5 — Tuesday, March 13, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
An attempt was made. If
nothing else — and there is
ultimately little else — director
Ava DuVernay (“Selma”) tried
to use “A Wrinkle in Time” to
craft an ambitious vehicle for
a diverse cast and a message
about loving yourself with all
your flaws and rough edges. It’s
just deeply unfortunate that
the message and the cast are
saddled with one of the worst
scripts Disney has worked
with in recent memory. The
film is crammed to bursting
with gaping plot holes and so
many
bewildering
creative
decisions that it almost feels
directionless. It’s undoubtedly
well-meaning, but that can’t
save it. “A Wrinkle in Time” is
an unmitigated disaster.
From the first scenes, the
portrayal of child characters
is clearly the work of adults
who rarely speak to kids.
Not only do the dialogue and
performances make the whole
ordeal feel akin to children’s
theater, but the adolescents
at the center of the story
spend most of the movie being
shuffled
around
without
making any decisions of their
own. If you want to give young
people positive role models on
film, those characters must be
active enough to be interesting
and worth looking up to. Even
if the script wasn’t so flat in its
approach, it would still have to
contend with the soundtrack,
which blankets any and every
emotional scene with a cloying,
generic pop song that uses
buzzwords like “warrior” to
make half-hearted connections
to the movie. Once would
be annoying, but it happens
multiple
times,
and
every
time a potentially beautiful or
inventive scene is robbed of its
impact.
Even
when
they
aren’t
being moved about like game
pieces, the characters verge
on annoying and never get
any real development. Charles
Wallace
(Deric
McCabe,
“Stephanie”) is meant to be a
child prodigy, but instead of
precocious and intelligent, he
comes off as more inhuman,
like if young Sheldon Cooper
went
on
an
adventure
to
Narnia. In one memorable
scene, it’s mentioned in a
line of dialogue that he was
teleported ahead, and my only
guess is that McCabe wasn’t
available on the days they
were shooting those scenes.
There’s
also
a
character
named Calvin (Levi Miller,
“Pan”), who literally shows
up without an introduction in
one scene and does nothing
for the rest of the movie
besides add what I’m assuming
would have been a romantic
subplot if writer Jennifer Lee
(“Frozen”) had remembered
to give him and Meg Murray
(“Sleight”) any chemistry. He
and Charles Wallace are two
of the main leads, and neither
adds anything positive to the
proceedings.
No one else, other than
maybe
Zach
Galifianakis
(“Baskets”),
acquits
themselves particularly well,
but it’s impossible to blame
the actors when the writing
fails so completely at character
development. Mindy Kaling
(“The Mindy Project”) get the
worst of this. The ordinarily
gifted
performer
is
given
nothing to do but react to
whatever
new
whimsy
is
trying to pass for a plot. Even
the visuals, while occasionally
inspired
in
concept,
are
completely flat in practice; in
one scene Meg travels through
what seems to be a Windows
screensaver
of
some
sort,
and almost all of the exciting
locales teased in the trailers
are covered in a single awful
montage set to — you guessed
it — a trite pop song. What
could have been a ravishing
universe of new worlds to
explore amounts to little more
than visual noise.
By
the
time
Reese
Witherspoon has turned into
what appears to be a flying
piece of lettuce and flown
close enough to a gigantic
projection of Oprah for a young
child to lovingly stroke her
face, it had hit me: “A Wrinkle
in Time” isn’t a movie. It’s an
advertisement
for
Disney’s
next theme park. It’s directed,
written and edited like a
promo for a rollercoaster, but
instead of 30 seconds, it goes
on for almost two hours. Even
the effects, for a $100 million
film, look like they belong in a
TV commercial break. There’s
no sense of purpose to the
pacing or development or tone
or any of it. It’s hard to say, but
it’s true: “A Wrinkle in Time”
never lives up to its good
intentions.
‘Wrinkle in Time’ is well-
meaning, poorly written
JEREMIAH VANDERHELM
Daily Arts Writer
FILM REVIEW
WALT DISNEY STUDIOS
“A Wrinkle in
Time”
Walt Disney
Studios
Ann Arbor 20 +
IMAX, Quality 16,
State Theater
My dad recently sent me a
video from my 15th birthday
party. In the video, I blew out
the candles in one shot and
the kitchen lights turned on to
show my bright eyes — which
were too big for my petite face
— and my long, blonde hair,
which is much different than
the shorter brown hair I have
now. My two high school best
friends look like infants as they
sing “Happy Birthday” beside
me. In a thick Philly accent,
my older sister criticizes me
for sticking my finger in the
cake and licking the icing.
Under the video, my dad sent
a follow up text: “Time flies!!
Enjoy life!!”
My dad’s not wrong. It’s
cliché, but life does seem to
fly by us without warning. It’s
also a challenge to remember
every pinnacle moment of joy
that
we’ve
experienced
or
every person that’s helped us
get to where we are now. If he
hadn’t sent that video to me,
that memory would probably
be erased from my mind.
It’s strange to see ourselves
at various milestones, like
when you look at baby photos
and question how you could
be that small, or you look at
yourself
in
middle
school
and try to understand your
awkwardness. I think back to
that person in my video — a
youthful and pretty 15-year-
old with an athletic build, one
who just barely understands
her rise into womanhood. I was
a woman who wasn’t conscious
of who she was or how to take
care of herself.
Among age, we see the idea
of health in various mediums
both physically and mentally.
As younger people, we feel
invincible
with
our
fresh,
agile bodies, but as we become
older, it seems that we pay
more attention to our physical
health because of our bodies
aging and being more prone
to injury or illness. Mentally,
we seem to be more cognizant
of our mental health as young
students, but the urgency to
take care of our mentality
seems to dissipate as we age.
I can’t help but to wonder why
health transforms into this
funky, indirect proportion as
we grow older.
It’s only been six years
(psh, only six years) since that
video was taken, and while
I looked and acted healthy, I
seemingly didn’t care about
any of it. Most 15-year-olds
don’t. When you’re young, you
only worry about falling in
love and meeting friends and
experiencing every bit that
life has to offer (and surviving
high school, of course). Time
goes on, however, and stress
becomes more relevant. We
take more time to ponder the
world and our place in it; with
that, our conscious effort to
take care of our health becomes
another priority lowered down
on the list. And to be frank, I
just don’t get why.
We’re always told to enjoy
our youth while we have it and
take care of ourselves before
it’s “too late.” Time does fly,
but why do we have to despise
the latter half of life? I’m
worlds away from that girl
in the video, and as much as
I loved being that age, I love
where I’m at now so much
more. I know my body and how
it works. I know how far my
stress can build until I break
down. I know more of what
I want from myself and out
of life. Sure, I’m still a semi-
directionless
21-year-old,
but I’m more conscious of my
health, and I care more about
myself.
I
want
to
break
this
systematic idea that getting
older sucks. We should live life
for its presence, where we can
be conscious of this difficult
journey of soul-searching and
taking care of ourselves. If we
indefinitely love who we are, if
we remember to not be so hard
on ourselves and if we never
take our health for granted, it
doesn’t ever have to be too late.
The essence of age
DAILY HEALTH & WELLNESS COLUMN
ERIKA
SHEVCHEK
It’s just deeply
unfortunate that
the message
and the cast are
saddled with
one of the worst
scripts Disney has
worked with in
recent memory
FX
“Robbin’
Season,”
as
“Atlanta”’s
resident
stoner/
philosopher
Darius
(Lakeith
Stanfield, “Get Out”) explains,
is the period of time before the
Christmas holidays. It is one
of
rampant
commercialism
and, apparently, one of equally
rampant thievery.
This
type
of
explicit
exposition is a rarity in Donald
Glover’s “Atlanta.” The show
prefers to make its commentary
in
a
more
impressionistic
manner, presenting a series
of vignettes that reflect the
mundane absurdities of daily life
in the titular city where Glover
was raised. The show’s episodes,
ranging from just 25-30 minutes
each, have an uncanny ability
to draw viewers into the world
they create before ending just as
quickly.
The
harrowing
opening
scene of the season shows two
teenagers executing the robbery
of a fast food restaurant, as well as
how an unexpected development
sends the operation awry. It sets
the tone of what Glover describes
as the “nightmare” of season two
as opposed to the “dream” of
season one. There is a palpable
tension present in the Atlanta air.
The show’s main characters
haven’t
progressed
much
from the conclusion of season
one.
Earn
(Donald
Glover,
“Spider Man: Homecoming”)
is kicked out of his “home” in
a storage facility. His cousin,
Paper Boi (Bryan Henry, “Vice
Principals”),
remains
under
house arrest, which does grant
him some notoriety, helping
his popularity. There is an
unresolved
conflict
between
Paper Boi and Darius, which is
never explained. Episode one
features a memorable cameo
from Katt Williams as well as
a prime reptilian example of
the show’s ability to turn from
hyperrealism to surrealism in
the space of a single cut.
Despite
the
continuing
bleakness, the show derives
humor in the small absurdities
that litter the characters’ lives
and reinforces the central idea
of being robbed. At the start of
episode two (“Sporting Waves”),
Paper Boi is held at gunpoint
during
a
rendezvous
with
his long-time dealer (Marcus
Samuel, “Murder Choose Me”).
As he walks away sporting his
signature scowl after giving up
his money and car keys, his dealer
repeatedly offers his sincere
apologies while continuing to
point a gun at him. The framing
of the rather courteous robbery
suggests that it is not borne out
of an inherent penchant for
crime, but rather an unexplained
necessity. “I’ll pay you back,” the
dealer promises at the end.
A visit to a music technology
startup
offers
a
different
perspective
to
the
idea
of
being
robbed.
Set
in
an
overwhelmingly
racially
homogenous environment, Earn
and Paper Boi’s interactions
with the company’s staff are
increasingly
uncomfortable
to watch. Paper Boi grows
increasingly exasperated as he is
forced to repeat inane variations
of a radio show introduction,
finally
storming
off
after
“performing” in front of a crowd
who clearly have no interest in
him or his music.
In the same episode, Earn
and Paper Boi meet another
young rapper, Clark County
(R.J. Walker, “Hand of God”),
who embraces his role for
the
company,
performing
enthusiastically
for
a
room
of employees (referencing a
profoundly uncomfortable video
featuring rapper Bobby Shmurda
dancing at Epic Records). His
appearance later in the episode in
a cheesy commercial recalls one
of Paper Boi’s principal conflicts,
one between commercial success
and authenticity.
The
genius
of
“Atlanta”
lies in its astute observation
of the sheer weirdness of the
characters’ seemingly ordinary
daily lives. On the surface, the
characters don’t do much and live
thoroughly unglamorous lives.
Dialogue is minimal, a lot of time
is spent lounging on couches
and prospects for the main
characters are overwhelmingly
bleak. Yet the depiction of how
the characters move and interact
through their environment as
well as the detrimental effects
of poverty provides plenty of
material to reflect upon after you
finish laughing.
‘Atlanta: Robbin’ Season’ is
weird & poignant as ever
SAYAN GHOSH
Daily Arts Writer
TV REVIEW
I want to break
this systematic
idea that getting
older sucks. We
should live life for
its presence
“Atlanta”
FX
Episodes 1 and 2
Thurs. @ 10 p.m.
The genius of
“Atlanta” lies
in its astute
observation of the
sheer weirdness
of the characters’
seemingly
ordinary daily
lives