“Love 
Has 
a 
Thousand 
Shapes,” an exhibit now on 
display at the Ann Arbor Arts 
Center until Oct. 27, explores 
the many ways in which love 
manifests itself and tells tales 
reflective of each artist’s personal 
experience. While the point of 
the exhibit is to demonstrate how 
love can be just about anything, 
the diverse works lack a common 
ground to prove this point.
Artist 
Justin 
Marshall 
depicts the love present in our 
most 
intimate 
environments, 
expressed 
through 
our 
belongings, decor, pets, etc. In 
“Jeff and Delorian,” a figure, 
supposedly Jeff, stands facing 
us with his cat tightly within his 
grasp. He wears Mario boxers, 
and behind him he has Garfield 
sheets and a painting of Garfield 
lovingly petting two humans as 
they fall asleep. 
One might ask, then, why 
Marshall 
wouldn’t 
simply 
photograph a moment like this. 
It’s because photographs are 
just that: depictions of things 
at a particular moment, scenes 
subject to change. What Marshall 
hoped to show here were the 
qualities of people, as expressed 
by their pets, sheets, decorations 
and attire that outlive this 

singular moment. This is what 
love means to Marshall.
Several of Judy Bowman’s 
works also take on the theme 
of love in the little things, but 
focus primarily on the African 
American 
experience. 
In 
Bowman’s “Love Song,” we see a 
couple that appear dressed to go 
out, instead simply enjoying each 
other’s company at home. Their 
faces, constructed by no more 
than five or six pieces of paper, 

capture great emotion.
Although her works have 
a real life to them, they don’t 
particularly seem to fit the 
theme of love apart from the one 
shown here. Her collages capture 

patterns, objects and scenes 
prevalent in African American 
life. They seem much more 
oriented towards capturing this 
experience than demonstrating 
the love all around us.
Patrick 
Burton 
takes 
the 
abstraction one large step further 
in his portrayals of love. Three 
out of Burton’s four pieces on 
display were colorful depictions 
of hearts blooming out of flower 
vases, backgrounded by intricate 
ornaments and a variety of birds 
and leaves. Here, the meticulous 
act of putting together these 
individually-cut pieces of wood 
covered in paper maché, paint 
and Swarovski crystals seems 
like the expression of love itself. 
The works look ready to be 
delivered to the doorstep of 
Burton’s lover to their great 
delight. 
Their 
similarities 
lead us to compare the subtle 
differences in each. Each has 
an inscription at the bottom 
center. The first reads “1925,” the 
second, “bubala” and the third, 
“kookanut.” 
Your guess is as good as mine 
as to the meaning of each, but 
it’s clear that Burton wants us 
to ponder this question. The 
terms 
certainly 
prevent 
us 
from dismissing the flowery 
arrangements as mere wallpaper 
or postcard material. They do 
also, however, call into question 
the genuinity of these works 
as expressions of love. How 
could Burton invest so much 
time in carefully assembling 
each of these pieces, embedding 
Swarovski 
crystals 
in 
each, 
and then place phrases front 
and center that seem to have 
no inherent connection to the 
patterns they foreground?
The 
exhibit 
advertised 
itself as a collection of diverse 
expressions of love, and it 
certainly offered this diversity. 
However, the variety of the 
works does lead one to question 
the broadness of the exhibit’s 
theme. If art creation in itself is 
an act of love, literally anything 
could have found its way into the 
exhibit. 
Love is indeed present in 
our lives at home with our 
pets, 
for 
example, 
but 
the 
exhibit missed talking points 
— polyamorous relationships, 
hookups, marriage, etc. — that 
are all particularly relevant for 
an exhibit representative of our 
“diverse contemporary culture.” 
While I suppose the point of 
the exhibit was to point out 
that love can present itself in 
just about anything, the lack of 
cohesion between the different 
conversations of each artist 
makes this point fall short of the 
mark. 

I’m going to be honest: 
At what I figured to be the 
halfway point of “Venom,” 
I took stock of my feelings 
and realized I liked what I 
had seen so far. I don’t mean 
to sound overly surprised by 
this, but after “Spider-Man 
3,” 
“The 
Amazing 
Spider-
Man 2” and the 2014 Sony 
Pictures email leaks revealed 
an inability on the part of Sony 
higher-ups 
to 
comprehend 
what makes Spider-Man and 
his rogues gallery work on any 
level whatsoever, I can’t say 
my hopes were particularly 
high. Sitting there, though, I 
reasoned that “Venom” wasn’t 
anything special, but provided 
the second half expanded on 
the character arcs and shored 
up the weak story, there was 
something workable there.
Then the climax started and 
the movie ended. “Oh,” I said, 
“That’s it.” 
The last two times they’ve 
killed their fledgling Spider-
Series, Sony has done so by 
cramming as many plotlines 
and recognizable characters as 
possible into a single, bloated 
narrative. This time, in what 
seems like a truly misguided 
overcompensation, 
they’ve 
done the same thing — albeit 
without Spidey himself, who 
is 
too 
busy 
appearing 
in 
competently written movies to 
show up — by stripping their 
story and characters down to 
their bare bones and hoping 
nobody notices that they still 
don’t know what they’re doing.
Everything a good movie 
should have, “Venom” has 
almost exactly one half of. 
It has the introduction of a 

likeable lead in Eddie Brock 
(Tom 
Hardy, 
“Dunkirk,” 
doing his best Nick Miller 
impression) and the beginning 
of an arc that will see him, true 
to the tagline, embracing his 
inner anti-hero, but it doesn’t 
ever return to or wrap up that 

arc. By the end of the movie, 
Eddie isn’t an anti-hero, he’s 
just a superhero with a weird 
tongue.
It 
introduces 
the 
counterpoint 
to 
Eddie 
in 
Venom, the alien symbiote 
which bonds with the idealistic 
reporter, and includes the end 
of the arc which sees him in 
a different headspace than 
he began, but it doesn’t show 
how he got there. Point A 
and Point B are there, but the 
story and arc that would tie 
them together and make for 
a satisfying story are absent, 
replaced with boring trudging 
from one set piece to the next. 
Eddie 
and 
Venom 
simply 
don’t interact with each other 
enough outside of pithy one-
liners to have changed each 
other in the way the film wants 
you to believe.
It’s sure to cast a talented 
actor as its villain, Carlton 
Drake (Riz Ahmed, “Rogue 
One: A Star Wars Story”), but it 
fails to give him anything to do 
outside of grating monologues 
about how humanity is evil and 

he’s the only one who can save 
them. It seems to realize far 
too late that nothing about him 
is intimidating, but instead of 
fixing the villain they’ve got, 
they introduce another one at 
the top of the third act who 
— and I’m quoting Venom the 
alien symbiote here — “has 
got shit you ain’t never seen” 
which 
winds 
up 
meaning 
knives, axes and other shit you 
most certainly have seen.
There is some comedy that 
works, 
particularly 
in 
the 
relationship between Eddie 
and Venom, but more often than 
not, it’s just uncomfortable. 
Even when it goes for weird-
with-a-capital-W, 
it’s 
not 
weird enough to be watchable 
just for that. Sure, the scene 
where Tom Hardy sits in a 
lobster tank is the sort of 
thing we’ll be meme-ing in a 
few years, and yes, it features 
one of the strangest onscreen 
kisses in the history of film, 
but do you really want to sit 
through two hours of set ups 
with no follow-through and 
follow-throughs with no set up 
for a few seconds of “Oh, dear 
God?”
At 
its 
best, 
“Venom” 
is 
occasionally 
fun 
and 
personable, but it’s coming 
out in a time when comic 
book movies are supposed to 
be more than just that. Last 
year, 
“Logan” 
became 
the 
first 
live-action 
superhero 
movie to be nominated for 
a 
screenwriting 
Academy 
Award, and the smart money 
says that in a few months, 
“Black Panther” will be a Best 
Picture nominee. Sony wants 
that kind of success with their 
“Spider-Man” properties, but 
“Venom” shows they’re still 
not interested in putting in the 
work.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, October 9, 2018 — 5

“Venom”

Ann Arbor 20 + 
IMAX, Goodrich 
Quality 16

Sony Pictures 
Entertainment 
Motion Picture 
Group

‘Venom’ is half of a good 
movie in almost every way

JEREMIAH VANDERHELM
Daily Arts Writer

SONY

The variety 

of the works 

does lead one 

to question the 

broadness of the 

exhibit’s theme

FILM REVIEW

MUSIC

Cat Power’s Chan Marshall 
is a master of her own sound. 
She may not be the most 
virtuosic instrumentalist, nor 
a classically trained singer, 
or even have a clear message, 
but this doesn’t matter. Her 
greatest talent lies in the 
ether, in the raw intensity 
of her soft-spoken lyrics and 
imperfect piano that seem 
to evoke every feeling at 
once. 
Marshall’s 
music 
as 
Cat Power is heavy with the 
quiet gravity of emotion and 
longing, something that comes 
to a peak on her newest record, 
Wanderer. The album harkens 
back to her earlier work on 
critically acclaimed albums 
like The Greatest, in which 
Marshall weaves abstract yet 
poignant storytelling, spare 
instrumentation 
and 
her 
uniquely 
understated 
voice 
together to create cinematic 
soundscapes. It seems fated 
that Wanderer comes as Power’s 

10th full-length production: In 
every song, it is easy to hear 
her influences from both past 
and present come together to 
make something filled with 
an uncanny individuality. The 
album marks an important 
point in time for Marshall 
after 20 years in music, as she 
cuts a new and bright trail for 

herself through the industry.
It wasn’t easy for Marshall to 
release this album in the first 
place, facing pushback from 
her previous label, Matador, 
to the point of breaking ties. 
On the tails of her 2012 album 
Sun’s success, which combined 
her classic pared-down sound 
with 
heavier 
electronic 
production, the mainstream 
sound of small-time hits like 
“Manhattan” were the clear 
path for Marshall to follow, 
but instead the singer stayed 
true to her own vision of the 

future. And thank God she 
did Wanderer, completely self-
written and self-produced, is a 
tour de force. Marshall’s work 
as Cat Power on this record 
could be blues, folk, rock or 
indie pop, but it’s difficult 
to pin down. This is the best 
part of her music by far, but 
an understandable reason for 
frustration from labels past. 
Listening to Cat Power is like 
trying to catch minnows; as 
soon as you think you have 
finally captured her in a 
certain light, she slips right 
through your fingers again, 
dancing into another wistful 
tangent.
The intangible quality of 
Wanderer may be confusing 
at first, but once a listener 
has accepted it, each track 
is an adventure of its own. A 
clear standout is the Lana Del 
Rey collaboration “Woman,” 
the 
album’s 
second 
single 
and one of its most complex 
arrangements. The song is 
at once an anthem, soliloquy 
and battle cry, ruminating on 
the double-consciousness of 
womanhood and the need for 

The quiet gravity of Cat 
Power’s new ‘Wanderer’

CLARA SCOTT
Daily Arts Writer

self-reliance in a world full of 
doubters. Del Rey is a perfect 
partner for Marshall on the 
single and the two are clearly 
kindred 
spirits; 
the 
same 
ethereal magic is present in 
either musician’s work, and it 
was only a matter of time until 
they found each other. Directly 
following “Woman” is the slow 
ballad “Horizon,” a letter to 
family as Cat Power leaves 
home to face the open road. The 
simplicity of the tune mirrors 
“Woman”’s complications to 
cradle the listener in comfort 
and nostalgia that eventually 
dissolves 
into 
fragmented 
vocal 
effects, 
mimicking 
the shimmer of the sun as it 

goes down in the song. Other 
highlights on Wanderer are 
“You Get,” a bluesy collection 
of angst and vocal layering that 
collides 
harmoniously, 
and 
Marshall’s unplugged piano-
and-strings cover of Rihanna’s 
hit 
“Stay,” 
a 
hauntingly 
melodic ballad with immense 
emotional weight.
The 
record 
begins 
and 
concludes 
with 
different 
versions of the title track 
“Wanderer,” 
Marshall’s 
meditation on love through 
the lens of loss. “Wanderer” 
and “Wanderer/Exit” are two 
sides of the same coin, acting 
as bookends to the rambling 
emotional content of the album 

at large. “Oh wanderer, I’ve 
been wondering,” she sings, 
“If your brown eyes still have 
color, could I see?”
The 11 songs on Marshall’s 
most recent opus set a parallel 
between lover and wanderer, 
on the uncertainty of it all 
and the answer that music 
can offer. It’s hard to know 
whether to laugh or cry at any 
given portion of the album, but 
that is where its true beauty 
hides. Cat Power is a vessel 
for Chan Marshall’s purest 
thoughts, and on Wanderer, 
every moment comes through 
crystallized, 
suspended 
in 
time by her elusive magic.

Wanderer

Cat Power

Domino Recording

DOMINO RECORDS

COMMUNITY CULTURE
In ‘Love Has a Thousand 
Shapes’ diversity stalls

BEN VASSAR
For the Daily

BEN VASSAR