The best sci-fi, or rather, the
most effective sci-fi, walks the
line
between
the
fantastical
and real. It shows that the most
horrifying parts of our collective
future aren’t necessarily aliens or
other supernatural phenomena,
but rather humanity itself and its
relationship with its creations.
The new Amazon series “Philip
K. Dick’s Electric Dreams” is a
flawed but intriguing addition
to the canon of works such as
“Black Mirror” that explore our
relationship with technology and
warn of the consequences.
“Electric Dreams” inevitably
lends itself to several comparisons
with
the
Netflix
(previously
Channel 4) hit “Black Mirror.”
Similar to the latter, it features a set
of standalone episodes, adaptions
of works by the American writer
Philip K. Dick (known for “The
Man in the High Castle” and
“Blade
Runner”).
Nonetheless,
it rarely captures its British
counterpart’s sheer, bleak dread
and often feels rather predictable.
Some episodes, such as “Real
Life,” do skillfully adapt Dick’s
Cold War tales and examine the
possible effects of virtual reality
technology. However, most of the
episodes — while tackling nuanced
issues — miss the mark in terms of
having the effect that Dick’s stories
often have on audiences.
Despite its flaws, “Electric
Dreams” begs the discussion
once again about the different
approaches similar works take
on the future and how we should
learn from them. “Black Mirror”
tackles its subjects, ranging from
euthanasia to augmented reality,
in a twisted, satirical (dare one
say British) fashion. For the most
part, “Black Mirror” episodes feel
very real and their devastating
effects arise from the small
tweaks that the writers make to
the world. Episodes of “Electric
Dreams” on the other hand have
a sense of paranoia due to the
fact that a lot of Dick’s works that
they are based on were written
in the repressive back-drop of the
Cold War, the first time in history
where humanity came face to face
with its own ability to wipe itself
out. It shares several similarities
with Radiohead’s 1997 classic
OK Computer, an album which,
through songs such as “Paranoid
Android” and “No Surprises,”
creates a simultaneously frenetic
and deflated reaction to modern
life.
Ever
since
“The
Twilight
Zone” aired in the 1960s, works
in all formats of entertainment
have dealt with the relationship
between humanity and technology.
Some may dismiss them as fear-
mongering and unrealistic, while
others may start to resent the
march of technological progress.
What these shows should remind
us is the fact that it is our duty to
take a step back and reflect on
ourselves. After all, it is not the
technology that is inherently
awful, but rather human nature
itself that can make it have awful
effects.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, January 26, 2018 — 5
There’s
verve,
and
then
there’s nerve. Directors can
spend years trying to sift a
unique idea into a unique film,
only to have it bastardized
or
otherwise
enfolded
into
generic studio dribble. That’s
the gift of a place like Sundance,
seemingly the antithesis of the
stuffy studio system: Here,
you’re able to find voices with
wild visions who, admittedly by
some miracle, have found the
money to construct a truly new
story.
From the opening moments
of “Sorry to Bother You,” you
know you’re in the hands of a
visionary. Director Boots Riley,
making his debut amid a music
career with The Coup, has
crafted a somewhat psychedelic,
Charlie Kaufman-esque balls-
to-the-wall social satire that
feels so unique, so new, so
gripping
and
unpredictable.
In
Oakland,
Cassius
Green
(Lakeith Stanfield, “Get Out”)
finagles his way into a job at a
telemarketing firm, finding a
hierarchy that privileges white
culture and abuses lower-rung
workers. What ensues is a deft
(and daft) racial satire that
attacks its targets with violence
and precision like an axe.
The score by Merrill Garbus,
who records as tUnE-yArDs is
deliriously perfect, amplifying
the
bizarre
world
creation
and logic that spools out from
Riley’s delicious vision.
It would be too easy to
dismiss, or even to categorize,
“Sorry to Bother You” as “Get
Out”-esque (though I will admit
to using the descriptor in trying
to hastily describe this film).
While “Get Out” targets well-
meaning white liberals, “Sorry
to Bother You” takes on a larger
topic: the corporate America
that abuses history to serve its
own purposes. Armie Hammer
(“Call Me By Your Name”), who
plays a sort of Silicon Valley
magnate who graces magazine
covers referring to him as the
next genius, delivers in every
scene as a snake-like villain,
tantalizing in his mannerisms
yet wickedly evil underneath.
***
If you were anybody in New
York in 1977, you knew about
Studio 54. The famous — or
perhaps
infamous
—
disco
club lasted for less than three
years in Times Square, but its
influence on American culture
has lasted far longer. Two
movies in 1998 were made about
the club, “54” and, to an extent,
“The Last Days of Disco,”
as well as the recent Netflix
show “The Get Down,” which
partially takes place in a Studio
54-like club. It’s safe to say that
Studio 54 was the epicenter of
disco, a music trend focused on
sex, drugs and dancing.
“Studio
54,”
a
new
documentary
from
director
Matt Tyrnauer (“Citizen Jane:
Battle for the City”), is an
unfortunately
conventional
documentary that nevertheless
captures the highs and (much
deeper) lows of the club’s
tragically short run. Cultivated
from
archival
footage
and
interviews
with
various
denizens, worker antagonists
and
semi
co-founder
Ian
Schrager, “Studio 54” offers
a perfectly satisfying, but far
from mind-blowing, account of
the club.
Schrager,
it’s
clear
from
the beginning, was never the
talkative one. Those duties he
left to co-founder and best friend
Steve Rubell, a flamboyantly
popular persona who appeared
on talk shows and mingled with
guests while Schrager stayed in
the background. Rubell passed
Sundance: ‘Sorry to Bother You,’ ‘Studio 54,’ ‘Ophelia’
DANIEL HENSEL
Daily Arts Writer
AMAZON STUDIOS
It’s the last week of Jan.,
and as I walk around campus,
I can almost feel stress levels
increasing
among
students.
Midterms are approaching and
spring break is still a month
away. During times like this in
the semester, I internalize my
stress when I’m overwhelmed
with
assignments
and
interviews. I just let it build and
build, and, sometimes during
the week, I might break down.
But then, I keep bottling up
my stress again, not showing it
externally but feeling all of its
effects internally.
Sometimes, we all need a
reminder to just slow the hell
down, stop pushing away our
problems under the pretense of
being busy and work through
them instead. I find that one
of the best ways to do this is
by talking to someone about
what’s on my mind. When I
entered “Value the Voice” at
the University of Michigan
Museum of Art on Jan. 23, I
had a million things racing
through my head. But when I
left, I felt more at peace than I
ever have on this campus.
“Value the Voice” is an open-
mic storytelling series hosted
by the Comprehensive Studies
Program and the Department
of Afroamerican and African
Studies at the University. Their
goal is to emphasize the power
that one’s words have. Imagine
The Moth Radio Hour, but in
real life. In this installment, the
storytellers were all students
or alumni of the University.
The theme, which was quite
fitting for a new semester, was
“Nobody Told Me” — stories of
the reality of college life.
There’s
something
extremely
vulnerable,
yet
immensely
beautiful,
about
sharing your struggles. You
feel like a portion of the pain
is being lifted off your chest,
even though the problem may
still remain. Looking at the
storytellers, I could see all
of these complex emotions
running through their minds.
Some told stories of racial
discrimination
they
have
faced, others told of family
struggles. Some laughed, some
cried and some did both. But
in each speaker, I saw their
delight in sharing their burden
with others.
Zanib Sareini, an alumni
of the CSP and currently
a graduate student at the
University’s School of Social
Work, shared her experience
of being an Arab-American in a
post-Sept. 11 America.
“There
was
a
different
pressure
post-9/11,”
Sareini
said. She recalls being told by
her parents to “hold the door
open a little longer, smile, don’t
let them see you angry, don’t
be reactive, always be nice,”
and not understanding why it
had to be so. As people treated
her
differently,
she
slowly
secluded herself from others in
an effort to stay out of trouble.
Being a part of the CSP support
system
at
the
University,
however, helped her through
her anxiety. As she told this
part of her story, CSP students
in the front rows whooped and
cheered. Sareini smiled back.
While she couldn’t stop the
discrimination, she knew who
to come to for help.
Eddie Williams, a student of
the School of Music, Theatre
& Dance, told of how his
relationship with his family
changed
upon
coming
to
college. He distanced himself
from them, found himself too
busy with homework and later
discovered that his grandfather
had passed away during finals.
“Everybody in my family
got a chance to have one last
conversation except for me,”
said Williams.
My heart lurched when he
said this. Whenever someone
else
tells
me
something
intimate like this, I imagine
what it would be like to be
in their shoes. And when
Williams said those words, I
really felt it.
As the night progressed,
I watched storytellers pour
their hearts out. Somehow,
I felt like I was right up
there with them. Through
listening, they became a small
part of my life. To all those
who are conflicted, afraid or
overwhelmed — find someone
to tell your story to. It’s OK
to be raw and vulnerable. It’s
the first step towards comfort
and, maybe, a sense of closure.
If the storytellers at “Value
the Voice” didn’t realize the
impact their words could have
on others, I’m sure they do
now.
“Value the Voice” is part of
an ongoing series. The next
storytellers’s
lounge
is
on
Mar. 27 at the UMMA. Stories
will discuss the theme of
“Triumph.”
DAILY SUNDANCE COVERAGE
‘Value the Voice’ highlights
the beauty in life struggle
COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW
“Electric
Dreams”
Season 1
Amazon
away during the AIDS epidemic
(he was closeted to his family),
so Schrager is left with the
responsibility of sharing their
story. The club experienced a
meteoric rise in 1977 — scored
to a pumping disco soundtrack
in the film — only to experience
trouble with the IRS after they
discover a major skimming
scheme and drug possession.
Schrager and Rubell, defended
by McCarthyist lawyer Roy
Cohn, enter prison.
It’s not hard to find something
to love in the documentary,
from its cameos both in the
past (Liza Minnelli and Andy
Warhol, perhaps the two most
famous regulars of the club,
appear regularly) and present
(an interview with Nile Rodgers
of the band Chic is illuminating)
to its true crime story, one of
conflicting narratives between
the
case
prosecutor
and
Schrager and associates. But one
could only wish that for a club
that was so innovative, from its
Broadway lighting designs to
its inclusivity as a gay haven in
an otherwise unfriendly New
York, a documentary on the
subject would live up to that
standard as well.
***
A quick note to producers:
If someone comes to you and
says they have a great idea
for a film, and it begins with,
“Here’s
where
Shakespeare
got it wrong,” chances are
you’re in for a bad idea. A
perfect
example:
“Ophelia,”
a retelling of “Hamlet” from
Ophelia’s point of view. For
those like me who are generally
unfamiliar with the Bard’s tale
of Danish revenge, “Hamlet”
follows a Danish prince who
tries to murder his uncle who
he suspects killed his father.
Ophelia,
Hamlet’s
romantic
interest
and
the
daughter
of
the
king’s
advisor,
has
historically been reviled but
feminist literature critics have
sought to revise her reputation.
Unfortunately, “Ophelia” might
be a step back.
It should be said that the film,
directed by Claire McCarthy
(“Little Hands”), is deceptively
gorgeous, so much so that it can
distract from the film’s larger
(much larger) flaws. Nearly
every shot, rich in color and
draped in period dress and sets,
feels both real and imagined,
like the weaved tapestries that
hang
throughout
Elsinore.
The score, though far less
intoxicating, is still somewhat
lush but can be overwhelming at
times, often adding an artificial
layer of capital-I Importance
to the movie that is almost
always erased by the film’s utter
ludicrousness.
“Ophelia,”
which
could
have
been
a
well-deserved
acting
showcase
for
Daisy
Ridley (“Star Wars: The Last
Jedi”), who plays the titular
role, collapses under its own
premise
and
is
otherwise
tarnished by rather mediocre
performances by Naomi Watts
(“The Glass Castle”) and Clive
Owen (“Valerian and the City
of a Thousand Planets”). Ridley
can do more with her eyes than
most people can do with their
entire bodies, but even she is
restrained by a wildly abhorrent
script that verges on camp. A
third act, a complete invention
that seems both conspiratorial
and overly melodramatic is
a complete disaster, and the
rest of the film is not much
better. This is a film that starts
with a voiceover narration by
Ridley that is something along
the lines of, “This is my story
… ,” a signal of subpar quality.
Reworking classic texts into
feminist works is a noble, even
vital, goal, but “Ophelia” should
serve as a cautionary tale, not
an inspiration.
TRINA PAL
Daily Arts Writer
Amazon’s ‘Electric Dreams’
TV REVIEW
SAYAN GHOSH
Daily Arts Writer
MLPR
ALTIMETER FILMS