5A — Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Mindy Kaling’s ‘Champions’ off to a slow, steady start

A 
carefree 
bachelor’s 
life 
turns upside down when his 
kid is dumped on his doorstep. 
We’ve seen that before, haven’t 
we? “Parenthood” did it. So did 

“Baby Daddy” and the short-lived 
“Grandfathered.” But if anyone 
can take an old trope and give it 
new life, surely it’s Mindy Kaling, 
who 
elevated 
the 
workplace 
sitcom with heart and chutzpah 
on “The Office,” and subverted the 
expectations of romantic comedies 
on “The Mindy Project” just as 
often as she reveled in them.
On 
“Champions” 
— 
her 
charming new NBC comedy with 
“Mindy 
Project” 
co-producer 
Charlie Grandy — Kaling returns 
to TV in a recurring role as 
Cleveland-based 
single 
mom 
Priya Patel, who surprises her 
high school flame Vince (Anders 
Holm, “Workaholics”), a washed-
up gym owner in Brooklyn, with 
their 
flamboyant 
15-year-old 
son Michael (J.J. Totah, “Glee”). 
Michael needs a place to live in the 
city so he can attend a prestigious 
performing arts high school, and 
Vince is Priya’s last resort. 
Holm did excellent work on 
“The Mindy Project” as pastor-
turned-DJ-turned-shoe 
mogul 

Casey, but as Vince, he’s woefully 
underwritten and lacking the 
depth or charisma of anyone he 
shares scenes with, leaving him 
in the awkward position of being 
a supporting character on his 
own show. He’s helped out a bit 
by the delightful Andy Favreau 
(“The Mick”) as Vince’s brother 
Matthew, who manages to muster 
enough energy for the both of 
them.
The breakout star here is J.J. 
Totah as Michael. An updated 
version of “Ugly Betty”’s Justin 
Suarez, Michael is equally stylish 
and quippy, this time with a little 
extra swagger, delivering every 
biting takedown with a breezy 
elan, but also with a fragile, earnest 
hunger for a life beyond Ohio that 
recalls the likes of Rachel Berry 
and Kurt Hummel. His great fear is 
having to “go back into the closet, 
marry an ugly girl from my high 
school and run a pashmina cart at 
the mall.”
It’s refreshing, and maybe a 
testament to the state of TV today 
that Michael’s homosexuality is 
neither bad comedy fodder nor 
some nagging source of tension. 
Where Justin’s coming out was a 
seasons-long, 
milked-for-all-the-
drama-it’s-worth saga typical of 
television in the aughts, Michael’s 
is done quickly after meeting his 
newfound father and uncle, who 
are both totally unfazed. “You 
think we have a problem with gay 
people?” Vince chuckles. “Our big 
dream is that someday our gym will 
become a gay gym, because women 
and straight guys are filthy.”
If something like “Champions” 
had aired 10 years ago — even five 
years ago — it would certainly be 
littered with lazy jokes operating 
under the bizarre premise that 

jockish homophobia is hilarious. 
But thankfully, there’s none of that 
here, and the show is far better for 
it.
But one wonders how far the 

“theater-crazed kid meets gym 
bros who don’t understand him” 
gimmick can really go. It got old 

‘In The Heights’ highlights 
real Latinx communities

MAITREYI ANANTHARAMAN
Daily Arts Writer

TV REVIEW

NBC

But if anyone 

can take an old 

trope and give it 

new life, surely 

it’s Mindy Kaling, 

who elevated 

the workplace 

sitcom with heart 

and chutzpah on 

“The Office,” and 

subverted the 

expectations of 

romantic comedy 

on “The Mindy 

Project” just 

as often as she 

reveled in them

COMMUNITY CULTURE

Prior to 2008, few musicals 
centered 
around 
(or 
even 
contained) Latinx characters. 
Besides “West Side Story,” a 
musical now heavily criticized 
for its casting of white actors and 
actresses in Latinx roles, Latinx 
communities 
were 
depicted 
almost entirely in a negative light.
Lin-Manuel Miranda’s award-
winning 
“In 
The 
Heights,” 
however, was the first hit musical 
to realistically depict America’s 
Latinx lifestyle. Predating his 
now famous “Hamilton,” it uses 
rap music and bilingual lyrics to 
depict both the strength of the 
Washington Heights community 
in New York City and the 
challenges that it faces. Written 
while Miranda was still in 
college, it is a first-hand depiction 
of the Latinx experience.
“It tells a very recent story 
about 
Latino 
immigration 
in 
the 
United 
States,” 
said 
Musket 
production 
director 
Bruna d’Avila, a junior Theatre 
Performance major in the School 
of Music, Theatre & Dance. “It’s 
about a community that is so 
lively and happy and energetic, 
and so many people can relate to 
this story.”
“It really changed the game for 
Latinos in terms of representation 
on stage,” said Gian Perez, a 
sophomore 
acting 
major 
in 
SMTD. “It’s never a piece about 
Latino pain or Latino struggle. 
It’s the first show to meet the 
mainstream 
that 
portrays 
Latinos as just a community with 
a particular culture.”
“The audience in the Midwest 
doesn’t know this as well,” said 
d’Avila. They are “welcoming the 
audience into this community 
like they’ve never felt welcomed 
anywhere before.”
Musket has worked to preserve 
the diverse nature of the original 
production, 
putting 
together 
an extremely diverse cast. It is 
a point of pride for all involved, 
with d’Avila boasting that it 
is, “the most diverse stage the 
University of Michigan has ever 
seen.” It’s a topic that is deeply 

personal to many members of the 
cast.
“I’ve always thought that as a 
Puerto Rican actor, I should be 
limited to Puerto Rican roles,” 
said Perez, “but there are parts 
of being a Latino man that I’m 
learning in these roles.”
The play even goes beyond 
the 
generic 
Latinx 
identity 

to 
pick 
apart 
the 
various 
nationalities within this identity. 
Seemingly subtle differences in 
pronunciation and dialect, for 
example, can represent entirely 
different 
national 
identities 
within the larger Washington 
Heights community.
“It brings together so many 
different styles of Latin American 
music into one musical,” said 
d’Avila.
Though the significance of the 
rap and hip-hop influences in 
the show’s music is now largely 
overshadowed by “Hamilton,” 
it was a groundbreaking idea 
that sparked the careers of 
both Lin-Manuel Miranda and 
music director, arranger and 
orchestrator Alex Lacamoire. 
“When 
I’m 
rapping 
I’m 
actually just speaking,” said 
Perez. “I think that the audiences 
can engage with this much 
more than they can with other 
musicals.”
The musical also features a 
style of rap noticeably different 
than much of what is being 
produced today. It is the rap of 
the early 2000s and earlier, the 
rap that was being produced 
not for streaming services or 
mass-market consumption, but 
for public performances within 
urban environments such as 
Washington Heights.
“I’ve never really felt that 
I could readily access poetry 
that speaks about struggle and 
pain at face value like this,” said 

Perez. “It has that essence of rap 
being used for togetherness and 
unity. It’s about erasing the lines 
between people.”
Earlier this semester, the cast 
was given the rare opportunity 
to work with Alex Lacamoire. 
The musical theatre department, 
through their extensive alumni 
network, was able to reach out 
to Lacamoire. Last week was 
the 10 year anniversary of the 
musical’s premiere on Broadway. 
Lacamoire’s 
recent 
work 
on 
“Hamilton” and “Dear Evan 
Hansen,” however, has distracted 
from this early success — he was 
just as excited to speak about this 
early work as the cast was to work 
with him during the rehearsal 
process.
“It was very emotional to talk 
about ‘In The Heights’ the way 
that he would have 10 years ago,” 
said d’Avila. “He had several 
amazing notes, and it made the 
process so much more exciting.”
And while the story may take 
place in a Latinx community, it is, 
at its core, about the basic struggle 
of human emotion. Whether it is 
the experience of first attending 
college or the struggle of working 
three jobs, it is a deeply relatable 
story 
about 
the 
American 
experience — particularly among 
recent immigrants.
“We all went through what 
Nina goes through,” said d’Avila. 
“We have all had to make a whole 
new group of friends.”
“In The Heights” is a story 
about the Latinx experience in 
contemporary America. It is a 
story of a diverse, multifaceted 
group of people overcoming the 
stereotypes that they face both 
in the real world and on stage. 
A striking relic of the diverse 
American dream as it was defined 
in 2008, the musical is a chilling 
reminder of the changes that 
this concept has undergone, as 
previously marginalized groups 
have sought to redefine it.
“It will open the audience’s 
eyes to a different perspective,” 
said d’Avila. “It’s about all those 
who have immigrated to America. 
It’s a message from them saying, 
‘We’re OK. We’re doing fine.’ And 
it’s about sharing this story as 
only theater can.”

SAMMY SUSSMAN
Daily Arts Writer

“In the Heights”

Mar. 16 and 17 @ 
8:00, Mar. 18 @ 2:00

Power Center

$7 - $15

‘Rudderless’ demonstrates 
painful struggle of healing

FILM NOTEBOOK

Art and emotion share an 
essential link, and in order to 
thoroughly leave an impression 
on their audiences, artists must 
harness what they feel within 
and translate it into something 
tangible. As one of the most 
intense human emotions, grief 
is a timeless topic explored by 
artists, and one that William 
H. Macy’s film “Rudderless” 
exemplifies and entwines with 
song. Severely unrecognized, 
“Rudderless” is a film that 
will draw audience members 
under with sorrow, while still 
managing to entrance them 
with the marvelous and curative 
powers of music. 
Desperate and floundering 
to regain purpose following 
his son Josh’s (Miles Heizer 
“Nerve”) death in a university 
shooting, Sam (Billy Crudup 
“Almost Famous”) is, as the 
film title suggests, rudderless. 
Quitting his high-paying suit-
and-tie job for a construction 
gig and splitting from his wife, 
Sam enters a life of solitude, 
sustained by low-budget meals 
and 
booze 
on 
an 
isolated 
houseboat. Despite his clear 
attempts to distance himself 
from the outside world and from 
the memories of the past, Sam 
slowly begins to unravel his grief 
when he happens upon drafted 
songs written and recorded by 
his son. He reconnects with one 
of the passions that he and his 
son shared: music. 
Through 
the 
reluctant 
relationship that he develops 
with 
energetic, 
fanboyish 
Quentin (Anton Yelchin “Star 
Trek”), 
who 
idolizes 
Sam’s 
musical prowess, Sam is able 
to regain a semblance of the 

musical connection he shared 
with his son. Crudup and 
Yelchin’s portrayal of Sam and 
Quentin’s slow-growing bond is 
golden. On the surface, through 
his exudence of childishness 
that counters Sam’s uncaring, 
asshole 
attitude, 
Yelchin’s 
character 
could 
be 
labeled 
as a convention, serving as a 
“replacement” of sorts for the 
hole in Sam’s life left by his 
son. However, what Crudup 
and Yelchin are able to conjure 
on screen feels so genuine 
that, convention or not, we 
want to buy into it. Though in 
completely different life stages, 
Sam and Quentin are able to find 
an 
unexpected 
commonality 
through their affinity for music. 
For Quentin, his musical talent 
represents a glimmer of hope for 
finding a path to success, fame 
and money, while for Sam, it is 
a means of holding on to what 
little he has left of his son. 
Along 
with 
the 
fabulous 
performances 
by 
Yelchin 
and 
Crudup, 
another 
commendable piece of this film 
is its soundtrack. A perfectly 
compiled mixture of tunes sung 
by a mashup of artists, the music 
in this movie is truly masterful 
in its remarkable ability to be 
simultaneously 
raw, 
spirited 
and 
heartbreaking. 
Filled 
with both the slower and more 
downcast pieces composed by 
Sam’s son and a variety of new, 
more upbeat songs crafted by 
Sam and the band, the blend of 
contrasting tones in the songs 
creates a bittersweet effect, 
reflective 
of 
Sam’s 
broader 
internal 
struggle. 
On 
the 
one hand, music for Sam has 
become a means of regaining a 
sense of joy and light in his life, 
emphasized through fast-tempo, 
eccentric and playful numbers 
like a rock-infused “Wheels on 

the Bus” and “Real Friends.” At 
the same time, however, playing 
Josh’s songs functions as a 
cutting and consistent reminder 
that his son’s presence in his life 
only exists through the songs he 
has left behind.
The final scene, in which 
Sam strums one last song, “Sing 
Along,” before the screen goes 
black, is perhaps the film’s most 
impactful 
exemplification 
of 
grief. By the end of the film, 
Sam is not cured of the pain 
and heartache that the death 
of his son has inflicted because 
there is no such cure. The depth 
of this closing scene comes 
from the fact that it does not 
attempt to provide resolution 
or a guarantee of happiness for 
Sam in the future, nor does it 
illogically suggest that Sam’s 
grief 
will 
eventually 
fade. 
Instead, it demonstrates Sam 
confronting the grief, owning 
it, playing for his son, not out of 
acceptance of his death, but out 
of remembrance. Finishing the 
song, Sam tearfully sings, “I will 
find a way to sing your song,” a 
final promise to hold on to the 
memories of his son, painful as 
it may be. 
In its essence, “Rudderless” 
is a film about finding direction 
and 
regaining 
purpose. 
It 
explores 
the 
complexity 
of 
grief, the necessity of friendship 
and the healing capabilities 
of music. Far quieter than its 
contemporary — the popular, 
bold and critically adored music-
centric picture “Whiplash” — 
“Rudderless” is undeservingly 
overshadowed. 
Despite 
the 
film’s lack of recognition and 
appreciation by the cinematic 
community, its poignancy and 
profundity is undeniable and in 
passing it by, viewers would be 
missing out on a true treasure of 
a film.

SAMANTHA NELSON
Daily Arts Writer

pretty fast on “Glee,” and it gets 
old pretty fast in the pilot. Jokes 
that write themselves tend not to 
be very funny. At a certain point, 
the audience sees it all coming, so 
the show will have to work to avoid 
falling into the sorts of clichés its 
premise suggests it will fall into.
The bad news? “Champions” 

isn’t instantly impressive. The good 
news? Network sitcoms rarely are 
— “The Mindy Project” certainly 
wasn’t — and Kaling’s shows tend 
to be at their best once they’ve 
gotten into a reliable groove 
and established a set of familiar 
rhythms. 
What 
“Champions” 
will have to do to be fresh and 

compelling is what “The Mindy 
Project” and “The Office” often 
struggled to do in later seasons: 
balance out the zaniness with 
some narrative heft and walk that 
fine line between character and 
caricature. It has all the pieces 
of a great comedy, all that’s left is 
putting them together.

PARAMOUNT

“Champions”

Series Premiere

NBC

Thursdays at 9:30 
p.m.

