5 — Tuesday, March 6, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

‘Annihilation’ takes on 
more than it can handle

In the late 2010s, science 
fiction 
as 
a 
film 
genre 
has 
seen 
something 
of 
a 
renaissance, 
with 
critically 
acclaimed releases such as 
2016’s 
“Arrival.” 
The 
film 
is an excellent example of 
the genre’s ability to touch 
on complex, profound ideas 
through 
intensely 
personal 
human 
stories. 
Director 
Alex Garland seemed to have 
tapped into this concept with 
his 2015 directorial debut, “Ex 
Machina.” Garland displayed 
a unique tact for developing 
characters 
in 
fascinating 
ways, all the while tying those 
characters up in the story 
being told. Garland’s follow-up 
release, 2018’s “Annihilation” 
seemed set to be another 
example of intense, character-
driven science fiction. 
The film tells the story of 
Lena (Natalie Portman, “Song 
to 
Song”), 
an 
ex-military 
biologist whose husband, Kane 
(Oscar Isaac, “Star Wars: The 
Last Jedi”), suddenly reappears 
after having vanished for more 
than a year into The Shimmer, 
a 
mysterious 
jungle 
that 
appeared on a United States 
coastline after a meteor strike. 
When it becomes apparent 
that The Shimmer left Kane 
terminally ill, Lena teams 
up with four other scientists 
— all of them women — to 
investigate The Shimmer in 
hopes of finding a cure.
Unfortunately, 
the 
result 
is a mixed bag. Perhaps the 
film’s 
greatest 
hindrance 
is 
its 
ambition. 
Over 
its 
runtime, it becomes apparent 
that the film was adapted 
from a novel, lacking the 
room to breathe and explore 
characters and ideas that a 
book offers. In just two hours, 
the film must characterize and 
develop all five of its scientist 

protagonists, tell a compelling 
story and touch on concepts 
concerning what it means to 
be human. As a result of its 
extensive to-do list, the film 
ends up accomplishing none of 
these things outright. 

The area where this is most 
apparent is in its characters; 
simply put, the film lacks 
heart. 
Alex 
Garland’s 
last 
film, “Ex Machina” was able 
to devote ample screentime 
to developing its three-person 
cast. With five characters to 
juggle — six including Kane 
— Garland struggles to find a 
way to make us care about the 
characters. The film reaches 
its emotional peak about five 
minutes in as we see Lena 
tearfully paint the bedroom she 
once shared with her missing, 
presumed-dead husband while 
listening to Crosby, Stills & 
Nash’s “Helplessly Hoping.” 
It’s a tender and moving 
scene, but one that ultimately 
leaves a bitter taste in your 
mouth, because this is the 
most we’re going to get in 
terms of characterization for 
Lena. She, and the other four 
scientists investigating The 
Shimmer, are characterized 
almost exclusively by their 
past trauma. The film lacks 
either the time or the will to 
make its characters anything 
more than shallow archetypes. 
Despite 
this, 
there 
are 
flashes 
of 
brilliance 
throughout. 
The 
film’s 
third 
act, 
titled 
“The 
Lighthouse,” is some of the 
most breathtakingly stunning 
filmmaking this year. This 
is where the film rolls up its 

sleeves and flexes its muscles, 
showing 
its 
audience 
the 
payoff of all the tension and 
mystery it had been building 
up. There are select scenes 
throughout 
“Annihilation” 
that serve as the gold standard 
for drawing audiences in. The 
film caused me to physically 
react on numerous occasions; 
my jaw hung open, I gasped, I 
covered my mouth in awe. In 
terms of building visceral, gut-
twisting situations, Garland 
proves himself as a master.
In the end, however, this 
isn’t enough to distract from 
the fact that the film doesn’t 
come close to satisfying in 
the end. “Annihilation” poses 
some 
massive 
questions 
concerning 
human 
nature, 
individuality and death, but 
ultimately fails to answer — or 
even address — these concepts 
in any meaningful capacity. 
Garland 
is 
aware 
these 
questions exist because the 
film actively strives to avoid 
addressing 
them. 
Instead, 
it 
feigns 
profundity 
with 
intense visual spectacles and 
vague dialogue that seem to 
trick audiences into thinking 
they’ve witnessed something 
meaningful. Films that ask 
big questions don’t necessarily 
have to answer them, but 
they have to give audiences 
something substantive. By the 
end of “Annihilation,” it felt 
like the film had thrown up its 
hands and shrugged.
Ultimately, it isn’t a bad film. 
You’ll see some crazy stuff, 
but it won’t teach you much of 
anything; that doesn’t make it 
bad, but it is a disappointing 
offering 
from 
a 
director 
who’s proven he can balance 
substance and shock value in 
the past. At times absolutely 
brilliant and at times shallow 
and glib, “Annihilation” feels 
like it’s constantly reaching for 
some kind of profundity which, 
despite trying in an intense 
and spectacular fashion, it 
never truly manages. 

MAX MICHALSKY
Daily Arts Writer

PARAMOUNT PICTURES

“Annihilation”

Paramount Pictures

Ann Arbor Quality 
16

The 
debate 
over 
this 
country’s best slice of pizza 
is as contested and heated as 
the partisan political debates 
plaguing our society intensely 
in the 21st century. Democrat 
or 
Republican? 
Pro-life 
or 
pro-choice? 
Gun 
control? 
Immigration? 
Education? 
Where can you get the best 
pizza around here?
The 
question: 
What 
is 
the best slice of pizza in 
the 
country? 
At 
the 
very 
least, despite its vicious and 
aggressive implications, this 
debate 
consistently 
ends 
positively, due to a mandatory 
post debate taste test in order 
to truly come to some sort of 
conclusion. It’s a debate that 
brings people together over a 
slice of pizza — because at the 
end of the day, there’s no such 
thing as bad pizza (unless you’re 
on the West Coast, then maybe 
reevaluate). It’s necessary that 
time and time again we have 
this pizza conversation, one 
of great magnitude and vital 
necessity.
Take this as a state of the 
union address for ’za — a state 
of the slice address, if you will. 
The 
Chicago 
deep 
dish, 
“Detroit” style pie and, of 
course, 
the 
famous 
New 
York slice all have cult-like 
followings — groups of people 
devoted to the locationally 
specific style of ’za that they 
hail as this country’s “best 
slice.” But anyone who knows 
anything about food at all 
knows that the New York slice 
is superior.
People that believe that any 
pizza is better than New York 
pizza have A) never been to 
New York B) are confused or 
C) are clearly wrong. Pizza was 
introduced to New York in 1905 
by Gennaro Lombardi who saw 
it as the solution to not wasting 
the day old bread in his grocery 
store. 
Lombardi’s 
genius 
sparked an energetic revolution 
for the city that never sleeps, 
making 
pizza 
a 
ubiquitous 
staple of the New York streets.
New York pizza is notorious. 
It is scientifically proven that 
the water in New York is quite 
literally better for making pizza 
dough than anywhere else in 
the United States. Supposedly, 
Frank Sinatra, Hoboken native, 
had New York water shipped 
out to the west coast biweekly 
in the 1940s to make edible 
pizza when he wasn’t close to 
home.
There 
are 
32,000 
pizza 
places in New York City, lining 
each street corner — all at once 
similar and incredibly unique. 
New York pizza is the pizza that 
began the slice industry, selling 
pizza by the slice instead of 
by the full pie, making ’za 
an individual experience. A 
casual moment. A stop by or a 
game time choice instead of a 
planned and plotted, also often 
shared, full pie. Opening the 
opportunity for small human 
moments in the interaction 
that takes place during the 
transaction of a lunch slice, a 
snack slice, a serendipity slice.
Pizza in New York is in 
high demand, and there are an 
abundance of options available 
to New Yorkers and visitors 
alike. Due to the variety of 
pizza places, New York pizza 
is a situational concept. What 
I mean by that is that one can 
always determine where to 
get pizza in New York based 
on 
their 
unique 
situation. 
There’s 
a 
major 
difference 
between your classic 2:00 a.m. 
late-night drunk slice, your 
“I need my suburban parents 
to meet my new significant 
other and like them” slice and 
your important-meeting-with-
people-that-I-have-to-have-
my-shit-together-for 
slice. 
That’s what makes the New 
York pizza scene so special: 
There’s 
a 
slice 
for 
every 
occasion. The breakup slice, 
the hangry slice, the first date 
slice, the quick slice, the fancy 
slice, the just married slice, 

the I have time to stand on a 
30 minute slice, the celebratory 
slice.
In terms of specific New 
York and East Coast slices, 
you can say I’m relatively well 
versed. As a pizza connoisseur 
who was raised by a pizza 
messiah, I take pizza very 
seriously. 
Everyone 
in 
my 
family does, and the red Italian 
imported pizza oven sitting 
on our kitchen countertop is 
testament to just that. On a 
recent trip to New York, I had 
the pleasure of visiting my 
favorite spots to share some 
intimate moments with my 
favorite slices. A group of slices 
with which I have reliable and 
dependable relationships. The 
physical sensation is always 
great, and emotionally, we just 
connect.
Joe and Pat’s, a Staten Island 
pizzeria, is a firm 10. The three 
chefs crank out approximately 
500 pizzas on any given Friday 
to the beats of funky ’80s 
music. The customers bring 
vibrance and diversity to the 
old-fashioned 
atmosphere. 
I recommend sitting at the 
counter with a blood orange 
San Pellegrino and a plain pie, 

about noon on a Friday, for 
the full experience. The plain 
pie is to die for, its circles of 
mozzarella 
memorable, 
the 
dash of romano to finish, a 
hot take, but in my opinion, a 
blessing. The sauce is young, 
punchy and sweet, a perfect 
pairing to the flaky, crisp crust. 
The crust of a Joe and Pat’s 
plain pie is arguably the best 
pizza crust in the country, if 
not the world. Its crust is its 
magic and the exact vehicle 
that allows customers to eat 
an entire pie in one sitting. It’s 
light, it’s romantic, it’s easy. It’s 
the reliable guy your parents 
love and you can always depend 
on. Joe and Pat’s is a dream 
slice, one that puts Staten 
Island on the map as more than 
a New Yorker’s punching bag.
A wise pizza lover once 
told me that in order to be 
a perfect 10, the slice has to 
pass the most important pizza 
taste test: You must be able to 
taste each ingredient; sauce, 
dough, cheese. On the opposite 
end of the spectrum from Joe 
and Pat’s skinny little slice of 
heaven is Brother’s Pizzeria 
Sicilian slice. Down the road 
from Joe and Pat’s, Brother’s is 
close in distance but miles away 
in style. Its thick, deep dish 
crust is a textural journey — 
crispy, doughy, flaky and thick. 
Its stretchy mozzarella and 
zesty, peppery sauce cratered 
between the soft pillows of 
dough make a home in your 
mouth. Unlike Joe and Pat’s, 
one slice of Brother’s Sicilian 
is plenty. But that doesn’t mean 
you should stop at one, because 
clearly, you need at least two 
slices to get a true gauge on the 
quality of slice.
A 
whole 
borough 
away, 
tucked into a little no-frills 
corner of Brooklyn, is quite 
possibly 
the 
best 
slice 
in 
the country: Di Fara. The 

pizzeria makes one of the most 
sought after slices in New 
York City, a two hour line of 
hungry 
customers 
spilling 
onto the sidewalk awaiting 
the enlightenment of a pricey 
five dollar slice day after 
day. Domenic DeMarco, the 
shop’s owner (also known as 
Jesus to his loyal disciples), 
stands unaffected by the daily 
commotion, 
over 
crackling 
round pies, slicing basil onto 
their exteriors with a pair of 
kitchen scissors. When I was 
four years old, my father took 
me for my first slice of Di Fara 
pizza, 
and 
simultaneously 
awakened me from the dark 
world I’d been living in without 
it. To my chagrin, but not 
surprise, I apparently stood 
up on the counter, in my young 
impatience and beckoned at the 
72-year-old DeMarco: “Excuse 
me, mister, where’s our pizza?”
We didn’t wait much longer 
after that.
Di Fara was worth the 
wait then, and it still is now. 
DeMarco uses San Marzano 
tomatoes, the most famous 
plum tomato to come out of 
Italy, and I’d deem this a power 
move. His sauce is tangy yet 
delicate, the imported Italian 
buffalo mozzarella cheese its 
perfect pair. DeMarco is the 
only person who makes the 
pizza, which contributes to the 
ridiculous line, and also the 
notoriety of the famous slice. 
Di Fara pizza is the type of slice 
you wish to never end — it’s a 
head over heels, hot romance. 
It’s balanced in the way pizza 
should be, and its simplicity is 
nothing short of outstanding.
A few subway stops away 
is Marta in NoMad, a special, 
newer addition to my list. Marta 
specializes in pizza of the 
Roman style, which is funny, 
being that nobody ever goes 
to Rome for the pizza. Sure, 
Rome has pizza, and yes, a lot 
of it is good, but it’s no Naples. 
Marta, however, celebrates the 
extra thin crust of a typical 
Roman pizza. Of course, thin 
crust pizza in New York is no 
shock, but the pizza at Marta 
is notably thin. It’s comparable 
to a thin cracker that doesn’t 
crumble, a perfect vessel for its 
fresh toppings. Most wonderful 
of 
these 
toppings 
is 
the 
homemade pulled stracciatella 
cheese, which I’d call a gift to 
pizza. Other notable Marta 
’za’s include the egg, grated 
pecorino, potato and guanciale 
masterpiece (a deconstructed 
Carbonara sauce finding home 
on a pizza) and a personal 
favorite of mine, the absolutely 
worth-it 60-dollar tartufo nero, 
which is topped with shaved 
Italian truffles. Marta is your 
fancier slice indeed, but we all 
need to feel fancy and sharp 
now and again.
Rounding out my New York 
slice list at number five is 
Staten Island’s best known 
pizzeria, Denino’s. Opened in 
1937, the little brick building on 
the northern end of the island is 
at once both a tourist attraction 
and “the spot” for locals. 
Though I am a firm believer 
that the plain pizza is the only 
kind of pizza any of us should 
be eating — Denino’s changes 
the game and tests my long-
standing loyalty to the plain 
pie. The trademark “M.O.R” 
pie, is the must order here. 
It’s a simple romance between 
meatball, ricotta and onion 
that puts Denino’s on the list. 
The crust here is thicker than 
a usual New York slice, though 
still slender with a sweet sauce, 
which is complemented by a 
perfect blend of ricotta and 
mozzarella. 
The 
meatballs 
make the pie a worthwhile 
contestant 
for 
a 
shotgun 
wedding, as it is impossible to 
be anything but in love with the 
specialty pie Denino’s is known 
for.
Despite my defiant opinion 
that New York pizza is a one-of-
a-kind, out of everyone’s league 
slice, there are other places that 
certainly threaten to challenge 
New York’s seat at the top of the 
pizza hierarchy.
One of these places, Sally’s 

Something in the Water: A 
spotlight on NYC pizza

DAILY FOOD COLUMN
Apizza, a New Haven, Conn. 
hole in the wall, definitely puts 
up a good fight. Both Sally’s 
Apizza and its neighbor and 
brother pizzeria Frank Pepe’s 
consistently 
make 
national 
best slice lists. Both have 
large fan bases, and most 
of these fans have a strong 
opinion as to which place 
serves the better ’za. For me, 
it’s Sally’s Apizza, which I’ve 
had the great pleasure of 
eating at twice in my 19 years, 
not counting the leftovers. 
Both Sally’s and Pepe’s serve 
thin, charred crusted pizza, 
and 
their 
differences 
are 
not 
immediately 
apparent. 
However, Pepe’s is known for 
its trademark (and incredible) 
white clam pizza, and Sally’s 
for its signature tomato pie, 
stark in its simplicity, topped 
with nothing but a sprinkle 
of parmesan. Despite Pepe’s 
unique take on ’za, Sally’s 
brings me back to my base, 
reminds me why I eat pizza, 
and gives me the reality check 
only the best things in life 

can. Sally’s is open five days a 
week at 4:00 p.m., and the line 
begins to form about an hour 
beforehand on days of business, 
because the slice is that good.
What makes these slices 
perfect 10s comes down to a few 
things. First, the ingredients, 
all of which are fresh and, for 
lack of a better term, primo. 
Second is the heart and passion 
of the pizzerias; these slices 
are 
handcrafted 
to 
mean 
something 
more 
than 
just 
pizza. They are time machines 
to 
other 
worlds, 
invoking 
memories 
of 
grandmothers 
passed, 
family 
dinners 
on 
Sunday afternoons, heritage 
and a country with an innate 
capacity of bringing people 
together through good food.
What I recommend when 
seeking 
out 
a 
good 
slice 
anywhere, but especially in the 
five boroughs of New York, is 
to ignore appearances, follow 
the crowds, don’t be afraid of a 
shabby exterior or a crumbling 
infrastructure — instead look 
for the heart, the San Marzano 

tomatoes and the hands of the 
pizza chef. Those hands make 
the magic of the perfect slice 
— never underestimate the 
architects of such ecstasy.
Whereas in Chicago you’re 
confined to the deep dish, in 
Detroit, some square looking 
nonsense (sorry) and on the 
West Coast cardboard (sorry 
again), 
the 
diversity 
and 
simplicity of the slice in New 
York City is what makes it the 
pizza capital of the United 
States. The notoriety of the 
New York City slice makes all 
other cities overwhelmed with 
a jealousy so intense that they 
should turn it into motivation 
to get on New York’s level.
After all, I don’t think any 
of us East Coasters here in the 
Midwest would complain if 
someone could figure out the 
key to bringing the New York 
slice a few hundred miles west, 
but then again, confining the 
best pizza in the country to 
the city’s 303.33 square mile 
area is what makes it such an 
idiosyncrasy.

A wise pizza 
lover once told 
me that in order 
to be a perfect 
10, the slice has 
to pass the most 
important pizza 
taste test: You 
must be able 
to taste each 
ingredient

FILM REVIEW

ELI RALLO
Daily Food Columnist

