The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, February 14, 2018 — 5A

DAILY FILM COLUMN

I once heard someone describe 
the soil in Hollywood as being 
poisoned, the idea being that the 
foundations of the industry itself 
were so toxic that nothing but toxic 
fruit could grow there. Poison fruit 
doesn’t always know it’s poison 
fruit. Such is the case with Quentin 
Tarantino. 
In an ideal world, I would 
never hear, say or think the words 
“Quentin Tarantino,” but I am a 
film major in 2018 with Internet 
access. So, here we are. 
By now, we all know what the 
film-boy-fan-favorite 
put 
Uma 
Thurman through on the set of 
“Kill Bill.” Thurman broke her 
silence on Weinstein and his 
frequent collaborator via Maureen 
Dowd’s melodramatic New York 
Times profile. I could — for much 
longer than this column — pick 
apart the ways in which that piece 
does not do justice to the story 
Thurman has to tell. But that is 
someone else’s job.
If you weed through the white 
wine and the burning pizza boxes 
(details that in any other context 
would make me giddy), the facts 
of Thurman’s story expand the 
narrative that has already been 
set in motion by the #MeToo 
movement.
While working on the set of 
“Kill Bill,” Tarantino had Thurman 
operate a car she did not know how 
to drive. That alone is controlling 
and manipulative. But the event 
ended in a crash, which left 
Thurman with permanent and 
painful damage to her knees and 
neck. We’ve seen how short the 
shelf-life for a woman in Hollywood 
is. Because most women get 
pronounced dead on their 30th 
birthdays, they are treated with a 
profoundly dangerous disregard.
This 
revelation 
turns 
the 
floodlights 
on 
an 
already 
illuminated — but still willingly 
ignored — issue. Hollywood does 
not need women to be people, so 
it does not treat them as people. 
The physical and emotional safety 

of women only matters as long as 
they are a marketable product. 
And the second they no longer are, 
Hollywood has someone else lined 
up to take their place.
That’s 
why 
Tarantino 
can 
almost kill one of the greatest living 
actresses and give an “apology,” in 
which he never actually apologizes. 
It’s business as usual.
The problem with Hollywood 
is serial abusers and monsters 
like Weinstein. But the problem 

with Hollywood is also people 
like Tarantino who have adapted 
to that world without question, 
who learned the rules and played 
by them without question or 
hesitation.
That’s why it makes sense that 
this is the moment that Tarantino’s 
disgusting 
defense 
of 
Roman 
Polanski 
has 
resurfaced. 
His 
apology for this one is slightly more 
convincing, but does not in any 
way remove him from a crumbling 
institution 
of 
Hollywood 
masculinity. 
His 
defense 
of 
Polanski isn’t surprising because 
it echoes the weak defenses 
people like Diane Keaton and Alec 
Baldwin have given for Woody 
Allen.
Because defending these men 
isn’t just about upholding their 
character — it’s about upholding a 
system that allowed these people 
to succeed. Tarantino’s success in 
Hollywood depended on bad and 
powerful men. The industry that 
their toxicity created worked for 
him. Tarantino can see this world 
is (finally) dying and he’s flailing.

Tarantino’s love affair with 
the Hollywood culture of the 
Miramax/Weinstein company era 
shouldn’t come as a surprise. His 
films give us the clearest clues as to 
his internalization of the toxicity of 
that culture. How deep the poison 
has seeped, you could say.
There’s a myth that Tarantino’s 
films are “feminist” or in any way 
“pro-women.” It’s a myth. They’re 
not. Not only because they were 
made with a violent disregard for 
the safety and well-being of the 
women who were integral to their 
creation. The picture they paint 
of “strong,” “liberated” women is 
one rooted in violent male fantasy. 
Women — much like Thurman’s 
character in “Kill Bill” — are 
brutalized by men until they break. 
Only from that brokenness are 
they allowed to rise, an ascent 
(if you can ever call it that) that 
hinges on violent retribution. 
It’s 
momentarily 
satisfying, 
but thematically empty. These 
aren’t characters. These aren’t 
real people. They’re vehicles for 
Tarantino’s stylistic vision.
Just like Uma Thurman was a 
vehicle for his narrative. Just like 
countless women in the industry 
were means to some man’s end. 
Tarantino 
epitomizes 
a 
toxic 
moment in film culture. Every 
movie he made and every piece 
of information I learn about him 
further underscores this point.
But hopefully, that world is 
dying. And hopefully, Tarantino 
dies with it. The success of a 
movement like #MeToo is going 
to lie in the excavation of people 
like Tarantino whose offenses 
aren’t strictly criminal. Tarantino’s 
not going to jail for anything we 
currently know about, but he is 
actively upholding a version of 
Hollywood whose lifeblood is the 
exploitation and manipulation of 
women. Jailing the Weinsteins of 
the world only does so much when 
the Tarantinos walk free.
It’s the end of an era. See you in 
hell, Tarantino.

There’s poison in the soil

MADELEINE 
GAUDIN

Think back to your middle 
school memories of summer. If 
your early teenage experience 
was anything like mine, you spent 
a lot of time meandering between 
different friend groups, arguing 
with your siblings and sometimes 
babysitting them, watching TV 
and wandering around the streets 
of your hometown. There’s a lot of 
free time in the average 14-year-
old’s summer, when you’re stuck 
between not having to go to 
school and being too young (in 
most places) to get a job.
Timmy Reed’s “Kill Me Now” 
captures the feeling of a teenage 
summer more thoroughly and 
successfully than many other 
novels in its genre — and there are 
a lot. The coming-of-age story is 
one of the most popular narratives 
out there, and understandably 
so: In trying to capture the 
complicated transition between 
childhood and adulthood, one 
can’t help but bring a ton of other 
emotions and relationships into 
the fold. It’s fascinating to think 
about the changes that happen to 
people during their lives, because 
these changes are what expose us 
for who we really are.
Part of what makes “Kill Me 
Now” work so well is its epistolary 
format. The book functions as the 
summer journal of Miles Lover, 
a 14-year-old skateboarder who 
lives in Baltimore. We learn about 
Miles the same way we would 
learn about any kid based on their 
journal: in bits and pieces. One 
entry will be about his parents, 
who are frequently fighting, and 
between whose houses Miles 
is constantly on the move. The 
next will be about a nature 
documentary Miles was recently 
watching, or just a thought he’d 
been holding in his head. He 
writes down what he does when 
he’s all by himself, what he thinks 
about his identical twin sisters, 
what his earliest memory is. 
And it’s through these random, 

disjointed musings that we come 
to understand him, as a narrator 
and as a person.
On the one hand, the journal 
entries (which aren’t even dated) 
do lend the book kind of a plotless, 
meandering feel at times. But the 
book isn’t presented as anything 
other 
than 
a 
journal, 
and 
ultimately, the lack of a discernible 
plot is a big part of what makes the 
story so convincing. Even though 
nothing is outright announced 
to us, we are able to track Miles 
through 
several 
understated 

journeys: A fight with his mother 
that he can’t figure out how to 
resolve, a hatred of his younger 
neighbor that ends up becoming 
a friendship and — perhaps most 
prominently — a kinship that 
develops between Miles and his 
elderly neighbor, Mister Reese.
If this book is an immersive 
plunge 
into 
the 
realistic 
adventures 
and 
musings 
of 
a 
teenager, 
Mister 
Reese’s 
character feels like the one 
element that might be just slightly 
too farfetched to be believed. He 
fits a little bit too snugly into the 
“relatable old man who casually 
teaches valuable life lessons to a 
punkish teenage kid” archetype. 
That being said, he is made 
relatable through his dialogue, his 
relationship with Miles (which 
starts out business-focused, with 
Miles regularly selling him weed) 
and above all, the specificity of his 
actions.
The precision in this book 
is ultimately a big part of what 
makes it stand out. Miles takes 
care to describe not only the 
picture-filled interior of Mister 
Reese’s 
home, 
but 
also 
the 
chlorine blue of the nearby pool, 
the sight of ants crawling in 

melted ice cream, the darkness 
of the cemetery where his sisters 
abandon him during Hide and 
Go Seek Flashlight Tag. He goes 
to special lengths to call out 
Baltimore landmarks on nearly 
every other page — his friends live 
“over in Towson” or “in Owings 
Mills,” he goes skating in Fells 
Point and Homeland — which 
makes for a vivid setting that 
undoubtedly comes from Reed’s 
own 
Baltimore 
upbringing. 
What’s 
more, 
Miles 
usually 
balances out his keen descriptions 
with some understated thought 
about the world around him, or 
himself as a person.
A 
believable 
teenager, 
he 
does this all offhandedly, and he 
usually plays off any really deep 
observations by making a joke 
or saying something superficial 
right afterward. But through 
his consistent voice, he reveals 
himself time and time again as 
an 
observant, 
compassionate 
person who, despite appearances, 
really cares about the world 
around him. He takes a particular 
interest in animals of all kinds, 
and thinks hard about his family 
members’ happiness even after 
yelling at them in real life.
Reed’s crowning achievement 
in “Kill Me Now” may be 
his ability to offer a three-
dimensional picture of Miles’s 
world using only journal entries. 
He is aware of the dilemma that 
the format presents — the fact 
that we’re only getting Miles’s 
perspective of events after the 
fact, and that this might not 
be entirely objective — but he 
manages to twist that dilemma 
so that, in the end, it works more 
as an advantage. You can’t help 
but believe that you’re reading 
the journal of Miles Lover, a real 
teenage kid who smokes weed and 
has crushes on girls and hangs 
out in the now-vacant house that 
used to be his childhood home. 
And even though Miles isn’t real 
and the journal is a novel, it still 
feels like you’ve come to know 
somebody a little better by the 
time you finish reading it.

‘Kill Me Now’ is a jump in 
the pool during summer

LAURA DZUBAY
Daily Arts Writer

“Kill Me Now”

Timmy Reed

Counterpoint Press

January 23, 2018

BOOK REVIEW

Fred Armisen’s stamp on the 
comedy world is well-established 
by now. Known for his quirky 
sketches depicting life in the 
titular city in “Portlandia” and 
as a mainstay on “Saturday Night 
Live,” his brand of irreverent, 
observational humor has become 
iconic. His new Netflix special 
“Standup 
for 
Drummers” 
is 
a 
creative 
but 
uneven distillation 
of his unique style.
Immediately, 
it 
is 
apparent 
that the title is 
literal. 
Armisen 
appears on a stage 
littered 
with 
drum kits of different formats 
and 
configurations. 
A 
large 
portion of the show is devoted 
to tirades against a wide variety 
of “drummers only” topics, from 
snare placement to the banter 
and 
conflicts 
between 
band 
members. The special features 
cameos from notable drummers, 
including Green Day’s Tré Cool, 
Warpaint’s Stella Mozgawa and 
session drummer Thomas Lang 
to add to the drum cred. Although 

niche in scope, these bits are 
the 
special’s 
most 
effective 
and entertaining, as Armisen’s 
background as a drummer and 
love for the art shine through at 
every moment. He performs a 
brilliant series of impressions of 
famous drummers from Keith 
Moon to Meg White as well as a 
fascinating walkthrough of drum 
kits from the 1920s to the present 
day.
As is to be expected, Armisen’s 
standup feels more like someone 
sharing observations rather than 
a 
professional 
comedian’s 
performance. 
This 
impression 
is 
bolstered 
by 
Armisen’s 
sheer 
awkwardness, 
evident 
as 
he 
fumbles 
and 
stumbles 
around 
the 
stage 
and uses a vocal delivery that 
resembles the tone you use when 
having uncomfortably personal 
late-night conversations with a 
close friend. When not riffing 
on a drumming tidbit, Armisen 
simply traverses through a series 
of short vignettes that each 
depict a certain topic, usually 
about simple observations or 
annoyances in his daily life. 
These sometimes involve music, 

such as one bit about tuning out 
while listening to jazz, while 
others seem to come out of 
nowhere, including a hilarious 
impression of a decaying fox.
For the most part, the content 
not related to drums is hit-or-
miss. A lot of the tangentially 
music-related parts reach the 
highs of the drumming content, 
such as a whirlwind series of 
impressions of accents from 
nearly all 50 states, based on 
observations 
Armisen 
made 
while touring with his band. 
However, an equal number fall 
flat, drawing polite but meek 
laughs 
from 
the 
audience, 
suggesting that the special would 
benefit from a little tightening up.
Even 
people 
who 
are 
not drummers are likely to 
thoroughly 
enjoy 
Armisen’s 
exploration of drum culture and 
music in general. Enjoying the 
rest is highly dependent on one’s 
penchant for his idiosyncratic 
sense of humor, and even his 
fans 
will 
be 
disappointed 
with some of the extraneous 
material. Nonetheless, “Standup 
for Drummers” is overall an 
innovative 
and 
entertaining 
special. 
As 
long 
as 
Netflix 
continues 
to 
take 
risks 
on 
specials like it, comedy as a genre 
will continue to grow.

‘Standup for Drummers’ 
is not just for drummers

SAYAN GOSH
Daily Arts Writer

TV REVIEW

‘Standup for 
Drummers’

Netflix

Netflix
From Thursday, Feb. 15th to 
Sunday, Feb. 18th, the School 
of Music, Theatre & Dance will 
be presenting “You For Me For 
You” at the Lydia Mendelssohn 
Theater. Written by playwright 
Mia Chung, “You For Me For 
You” explores a country that still 
remains a mystery to most of the 
world: North Korea.
“You 
For 
Me 
For 
You,” 
directed by Priscilla Lindsay, is 
a story of the attempted escape 
of two sisters from North Korea. 
The cautious older sister Minhee, 
played by SMTD sophomore 
Amanda Kuo, is deeply devoted 
to her country, despite the havoc 
the regime has wreaked on her 
life. Junhee, the ambitious and 
adventurous 
younger 
sister, 
is played by SMTD freshman 
Levana 
Wang. 
Juxtaposed 
with her sister, Junhee will do 
anything to escape her home and 
reach the outside world. When 
Junhee attempts to cross the 
North Korean border, bringing 
Minhee with her, only one sister 
successfully leaves. This sister 
reaches New York City, while the 
other is left behind. Thus begins 
the parallel stories of Minhee 
and Junhee, each discovering 
themselves 
and 
each 
other 
through 
their 
metaphysically 
intertwined journeys.
The ties between these sisters, 
and the sisterly love that they 
possess for each other, are rich 
and beautiful, as is the contrast 
between 
their 
opinions 
and 
world views.
“Junhee is becoming more 
aware of the North Korean life 
that she’s living,” said Wang. As 

Junhee learns about the twisted 
nature of the North Korean 
regime and its strict rules against 
contact with the outside world, 
she yearns to get out.
Minhee, on the other hand, 
has been hurt in a multitude of 
ways by North Korea. Despite 
this, there’s an indescribable 
force that compels her not to 
leave.
“There’s a lot of history, not 
only familial history but the 
history of her nation, that she’s 
really proud of and unable to 

leave until she has to.” said Kuo. 
Minhee is tied up in the dark 
depths of the system and is in 
denial that her country could 
wrong her, even though it has so 
many times already.
“To leave your country is a 
disgrace to your family,” Kuo 
said when describing Minhee’s 
point of view. It’s as if Minhee 
can’t stand to betray her nation 
because 
she 
doesn’t 
know 
anything else.
“You For Me For You” is set in 
modern times, and its parallels 
to 
the 
relationship 
between 
North Korea and America are 
incredibly important.

“It’s so terrifying when you 
read it on a screen,” said Kuo 
of President Trump’s current 
online exchanges with North 
Korea’s leader Kim Jong-un. 
“But it’s so important to see two 
people up there who are just as 
terrified. In fact, even more so,” 
Kuo said of the sisters.
And, that’s exactly what this 
play aims to do.
“Rather than talking about 
North Korea as something that is 
nebulous … you see a real human 
experience that is very relatable. 
You feel for the two sisters,” said 
Kuo. By humanizing Minhee and 
Junhee, Americans will be able 
to see that there’s so much more 
to North Korea than a relentless 
and authoritarian regime. There 
are real people and real emotions.
“It’s scary to see that these two 
worlds aren’t as far apart as we 
think,” said SMTD sophomore 
Mallory Avnet, when speaking 
of America and North Korea. 
Avnet plays multiple versions of a 
woman named Liz — a character 
that was born and raised in 
America 
and 
contrasts 
the 
struggle of Minhee and Junhee’s 
lives under a dictatorship. 
Above all, “You For Me For 
You” is a story about “love in a 
multitude of ways; between men 
and women, between sisters, 
family and people and their 
country,” said Wang.
There is a free reception at 
9:30 p.m. in the Michigan League 
Hussey Room following the 
opening show on Thursday night, 
sponsored by the Department of 
Theatre & Drama and the LSA 
Nam Center for Korean Studies. 
After Friday’s show, an open 
discussion will be directed by 
Mia Chung and Priscilla Lindsay 
that is free and open to the public.

‘You For Me For You’ will 
portray North Korean life 

TRINA PAL
Daily Arts Writer

COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW

“You For Me For 

You”

Feb. 15 @ 7:30 PM, 
Feb. 16 & 17 @ 8:00 
PM, Feb. 18 @ 2:00 
PM

Lydia Mendelssohn 
Theater

$12 student, $30 
general

