A24
Diaries from the Chicago
Int’l Film Festival: Day 4
My fourth day of the Chicago
International
Film
Festival
featured
perhaps
both
the
best and worst of what I’ll see
here. At 3:45 p.m. was a press
and
industry
screening
of
“The Confession,” the follow-
up to Georgian director Zaza
Urushadze’s
Oscar-nominated
“Tangerines” from a few years
back. “The Confession” follows
a
preacher,
Giorgi
(Dimitri
Tatishvili,
“Scary
Mother”)
and his assistant, Valiko (first-
timer Joseph Khvedelidze) as
they fill in at a church in a town
after the local preacher dies.
They bring with them American
DVDs and a projector to show
in the church, believing that if
the townspeople come for the
movies, they’ll come to church.
The film series begins with
“Some Like It Hot,” the 1959
Billy
Wilder
classic
with
Marilyn
Monroe,
leading
a
number of the villagers to note
that one of the women in the
village, a music teacher named
Lili
(Sophia
Sebiskveradze,
“My Dad’s Girlfriend”), looks
an awful lot like the blonde
bombshell herself. And sure
enough, though she is far from
identical, Lili’s styled platinum
blonde hair makes a compelling
case. Lili and Father Giorgi
become
friendly,
with
the
preacher encouraging her to
come to a confession, where she
notes not her sins but rather her
place in the village: since her
husband’s death, many men lust
after her, but she’s not interested
in loveless sex.
At about 89 minutes, the film
moves fairly quickly, aided by
an occasionally arresting shot.
One of note happens a few
times: Father Giorgi, out for an
evening walk, finds a solitary
Lili, illuminated and alluring,
sitting aside a building in a
large-scale shot. And there are
some occasional laughs, too:
One woman, concerned that
her dead husband will know she
cheated, asks Father Giorgi if
spirits know everything. When
he replies yes, she asks, “In
detail?”
But when the film tries to
actually say something, or make
an argument, as Urushadze did
with success in his previous
film, “The Confession” sputters.
The
dichotomy
between
modern culture and religious
traditions is present, but not
dissected in any meaningful
way. Father Giorgi went to film
school, explaining his love of
the medium, and dropped out to
become a clergyman. So what?
Father Giorgi feels torn between
his lust and love for Lili and his
promise to remain celibate. So
what?
The cardinal sin, though, is
the film’s finale. It would be
unfair to ruin the “surprise,” but
it should suffice that the film’s
inclusion of a (false) female
accusation of sexual assault
is not only eerily repulsive
given the recent scandal out of
Hollywood involving producer
Harvey Weinstein, but it also
feeds a meninist nightmare to
the point of propagandizing a
vile hatred of women. I’m not
one to dislike a movie for the
ideas it depicts or proselytizes
— hell, I’m a Jew who admires
the craft of “The Triumph of
the Will” — but Urushadze’s
inclusion of the plot point,
whether it was to articulate
an idea or simply a method of
moving the story forward, feels
rather putrid.
“Lady
Bird,”
the
solo
directing
debut
of
writer
and
actor
Greta
Gerwig
(“20th Century Women”), is a
fictionalized autiobiography. In
other words, little to nothing
that happens to high school
senior Christine “Lady Bird”
McPherson (an excellent Saoirse
Ronan,
“Brooklyn”)
actually
happened to Gerwig, but the
film captures a spirit. Lady Bird,
who gave herself the name, is an
academically floundering and
rebellious senior at a Catholic
girls’ school in Sacramento. She
dreams of going to college at an
elite school on the east coast, but
her family can hardly afford it
(and her grades barely merit it).
Roughly spanning the school
year, we witness Lady Bird’s
first loves, her experience in
theater, parties, prom. Gerwig’s
screenplay brilliantly swings
between the heights of comedic
achievement and the emotional
caverns
of
anxiety,
stress,
growing up and everything else.
Films
about
adolescence
often live or die by their casts.
Fortunately, the actors behind
“Lady Bird” are some of the
most
accomplished
of
their
generation.
Chicago
theater
legends Tracy Letts (“Wiener-
Dog”)
and
Laurie
Metcalf,
who just won a Tony for her
performance in “A Doll’s House,
Part 2,” are pitch-perfect as
the parents of the household,
navigating
the
struggles
of
raising a rebellious, sometimes
insolent, daughter and grappling
with their financial woes, and
their
Steppenwolf
partner,
Lois Smith (“The Nice Guys”),
is authoritative and superbly
funny as Lady Bird’s Catholic
School’s mother superior. Lucas
Hedges (“Manchester by the
Sea”) and Timothée Chalamet
(“Interstellar”), who play two of
Lady Bird’s love interests, nail the
sexual anxiety and performative
coolness of youthful rebellion,
respectively, better than any of
their contemporaries. Beanie
Feldstein
(“Neighbors
2:
Sorority Rising”) is so funny as
Lady Bird’s friend Julie that I
actually snorted in the theater.
Gerwig, who has been the
creative force behind a number
of great films that explore
the
lives
of
rambunctious
young women, has arrived as
a director. She can keep her
distance, letting characters live
in the scene without a forceful
intrusion of the camera. But
she can also be tender, nailing
dramatic moments with just
as much force and ease as the
comedy. Granted, a film that
takes place in and is something
of an ode to the writer-director’s
hometown
(in
this
case,
Sacramento, Calif.) can often
be good precisely because the
filmmaker has spent so much
time thinking about how to
shoot the city. But “Lady Bird” is
no standard debut and audiences
should already anticipate what
she has to offer next.
DANIEL HENSEL
Daily Film Editor
FESTIVAL REVIEW
HEALTH & WELLNESS COLUMN
The Alpha Female - Part I
I’m writing this from the
Law Library, where every
seat at my table is filled by a
girl. Different races, ages and
majors, various laptop stickers
and textbooks — all of these
girls are intensely studying
and focused.
I’m empowered by this sight.
Never at my time here at the
University have I sat at only a
table of women, with no words
shared, but just studied and
learned independently. They
look tough and determined,
and they make me want to be
the same.
As an advocate for female
empowerment and feminism,
I’ve dabbled with the idea
and definition of “the alpha
female.” Seemingly, based off
context clues, the girls around
me sure look like they would
be in this category. Those type
of women exist, because the
alpha male exists as well, so I
could not help but soak up the
divine feminine power around
me and do some research.
From Dictionary.com, the
definitions for alpha male
and alpha female remarkably
different. The alpha male is
defined as both “a male animal
having the highest rank in
a
dominance
hierarchy”
and “the leader of the pack,
being
the
most
dominant,
powerful, or assertive person
in a particular group.” Despite
the word in terms of the
animal kingdom, I found this
definition to be appropriate for
the human alpha male, with a
nice use of characteristics
like “highest rank,” “leader,”
“dominant,” “powerful” and
“assertive.” I had no suspicion
in this definition, but it wasn’t
until I searched my sex’s
definition when things got
frustrating.
The
website
gives
two
definitions
and
terms
for
what I was searching: alpha
female and alpha girl. Alpha
female is defined as “the
dominant female animal in a
pack,” meanwhile alpha girl
is defined as “the dominant or
primary girl within a group,
esp. one who bullies.”
This boils my blood.
What is it about an alpha
female that can’t be defined,
like the alpha male, as “highest
rank,” “leader,” “powerful”
or “assertive”? We get two
adjectives
(dominant
and
primary) and a noun (bully),
and they’re all crap.
In silence, I watch the
women
surrounding
me,
punching
away
at
their
keyboards,
vigorously
highlighting and memorizing,
that are powerful and contain
glimpses of qualities of alpha
females. It’s these actions
that demonstrate hard woman
at work in a space that once
did
not
allow
women
at
all. Collectively, we paint a
glorious image of taking back
what is ours: the right to an
education and the right to sit
where we please.
It’s important to notice,
also, the energy difference
between a table of all woman
and a table with all men and
one woman. That one female is
still strong in her own, being
the representative for all of us
in her scenario. But in most
cases, that position can feel
lonely or uncomfortable.
Yet the idea of these women
and I sitting here, together, is
evidently compelling –– we
are dominant because we are
together. I am comfortable, I
am focused, I am invigorated
by the idea that we’ve all sat
here enriching our education
and working our asses off for
about four hours.
There was an unspoken
supportive energy that was
shared among us. It’s the same
feeling I got when I used to
practice with my women’s
swim team, the same feeling I
got when I walked through the
Diag for the Women’s March
and the same feeling I get
every day when I come home
to my house with six other
female roommates. I believe
women, especially those that
are alpha females, emit an
energy that is best received
by other women. It’s those
women that bring all of us
together, reminding us of our
place and our value.
If a boy sat down next to me,
it wouldn’t make me or any
of these women less of alpha
females. We wouldn’t glare at
him with hatred or disgust.
We’d embrace it, recognizing
that he belongs here equally as
much as we do and vice versa.
No, maybe not all of these
girls at the table are alpha
females.
They
might
not
all lead their groups or are
socially adept or rule with
an iron fist. But who am I to
say who is an alpha female
and who is not? Clearly, there
isn’t even a valid definition
to prove any of this (thanks,
Dictionary.com). I know one
important
thing,
however:
every
female
and
every
individual identifying as a
female is strong in her own
way. We sit here, individually
in our own worlds and our
own focus, but this table
alone represents the future
of supportive and successful
females.
Author
Vanessa
Van
Edwards
gives
her
own
definition of an alpha female:
“Female alpha-hood is not
like pregnancy (you are or
you aren’t). It is more of a
spectrum. Some women have
a high tendency to be alpha.
They enjoy social conducting,
being the leader and/or the
center
of
attention.
Some
women only like being female
alpha’s in their home, but not
in the business environment.
Some women are only social
alphas around certain groups
of friends.”
One of my fellow female
students at the table gets
up to leave, when quickly,
another
girl
replaces
her
spot. Hopefully, regardless of
her alpha female-ness, she’s
feeding into and receiving this
same powerhouse energy that
I feel. She replaced the seat
of those before her, and she
represents the future of strong
women to come.
ERIKA
SHEVCHEK
I’m writing this
from the Law
Library, where
every seat at my
table is filled by
a girl. Different
races, ages and
majors, various
laptop stickers
and textbooks
We sit here,
individually in our
own worlds and
our own focus,
but this table
alone represents
the future of
supportive and
successful females
STUDENT PERFORMANCE REVIEW
‘One Hit Wonder’ brought breathtaking charm to AA
The minute I sat down in
my seat I was captivated. I
didn’t know what I expected:
a production that described
itself as a “pop / rock jukebox-
musical about music, love and
second chances” was bound
to be full of energy, nostalgic
hits and blinding color. But the
School of Music, Theatre and
Dance’s “One Hit Wonder” was
so much more.
“One Hit Wonder” is a story
of
high-school
sweethearts
Rick
(played
by
Senior
Musical Theatre major Noah
Kieserman) and Ashley (played
by
Junior
Musical
Theatre
major Leanne Antonio) who
had a fleeting taste of fame in
their teen years after winning
Battle of the Bands at their
high school. The song they
composed, “One Hit Wonder,”
is predictably at the heart of
the entire musical plot. Their
song is just that: the night after
performing, Rick and Ashley
break up and the band fizzles
out. After leading separate lives
for almost two decades, a video
of Rick and Ashley singing their
hit song goes viral, and both
decide to take advantage of the
second chance. Thus begins
the whirlwind story of pride,
heartbreak and rekindled love.
The musical is one of the
newest creations of Jeremy
Desmon,
an
award-winning
musical
theatre
bookwriter
whose previous works include
“Good News” and “Pump Up
The Volume,” both of which
received rave reviews from
the New York Times. “One
Hit Wonder” was produced in
collaboration with The Arca
Group, an esteemed Broadway
production company, and was
directed by Hunter Foster, a
graduate of the University’s
SMTD and a Tony award-
nominated Broadway actor.
“One Hit Wonder” adds a
cutesy twist to its plot –– each
song performed was once a real
one-hit wonder.
The
opening
act
thrust
its energy onto the stage so
suddenly that the audience
gasped.
Rick,
wearing
the
iconic Pink Floyd Dark Side of
the Moon shirt, black jeans and
an unbuttoned plaid shirt ran
onto the stage, followed by his
fans from the dive bar where
he plays every night. His fans
circled around the bottom of
the stage while Rick, sweat
already
dripping
down
his
face, belted out a high tempo
rendition of “Closing Time,”
originally performed by the
American-rock band Semisonic
in the late ’90s. Strobe lights
flashed around the theatre, and
Rick’s bassist Gunner (played
by
Musical
Theatre
major
Elliott Styles) jammed with all
the charisma of a rock star. By
the time the number ended, I
had been transported from the
Lydia Mendelssohn theatre to a
rock concert. It was hard to tell
who was cheering more –– the
actors playing Rick’s fans or
the audience. And this level of
passion and exuberance never
died down.
The performance continued
with a beautiful rendition of the
famous “Walking on Sunshine,”
originally performed by Katrina
& The Waves, in which Ashley
celebrated her new position
as a partner of the Dunham,
Parker & Lutz accounting firm.
Her powerful voice stunned the
audience; whoops and hollers
sounded
from
the
balcony
above me. Ashley responded,
dazzling the audience with
her liveliness. Right before
the
intermission,
a
slowed
down and somber rendition
of
“Rescue
Me,”
originally
performed by Fontella Bass,
provided a perfect break from
the exhilarating first half.
The real genius of “One Hit
Wonder” lies in the humor.
Actors performed the classic
“What is Love?” by Haddaway
after the intermission with a
clever spin. Stewart, Ashley’s
ex-boyfriend
(played
by
Musical Theatre major Simon
Longnight)
lamented
the
loss of his girlfriend. Ashley,
dressed in sweats and clasping
a beer bottle, fumed about
Rick’s hook-up with pop singer
Mercy Faith, played by Musical
Theatre major Grace Bydalek.
Rick, shirtless and handcuffed
to a bed frame by Mercy, belted
out in a panic, “Baby don’t
hurt me / Don’t hurt me / No
more.” The interplay of these
three scenarios, all occuring
at the same time but meaning
very different things, had the
audience roaring with laughter.
It’s rare to find a musical that
excels like “One Hit Wonder.”
TRINA PAL
Daily Arts Writer
The musical is
one of the newest
creations of
Jeremy Desmon,
an award-winning
musical theatre
bookwriter
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, October 24, 2017 — 5