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 

