The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, February 20, 2019 — 5A
In 1978, the acclaimed novelist
Yuko Tsushima published “Territory
Of Light” a chapter at a time in the
Japanese monthly literary magazine
Gunzo, each chapter representing
one month in a year. Tsushima
is well-known in Japan, but is
relatively unknown to Anglophone
readers. The small amount of her
work that has been translated
into
English
is
her
most
autobiographical
component,
and
it’s
autobiographical in way
that might be unfamiliar
to Anglophone audiences.
Long before the word
“autofiction” was coined
in French or English,
Japanese
authors
had
been
writing
gently
fictionalized
accounts
of their lives in what is
known as shishosetsu, or
“I-fiction.” These works
are written as reflections
or examinations of the
author’s life, and the
strikingly clear realism
of the genre has no
real analog in Western
literature.
Tsushima’s
work frequently deals
with the experiences of single
mothers in 20th-century Japan’s
intensely patriarchal and work-
obsessed society, and “Territory
Of Light” follows this model — the
story is told from the perspective of
an unnamed woman, who recently
divorced her husband and is tasked
with raising their young daughter
alone.
The novel closely follows the
minutiae of day-to-day life in Tokyo
— the protagonist takes her daughter
to daycare, holds down a desk job
and embarks on endless strings of
errands and chores, often dragging
her unwilling daughter along. The
incessant pace of life gives the
story a sense of constant motion,
even as the protagonist’s loneliness
presses in from all sides. Very few
other characters receive as much
development — they just flit in and
out of the protagonist’s attention
and are occasionally the subject of
tentative, quietly desperate acts.
She has an ill-advised one-night
stand with an acquaintance, she
gets excessively drunk at a bar with
strangers, she invites one of her
ex-husband’s pathetic students over
for lack of any other real friends.
Many of the side characters are
beautifully
sketched
in
outline,
and the reader is painfully aware
of the social barriers between the
protagonist and the rest of the
world. She is reminded again and
again that divorced mothers are at a
decisive disadvantage — one of her
acquaintances from the daycare go
as far as to tell her she would be “at
the bottom of the heap.” Even as we
see the protagonist begin to spiral
without support — drinking heavily
to stay asleep at night, having
strange visions of death, showing
up late for work, briefly wishing
her daughter was dead — nothing
drastic or cruel happens. There are
moments where it seems as though
something absolutely terrible is
going to happen (it never does) or
some great juncture in the story is
going to happen (it never does), but
life stabilizes itself somehow and
the protagonist must continue as
best she can.
Her loneliness also seems related
to how intently she focuses on her
surroundings, and the sensitive and
somewhat sad way she apprehends
them. The novel provides a crystal-
clear
yet
utterly
idiosyncratic
vision of Tokyo, following the
protagonist’s
vision
down
long
associative trails and occasionally
into near-delirium. She describes a
stand of trees as “some plant species,
expelled from the sky, which in a
fit of disgruntlement had stiffened
into these three brooding pillars
as it landed.” More often, though,
experience is just given a luminous
rinse and left to stand
on its own, unmarred
by any self-consciously
“novelistic” processing.
When
her
daughter
drops
origami
paper
from their fourth-story
roof,
the
protagonist
briefly pictures it: “I
could only conclude that
every sheet in the pack
… had floated down, one
after the other, taking
its time and enjoying the
breeze, onto the tiled
roof
below.”
Shortly
after this scene, she has
to apologize profusely
to
her
neighbors
for
the trash on their roof.
One gets the sense that
Tsushima endows her
character with such a
powerful sense of perception as a
way to cope with an existence so
crushing it threatens to overwhelm
her. This is an incredibly effective
combination,
and
despite
the
understated tone, the novel has an
unexpected emotional weight.
Since the novel was originally
published in serial, each chapter
is relatively self-contained, and its
compilation into a novel can feel
awkward at times. Each chapter
contains a relatively limited and
yet wholly self-contained arc, and
the novel has no overall trajectory
beyond the allotted space of a year.
With a novelist any less perceptive
and skilled at making the everyday
glitter,
this
structure
wouldn’t
work at all — Tsushima’s airy prose,
however, makes the recounting of
small moments prismatic rather
than static.
‘Territory of Light’ a stunning
look at empathy and loneliness
To call “High Flying Bird”
a sports movie would be like
calling “The Social Network”
a court drama. Sure, it would
be true, but would also be a
fatally narrow interpretation of
the work. Steven Soderbergh’s
(“Unsane”) latest project is so
much more than it appears: It’s a
microcosm of race and American
power structures, an electrified
dive into the nuance of NBA
labor conflicts and a meditation
on the evolving information
age. It’s a seemingly mundane
concept for a movie transformed
into a prescient web of ideas by
“Moonlight” screenwriter Tarell
Alvin McCraney, and ultimately,
one of the most intriguing films I
have seen recently.
The film covers the sneaky,
perceptive
maneuvers
of
NBA agent Ray Burke (Andre
Holland, “Moonlight”) as he
navigates between players and
team owners during a league
lockout. While the movie is
centered around basketball, it
is far more concerned with the
gritty and complex backroom
business of the sport than
courts and scoreboards. While
player
representative
Myra
(Sonja Johnson, “The Chi”) and
team owner David Seton (Kyle
MacLachlan,
“Inside
Out”)
struggle to compromise and
end the lockout, Burke hatches
a plan of his own, equipped
with charming persuasion and
discerning foresight.
Holland’s
performance
as Burke is one of the film’s
highlights. His lines are hefty
soliloquies spoken at nearly
twice the speed of normal
conversation, but he carries
them off with ease and elegance.
The most challenging aspect of
the performance is that Holland
must appear believably one step
ahead of everyone in the room
without them knowing it in order
for the character to work. And
indeed, Burke’s energetic grace
embodies this quality perfectly
to pack a startling punch near
the film’s end.
Since the film is mostly just
people talking to each other,
Soderbergh must get creative
in how he keeps the scenes
visually engaging. As both the
cinematographer and editor he
employs nearly every tool at his
disposal. The most palpable of
these is his decision to shoot
the entire movie on an iPhone
8. From the very first frame of
the movie, it becomes evident
that this choice plays a key part
in how Soderbergh stages every
scene. The iPhone as the camera
ultimately feels essential to the
visual language of “Bird” simply
because of how inimitable the
film looks.
The many wide shots of
New York stand out because
the iPhone lens gives them a
memorably
warped
quality.
Soderbergh
also
places
the
camera in normally impossible
places,
at
various
points
strapping the iPhone on a ceiling,
to the back of a car seat and in a
narrow train aisle. While most
of these shots were fascinating
enough to spice up a dialogue
heavy narrative, there were
also times when the iPhone’s
limitations became clear. Every
time the camera moved from
natural to studio light, there was
a visibly distracting filtering of
light onscreen.
A notable flaw of the film is
that it might be too smart. I found
myself having to turn on closed
captions or rewind frequently to
comprehend a rapid exchange.
It’s an intellectually demanding
process that not everyone will
relish in. That being said, the
film did make me engaged in the
politics of NBA lockouts, a hefty
feat for someone who hasn’t
followed the organization for
years. The movie offers whatever
you’re willing to put in.
The
real
impact
behind
McCraney’s script is not simply
how esoteric it is. He uses the
backdrop of NBA lockouts to
comment on far more than
the nuances of contracts and
board room meetings. One of
the film’s lingering questions
is just what the best platform is
for professional basketball in an
era of rising streaming services.
In this way, “Bird” offers a
commentary not only on the
NBA, but on filmmaking itself.
Where is the best place for the
content we consume today, on a
platform as accessible as Netflix
or a space as traditional as cable
TV? McCraney’s ability to weave
these questions into the conflict
of “Bird” is truly enthralling,
cementing “Bird” as a powerful
sports drama with the smarts to
delve beyond its own premise.
‘High Flying’ is dramatic
ANISH TAMHANEY
Daily Arts Writer
FILM REVIEW
‘High Flying
Bird’
Feb. 8, 2019
Netflix
The RAW Natural Born Artists show
took place in downtown Detroit at St.
Andrew’s Hall on Feb.13th. The show,
which had the goal of empowering local
artists and providing them with a platform,
certainly did not fail to impress. All forms
of art — fashion, textiles, cosmetics, live
music and photography — came together
in the eclectic space that is St. Andrew’s
Hall to represent the diversity of creativity
that
lies
within
the
growing
community
of
artists in Detroit. An event
completely
by
and
for
artists, RAW holds shows
all around the country,
inviting artists to showcase
and sell their work at
mandated venues.
Contributing to the sense
of independence that is
re-emerging in downtown
Detroit, the RAW Showcase
was just a taste of the talent
and development that is
occuring in our very own
backyard. Serving as a
reminder as to why we
cannot forget about our dear
Detroit, the show blended
all aspects of any and every
part of design, completely
catering to independent
artists personal work and
business, carving a space
for a conversation about the
world of artistic mediums
and experimentation.
Said first year attendee
and artist Katherine Cross,
“It (this show) has exceeded
my expectations, I’m super
impressed by the group of people they
brought together- music, hair, all types of
artistry, and I think that is so cool.”
The vibrant show truly represented all
aspects of the art spectrum, all tied together
through mini concerts played by various
artists throughout the entire event. The
show catered to a lifelong dedication and
love for art and design, as shown by many
of the artists present, Cross included. A self-
branded surface designer, Cross spoke on
her own practice as an artist and how she
arrived at the show.
“It was total serendipity. One day I
started cutting things out of magazines.
Then, I started organizing them by color
and making them into collages. I was
originally trained as a portrait artist, I have
a degree in human figure drawing. But
here I’ve found myself cutting out abstract
shapes and things out of magazine pages,”
Cross said.
Cross’s process speaks to the entire
show and its total encouragement for
experimentation across all mediums of art
and design, one growing in the world of
design as well. In a physical world covered
in surfaces, from paper to textiles, to
everything in between, Cross left no stone
unturned when beginning her business
founded on color, collage and texture. Said
Cross, “It started with cards, I was living
abroad when I started this company, and
I went around to all the little shops in my
town asking ‘would you be
interested in using these for
your floral arrangements?’
And they said yes! My first
order was a florist shop, so
I designed small gift cards
and different things for
that.”
The versatility of Cross’s
work aligns itself with a
conversation occuring all
across the world of art and
design about the use of
textiles, color and pattern in
fashion and beyond. Cross
does not limit herself to
checking one box in design,
as a surface designer she
completely plays off the ever
changing characteristics of
design, curating her work
to fit just about any surface.
A pioneer in self-branding
and material use, Cross is
changing the definition of
what it means to be both
an artist and designer,
a
concept
the
RAW
show catered to. Cross’s
inspiration
started
in
fashion and has completely
extended to other mediums
including paper products and jewelry.
“My favorite designer is Dries Van Noten
— the way he mixes pattern and color
and things like that — so I love vintage
materials, I love textiles that have texture,
unique patterns, everything — I’ve always
been a lover of fabric. I love it, I gotta buy
it. I do love fashion, when I was a kid I had
a cousin who got Vogue and I would always
just look through the pages and think it was
just the most amazing beautiful artwork,”
Cross said.
Cross and all the artists at the RAW
Show are completely revolutionizing what
it means to be immersed in an art form,
taking initiative and inserting themselves
into a conversation and effort to blend
and support all styles of art and design, a
beautiful balance one really could only find
in downtown Detroit.
RAW is spectacular
STYLE REVIEW
MARGARET SHERIDAN
Daily Style Editor
BOOK REVIEW
EMILY YANG
Daily Arts Writer
‘Territory of Light’
Yuko Tsushima
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Feb. 12, 2019
Though
varying
in
subject
matter, through their common
themes of youth, childhood and
power in a fresh light, the 2019 Oscar
Short Films perfectly complement
one another. That said, the sheer
degree of heaviness and intensity
that characterizes each film makes
digesting them all in one sitting a
challenge, to say the least.
When
Marta
(Marta
Nieto
“Karabudjan”)
receives
an
unexpected phone call from her
six-year-old son Iván (Álvaro Balas
“Bajo la red”), who is on a camping
trip with his father, she is alarmed
to find that Iván is stranded on a
beach alone. In the panic of “Madre”
that follows, though Marta fights to
keep her calm and protect her son as
best she can from thousands of miles
away, her composure crumbles as her
worst nightmares come to fruition.
The beauty of “Madre” is not in what
it shows, but what it doesn’t. There is
no advantage given to the audience
in this film. Though presented with
panning-shots of an isolated beach,
presumably the one that Iván refers
to over the phone, we never see Iván
and, by consequence, we feel just as
distraught and bewildered as Marta.
Mirroring Marta onscreen, over the
19 minutes of “Madre” our heart
rates increase minute by minute,
our anxieties bubble over and, by the
credits, we feel just as powerless and
hopeless as Marta.
Reacquainting viewers with the
topic of children, “Fauve” presents a
harrowing depiction of the perils of
childhood ignorance. Epitomizing
the image of ‘kids being kids,’ tween
boys Tyler (Félix Greiner) and
Benjamin (Alexandre Perreault) are
messing around outside, playfully
testing each other’s egos through
tests of strength and dares. What
begins as harmless fun soon turns
hazardous, however, when one
of their pranks leads to Benjamin
getting stuck in and sinking into
the concrete of a surface mine.
Most intriguing about “Fauve”
is its exploration of innocence
lost. In one moment, Tyler and
Benjamin are boys: innocent, naïve
and reckless. In the next, Tyler is
hardened, encompassed by a dark
cloud severity. “Fauve” indirectly
poses a question of where the line
between childhood freedom and a
need for supervision and protection
should be drawn. Especially in our
tech-saturated society, a question
arises: With digital knowledge that
far surpasses that of their parents
and unrestricted access to social
media, has childhood innocence has
become an ideal of the past?
A picnic after the upsetting
plotlines of both “Madre” and
“Fauve,”
“Marguerite”
is
a
refreshing
and
much-welcomed
change of pace. Centered around
the relationship between an elderly
woman
Marguerite
(Béatrice
Picard “Ma tante Aline”) and her
younger caregiver Rachel (Sandrine
Bisson “1981”), the film explores
the concept of youth, regret and
repressed sexuality. Unlike the two
pictures before it, “Marguerite” is
much quainter, depicting the day
to day routine of the older woman
Marguerite and the progressive
growth of her peculiar friendship
with Rachel. Through a focus on
the little things, bath times, pills,
cups of tea drank in solitude and
brief, yet heartfelt chats between
Rachel and Marguerite, the film
paints a broader picture about the
loneliness that can accompany old
age and the ever-present desire for
companionship within us all.
Believing that the worst of
the somber and depressing was
over after “Madre” and “Fauve,”
“Detainment” functions as the
rudest
of
awakenings.
Based
on the horrifying story of the
abduction and murder of toddler
James Bulger (Caleb Mason) by
10-year-old boys Jon and Robert,
this film offers no silver lining or
moment of relief for audiences to
grasp. Through a compilation of
documentary-esque flashbacks and
separate interrogation sequences
of the two boys, the film rehashes
the day rehashing the day of
James’s murder. Traumatizing and
mentally paining enough as a film
adaptation, the knowledge that
this film is based on a true story is
almost too inconceivable to process.
While successfully debunking the
stereotype of children as innocents
on its head, it leaves us all feeling
sickened in the process. Though well-
made and disturbingly captivating,
the premise of “Detainment” is
ultimately too awful to stomach
and allow for a meaningful viewing
experience. When the credits do
finally role, it is mercifully so.
Thankfully, the best of the shorts
is saved for last. “Skin” illuminates
the vileness of modern racism
through a sobering portrayal of the
influence of a parent’s actions on
a child’s. In a rural small town, a
fervid white supremacist brutally
beats a Black stranger for smiling at
his son Troy (Jackson Robert Scott
“It”) in a convenience store parking
lot, igniting a violent clash between
the local Black and white gangs.
Though the plot revolves around
the brief gang war that ensues over
the single incident, the essence of
“Skin” is an unmissable message
about the learnedness of racism.
Much of the hate between the two
gangs is observed and acted upon by
the sons of the respective members,
emphasizing the impressionable
nature of children. While the very
level of hostility that the film exposes
makes it nothing short of enraging
to watch at times, “Skin” delivers a
much-needed message that deflates
the illusion of a post-racial society by
bringing to screen the realities and
repercussions of racial hatred to an
audience that otherwise wouldn’t
see them.
Oscars 2019: Live Shorts
FILM REVIEW
SAMANTHA NELSON
Daily Arts Writer
The vibrant
show truly
represented all
aspects of the
art spectrum,
all tied together
through mini
concerts played
by various
artists