 
moves are timed to perfection 
and feature ample creativity, 
like using an enemy’s feet to 
knock someone out. Simply put, 
I haven’t seen a fight scene more 
entertaining than the one in the 
long-take spiral staircase — this 
sequence will be the role model 
for all future action movies. 
It’s 
believably 
unbelievable; 

its pacing isn’t lightning fast 
and characters actually appear 
fatigued. By the time the scene 

ends, it’s worthy of a standing 
ovation.

Theron is joined by James 

McAvoy (“Split”), who plays a 
fellow spy, and John Goodman 
(“10 
Cloverfield 
Lane”), 
an 

MI6 agent. No other characters 
display the same energy and 
stamina as Theron, and “Atomic 
Blonde” is entirely dependant 
on her performance. Her stoic 
and 
confident 
swagger 
are 

well-suited for a secret agent 
— she perfectly fits into the 
boy’s club of James Bond types 
— but in many ways, the script 
didn’t give her much to work 
with. A lot of the dialogue is 
predictable and forgettable; it’s 
neither cheesy nor witty. We 
don’t necessarily watch action 
movies for the dialogue, but it 

helps to have at least 
a few memorable lines 
people can walk out of 
the theater quoting.

“Atomic 
Blonde”’s 

screenplay, written by 
Kurt Johnstad (“300”), 
is adapted from Antony 
Johnston’s 
graphic 

novel 
“The 
Coldest 

City,” which almost 

excuses 
the 
underwhelming 

dialogue. “The Coldest City” 
laid out the groundwork for 
director David Leitch’s (“John 
Wick”) 
glossy 
visual 
style, 

combining 
grit 
with 
neon-

lit 
glamor. 
Leitch’s 
former 

career as a stuntman explains 
the perfect action sequences: 
No one is more qualified to 
direct these kinds of fights 
than a stuntman himself. He 
was hired to direct “Deadpool 
2,” and assuming it will be 
as successful as the first, 
his directing career is very 
promising.

At times, “Atomic Blonde” 

feels like a messier, more 
action-driven version of “The 
Americans.” Broughton bears 
resemblance 
to 
Elizabeth 

Jennings, 
and 
the 
show’s 

bleak, 
cold 
atmosphere 

likely 
influenced 
Leitch. 

And 
considering 
that 
“The 

Americans”’s side plots rarely 
become 
incomprehensible, 

“Atomic Blonde” is like one 
ongoing untidy, unnecessary 
side 
plot. 
Though 
with 
a 

modest budget of $30 million — 
this is cheap compared to other 
movies of its kind — “Atomic 
Blonde” offers everything we 
want to see in an action movie.

6

Thursday, August 3, 2017
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
ARTS

Imagine this scene for a minute:
You’re sitting on the couch 

of a nice Brooklyn apartment, 
preferably 
in 
Williamsburg. 

There’s a speaker in the corner 
attached to a record player. It’s 
shiny and large and resembles a 
children’s toy. You’ve never heard 
of the company which produced 
the speaker but the man sitting 
across from you will certainly 
assure you that, while you probably 
haven’t heard of it, it’s top of the 
line. Then he’ll make fun of people 
who say things like, “You probably 
haven’t heard of it,” because he’s 
aware that it’s easy to make fun 
of those kinds of people, and in 
acknowledging and getting in front 
of the stereotype he believes he has 
precluded himself from it, in a way.

Inevitably, after enough drinks, 

maybe two or three, he’ll make a 
vague reference to you about the ills 
of capitalism, and maybe religion 
too. “It’s the opioid of the masses,” 
but he can’t remember whether 
the quote refers to capitalism or 
religion. Doesn’t matter. It fits for 
both. But then, you have to wonder, 
how does he afford this apartment, 
and that speaker system?

You ask him, and he snaps back 

that you’re missing the point. That 
you didn’t hear what he actually 
had to say.

This is about the situational 

equivalent 
of 
listening 
to 

Everything Now, the fifth studio 
album by Canadian band Arcade 
Fire.

It’s not that the social and 

economic critiques are illegitimate; 
it’s that they’re vague, messy and 
reach only the thinnest level of 
self-awareness. It’s not that we 
should feel badly listening to 
the band because they’ve made 
it and they’re wealthy; it’s that 
we should question why these 
factors haven’t led to nuanced soul 
searching and genuine concern 
about contributing to the very 
problems which they haughtily 
deride. Everything Now is the band 
at their least aware, least sonically 
interesting and most violently 
grating yet.

Ironically perhaps, we can track 

where things went wrong for the 
band right back to their marketing 
strategies. Much was made about 
the enormous campaign for their 
last 
proper 
release, 
Reflektor, 

which landed in 2013. Buildings 
in Brooklyn were covered in huge, 
cryptic posters which advertised 
the upcoming album, and the band 
performed some secretive shows 
(publicized enough, though, so that 
the very existence of the shows was 
in itself a form of marketing). It 
was excessive, and it worked.

Already there was an odd 

contradiction 
here: 
aggressive, 

social media-based marketing for 
an album that was largely critical 
of social media and marketing. 
The band mostly got away with 
it because the album still felt like 
a legitimate effort. Laborious, 
actually. The themes stretched 
over two discs, centering around 
the idea of the “reflexive age,” 
taken from a 19th century Søren 
Kirkegaard essay, while applying 
it to modern day social issues. 
“We Exist,” for example, took on 

the parental and societal rejection 
that a gay person might deal with. 
Stand out “Here Comes the Night 
Time” discusses missionaries in 
Haiti over a sharp disco-rock beat 
laden with clever fake-outs. They 
took ambitious risks, pushing the 
album to 85 minutes. It fell short at 
times, and pushed too long at others, 
but their energy was still undeniably 
present. And though the marketing 
was over the top, it spoke to the scope 
that the album intended. It was huge, 
and so were the band’s ideas.

Leading 
up 
to 
Everything 

Now, Arcade Fire launched a 
parody 
Twitter 
account 
(@

EverythingNowCo) which mainly 
retweets 
cringe-inducing 
posts 

by corporate accounts like Olive 
Garden, as well as fan images of 
their own marketing efforts on 
Target store TVs and grimy subway 
cars. They also wrote a “Premature 
Premature Evaluation” of their own 
album, poking fun at Stereogum’s 
slightly 
sensationalized 
article 

“Remember When Arcade Fire 
Were Good?” which criticized their 
singles, particularly “Everything 
Now.” In their own Premature 
Premature Evaluation, they call 
themselves, among others things, 
“a goofier, less cool, extremely self-
serious, and less danceable Daft 
Punk,” referencing the influence of 
Thomas Bangalter on this record, 

later estimating that Everything Now 
will likely fall “probably somewhere 
between number 8 and number 14” 
on the year-end lists.

Apparently Arcade Fire want us 

to know that they get it. By infusing 
intense irony and metacritiques 
into their marketing campaign they 
assume we’ll distance them in our 
minds from the forces they poke fun 
at.

That’s not the case.
It reminds me of a problem laid 

out in David Foster Wallace’s essay 
“e unibus pluram,” referring to a 
movement of irony heavy “post-
postmodernist” fiction writers who 
attempt to give social criticism by 
entirely inhabiting the world in 
which they criticize. The result, 
Wallace explains, is “Instead, it most 
often degenerates into a kind of jeery, 
surfacy look ‘behind the scenes’ 
of the very televisual front people 
already jeer at, and can get behind 
the scenes of via Entertainment 
Tonight and Remote Control.” I 
think the same applies with Arcade 
Fire’s marketing strategy. 

Essentially, we already see and 

understand the absurdity of these 
corporate accounts attempting to 
seem “hip” by being on Twitter. 
When 
we 
see 
Olive 
Garden 

appropriate a Brandon Warrell 
meme about blow jobs, we don’t need 
Arcade Fire’s fake Twitter account 
to show us how odd it is. We already 
get it. It’s not cutting edge social 
commentary for the band to say, 
“Look! Corporations! Money!” 
And it’s certainly not cutting 
edge for that commentary to 
come in the form of a retweet. 
There is behind that veil of irony 
no legitimate, serious critique 
here, and the only effect that 
their pseudo-meta marketing 
produces is that more attention 
is placed on their hypocrisy 
as they continue to employ 
rather typical and unexciting 
marketing 
techniques. 
No 

matter how much they attempt 
to make fun of it and separate 
themselves, they are deeply 
engrained in that corporate 
system which they want you to 
believe they’re so against.

Their new album, like their 

marketing for it, is neither clever 
nor exciting. It too is surface-
level at best. At worst, it’s poorly 
constructed unintentional self-
parody.

Arcade Fire burns out

MATT GALLATIN

Daily Music Writer

MUSIC REVIEW

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

‘Atomic’ invigorates

WILL STEWART

Summer Managing Arts Editor

“Atomic 
Blonde”

Rave Cinemas, 

Quality 16

Focus Features

Everything Now

Arcade Fire 

Columbia Records

MOVIE REVIEW