The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, April 11, 2019 — 3B
NBC
The number three is relevant to
television in a lot of ways. It may
refer to the number of good seasons
“Arrested Development” had, or the
Big Three television networks that
control the minds of the American
people. Maybe three alludes to
the years since the sensational
Michael
Schur
comedy
“The
Good Place” came to NBC, or the
number of facelifts a cast member
of “The Real Housewives” gets per
season. Indeed, the number three is
relevant to television in a myriad of
ways — none of which I particularly
care about. What I do care about is
a “Saturday Night Live” skit from
2017 titled “Short Film,” because,
you know, I’m alternative.
“Short Film” is “SNL” at it’s best:
bizarre, stupid and starring Emily
Blunt. It takes place in a quaint little
town called Ann Arbor — yeah,
we’re about to get pretty meta here.
Debuting at the Ann Arbor Short
Film Festival is a short entitled
“qua,” a thriller featuring Blunt
and written or produced by literally
everyone in the theater besides
one unsuspecting viewer played
by Vanessa Bayer. Most of what
happens in the short isn’t relevant.
What matters is that as Blunt runs
through a grayscale forest, she is
surrounded by giant white threes
peppered throughout the trees and
shrubbery.
So what do those threes mean?
When Vanessa Bayer asks that
same question, none of the cast or
crew seems to know what she’s
talking about. “I’m sorry, what
threes?” Kenan Thompson’s Ann
Arbor counterpart asks. No one
else seems to have seen the threes
Bayer is referring to, leaving all
parties involved baffled. I, too, was
confused by this sketch, a standout
among most “SNL” sketches of date
that are pitiful attempts at political
satire. I found myself with three
main questions: What the hell is
“qua,” what do those threes mean
and why did they pick Ann Arbor?
Three big questions, three tentative
answers. Let’s dive in.
A quick google search proves my
vocabulary may not be as extensive
as I hoped to believe. “Qua” is
actually an English conjunction,
dating back to the 15th century
meaning “in the capacity of” or “as.”
Used in a sentence: The president
qua commander-in-chief ordered to
remove the troops from the Middle
East. Kind of pretentious, right? A
20th century usage writer thought
so, commenting, “Qua is sometimes
thought affected or pretentious,
but
it
does
convey
meaning
economically.” Sounds like not only
the description of a word, but of a
short film that may be shown in a
town like Ann Arbor. The mystery
starts to unfold.
But what do those threes mean?
“Qua” has three letters, is that the
answer? Probably not, but they have
to mean something. In my research
I looked to a chaotically evil place
for answers: YouTube comments.
One viewer’s analysis of the short
in particular stuck out to me as
incredibly poignant. They claim
that the short is about a mother
whose daughter died after she left
her in the bathtub. She’s in denial
and running away from herself,
surrounded by threes, the age of
which her daughter died. At the end
of the short when Blunt collapses,
looks up at a clone of herself and says
“It’s me,” she’s finally accepting that
it was she who led to her daughter’s
death. Quite a deep interpretation of
a fake short film from an “SNL” skit,
but not necessarily a bad one. I was
pretty impressed until I continued
reading the comment to find the
final conclusion user Wolf Man
Lykan came to: “lol jk I’m bored asf.”
Maybe there never were any threes
after all.
So why Ann Arbor? Isn’t there
enough madness going on in this
sketch that it needn’t be placed in a
Midwestern bubble? Couldn’t these
millennial faux-creative types debut
their passion projects anywhere?
The answer is no, this sketch
couldn’t take place anywhere but
Ann Arbor. Sure, NYC and LA are
hubs for indie celebrity wannabes,
but that’s so predictable. Who
would suspect that a 29-square-
mile town in the south of Michigan
is filled to the brim with 20-year-
olds convinced that they are God’s
gift to creative world? That no
one else gets it like they do? I love
Ann Arbor, I really do, but part
of the reason I love her so is that
every day feels like I’m a part of an
anthropological study someone is
conducting “Truman Show”-style
to see what happens when a bunch
of people aged 18 to 35 are stuck in
a Midwestern town with coffee
shops and craft beers. Have you
ever been to Literati and just looked
around? The entire second floor
coffee shop is full of white men with
cuffed jeans and women with dyed
hair freelancing. It’s fascinating, it’s
marvelous, it’s the exact place “SNL”
would choose to host an artificial
short film festival. I may not know
much about the etymology of the
word “qua” or what the hell Emily
Blunt was running from, but I know
Ann Arbor. She’s a holy trinity of
pretentious, passion and peculiar
people — the perfect trifecta.
Three, quas and the great
people of this special town
SAMANTHA DELLA FERA
Senior Arts Editor
B-SIDE: TV
Of
all
the
base
human
instincts which motivate daily
lives,
the
human
capacity
to gossip is both fascinating
and impressive. Whether it’s
indulgence in guilty pleasures
like “The Bachelor” or Star
Magazine or catching up with
TMZ and Twitter, everyone
loves to gossip — those who
deny it are probably liars.
They
are
probably
liars
with “Keeping Up with the
Kardashians” taped on their
DVR (after all, who isn’t on the
edge of their seat with Khloe’s
cheating
scandal?).
And if there’s one
thing
people
love
to gossip about the
most, it’s Hollywood.
When
it’s
not
a
scandal (again, always
the
Kardashians),
or
digging
up
old
dirt
(Brangelina,
anybody?), the death
of a star is a supernova
in the entertainment
industry.
Afterall,
when
a
star
falls,
everybody knows two
more are coming this
way — but who?
Famous
deadly
trios
include
the
heartbreaking
January
of
2016,
where the world lost
Alan Rickman, David
Bowie and Glenn Frey,
the fateful year of
1970, witnessing the
fall of Jim Morrison,
Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin,
and
more
notoriously,
the
episode of 2009, where Ed
McMahon,
Farrah
Fawcett
and Michael Jackson passed in
succession. All of these deaths
collected in neat trios. It’s no
wonder the pattern has drawn
the curiosity of the masses.
It’s the age old “rule of
three”: When one celebrity
bites the dust, you can be sure
that two more will follow.
If life is unpredictable, then
the morbid “Rule of Three” is
seemingly the only constant
in life. But where does this
Hollywood myth come from?
Maybe it’s because “three”
is a lucky number. Maybe it’s
mere
coincidence
inflated
by old-fashioned journalism.
Or maybe there’s a secret
celebrity cult where stars sign
their name in the book of the
Dark Lord (In “The Chilling
Adventures of Sabrina”-esque
fashion) in exchange for fame
(talent being optional — looking
at you, Mr. Cage). Regardless,
Hollywood’s “rule of three,”
however ludicrous, has by great
coincidence,
luck
or
grand
design withstood the test of
time to become one of the
most well-known and (oddly)
cherished superstitions.
Where do we begin the
search for answers? It could be
a religious thing — the focus on
the number three harkening
back to the holy significance of
the number in Christianity: The
Three Kings; the Father, the
Son and the Holy Spirit; the list
goes on. Could this pattern have
emerged from the unconscious
connection between death and
religion? For the pious, death
and religion are intricately
intertwined. Could it be that
the death of these larger-than-
life individuals is so jarring, so
heartbreaking, that the masses
could only turn to religion for
solace?
Another possibility is the
existence of a secret, dark
underbelly
to
Hollywood.
Every so often news breaks of
secret cults, orgies or gambling
rings within the famous elite.
The Church of Scientology
alone has always been a point
of fervent enthrallment for the
rest of world, with its “hush-
hush” secrecy and high profile
drama (Recall the supposed
Tom Cruise wife auditions).
It wouldn’t be a stretch to
imagine that kings and queens
of Hollywood blockbusters pass
around a medieval-style goblet
filled with expensive red wine
(or the blood of unfortunate
B-listers?)
and
chant
holy
prayers to invoke the powers
of Apollo or the ancient Greek
Muses.
Or, more heartwarmingly,
the
answer
could
lie
in
how
intimately
these
stars
penetrate our daily
lives.
Celebrities
are often household
names, held near and
dear to our hearts.
The deaths of Buddy
Holly, Ritchie Valens
and Big Bopper J.P.
Richardson in 1959
became known as The
Day the Music Died
— if that doesn’t say
something about how
a nation can mourn
an idol, nothing does.
The Hollywood “rule
of three” could be an
attempt to reconcile
how
these
beloved
artists
who
often
seem
invincible
—
immortal, even — are
still human, no matter
how talented they are
(or how much plastic
surgery they buy).
The “rule of three”
is
a
fascinating
example of humanity perceives
death. Even though we often
toot
our
horn
about
how
advanced
and
modern
the
21st century may be, when
confronted with death it is
almost instinctual to revert
to (arguably) more primitive
wonder with the supernatural,
divine
or
unnatural.
Sure,
everybody
has
to
die
one
day. But it’s far more fun to
speculate that darker forces
swirl behind the Golden Gates
of Hollywood’s elite.
For now, we can just cross
our fingers that when another
one bites the dust, they won’t
take another fan favorite with
them.
Third time’s the charm: On
Hollywood’s ‘rule of three’
MADELEINE GANNON
Daily Arts Writer
“Exceptional
cuisine,
worth a special journey” is
all that accompanies three
small, rounded stars next to
a restaurant’s name in the
“Michelin Guides.” Yet those
three stars are a gateway to
global fame. People from
around
the
world
(well,
certain kinds of people) will
indeed go out of their way to
go to that certain restaurant.
Reservations will have to
be made months in advance.
The award isn’t accompanied
by a gaudy ceremony or any
more fanfare at all really.
But for chefs around the
world, those three little stars
are
worth
sacrifice
after
sacrifice after sacrifice.
By now, the origins and
mystique
surrounding
Michelin
Stars
are
well
known. Those who award
the prizes in the first place
are completely anonymous,
known
to
no
chef,
no
journalist, not even their
own families. The first star
for a restaurant is extremely
difficult, and gaining each
subsequent
star
becomes
even more so. The pressure
mounts exponentially as well.
Even with one star, a chef is
at least a minor celebrity. But
once a chef gets two or three,
they become something only
short of royalty. Yet the
higher one rises, the more
precarious the fall.
Bernard Loiseau, graduate
of the legendary kitchen La
Maison Troisgros and head
chef of his own La Côte
d’Or, committed suicide in
2003 after rumors that his
restaurant would lose its
third star. His story was the
inspiration for “Ratatouille”
four
years
later.
The
pressure in kitchens of this
level are beyond our wildest
imaginations, but are these
three little stars really worth
anything at all?
Perhaps it is a rather silly
question to ask. To many
(maybe
most)
chefs,
at
least in the Western world,
these stars represent the
pinnacle of their profession,
the
equivalent
of
the
Nobel,
Oscar,
Pulitzer,
etc.
Ultimately,
though,
the
value
is
created
by
us,
the
consumers.
But,
once again, who are the
consumers? France, Japan
and the U.S. are the most
represented
countries
in
the list of Michelin-starred
restaurants.
As
one
can
expect,
the
majority
of
restaurants can be found in
the Parises, New Yorks and
Tokyos of these countries.
And they’re not cheap — the
tasting menu at Benu in San
Francisco is $310 a person.
It’s clear that the people
creating
the
demand
are
the one percent. Moreover,
the cuisine very noticeably
represented
in
any
list
of
Michelin-starred
restaurants
is
French.
There’s no doubt that French
cuisine is highly influential,
and the layout and structure
of the modern kitchen is
thanks to the French. But it’s
important to keep in mind
that several rich and varied
cuisines of the world are not
represented on these lists
due to a lack of chefs trained
at top kitchens overseas and
a lack of clientele in their
own cities.
It’s hard to deny that
meals
from
Michelin
starred
restaurants
are
often spectacular. However,
it might be more valuable
to completely ignore these
ratings
and
simply
seek
out the unique and special.
Follow in the footsteps of
Jonathan Gold and explore
every nook and cranny of your
local city to find every great
meal you can. Highlight the
upstart immigrant chefs who
already make so many of your
meals. Celebrate the women
and other minorities who
are so under-represented in
these lists. And perhaps even
more importantly, be willing
to pay top dollar for certain
cuisines.
A
fancy
dinner
need not always be French
or Italian. Anthony Bourdain
once said, “I’m very excited
about the possibilities for
that (Mexican) cuisine, and
I think we should pay more
attention to it, learn more
about it, and value it more.
This
is
frankly
a
racist
assumption
that
Mexican
food or Indian food should be
cheap. That’s not right.” I’m
inclined to agree, and more
importantly,
to
advocate
for this type of attitude for
any
cuisine
from
around
the world which we already
enjoy,
and
whose
flavors
already
influence
every
major Western cuisine today.
The idea is, yes, Michelin
Stars are a great metric to
judge a restaurant. But we
can extend our pockets and
our gratitude towards so
much more.
The big value in having
all three Michelin stars
SAYAN GHOSH
Daily New Media Editor
B-SIDE: NEW MEDIA
Those who award the prizes in the first place are
completely anonymous, known to no chef, no
journalist, not even their own families
Isn’t there enough madness going on in this sketch that it
needn’t be placed in a Midwestern bubble?
B-SIDE: FILM
Sure, everybody has to die one
day. But it’s far more fun to
speculate that darker forces
swirl behind the Golden Gates
of Hollywood’s elite.