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ACROSS
1 Drone sound
5 Spicy dip
10 French flag
couleur
14 Parade celebrity
15 Cotton swabs
16 Pair on a
Disneyland hat
17 Verdi highlight
18 It’s prohibited on
many highways
19 Vast landmass
20 Musical
Christmas staple
22 Culinary
student’s assent
24 Native American
symbol
26 Bit of cheer?
27 22% of the U.S.
Senate
30 WWII female
32 Program breaks
36 Enthusiastic
37 “Good Lord!”
39 Miscellany
40 [Uh-oh!]
41 Big name in
threshers
42 In __ of:
replacing
43 City ENE of Reno
44 One of pop
music’s Papas
45 Permits
46 Takes a load off
48 Mil. officers
49 High-IQ group
50 Perilous hisser
52 In check
54 Succeeding like
nobody’s
business
58 Like most kosher
frankfurters
62 Water sport
63 Only inanimate
zodiac sign
65 Iams alternative
66 “Quite so”
67 Historical period
68 Slimming
procedure, briefly
69 Shopping club
70 Swearing-in
rituals
71 For fear that

DOWN
1 “Careless
Whisper” pop
group
2 “__ comes
trouble!”

3 Eye part
4 Sunday dinner
side dish
5 Weightlifting
maneuver
6 Driving
7 “Elementary” 
co-star Lucy
8 Nimble
9 Ed with seven
Emmys
10 Summer
Olympics event
since 1996
11 Word with back
or whip
12 Historic canal
13 “Aim High ... 
Fly-Fight-Win”
military org.
21 Non-neutral
atom
23 Took a load off
25 Purplish hue
27 Ante, e.g.
28 Small egg
29 Takes full
advantage of
31 Gravy thickener
33 From far away
(perhaps very
far)
34 See 51-Down
35 “The March King”
37 Unexpected

38 Susan of “L.A.
Law”
47 Ottawa-to-NYC
dir.
49 Prefix with ware
51 With 34-Down,
really retro eating
programs
53 Vague discomfort,
with “the”
54 Makes a choice
55 Romance writer
Roberts

56 Grad
57 Longtime “Live!”
host
59 Author Wiesel
60 Omar of
“Shooter”
61 Body part whose
parts are aptly
found at the
bottom of this
puzzle’s four
longest answers
64 Plant sci.

By Jeffrey Wechsler
©2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
03/07/18

03/07/18

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

I wish the Oscars were better. 
I wish there was a platform to 
properly acknowledge the look 
Laurie Metcalf gives in “Lady 
Bird” when Danny says, “There 
are actual train tracks.” And I wish 
had a microphone loud enough so 
everyone in the world could hear 
me yell, “Timmy was robbed!”
I wish, even more, that they 
didn’t matter to me. I wish I didn’t 
feel crushed watching “The Shape 
of Water” win Best Picture when I 
know the movies my children will 
still be watching (granting TVs 
and the Earth still exist) are “Lady 
Bird” and “Get Out.”
I’m mad that a TV event where 
off-screen white men give awards 
to their peers doesn’t adhere to 
my idea of justice. I can see the 
absurdity there. But the Academy 
proved itself — even when it 
wasn’t giving out statues — to 
be completely out of touch with 
the industry it is supposed to 
represent.
There were a hundred or so 
times during my Oscar watch 
party when the eyes in the room 
shifted to me. Any reference 
to “Lady Bird,” when someone 
thought they saw Adam Driver and 
when George Romero appeared in 
the In Memoriam segment. We 
sighed for Romero and Jonathan 
Demme and Harry Dean Stanton. 
And then it was over.
Now, I have a few issues with 
this part of the night. First of all: 
Eddie Vedder? Was literally no 
one else available? And secondly, 
the list of omissions that just about 
outnumbered the inclusions. The 
most jarring of which, at least for 
me, was Tobe Hooper.
I had to go back and check 
that Hooper actually died last 
year — he did — because I could 
not believe the Academy would 
do something that stupid. (That 
was supposed to be a joke! The 
Academy voters are morons in a 
deeper sense). Hooper belongs 
in the pantheon with Romero 
and 
Craven. 
Hooper 
wrote 
the visual terms for American 
horror, defined it as something 
indefinable.

The real irony is that “Texas 
Chainsaw 
Massacre”’s 
iconic 
shot was included in the “magic 
of the movies” tribute supercut. 
Leatherface 
swinging 
his 
chainsaw through the air against 
that brilliant Texas sunrise — in 
isolation, it could be mistaken for 
a still from “Days of Heaven.” It 
is emblematic of the humor and 
beauty the permeate a Hooper 
low-budget gore-fest.
The Academy can, at least, 

recognize it as one of the most 
important images in the American 
film canon. But they can’t be 
bothered to recognize the person 
responsible for creating it.
They made the same kinds 
of moves the entire night. The 
Academy can nominate outside 
their comfort zone, but they’re 
still giving out awards like it’s 
2016. With a few exceptions — 
Jordan 
Peele’s 
screenwriting 
win and “Phantom Thread”’s 
costumes were the few signs of 
the “justice” I mentioned earlier 
— the show played out the way I 
dreaded it would.
Maybe I’m fixating on the 
Hooper omission, but I really do 
think it points to the core of the 
Academy’s issue. Beyond their 
whiteness and their maleness and 
their oldness (all factors which 
illuminate the point I’m about 
to make next), it’s their genre-
aversion.
People on Twitter will be 
quick to tell you (and me) that 

“The Shape of Water” is a horror 
film. It’s not. We’ve seen del Toro 
make horror. This is dark fantasy 
at best. This is the kind of movie 
that people who have never seen a 
horror movie call prestige horror.
Genre films got nominated. 
“Get Out” is horror. “Lady Bird” 
and “Call Me By Your Name” 
are 
coming 
of 
age 
movies. 
“Phantom Thread” is on the more 
bizarre end, but it’s still on the 
spectrum of serious period pieces 
(“Dunkirk,” “The Post,” “Darkest 
Hour”) that the Academy goes 
crazy for. I don’t even want to 
mention “Three Billboards,” but 
I will say dark comedy about the 
soul of America is well within the 
Academy’s comfort zone.
Our three true genre films 
illuminate the ways in which the 
stories of marginalized groups — 
people of color, women, the LGBT 
community — are not served 
by the methods of storytelling 
traditionally 
recognized 
by 
institutions like the Academy. 
To have a genre problem is to 
have a diversity problem, and 
the comparison between the 
winners and the nominees only 
underscores this point.
So the problem is bigger 
than leaving Tobe Hooper off 
a slideshow. But it’s moments 
like 
that, 
when 
we’re 
not 
watching with the same critical 
eye we watch the Best Picture 
announcement, that the Academy 
shows its cards.
Two years ago, they would’ve 
picked “Darkest Hour” — I feel 
very comfortable betting a large 
amount of money on that. With 
“Moonlight,” we moved in the 
right direction, and with “The 
Shape of Water,” I don’t know 
where exactly we moved, but we 
did. So there’s hope.
The Academy is out of touch 
and the whole model of award 
shows probably is as well. But 
until I have the clout to mail 
Laurie Metcalf an award and 
have it mean something, I know 
what to expect from the Academy 
Awards. Justice (my picture of 
justice, at least) will not be served.

The Academy voters are 
morons in a deeper sense

DAILY FILM COLUMN

MADELEINE 
GAUDIN

The art of humor in film is 
certainly difficult to master. It is 
difficult to find a balance between 
comic relief and overusing the 
same 
punchlines 
and 
quips. 
Even the funniest moments of 
a film can be ruined through 
repetition. The exhaustion of 
a joke can turn what was once 
found hilarious by audiences 
into something lackluster and 
irritating, resulting in boredom. 
In securing a few audience laughs 
at the beginning of the film, 
“Game Night” falsely presumes 
that it has viewers hooked, and 
thus proceeds to squeeze every 
last drop of humor from the 
jokes from the first quarter of 
the film until there is absolutely 
no comedy left. Though the 
film initially manages to grasp 
audience 
attention, 
its 
hold 
quickly 
loosens 
through 
its 
unchecked overeagerness to push 
humor at viewers, resulting in the 
unraveling of plot direction and 
an unclear tone. 
At the start of the film, 
viewers are greeted by a cutesy 
montage, 
documenting 
the 
game-themed 
relationship 
of 
quirky, competitive couple Max 
(Jason Bateman, “Zootopia”) and 
Annie (Rachel McAdams, “The 
Notebook”), who are known and 
beloved by their friends for their 
frequent hosting of game nights. 
Trouble arises, however, when 
Max’s charismatic yet sketchy 
brother Brooks (Kyle Chandler, 

“Super 8”) comes to town and 
hosts his own game night, 
one that he brags will surpass 
all others by involving a faux 
kidnapping of one of the players 
and an evening of detective work 
to find them. However, the night 
rapidly spirals out of control, 
launching the group of suburban, 
millennial players into a night of 
real danger, hazard and chaos. 
Despite a plotline that sounds 
somewhat promising, this film is 
a mess. Essential to the movie’s 

foundering is that it becomes 
way too complicated way too fast. 
Characters and viewers alike are 
jerked back and forth, taunted by 
directors John Francis Daley and 
Jonathan Goldstein (“Vacation”) 
into believing that something is 
just part of the game one minute 
and that it is real the next. The 
lack of clarity over what is going 
on does not create the desired 
effect of mystery and suspense, 
but instead prompts frustration 
and annoyance among viewers 
over the faulty direction of the 
plot. 
The 
only 
praiseworthy 
element of the film is the 
chemistry 
between 
Bateman 
and 
McAdams’s 
characters. 
Throughout the film, Max and 
Annie function as more of a 
unit than individuals, working 

in tandem as a harmonious 
dynamic duo. To the film’s credit, 
the scenes with the two are quite 
charming and audiences are able 
to find a relatively stable source 
of humor from their married 
couple banter. Yet, not even the 
charming compatibility between 
Max and Annie can save this film.
Overall, Daley and Goldstein’s 
aim to create a film that is fast-
paced 
and 
engaging 
falters, 
instead leaving audiences too 
confused 
and 
whiplashed 
to 
laugh. 
The 
sense 
of 
discombobulation felt when the 
theater lights came up speaks 
to the severe lack of clarity as 
to what exactly the film wanted 
to accomplish in the first place. 
Mostly to blame is the imbalanced 
combination of sinister and silly 
moments that end up generating 
an all-encompassing sense of 
awkwardness, especially evident 
through the presence of Gary, 
Annie and Max’s overly creepy 
next-door neighbor whose weird, 
almost psychopathic manner is 
used to elicit comedic effect in 
one moment and fear in the next. 
Gary’s character is reflective of 
the film as a whole: intended to 
create intrigue through a bizarre 
and ill-made blend of eerie and 
comical, but instead provoking 
audience members into a state 
of confusion and uninterest. 
Although “Game Night” unfolds 
within the short span of one, 
fateful evening, inconsistencies 
in the direction and mood of 
the storyline ultimately make 
the film feel like an unpleasant 
eternity. 

Bateman and McAdams 
can’t save ‘Game Night’

SAMANTHA NELSON
Daily Arts Writer

FILM REVIEW

WARNER BROS.

“Game Night”

Warner Bros.

Ann Arbor Quality 
16

Analicia 
Sotelo’s 
debut 
collection of poems, “Virgin,” 
the winner of the inaugural 
Jake Adam York Prize, offers 
a prismatic glimpse into the 
author’s personal experiences 
as 
a 
Mexican-American 
woman. 
The 
poems 
are 
iridescent — at times showing a 
detached critique of femininity, 
heterosexual 
relationships 
or both; at others, viscerally 
personal memories.
Lines 
that 
should 
be 
reminiscent 
of 
things 
like 
curtains and frothy champagne 
— “The moon points out my 
neckline like a chaperone,” 
she writes, in the first poem 
titled “Do You Speak Virgin?” 
— take on a keener edge in this 
collection, as she takes on the 
minutiae of societal poisoning 
of love and sex. “South Texas 
Persephone” ends with the 
speaker 
declaring 
“Now 
I 
have three heads: one / for 
speech, one for sex, / and 
one for second-guessing,” a 
triangulation 
which 
neatly 
encapsulates much of the rest 
of the volume.
Much 
of 
the 
first 
half 

of 
“Virgin” 
reveals 
an 
exasperation 
of 
watching 
people 
perform 
their 
relationships, 
hastening 
to 
use the first person plural 
as if it means something, 
clutching on to banalities like 
they’re lifelines. “We’re all 
performing our bruises,” she 
says in “Private Property,” 

and this sentiment is carried 
throughout.
The 
intensity 
of 
the 
collection 
is 
perhaps 
most 
vibrant when she captures the 
simultaneity of numbness and 
pain that comes from holding 
your tongue, mostly visible in 
the poems about her parents 
and in those about being close 
to our creations, like “I’m 
Trying to Write a Poem about 
a Virgin and It’s Awful.” Yet 
humor doesn’t take a backseat 
to potency; sincere words are 
often brushed over with irony 
— or at least an ambiguity 
addressed with an eye roll: 
“many people are tender from 

the right angle. / I’m hungry 
& confused. I love / a good 
barbecue. Save me.”
While some of the poems feel 
like puzzles that include more 
than a couple extra pieces, most 
are taut; The words slice to the 
core of her message. She writes 
of loving men — significantly 
older men, white men — as a 
traumatic 
experience. 
And 
she writes about her parents’ 
relationship. 
But 
she 
also 
warns against making the tired 
assumption, in a sly, if cutting, 
aside to the reader: “You may 
wish to make some connection 
/ between father and lover 
here, as if your joke / could 
really be my life’s solution, or 
as if / I haven’t already done 
that, in a cuter way.”
In the latter half of the 
collection, 
Sotelo 
breathes 
new life into old Greek myths, 
giving 
perspectives 
that 
readers might not ever have 
considered 
otherwise. 
The 
most haunting of the set is 
“Ariadne Discusses Theseus 
in Relation to the Minotaur,” 
which 
leaves 
readers 
with 
the image of both Sotelo and 
Ariadne standing alone, man 
and monster gone, nothing but 
a lack of thread and answers in 
their outstretched hands.

‘Virgin’ is vibrant, potent 
debut collection of poetry

SOPHIA KAUFMAN
Daily Arts Writer

“Virgin”

Analicia Sotelo

Milkweed Editions

Feb. 20, 2018

BOOK REVIEW

6A — Wednesday, March 7, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

