The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, October 11, 2019 — 5
For countless women, there aren’t many
things in everyday life scarier than walking
home alone at night. Fear of the dark and
the evil that lurks there is built into us from
the moment we become conscious of what
it really means to be a woman. “Night” is
synonymous with violence, assault, crimes
that go undetected, the menacing power of
the uninhibited male gaze. We are constantly
bombarded by news stories of horrific sexual
violence, usually carried out during the
night, simply because there are less people
to witness it and less light to illuminate it.
Perhaps the scariest thing of all, though, is
that we’ve been taught to think that all of
this is normal, that outside at night is simply
not a place where we are welcome. We build
our days around our commutes, making sure
that we won’t have to walk home, alone, in
the dark.
Because this is the world we live in, there’s
something profoundly and oddly inspiring
about “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night,”
Ana Lily Amirpour’s 2014 Persian-language
vampire western film, whose nameless
protagonist is a woman (Sheila Vand, “Argo”)
who walks the night streets of the fictional
and aptly-named Bad City not in fear, but in
strength. Though she murders many, using
her beauty to lure men closer to her only to
take their lives with her poisonous fangs, I
can’t help but admire her. She is, after all,
the only person truly willing to defend the
women she lives among. She patrols the
streets like a police officer, looking out for
violent altercations and later punishing the
culprits. She stalks these men and makes
them know how it feels to be a woman at
night. She makes them afraid to hurt another
woman again.
Women are afraid of men, men are afraid
of women. Does this have to be the case?
How do we possibly trust each other while
carrying all of this fear?
“A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night” hints
at the possibility of transcending this mutual
fear in order to achieve true intimacy. In the
film’s best scene, the nameless vampire and
a man she’s come to know (Arash Marandi,
“Under the Shadow”) share a moment of real
vulnerability. She lifts his head to expose
his neck and he lets her, unaware of her true
nature. She’s just about to sink her teeth
into him until at last she decides to rest her
head on his chest and listen to his heart beat
instead. Rather than take his life, she spares
it and listens to it beat inside of him with
adoration. She is afraid of how much she
likes him, amazed by how close she can be to
someone without killing them.
“A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night”
doesn’t have the answers to my questions.
I’m not sure anyone does. But it does bring
our suspicions and our fears about our world
and about each other closer to the surface,
unearthing them from the recesses of our
mind where we keep the thoughts we aren’t
supposed to have but have nonetheless. It
reminds us of just how much there is to be
afraid of and just how hard it is to fully trust
another person, whether we care to admit it
or not.
‘Girl Walks Home Alone’
and our culture of fear
SAMMY SUSSMAN
Daily Arts Writer
As I entered the Arthur Miller Theater for the
Department of Theatre & Drama’s production of “Sense
and Sensibility,” I’ll admit that I was skeptical. Could a Jane
Austen novel really be adapted for the stage? Could this
reserved book from 1811 really be adapted into a modern
theatrical work?
By the end of the second scene, however, the production
had alleviated my fears. As the audience was seated, the
cast walked onto the stage in various stages of partial dress.
As they donned their formal dresses and tied their ties, the
audience was treated to casual, conversational 19th-century
British English. After this setting was established, it was
just as quickly discarded — modern pop music blared from
the speakers, and the cast danced around the stage.
This juxtaposition was jarring at first, and I was laughing
at the production (as opposed to with the production) at
the beginning of this dance number. But once I suspended
my disbelief and bought into this premise, the play was
remarkably consistent in not venturing beyond it. Though
it took a little while, I was soon fully entrenched in this
historical British society full of contemporary humorous
interjections.
Director Priscilla Lindsay’s successful juxtaposition
between plot and humor was mirrored by the inherent
juxtaposition between (what I assume to be) historically
accurate costumes and jarringly modern sets; men in
morning dress and women in fancy gowns sitting in front
of empty window frames and wooden chairs on wheels.
In perhaps my favorite moment of the whole show, a table
covered in a white sheet, turned on its shorter side, became
an upright bed in which characters slept.
Much of the humor in the show came from The Gossips,
a group of actors that comment on the action on stage
without taking part in it. This humor was physical at times
and more sophisticated at others. I never thought I’d see
humans acting as horses and dogs in the middle of a Jane
Austen story, but somehow it succeeded. They managed to
interject contemporary humor and a modern perspective
throughout.
The central plot, on the other hand, was a little harder
to stomach. While this adaptation did much to address
some basic problems resulting in the transition from novel
to stage, some shortcomings were still present, including
the circuitous, flowery nature of speech and plot at the
time, the relative passivity of the female characters and the
shallowness of their relationships.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that I
was not particularly familiar with this novel before I saw
the play. I’d imagine that the experience was quite different
for those who knew what to expect. But as a relatively
unsuspecting audience member, I found it hard, at times, to
connect with the characters and their desires.
Though the humor was incredibly entertaining, as were
the beginning and closing portions of each act, I found
myself wishing for a little more concision in some of the
middle numbers. This is no fault of the cast — they did
much to enliven this sections and give emotional gravitas
to situations in which little textual emotion was to be found
— but I think it was a clear, if relatively minor, flaw in the
adaptation.
That being said, I couldn’t have been more impressed
with the cast. Their British accents were more than
convincing, as were their 19th century mannerisms. And
though I wouldn’t think I’d be able to relate much to these
seemingly antiquated figures, I found myself moved by
their struggles and touched by their resolutions. Even as I
was rooting for the female characters to have more agency
in rejecting marriage as their only source of happiness, I
was admittedly touched when they managed to find love in
these relationships.
All in all, it was a funny, thought-provoking take on
a historically dated story, an unexpectedly entertaining
modernization of a seminal piece of British literature. And
it was a testament to the talent of those in the Department
of Theatre & Drama that they were able to take this
adaptation and make it entertaining.
A new take on ‘Sensibility’
ELISE GODFRYD
Daily Arts Writer
COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW
“Big Mouth” is back and more cringe-inducing than
ever. The raunchy Netflix cartoon series returns strong
in its third season with its signature disgusting-yet-
heartwarming humor and charm.
Following a group of pubescent seventh graders,
“Big Mouth” explores the inherent humiliation and
horror of the American middle school. This season’s
premiere picks up directly after the events of the show’s
Valentine’s Day special with Andrew Glouberman
(John Mulaney, “Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse”)
returning to school after attacking one of his classmates
because of a rejection from his ex-girlfriend, Missy
(Jenny Slate, “Obvious Child). This embarrassing and
surprisingly violent outburst has left Andrew an outcast
at his school and, because of a viral video of the incident,
a popular online livestreamer.
As Andrew struggles to learn how to redeem himself,
an accident in woodshop leaves him unintentionally
maimed by another boy who lost focus staring at a
female classmate’s revealing tank top. The girls are then
issued a restrictive dress code to avoid “distracting” the
boys any further. In protest, Jessi (Jessi Klein, “Inside
Amy Schumer”) and the rest of Bridgeton Middle’s
female students stage an impromptu “Slut Walk” with
their most provocative clothing and demand the boys
be held accountable for their actions, despite their
teachers’s assertions that “boys are animals.” After a
brief uniform policy is enforced, the girls win their right
to dress however they want and teach the boys a lesson
on self-control and toxic masculinity.
While the episode ends on a victorious note, it’s
worth noting a disturbing subplot that finds Andrew
delving into the world of incels. As Andrew siphons his
anger toward the girls at school into his online rants,
he catches the attention of a “Men for Equality” group
that invites him to one of their meetings. Upon arriving,
Andrew finds the club is actually full of white male
supremacists whose neo-Nazi views shock the Jewish
teenager into fleeing from both the meeting and his own
journey toward a similar mindset. Andrew confides in
his best friend, Nick (Nick Kroll, “The Addams Family”)
that “I don’t want to have hate in my heart” and begins
making amends to his fellow students. Andrew and the
other boys have learned, through a series of musical
numbers and cartoon hijinks, that maybe the girls they
go to school with don’t exist just to be stared at.
“Big Mouth” as a whole can be summed up in one
line Jessi delivers in the premiere. When faced with the
confusing standards women face and difficulties men
have understanding that struggle, she says “I think it
might just be this long conversation we all have to keep
having!” This unfortunately frustrating sentiment
voices the truth that, though there might not be an
easy or right way to approach discourses on gender and
sexuality, it’s worth trying your best.
However admirable this message is, the Season 3
premiere abandons the show’s more cynical elements
and opts for a resolution so hopeful it feels almost
ridiculous, and not in the fun kind of way the show
usually excels in. While the harassment the girls receive
from their teachers, parents and peers is as accurate as
it is hard to watch, the storybook ending of Jessi and
company securing a feminist victory in their community
just isn’t how these situations usually play out.
Because the show’s target audience is undoubtedly
adults and not the age group depicted in the series, there
feels like a disconnect between an honest portrayal of
middle school life and storylines that will comfort
their audience of more liberal young people. A group
of seventh graders successfully rejecting extremism
or sympathetically listening to each other’s feelings, at
best, seems wildly optimistic and, at worst, pandering.
“Big Mouth” may be looking at America’s future
through rose-colored and X-rated glasses, but even
with its idealistic opening, the show remains hilarious,
insightful and beautifully crude. Here’s hoping the
changes at Bridgeton Middle are felt in the real world
too. For a dirty cartoon, it certainly knows how hard it
is to grow up.
‘Big Mouth’ returns strong
ANYA SOLLER
For The Daily
NETFLIX
In the past 10 days, the NBA has become
embroiled in a PR war with the Chinese
government, video game developer Blizzard
banned a player for showing solidarity with
the people of Hong Kong and South Park was
erased from existence within the digital walls
of China. In an increasingly connected world of
global entertainment, is it fair for consumers to
judge companies for kowtowing to the demands
of governments that they don’t support? How far
should entertainment conglomerates go in order
to get into the Chinese marketplace? Is there a
line at which consumers and corporations alike
should say enough is enough?
Most American citizens probably didn’t grow
up thinking much about Hong Kong or the
socio-political ramifications of its “one country
— two systems” relationship with mainland
China. I know I didn’t. It wasn’t something
that was taught in school, it wasn’t a part of
world history that was treated as significant
for American students. The euro-centric view
through which world politics and history are
taught has been expounded upon to death in
other places, so I won’t waste time re-hashing
it here. What I will say is that even up to today
I never thought much of the situation in Hong
Kong besides “bad things are happening there”
until a former co-worker of mine from summer
camp posted on our old staff Facebook page. A
Hong Kong native, he expressed his fear about
what was happening in his country and reached
out asking for prayers, help and a promise that
we would help him raise awareness of what was
happening. This column is my way of doing that.
Over the weekend, Houston Rockets manager
Daryl Morey tweeted an image that said “Fight
for freedom, stand with Hong Kong.” Though
the tweet was soon deleted, it has created an
uproar in both China and the United States.
Chinese broadcasters soon announced they
would drop Rockets pre-season games from
their channels, the NBA commissioner flip-
flopped back and forth over what to say in
response, and a consensus of social outrage has
emerged from Americans upset that one of their
nations most popular sports leagues would bend
to the whims of what is essentially a country
in thrall to a dictator. Blizzard, the company
behind games like “World of Warcraft,”
banned a player for publicly supporting Hong
Kong protestors and was met with a wave of
#BoycotBlizzard pronouncements across the
internet. South Park responded to being banned
in China by continuing to mock the Chinese
government. Which of these responses was the
right one?
While many have come out against the NBA
for attempting to protect their business interests
in China over their employees’s right to free
speech, few have batted an eye at the ways in
which Disney and other media conglomerates
have sought to appease the Chinese government
and marketplace over the past few years. For
years rumors have abounded that the reason
why there hasn’t yet been an LGBTQ+ character
introduced in a mainline Marvel or Star Wars
movie is because Disney is afraid of how such a
character would be perceived in China. This year
the Chinese box office is expected to outstrip
the USA as the largest film market in the world.
Movies that bomb in America are now counting
on making up that money overseas, particularly
in China. But the Chinese government over
the past two decades has slowly tightened
the noose on freedom of expression, meaning
that for domestic entertainment products to
successfully export themselves they must also
censor themselves in the process. This is a
country that banned Winnie the Pooh because
there were memes floating around of the
President of the Communist Party that looked
sorta like Winnie the Pooh. This is what the
NBA is dealing with. Is it right to let a country
that is violently putting down protests in Hong
Kong every single weekend dictate the terms
upon which American entertainment should be
made?
Money drives everything in this country and
has for a long time. To demand that Disney or
the NBA or Blizzard not do business in China
would accomplish almost nothing. Apple, Nike,
Adidas and dozens of other countries also rely
on the Chinese market for huge portions of
their revenue. They aren’t just going to stop
selling products in every country with policies
Americans don’t agree with. But more can be
done to prevent their own employees’ freedoms
being rolled over in the process. The Rockets
GM should be able to tweet his feelings about
a totalitarian government that is actively
harming its own citizens and he should not be
punished for doing so. If we can’t protect that
much, if we can’t protect our own freedoms of
speech from countries and groups that would
seek to silence us, then it doesn’t matter what
happens politically in these fifty states because
we’ll have already lost where it counts.
Showdown: Entertainment
versus Communist Party
IAN HARRIS
Daily Entertainment Columnist
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMN
PETER SMITH PHOTOGRAPHY
Big Mouth
Season 3 Premiere
Netflix
VICE FILMS
FILM NOTEBOOK
TV REVIEW