The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, September 12, 2018 — 5A
‘Most Assasinated’ fails
as dull murder mystery
NETFLIX
A sports article in an arts
column. It feels perverse. Are
there not enough articles written
about sports already, both in this
paper and in others around the
world? Surely there are more
important things to write about
in the field of entertainment,
the return of fall TV, the fall
of a CBS mogul, the ways in
which
Netflix
and
Amazon
are changing the way we view
movies or some other such
subject. But sports are what are
currently on my mind. Or rather,
if there is a futility in being a
fan of certain sports. Michigan
Football is a religion after all,
and not one with much basis in
reality. Most fans of sports are
indoctrinated into the fandom
in some way or another. Unlike
other kinds of fandom, sports
fans often don’t choose their
teams, their teams choose them.
That only makes it feel even more
disheartening when you realize
this form of entertainment you
are so attached to is doomed to
continually let you down.
I’ve been a Michigan Football
fan for literally my entire life.
I was in the womb during
that fateful 1997 season and
unknowingly
attended
many
victories that would allow the
Wolverines to go on and win
the national championship. The
overpriced hot dogs and stale
popcorn of Michigan Stadium
were in my bloodstream from
the very beginning. The idea of
rooting for a college team other
than Michigan is anathema to
me; it goes against the very fabric
of who I believe I am. And yet
after the Notre Dame game two
weeks ago I felt something I’d
never felt before as a Michigan
Football
fan:
uninterest.
As
the game wound to a close and
Michigan seemed to have some
kind of miracle chance to come
back and win the game I could
not find it in myself to conjure
up even the faintest of hopes like
those around me. I’d seen this
movie too many times before.
College sports, to the vast
majority of people who watch
them, are nothing more than
entertainment. Win, lose, come
back from behind, blow out a bad
team — it’s an excuse to take a
break from the real world for a
few hours, eat junk food, hang
out with your friends, drink and
feel as though you are a part of
something larger than yourself.
At the end of the day it won’t
truly impact your life in any way
if Michigan wins or loses and
in ten, 20, or 30 years from now
most people won’t even be able
to remember the games that we
won and the games that we lost.
But year in and year out, 100,000
people in Ann Arbor continue
to pay increasingly expensive
fees to attend the games and by
and large they are continually
disappointed.
Michigan
has
beaten Ohio State just once in my
memory. We’ve beaten Michigan
State a few times. I cannot recall
Michigan winning a Big Ten
championship. Some part of me
realizes we must have when I was
younger, but I have no memories
of such an event, only vague
recollections of getting blown out
by a west coast team in the Rose
Bowl. Such is the tragedy of being
a lifelong Michigan fan.
So why do I keep watching?
Why do we keep watching? Why
do we keep spending money,
time and energy on something
that brings us pain? It’s a sad
devotion to an ancient religion
that has given us little reason
to actually be loyal to it. If a
television series I like starts
to go down the toilet, I’ll stop
watching. If a movie franchise I
enjoy becomes complete garbage,
I’ll stop going to see it. But with
sports, people will continue to
support even the most hopeless
of teams for decades on end. Do
the people who pay money to
watch the Cleveland Browns
get embarrassed year after year
feel as though their money is
being well spent? How about
the people who went to see the
Lions redefine the meaning of
the word abysmal on Monday
night? Is there not something
else they would rather be doing?
As Jerry Seinfeld once noted,
it’s really the clothes that we are
rooting for. Players will leave the
team or go to a different team,
coaches will come and go and
only the colors and the clothes
remain through it all. The Every
Three Weekly recently published
a piece lampooning the idea that
students self worth was tied
directly to the performance of the
Michigan Football team in a way
that can’t be explained by any
rhythm or reason; for many on
this campus, that is their reality.
Being a Michigan Football fan
is like returning to a partner
who constantly plays with your
emotions, who gives you nothing
back, who is a constant drain on
your wallet and your time and
whom you only continue to run
back to because you literally do
not know what it would be like
not to do so.
Being a sports fan means being
a fan of something that does not
care about you, that is designed to
entertain you and nothing more.
It distracts you from the more
important and more worthy
things in your life — a cold hearted
business masquerading as school
spirit. It’s entertainment with no
end in sight, no world in which
you’re ever satisfied and no way
to ever fully escape from the
horrible grip that it has on your
soul. Colleges and the world
would perhaps be a better place if
people didn’t care nearly so much
about it.
I’ll see you at the game on
Saturday.
The Futility of Sports as
Entertainment
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMN
IAN HARRIS
KAITYLN MULCAHEY / DAILY
FILM REVIEW
The Netflix original “The
Most
Assassinated
Woman
in the World,” released last
Friday, is a bland rehashing
of the murder mystery genre,
the thematic conceit being
the altogether lack of mystery
involved
(there’s
only
one
possible suspect and guess
what happens in the end!).
“Most Assassinated” feels like
one of those movies that Netflix
green-lighted to fill a quota for
main menu titles rather than
an attempt at expanding the
universe of human expression.
I honestly don’t know how the
script just didn’t end up as an
episode of “Bones” eight years
ago.
The “Most Assassinated,”
(yet very much still alive)
woman at the center of the film,
Paula Maxa (Anna Mouglalis,
“Baron
noir”),
is
a
stage
actress famous for her gory,
pantomimed deaths. In fact,
the troupe she stars in, and
the theater that houses them
all, specializes on her nightly
demises, packing the theater
wall to wall six days a week
for a series of bloody scenes
with little to no plot beyond
the stabbing, hanging, crushing
and lashing of that particular
evening. And the audience only
really wants to see the gore,
the theater’s whole business
model riding on the draw of
perversion for droves of thrill-
stymied
Parisians.
In
this,
“Most Assassinated” happens
upon
a
fairly
interesting
quandary, though it’s never
fleshed out; the film half-posits
the question of, one, who is
more morally reprehensible,
the ones killing each other
on stage, or the hoards of
spectators returning time and
time to see it? And two, what
would the effect of such a
theatrical institution have on
a city? Is it a pressure-release
valve that could give someone
the outlet they need to avoid
acting out the perversions on
their own? Or is it a motivating,
exemplifying danger that only
puts the city at higher risk?
Yet instead of forging on in
this more interesting direction,
“Most Assassinated” falls back
into a dull murder mystery
type without enough suspects
or possibilities for any of the
crimes shown to really grab the
attention. Basically, everything
wrong that happens to the
actress Maxa is perpetrated by
one, polio-stricken, rebuked-
courter from Maxa’s past — an
older man named Jean. The
pathos of “Most Assassinated”
is set up to come from Maxa’s
figurative perch just out of
reach of his dangerous clutches,
only one false step away from
his murderous grasp. It fails,
however, to give any dimension
to the two of them or to the
relationship they once had. His
motives are never understood
past his perverse desire to
watch her die, making the cat
and mouse chase that is the
second two-thirds of the movie
a little dry to watch.
The issues at the core of
“Most
Assassinated”
stem
mostly from the characters’
lack of character. The film is
over-saturated by characters
that don’t seem to have any
inclinations past what they
quip about to each other on
screen. It wouldn’t be the end
of the world if it were just the
peripheral
characters
who
lacked any dimension, but even
Maxa herself is missing any
intrigue behind her actions.
Perhaps a woman on the run
for her life doesn’t need a grand
underlying philosophy behind
the doorway stoops she hides
in, but it would be nice to see
her choices in allies backed up
at all.
Had
“Most
Assassinated”
leaned further into the guts and
gore on-stage, incorporating it
into theater’s dark underbelly,
the film could have been spun
into a compelling thriller or
horror flick. As it stands, the
bloodshed is used as fictitiously
in the film as it is used on Paula
Maxa’s stage. And of course, all
my ponderings on how the film
could have been tweaked to go
a little further are derivations
of the issues first mentioned
above — the film lacks a
philosophy on the events it puts
on screen; it doesn’t try to say
anything.
As
a
conditional
recommendation, it’s not the
worst movie to put on and talk
over with a group of friends.
The
confusing,
yet-to-be
resolved twists that happen in
the last 10 or 11 minutes can
be fun to laugh about after
the fact, but it’s nowhere near
worth watching alone. If you’re
looking for a refresher for your
third-semester French, maybe
go watch something by Rhomer
(specifically “Claire’s Knee”).
STEPHEN SATARINO
Daily Arts Writer
‘Kidding’ showcases the
best sides of Jim Carrey
Throughout
his
nearly
20-year career, Jim Carrey
has
become
one
of
the
most
recognizable
faces
in
Hollywood.
Film
after
film, he has delivered iconic
performances through dramatic
movements
and
charismatic
acting. Oftentimes his movies
are pure comedy, using Carrey’s
naturally goofy essence to craft
a lovable and dumb character.
Others present a warped reality
— part comedy, part drama —
Carrey’s highly emotive face
telling the audience exactly
how they should be feeling.
His
newest
project,
“Kidding,” falls in the latter
category. A rare journey into
television, Carrey assumes the
role of children’s television star
Jeff (Mr. Pickles), a Mr. Rogers-
esque character who struggles
to balance the happy-go-lucky
nature of his popular TV show
with the crushing realities of
his own life. On television, Mr.
Pickles is a smiling, singing
and sweater-wearing man who
radiates joy. In real life, Jeff is a
seperated husband coping with
the loss of his young son Phil
(Cole Allen, “Professor Isle’s
Laboratory”).
“Kidding”
succeeds
in
making the viewer feel the
exact
tug-of-war
that
Jeff
himself is experiencing. The
series premiere is bright and
happy, featuring bouncy songs
and warm colors. Yet there are
glimpses of the darkness Jeff
is facing and those glimpses
grow bigger as the episode
progresses.
The
episode
opens
on
Conan’s talk show, with Mr.
Pickles being interviewed and
dedicating a sweet little song
to his wife, Jill (Judy Greer,
“Driven”). As he sings “You can
feel, anything at all, anything
at all, you can feel,” the scene
shifts to Jeff returning to his
dingy hotel room, straightening
the hair of a drunkenly passed-
out teen and putting on a violent
movie. Later the viewers find
out that Mr. Pickles is separated
from the wife he sang to, and, in
fact, he cannot feel very much at
all. While Mr. Pickles promotes
the expression of emotion, Jeff
is wearing a mask of happiness
as he internalizes deep trauma
and sadness over the death of
his son.
In
the
pilot,
this
mask
is
artfully
shown
through
the formatting of the show
itself. The general vibe is
lighthearted, but as Jeff begins
to break down, the atmosphere
of the show does as well. In the
SAMANTHA DELLA FERA
Daily Arts Writer
“Kidding”
Series Premiere
Sunday @ 10 p.m.
Showtime
“The Most
Assasinated
Woman”
Netflix
beginning there are only short,
sporadic cuts to the tragedy
that underlies the plot. Between
scenes, a car crashes into the
screen or a green traffic light
glitches, referencing the death
of Jeff’s son in a car accident.
These
scenes
grow
longer
and more intense as Jeff loses
control of his life, his family and
even of his very own likeness.
The
ending
scene
in
particular sticks out, as the
cohesive
persona
Jeff
has
maintained instantly falls apart.
In the final minutes of the pilot,
Jeff rushes home and shaves
through the center of his head,
leaving him looking crazed and
unsettled. The obsession with
his wife that has shown itself
throughout the episode comes
to a peak as he buys the house
directly across from her. He is
able to spy on her through the
window and when he sees her
with another man, Jeff rips a
faucet out of the wall. In this
vital scene, “Kidding” tells
its viewers from this point
on, Jeff’s life will cease being
polished and contained.
Every scene in “Kidding”
binds together to craft a show
that perfectly maps the life and
demise of this troubled man. It
is almost unsettling in the way
a horror movie is: Even when
everything
feels
right,
you
can’t help feel that something
is about to go horribly wrong.
It
is
beautifully
disturbing
and
hauntingly
reminiscent
of the lives of Robin Williams
or Anthony Bourdain — real,
beloved stars who hid dark
lives behind a veil of smiles
and comedy. “Kidding” will
no doubt be a shining mark on
the legacy of Jim Carrey, one
that speaks to his ability to add
comedy to thoughtful topics,
and leave us all wondering if we
really should be laughing.
After the Notre
Dame game two
weeks ago I felt
something I’d
never felt before
as a Michigan
Football fan:
uninterest
Why do we
keep watching?
Why do we keep
spending money,
time and energy
on something that
brings us pain?
TV REVIEW
It’s not the worst
movie to put on
and talk over with
a group of friends