Classifieds

Call: #734-418-4115
Email: dailydisplay@gmail.com

7 person house for Fall 
2 bath, 7 parking spcs 
nice house 
1 block from CCRB 
$5,895 plus utilities 
(734)646-5548

By Joseph Ashear
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/14/19

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

11/14/19

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Thursday, November 14, 2019

ACROSS
1 Co. with brown 
trucks
4 Fearsome 
Tolkien beasts
8 Run off at the 
mouth
14 New Deal prog.
15 Guthrie genre
16 Unprincipled
17 Rapper __-Z
18 Fireplace outlet
19 Accompany
20 Yellowfin tuna
21 Great quantity
22 Highest-ranking 
elected woman in 
U.S. history
23 McConaughey 
of “True 
Detective”
25 Nickname 
for Israel’s 
Netanyahu
26 Sported
27 Beach in a 1964 
hit song
31 Start of a Poitier 
film title
34 Author/aviator 
__ Morrow 
Lindbergh
36 Film crew 
member
37 V-formation flier
38 ’90s game disc
39 Pipe up
40 __ the finish
41 Snapchat’s ghost, 
e.g.
42 Shoes with 
swooshes
43 Color from a 
bottle
45 British WWII gun
47 Magician 
Weasley and 
anchorman 
Burgundy
48 Have
52 Like some 
wedding photos
55 Hook or Cook: 
Abbr.
56 Quid pro __
57 Maryland state 
bird, e.g.
58 Dos cubed
59 Lines at a 
checkout 
counter?
60 Money maker
61 Not nice at all

62 Bother a great 
deal
63 Great times
64 Uruguay’s Punta 
del __
65 __ de deux

DOWN
1 Clear, as a 
printer
2 Czech Republic 
capital, to Czechs
3 “Don’t beat 
around the 
bush!”
4 A bit out in the 
ocean
5 Painter’s tool
6 ... in a board 
game
7 Present in a 
biased way
8 Reed instrument
9 Pond protozoan
10 ... in a ball game
11 Gusto
12 Back muscles, 
briefly
13 K-12 appropriate
24 ... on a game mat
25 ... on a game card
28 Actor Estrada
29 “Dibs!”

30 Long-limbed 
beasts
31 “So ready for the 
weekend!”
32 Chaplin 
named for her 
grandmother
33 Relax in the hot 
tub
35 Yuletide libation
39 14 British pounds
41 Big name in 
advice

44 __ training
46 Tails partner
49 Furnish with 
gear
50 Sporty Toyota 
until 2002
51 Laundry day 
casualties
52 Rooster topper
53 Seed covering
54 Jazz singer 
Simone
55 Show up

FOR RENT

6 —Thursday, November 14, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Growing up a hopeless romantic and a movie buff, I’ve always 
been in love with the idea of love. At nine years old, I swooned over 
the connection between Eliza Doolittle and Henry Higgins in “My 
Fair Lady;” at 11, I watched “Romeo + Juliet” religiously, and when 
I was 13, there was nothing dreamier than the cuttable tension and 
crude banter between Claire and Bender in “The Breakfast Club.” 
In my eyes, these couples were idealizable. I never considered that 
Professor Higgins had to transform Eliza in order for her to be lovable, 
that Romeo and Juliet’s bond was solidified more by lust than love 
or that the basis of Bender and Claire’s relationship was essentially 
verbal harassment. Considering this pattern, I started to wonder: 
Did every romantic relationship in film merely include the good and 
gloss over the bad and the ugly without a second thought? In order to 
tackle this question, I decided to reassess some of my favorite movie 
couples from my teenage years, Edward and Bella in “Twilight,” 
J.D. and Veronica in “Heathers” and Holly and Kit in “Badlands,” 
to come to grips with my and society’s 
potentially problematic romanticization of 
these on-screen relationships. 
The “Twilight” series was one of my first 
loves and, as an angsty fifth grader, Bella and 
Edward’s moody, supernatural and iconic 
courtship was PG-13 gold. My infatuation 
started with the books, which I devoured in 
a frenzy as a tween. There was something so 
entrancing about the tale of a paranormal 
romance shared between two wandering 
souls who met in a high school biology class. 
Thankfully, the end of the four-part saga was 
only the beginning for the franchise. In 2008, 
three years after Stephanie Meyer released 
the book, “Twilight” went to the silver screen, 
and a whole universe was created filled with 
adoring fans, future sequels and promises of 
memes, fanfiction and “Twihard” fan-clubbing 
for decades to come.
For anyone who somehow managed to avoid 
the “Twilight” fever that swept our generation, 
I’ll give a brief synopsis. Bella Swan, a 17-year-
old, semi-reclusive girl moves to the tight-knit, 
drizzly town of Forks, Wash., to live with her 
estranged father. Life in Forks looks unpromising and monotonous 
until a gorgeous, mysterious boy named Edward Cullen catches 
her eye. Long story short, Edward is revealed to be a vampire, the 
chemistry Bella and Edward share is otherworldly and by the end of 
the film, there is no doubt in their minds — or the audience’s for that 
matter — that they are soulmates. 
Since its release, my appreciation for “Twilight” has been 
unwavering, strengthened each year by annual rewatches and replays 
of the iconic soundtrack. Nevertheless, “Twilight” has always been 
divisive. For millions of young girls, teenagers and moms, “Twilight” 
was a pop-culture revolution, a rebirth of the romance novel that 
was desperately in need of revival. Not everyone shared this same 
optimism. For some, “Twilight” and its sequels prompted criticisms 
of poor acting, mockeries of ridiculous dialogue and a whole lot of 
flack for sexism. 
As a die-hard fan throughout middle school, “Twilight” could 
do no evil in my eyes. But I had also never viewed it through 
an analytical lens. After recently rewatching the saga with my 
roommates, I felt my 11-year-old blinders begin to fall, and I finally 
began to digest the criticisms. Was Bella giving women a bad name by 
coming off as “weak?” Was Edward’s temperament swoon-worthy, 
or paternalistic and condescending? Could I forgive these flaws, and 
most importantly, if loving “Twilight” was wrong, should I want to 
be right? 
The first criticism that I aimed to address was the one proposed 

about Bella’s fragility, and the overall representation of female 
dependence on men. In an article for The Atlantic, Ashley Fetters 
quotes Guardian writer David Cox, who bluntly labels the franchise 
as one that “‘ate feminism.’” Though a bold claim, Cox’s assessment 
cannot be swept under the rug. Fetters argues that the question of 
what exactly “Twilight” was trying to get at is still open for debate, 
elaborating that Edward and Bella’s romance could be interpreted by 
both “a cautionary tale about the dangers of unbalanced relationships, 
or as a commentary on the virtue of an unswervingly committed 
partner.” Such commentary reflects on Edward’s tendencies that 
skirt the line between creepy and protective, i.e. watching Bella 
while she sleeps without her knowing, scolding her for being clumsy 
and reaffirming her lack of power by vowing to always “protect” her 
from harm’s way. While I had always perceived Edward’s attention 
toward Bella to be affectionate and pure, perhaps his influence on 
her is more controlling than considerate.
Without Edward, Bella is portrayed as lost, thrown into a 
new school in a new town with a father she barely knows. All of 
Bella’s relationships before Edward are unfulfilling: Her mother is 
preoccupied with her younger boyfriend, her father feels like more 

of a stranger than a family member and her new friendships serve 
more as placeholders than genuine connections. Edward’s entrance 
into the picture represents a shift for Bella — an awakening from 
monotony, so to speak. But instead of functioning as an addition to 
her life, he becomes the center of it and a reason for living where there 
was, apparently, not one before. Bella’s growing desire is not only 
directed at Edward, but also at the world he belongs to. Her world is 
composed of divorced parents, ditzy friends and aimlessness, but his 
world is one filled with a loyal family, ageless beauty and unearthly 
powers. His is a world that Bella can only be a part of by association, 
which she soon realizes will never be enough. It is this realization 
that seduces Bella, the idea that Edward’s life of magnetism, beauty 
and strength is not quite hers, but eventually could be if she became 
a vampire. 
Bella’s goal of immortality would arguably be less worrisome if 
it weren’t for the fact that the person who dictates its fulfilment 
is Edward. He holds the power to change Bella, a reality that he 
continuously reminds her of, and objects to her wishes to be “turned,” 
justifying his reasoning with the logic that he wants to save Bella’s 
soul, since he no longer has his own. By practically eliminating 
Bella’s ability to exercise choice, Edward governs the path that her 
future will follow. Though it pains me to admit it, Edward’s initial 
refusal to change Bella may not be entirely motivated by authentic 
concern and adoration, but also by a concealed impulse to feel power 
over her.

The more I mulled it over, the more I began to realize that “Twilight” 
wasn’t the first time I’d kept my blinders on. Two of my favorite film 
relationships, J.D. and Veronica in the cult classic “Heathers” and 
Holly and Kit in “Badlands,” were also of questionable standing. 
While these two films differ from “Twilight” in their maturity levels 
and their much more obviously toxic romances, there is no doubt 
a pattern of illusory female control and real male power that runs 
between all three films. 
In the world of film, there seems to be a recurring tendency to 
romanticize relationships that revolve around violence, deception 
or infatuation, and to pass these relationships off as exceptional 
portrayals of love. The toxic and sinister relationship that director 
Michael Lehmann displays between charming-yet-psychotic J.D. 
and brilliant, quirky and fierce Veronica is one that sometimes comes 
off as romantic. When I first saw this film, I was wooed by J.D.’s bad-
boy, carefree attitude and, because of this, was partly able to set aside 
the fact that he murders his classmates and is completely deranged.
Though obviously diverging into a much darker genre than 
“Twilight,” J.D.’s allure for Veronica is much like Edward’s for Bella. 
Both boys extend the opportunity for an escape from the mundane 
pattern of high school life. Like Bella, Veronica 
finds herself immersed in J.D.’s world, which 
puts her further and further out of touch 
with her own (and her sanity). His coaxing 
brings out a different, sinister side to her and, 
for a while at least, she embraces it. Though 
Veronica eventually gets a grip and, remembers 
that murder is wrong, she has to break away 
from J.D.’s control in order to do so.
We can compare these relationships to 
that of Holly and Kit from “Badlands,” the 
1973 Terrence Malick movie. Holly, the 
female protagonist in “Badlands,” goes on a 
murderous escapade across the country after 
the male lead, Kit, kills his girlfriend’s father. 
Kit is trigger-happy, killing without real 
motive and still somehow charming audiences 
both within and outside of the film. Similar 
to “Heathers,” “Badlands” paints an oddball, 
disturbing romance in which an attractive 
couple gets caught up in crazy, violent antics 
that yield disastrous results yet remain 
bizarrely romantic.
Though all three of the aforementioned 
films vary considerably, the common thread 
of idealized, unrealistic and perilous romance remains consistent. 
From Romeo’s impulsive murder of Tybalt, to J.D.’s obsession 
with eliminating Veronica’s friends, to Kit’s insensitivity towards 
violence in general, these depictions have lead me to believe that the 
idealization of destructive and twisted teenage “love” is something 
deeply ingrained in the culture of film.
Now comes the big question: Are films responsible for showing 
realistic exemplifications of “young love” instead of illustrating 
ridiculously unhealthy relationships? Or is there an artfulness 
and beauty to idealized, over-dramatized and often dangerous 
romantic depictions? Films have an undeniable power to shape our 
understanding not only of the world around us, but about ourselves as 
well. In the midst of a rising demand for more diverse, well-rounded 
and realistic roles for women in film, it is essential to consider the 
repercussions that films can have on a young girl’s confidence in 
her sexuality, awareness of herself worth and conception of what a 
healthy relationship looks like.
Perhaps the problem is not that films like “Twilight,” “Heathers” 
and “Badlands” present young, heavily female audiences with 
risqué, dark or destructive relationships, but rather that there is 
no dissection of these contentious themes in the films. Blindly 
romanticizing relationships filled with drama, instability and 
immorality will understandably confuse young viewers, taking away 
the message that something as serious as murder and suicide can be 
taken lightly if it is a labor of love.

Bad romance and teen nostaligia: A ‘Twilight’ deep dive 

FILM LONGFORM

SAMANTHA NELSON
Daily Arts Writer

TV REVIEW

It all starts with a robbery. A thief in all black 
swings down through the clouds on an umbrella, 
like a criminal Mary Poppins. The thief swings over 
the gates of the Glurfsburg Zoo, past a distracted 
security guard, past the various animals. Stopping 
in front of a cage, the thief comes face to face with 
a dark, growling mass. The alarms go off. Sounds 
of crashing. When the security 
investigates, the cage is busted 
wide open, the animal gone.
For those of us who grew 
up through the rhymes of the 
pseudonymous doctor, the story 
doesn’t sound like any Dr. Suess 
book we’ve ever read. His rhyming 
picture books have sustained 
through the cultural imagination 
since they came out in the ’50s and 
’60s. Every few years or so, we get 
yet another attempt to reinvent 
his books for the big screen, even 
though it never quite captures 
the original magic. Netflix’s new 
attempt at “Green Eggs and Ham” may be simple, but 
to its credit, it’s also interesting and fun.
The story this time around follows Guy-Am-I 
(Michael Douglas, “Wall Street”), a grumpy, failed 
inventor who turns out to be the only inventor not 
chosen to go to Meepville to present his invention. 
He also does not like green eggs and ham — not that 
he’s ever tried it. This is information given to Sam-
I-Am (Adam DeVine 
“Workaholics”), 
a 
happy-go-lucky 
inventor. 
It 
turns 
out 
the 
latter 
is 
also the thief from 
the 
beginning 
having 
stolen 
the 
Chickeraffe, 
a 
dangerous 
animal 
that the police now 
believe on the loose in the streets of Glurfsburg. 
Only it isn’t. It’s in Sam-I-Am’s briefcase. But when 
Sam and Guy accidentally swap briefcases at a diner, 
things get a little tricky.

One of the most remarkable things about this 
show is the cast and crew. Michael Douglas and 
Adam DeVine aren’t the only big names. Diane 
Keaton (“Annie Hall”) also voices a character known 
as Michellee, an overprotective mother of a very 
spunky daughter. Daveed Diggs (“Hamilton”) even 
voices a French mouse. However, the true star of the 
show is Keegan-Michael Key (“Key and Peele”), who 
voices the narrator. For all the show’s attempts at 
reinvention, Key’s confused, rhyming narrator is by 
far the best addition. Here, he’s both 
funny and charming, managing not 
to overwhelm the story, but keep it 
fresh and upbeat.
The original book is 72 pages in 
length, often with one, maybe two 
sentences on each page (usually 
concerning 
where 
one 
might 
eat green eggs and ham, with a 
bold refute). The fact that Netflix 
managed to turn the story into a 
13-episode series says a lot about just 
how much the streaming service 
added to its story. The inventor plot, 
thus far, seems to work well enough. 
It’s a very simple story but, then 
again, so is the original “Green Eggs and Ham,” so it’s 
hard to complain about that.
Something I particularly admire about this 
adaption is the animation. There have been a number 
of animated adaptations in the past twenty years, 
such as “The Lorax” or “Horton Hears a Who.” But 
Netflix’s “Green Eggs and Ham” appeals to the older, 
hand-drawn animated specials from the ’60s and 
’70s. There’s a kind 
of nostalgic charm 
in seeing such a fun, 
relaxed application of 
a very old animation 
style.
All 
in 
all, 
the 
original plot of “Green 
Eggs and Ham” works 
much the same way 
other Dr. Suess books 
have: It is a framework onto which larger, entertaining 
stories can be told. I can’t say it’s the most sophisticated 
show or even the best offering for younger audiences, 
but it does appeal to nostalgia. It may even be good.

I’ll try ‘Green Eggs & Ham’

MAXWELL SCHWARZ
Daily Arts Writer

Green Eggs and Ham

Series Premiere

Netflix

Streaming Now

NETFLIX

YOUTUBE

