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