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By James Sajdak
©2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/16/18

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

11/16/18

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Friday, November 16, 2018

ACROSS
1 “__ simple, duh!”
6 Gobi container
10 Pollutants 
targeted in Great 
Lakes cleanups
14 “Sorry, bro”
15 Brits’ foul-weather 
gear
16 Devastated sea
17 Novice hiker’s 
predicament?
19 Taboo
20 DUI-fighting org.
21 Card game shout
22 Dairy prefix
23 Relief pitcher?
27 Spot for a 
springbok
29 Allay
30 “Cats” source
31 Stopped working
33 Snarky retort
37 Cheshire can
38 Flipped ... and 
what four puzzle 
answers are?
41 Where 
Charlemagne 
reigned: Abbr.
42 Extended 
account
44 Sources of some 
barrels
45 Salty expanse
47 Boone, to his 
buds
49 Put oil and 
vinegar on, say
50 Showoff with 
gags?
56 Swashbuckling 
Flynn
57 Employ
58 “¿Cómo __?”
61 Digitize, in a way
62 Tenement for one 
on the lam?
65 Director Gus 
Van __
66 Barb
67 “A Fish Called 
Wanda” Oscar 
winner
68 Petro-Canada 
competitor
69 Erelong
70 Worked with osier

DOWN
1 Cornerback’s 
coups, briefly
2 One-third of a 
WWII film

3 Wrapping tightly
4 Got married
5 Olive __
6 Acid type
7 Ivanhoe, e.g.
8 Post-OR stop
9 Nile biter
10 Cure-all
11 Bunch of 
baloney
12 Linguistic group 
that includes Zulu
13 Single-master
18 Silent
22 __ Palmas: 
Canary Islands 
city
24 Western tip of 
Alaska
25 Closing 
documents
26 Expressed, as 
farewell
27 Checks out
28 Oscar-winning 
director Kazan
31 Gives a hand
32 Press
34 Grad’s award
35 Nest egg 
choices
36 Bogs
39 Early Atari 
offering

40 __-Frank: 2010 
financial reform 
bill
43 Enlarge, as a 
house
46 First name in 
Disney villains
48 Verizon 
subsidiary
50 “Siddhartha” 
author
51 Black-and-white 
cetaceans

52 Mission opening?
53 Supercharger
54 Steamboat 
Springs 
alternative
55 Fresh
59 Piece of music
60 Impersonated
62 Woods gp.
63 Strauss’ “__ 
Heldenleben”
64 Pedigree-tracking 
org.

5A — Friday, November 16, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Imagine Dragons has, in spite 

of their remarkable commercial 
success, become a bit of a joke in 
recent years. Their first album, 
Night Visions, was pretty good, but 
everything they’ve released since 
has felt like the lifeless results of 
a 
machine-learning 
algorithm 

designed to appeal to people who 
drink a lot of Amp. Their previous 
album, Evolve, was particularly 
guilty of this syndrome, sounding 
like a bizarro version of Night 
Visions where every song sucked. 
So with Origins, I came in with 
low expectations.

The first half of the album is 

stronger, as Imagine Dragons 
floats with ease through pop 
clichés: a Phillip Phillips-esque 
folk pop revival on “West Coast,” 
electropop heavy with reverb 
on 
“Boomerang” 
and 
“Cool 

Out” and burning arena rock 
on “Machine.” By and large, 
these 
are 
well-executed 
and 

pleasant, if not remarkable. Dan 
Reynolds has a knack for catchy 
melodies, in particular soaring 
choruses. “Machine” is the best 
of this specific brand of ascendant 
commercial rock, a stomping 

groove 
inexorably 
marching 

towards the Billboard Top 40. 
“Bad Liar” is also a pretty strong 
cut, with one of the stickiest 
melodies on the album.

The second half of the album 

is much less enjoyable than the 

first. There are some moments of 
interest, but they fizzle out quickly. 
There’s “Love,” whose chorus 
sounds a little too similar to “I’m 
Yours” by Jason Mraz (but without 
the catchiness). In “Digital,” at one 
point, Dan starts yelling throatily 
over a hyperactive breakbeat 
drum loop, a development that is 
more surprising than good. At first 
I thought “Burn Out” would be a 
solid deep cut, and I kept waiting 
for the good part to kick in; it was 
only after the song ended did I 
realize that, in fact, there was no 
good part to be found.

Despite exceeding my low 

expectations, Origins is definitely 
subpar. Most of the songs on here 
will work well as music in car 
commercials or soundtracks to 
Fortnite compilations, but don’t 
have much musical value outside 

of that. They suffer from the 
same lifeless corporate flavor that 
has been permeating Imagine 
Dragons’s music since the It’s 
Time (EP), but at least they seem 
self-aware at this point. There’s 
really no reason to go out of your 
way to listen to Origins outside of a 
couple of decent cuts (“Machine,” 
“Bad Liar”) that you’ll probably 
end up hearing anyway during an 
ad for Regions Bank or something.

Imagine 
Dragons 
suffers 

from 
the 
same 
phenomenon 

Nickelback did a decade or so 
back — undeserved commercial 
success has led to undeserved 
critical backlash. While the music 
of these bands isn’t particularly 
good, the fact that they are the 
prominent butt of critical derision 
would make you believe they 
are much worse than they really 
are. Origins is commercial and 
inconsequential, but it is far from 
unpleasant or incompetent, and 
I’ve heard much worse music from 
bands that don’t get a fraction 
of the hate. The average person 
who doesn’t pay much attention 
to music probably really likes 
Imagine Dragons. To capture that 
audience range takes talent, and 
just because it doesn’t resonate 
with snobbish critics (like me), 
does not mean that it’s not of 
worth. 

Imagine Dragons’s latest 
is unsurprisingly subpar

JONAH MENDELSON

Daily Arts Writer

INTERSCOPE RECORDS

Few shows so eloquently 

straddle the boundary between 
musical 
and 
operetta 
as 

“Candide,” Leonard Bernstein’s 
famed adaptation of Voltaire’s 
novel. This enigmatic work 
of theatre was first presented 
on Broadway before moving 
to opera houses, in which it 
has garnered great acclaim. 
Initially conceived by Bernstein 
and Lillian Hellman as a play 
with incidental music meant 
to satirize the hearings of the 
House Un-American Activities 
Committee, the work’s lyrics 
have 
since 
been 
modified 

by Stephen Sondheim, John 
LaTouche, Dorothy Parker and 
Richard Wilbur. 

Last weekend, “Candide” was 

performed by the University 
Opera 
Theatre 
and 
the 

University Symphony Orchestra 
at the Power Center. It was an 
enthralling journey through the 
life of Candide on his lengthy 
quest to marry Cunégonde. It 
was also a biting satire on the 
failures of organized religion, 
philosophy, war, money and 
socioeconomic class structure. 
Despite its antiquated setting, 
the work manages to remain 
frighteningly 
relevant. 
One 

can hear the echoes of modern 
political 
pessimism 
in 
the 

work’s criticism of 17th and 
18th century aristocratic power 
structures, the cries of anti-
party rhetoric reflected in the 
anti-government libretto.

After a quick introduction to 

the optimism that so consumed 
the philosophers of Voltaire’s 
day, the operetta oscillates 
between violence and lucky 
escape. 

To those unfamiliar with 

the book, the dark humor of 
this unrealistic plot can be 
hard to laugh at. Candide and 
his childhood friends travel all 
over the world, finding each 
other in the most unexpected 
of places and avoiding death 
by the narrowest of means. 
I found myself struggling to 
laugh with some members of 
the audience at the first scene 
of mass casualty before I, too, 

understood 
the 
unrealistic 

humor of this perpetual death 
and violence.

In the end, as the pace of the 

story slowed, the emotional 
poignancy began to overtake 
the dark humor. The final 
scene, in which Candide and 
Cunégonde agree to marry 
and to plant a garden together, 
was beautifully complex and 
emotionally ambiguous. “Life is 
neither good nor bad,” the choir 
sings. “Life is life, and all we 
know.” 

After this lengthy journey 

of faulty belief systems and 

strikingly immoral systems of 
cultural morality, the realist, 
almost nihilist simplicity of this 
resolution was astounding. The 
audience sat with rapt attention 
as Candide and Cunégonde 
exchanged promises to “do the 
best” they know in cultivating 
their garden and living a simple, 
agrarian life.

The simple ingenuity of the 

set contributed both to the 
fleeting absurdity of the plot 
and the poignant simplicity 
of the resolution. The entire 
operetta took place in front 
of a giant blackboard upon 
which Candide’s journey was 
illustrated in chalk. Smaller 
wheelable 
blackboards 

and 
simple 
wooden 
tables 

formed the changing scenery 
throughout 
the 
production 

while 
tablet-sized 
handheld 

blackboards formed the props. 
These handheld blackboards 
frequently contributed to the 
humor with characters on stage 

reacting in fright to blackboards 
with “GUN” written on them. 
In the end, as Candide and 
Cunégonde decide to pursue a 
simple lifestyle, the blackboard 
in the back of the stage was 
erased and the tabletops were 
removed to uncover small, lush 
gardens. 

The 
cast 
was 
quite 

impressive. They demonstrated 
the ease at which they sing 
English-language opera, and 
I found myself particularly 
impressed with the expressive 
singing of Candide and the 
colatura abilities of Cunégonde. 

With 
great 
choreography 

and 
significant 
dialogue, 
I 

began to question whether 
this was not better classified 
as a musical than an operetta. 
Bernstein’s career was based 
on the blending of genres: from 
the harmonic dissonance and 
operatic treatment of “West Side 
Story” to the popular influences 
in much of his concert music. 
And this work was no exception, 
with Bernstein jumping from 
dissonant incidental music to 
operatic arias and Broadway-
esque slow musical numbers.

I am always skeptical of 

movies and plays based on 
famous novels. To this end, I 
will admit that I was incredibly 
skeptical of Bernstein’s decision 
to adapt Voltaire’s novel. It 
would be hard, I thought, for the 
operetta to not be overshadowed 
by this incredibly influential 
novel. And though the overture 
is a staple of the American-
composed concert repertoire, 
I had assumed that there was 
a reason I was unfamiliar with 
the operetta. 

Yet despite my skepticism, 

the operetta lived up to the 
famed book after which it is 
based. Much like the book, it 
is a compelling criticism of 
wealth, power, religion and 
other constructs of cultural 
morality. 
And 
nothing 
felt 

more appropriate than the final 
words of the play, when Voltaire 
asks the audience if they have 
“Any questions?” For what is 
“Candide” if not a call for the 
audience to question, a proto-
Nietzschean condemnation of 
current belief systems in favor 
of a new belief system?

Origins

Imagine Dragons

Interscope Records

ALBUM REVIEW

Britney Spears will always be 

an object of fascination for me. 
Every time I go down a YouTube 
rabbit hole during slow nights 
in the comfort of my room, I 
always end up in the same place, 
watching early-aughts music 
videos until the sun comes up. 
From the fringed crop tops of 
Christina 
Aguilera’s 
“Genie 

in a Bottle” to the motorized 
pianos of Vanessa Carlton’s “A 
Thousand Miles,” the era is 
truly iconic in the span of starlet 
culture as a whole. But there’s 
one video, Spears’s “Lucky,” that 
has stamped itself permanently 
in the history of pop music. The 
first time I watched it, deep 
into one of these binge video 
consumptions, 
I 
was 
taken 

aback. It seems as if Spears had 
predicted her downfall seven 
years in the future, a toxic mix 
of fame and negligence that 
would result in drastic change.

The lyrics of “Lucky” serve 

as a bizarre look into the future 
of Spears’s career, and the video 
echoes this even more. The 
starlet looks on at a fictionalized 
version of herself, reaching out 
to a depressed Lucky as she 
puts on a smile for the cameras 
and cries until she falls asleep. 
Lucky is constantly looking into 
this tiny mirror throughout the 
video, trying to primp herself 
while sadness lurks behind 
her eyes. Though the song is 
supposedly a universal story of 
the dangers of fame, it seems 
to prophesize about Spears’s 
own breakdown in 2007, one 
that would be immortalized 
in pop culture forever. We’ve 
all seen the photos of her post-
buzzcut, of her walking around 
looking like a shell of herself as 
she reeled in the wake of losing 
custody of her children and an 
extreme downturn of her career. 
“If Britney survived 2007, you 
can survive today” is a sassy quip 
printed onto stickers and resting 
at the bottom of Instagram 

posts. But underneath “Lucky” 
and Spears’s story at large is the 
sad reality behind Hollywood’s 
treatment of young starlets, a 
history that has affected women 
in the industry for decades.

Though I was slightly too 

young to understand Britney 
Spears’s downfall and rebound 
in its full glory, people like 
Miley Cyrus and Lindsay Lohan 
served as examples of starlet 
culture and its dangers as I grew 
up. In fact, I wasn’t even allowed 
to listen to Britney as a kid 

because of how sexualized she 
was in the public eye, a pretty 
and perfect vision of feminine 
youth that found its way into the 
realm of Barbies and lunchboxes 
alike. My mother said that “Hit 
Me Baby One More Time” was 
vulgar for a six-year-old to be 
singing, and though I was angry 
at the time, I now agree with 
her in some ways. Our culture 
of idealism around these young 
girls forced them into boxes that 
were unrealistic and dangerous, 
placing them on a pedestal that 
was only waiting to crumble. In 
the past five years, many of the 
starlets of my childhood faced 
their own 2007s, trying to shed 
their sweetheart images with 
varying levels of success. 

I can remember when Miley 

Cyrus 
was 
photographed 

shirtless for Vanity Fair at 15, 

when she released “Can’t Be 
Tamed,” a video in which she 
prowls around a cage in skimpy, 
feathered clothing, when she 
danced around at the VMAs in 
nude spandex. I feel the same way 
about Cyrus’s reevolution that I 
do about that of Spears, both of 
them now seemingly happy and 
stable despite their struggles 
with fame. But there are those 
who weren’t so “Lucky” after 
all. Amanda Bynes’s battle with 
mistreatment by the industry 
and those around her resulted 
in a complete loss of self for the 
star. The fame machine sucks in 
and spits out young girls without 
giving them a note of how to 
navigate any of it all, and has 
since the days of Judy Garland. 
While money and power can 
come with the visibility of being 
a starlet, many of these girls 
lost themselves in that pursuit, 
groomed by handlers to remain 
marketable as they battled to 
form strong identities. 

We have no way of knowing 

if Britney Spears really felt 
the way that the character in 
“Lucky” does, but it’s easy to 
believe that she may have. “If 
there’s nothing missing in my 
life / Then why do these tears 
come at night?” she sings during 
the chorus, with the kind of 
bravado that seems true under 
the surface. At face value, the 
song 
and 
its 
accompanying 

video is a formulated example of 
pop perfection, but underneath 
it serves as a message of reality 
to what stardom’s consequences 
can bring. She might be lucky, 
but there’s something else there, 
lurking just under a pearly 
smile and immaculate makeup. 
As Hollywood slowly becomes 
more self aware, there’s a chance 
for more young girls to grow up 
famous and not fall apart. But 
for now, the lessons of Spears’s 
2000 song ring true: Even if you 
have everything, being a starlet 
is not all it’s chalked up to be.

She’s so lucky

DAILY GENDER & MEDIA COLUMN

CLARA 
SCOTT

University Symphony’s 
‘Candide’ scarily timeless

CONCERT REVIEW

SAMMY SUSSMAN

Daily Arts Writer

Despite its 
antiquated 
setting, the 

work manages 

to remain 

frighteningly 

relevant

