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Arts
Monday, November 18, 2019 — 5A

Hailing from the metropolis of São Paulo, the Brazilian Tropicália band Os Mutantes’s
(which translates to “The Mutants”) 1968 self-titled album somehow sounds as if The
Beatles moved to South America and took even more psychedelics. One of the most
creative groups to ever come out of the country with a rich musical history rivaling
any others, their success was brief at the time they were active, but their name has seen
somewhat of a resurgence decades later.
The group’s origins lie in the relationship that developed between Rita Lee Jones and
Arnaldo Baptista when they were both teenagers in the mid-1960s. Along with Arnaldo’s
younger brother Sérgio, they formed Os Mutantes in 1965, and within a couple years,
they found themselves in the middle of one of Brazil’s burgeoning musical movements.
Spearheaded by the singer Caetano Veloso as well as others such as Gilberto Gil and
Nara Leão, the Tropicália movement was born.
At the time, Brazil was under the rule of a brutal military dictatorship which heavily
espoused conservative/traditionalist views. Tropicália emerged as a countercultural
movement that was at its core musical, but encompassed much more. Veloso, Gil and
the other early collaborators wished to infuse the traditional samba and Bossa Nova
forms with influences from psychedelic rock.
Ironically, the music, epitomized by the 1968 collaboration album/manifesto
Tropicália: Ou Panis et Circensis (Tropicalism, or bread and circuses), seemed to anger
both sides of the political spectrum. According to the band’s current label Luaka
Bop, the right-wing dictatorship despised its inherent subversiveness, and the left
viewed certain elements of it as representing a capitulation to the Anglophone world’s
imperialism.
The genre unfortunately would not live long, as its architects Veloso and Gil were
imprisoned and eventually exiled by the end of the decade. While they continued
to record and release music in England, the movement itself faltered without their
presence and leadership. Groups including Os Mutantes and the Bahia based Novos
Baianos carried the flag for a short period, yet the genre never again reached its early
peak.
Both the genre’s as well as Os Mutantes’s increase in popularity outside of Brazil
stem from a compilation (titled Everything is Possible: The Best of Os Mutantes) released
in 1999 by David Byrne on his label, the aforementioned Luaka Bop, as well as name
drops by figures such as Kurt Cobain. Bands ever since such as of Montreal have cited
the unhinged chaos on the band’s early records.
Appearing both on “Everything is
Possible” and the self-titled “A Minha
Menina,” a cover of a song by compatriot
Jorge Ben Jor, is as good a poster child
as any of this chaos. The distinctive
psychedelic fuzz present in the chorus is
a result of an ad-hoc pedal “powered by
a sewing machine” built by Arnaldo and
Sérgio’s older brother. Will Hodgkinson
of The Guardian notes that this, as well as
other jury-rigged elements of their musical
setup, were made necessary due to “the
lack of decent musical equipment in 1960s
Brazil.”
“A Minha Menina,” as well as other
notable cuts such as “Panis Et Circenses”
impressively never collapse under their
own weight, considering just how much
is thrown onto these tracks. Just as with
The Avalanches’s 2000 plunderphonics
masterpiece Since I Left You, each new listen
of an Os Mutantes track reveals a small
detail previously unnoticed. Moreover, it’s
impossible to tell whether certain elements
were a product of lack of equipment or an
act of irreverent genius.
As with many of their influences such as
Jimi Hendrix and Sly and the Family Stone,
heavy drug use and internal dysfunction
brought about a premature end, with
the subsequent years not proving quite
productive for the trio, including episodes
such as Arnaldo trying to unsuccessfully
escape from a psychiatric institution.
However, the band reunited in the
early 2000s and continue to display the
timelessness of their groundbreaking ’60s
output.

Subversive strength

WORLD MUSIC COLUMN

SAYAN GHOSH
Daily World Music Columnist

“Pain and Glory,” directed by Pedro Almodóvar (“Julieta”),
is one of those rare movies that feels like the culmination of its
creator. Like Lynch’s “Eraserhead,” Gerwig’s “Lady Bird” and
Cuarón’s “Roma,” it’s the film that its director was meant to
make, perfectly blending their talents, personal aesthetic and
life story to spectacular effect.
Almodóvar incorporates aspects of his life into “Pain and
Glory,” and the conflicts feel bracingly personal, like flipping
through someone’s diary and learning dark, juicy secrets.
Yet, beyond this he captures something deeper, something
universally human. “Pain and Glory” deals with what we’re

all afraid to admit, the existential questions that keep us up at
night.
The story of Salvador Mallo (Antonio Banderas, “The
Laundromat”), an aging director living in Madrid coping with
terrible health problems, will touch every viewer personally.
One will wonder “how did they know this about me?” as they
see aspects of their own lives play out on the screen. Be it lost
love, family dysfunction, the terrible moments when one’s body
turns against itself or a loss of purpose, “Pain and Glory” is
unflinching about what makes life so difficult. Yet there’s also
love, desire and creativity. It asks which one triumphs in the
end: the pain or the glory of our lives?
“Pain and Glory” begins with Salvador visiting Alberto (Asier
Etxeandia, “The Silent War”), an estranged friend and actor in
one of his most famous films. This meeting sends Salvador down
a troubled, fascinating journey of
recollection. Not much happens
on a narrative level — “Pain and
Glory” is more about characters
than plot — yet there are soaring
victories
and
crushing
defeats
all the same. Salvador needs to
decide how he will live out the
rest of his days: Wasting away in
his apartment and lamenting days
gone by, or directing something
new, even if it causes him physical
agony.
Almodóvar cuts from Banderas’s
Salvador to his younger self (Asier
Flores) and back again, paralleling
past events with present ones. His
formative experiences with his
mother (Penélope Cruz, “Murder
on The Orient Express”) and a
family
friend
named
Eduardo
(César Vicente) are vital additions
to the story, not the unneceary
gimmicks that flackbacks tend to
be.
Wielding
emotions
like
Hitchcock wielded plot, Almodóvar
doles heartbreak, joy and mystery

out slowly as layers of Salvador’s life are pulled back, letting it
all build until astonishing truths are revealed.
Most of the audience wept throughout the last hour of the film.
The excellent performances convey Almodóvar’s confessional
script perfectly, making it strikingly genuine, like it’s more than
just a movie. Every conversation sears with emotion, from the
hilariously witty to the brutally tragic. Relationships are given
ample room to grow, yet when the credits roll, one will wish
there was more time to send with these enthralling characters.
“Pain and Glory” is shot with the colorful vision of an auteur
and every scene pops, from stark white sheets on a lush, pastoral
Spanish riverside to a chic modern Madrid apartment where
Guggenheim-sought art hangs on the walls. It is rare to find
a movie where everyone involved is on the top of their game.
Almodóvar and the team behind “Pain and Glory” have created
a stunning portrait of love, loss and, ultimately, humanity. It’s
a masterpiece.

‘Pain and Glory’ is a masterful portrait of life and loss

FILM REVIEW

ANDREW WARRICK
Daily Arts Writer

Pain and Glory

Sony Pictures

State Theatre

SONY PICTURES CLASSICS

Over the past 12 years, Lady Antebellum has reigned
over the sweetest slice of pop-country. Trio Hillary Scott,
Charles Kelley and Dave Haywood have successfully
cornered the Nashville market on heavenly harmonies
and airy, mandolin-heavy instrumentals. Wholesome
yet candy-coated, the resulting sound is like honey:
consistently
warm
and
shimmery.
This
is a soundscape that
Ocean, the band’s latest
release, leans further
into.
While
sonically
unsurprising,
the
album’s
start
is
thematically
unusual
— it’s fearful. “What If
I Never Get Over You”
asks its title in earnest.
“What if time doesn’t
do what it’s supposed
to do?” Scott questions,
pushing back on the
typical break-up song
narrative that, for better or for worse, soon the ex will be
forgotten. Instead, this song dares to dive into a worry
that’s generally written off as melodramatic,and it does so
thoughtfully.
The political statement of the album, “You Can Do
You” misses the mark. “You can lean left, you can lean
right” Lady A allows, then concludes that “We could all
use a drink.” While the intentions behind this track are
forgivable — the need to unify a live crowd in 2019 — it
feels like they’re trying too hard. With a beachy, bouncy
backdrop the hook “You can do you, I’ma do me” just
sounds out of touch.
“What I’m Leaving For” brings the band back down to
what it does best: capturing the smaller moments. “Got my
bags packed, got my ticket / got my heartache to go with
it” Scott sighs as she kisses her kids goodbye for work.
Although
Lady
A
didn’t
write
this
song,
it
feels like a peek
behind the scenes
fans
haven’t
seen before and
doubles
as
a
reminder of the
group members’
other
jobs
as
parents.
“Be
Patient
With My Love”
is
a
different
kind of reminder.
“Mighta done it
this time / mighta
drank too much
wine”
Kelley
admits.
This
level of honesty
is unseen on the
group’s previous
work and made
all the more raw
because
Kelley
co-wrote it. “I’m
coming back to

the man that I was / so please don’t give up” he pleads
over a chorus of contemplative strings.
“Alright” is classic Lady Antebellum, sunny and
surface-level. Reading the lyrics: “No lie, no lie, no lie,
yeah / it’s alright, alright, alright, yeah” suggests that, if
anything, this song should be a guilty pleasure. But it isn’t.
The hook is so infectious and reassuring that you barely
notice the lazy writing.
Despite the band’s sunny magic, the best songs on
Ocean sound suited for a wintery evening. “On a Night
Like This” is a lovely,
if
somewhat
plain,
piano ballad. Scott and
Kelley shine on their
delivery of whimsical
lyrics,
namely
“The
days last sight turns
to cool nights breeze
/ And this love hangs
thick like these willow
leaves.”
“The
Thing
That
Wrecks You” is, in
fact,
the
song
that
wrecks you on this
album. A collaboration
with Little Big Town,
another
pop-country
powerhouse, its members are given the chance to meet
Kelley and Scott’s synergy and rise to the occasion. A song
about an uneven relationship from the perspective of the
person in power, it’s minute-long underwater-sounding
outro is haunting. “You’re a deer in headlights / and I’m
driving just as fast as I can” warns Little Big Town until
both bands explode into the chorus.
For the most part, Ocean is predictable. It all glitters,
but some songs are fool’s gold. Tracks like “Pictures” and
“Boots” merely take up space while “You Can Do You”
actually does some damage. Still, other songs dig deeper
than usual. The title track “Ocean,” a piano ballad, finds
Scott vulnerable, begging an emotionally-distant lover
to open up. Peeling back a layer while retaining their
evergreen sound, Lady Antebellum retains their pop-
country crown by delivering more of the same.

Lady Antebellum delivers more
of the same, but stays at the top

ALBUM REVIEW

KATIE BEEKMAN
Daily Arts Writer

WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

Ocean

Lady Antebellum

BMLG Records

One of the most
creative groups to
ever come out of
the country with
a rich musical
history rivaling
any others, their
success was brief
at the time they
were active, but
their name has
seen somewhat of a
resurgence decades
later.