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NOW.
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