The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Thursday, November 21, 2019 — 5
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far
away, the very conception of morality
was a defined line. There was good
and evil. The long lost Jedis and the
Galactic Empire. Luke Skywalker and
Emperor Palpatine. Mixed into this was
a rich mythology, deepening with each
installment. The saga filled itself with
imaginative creatures and species —
with more and more heroes. But “The
Mandalorian” is not about heroes.
A space-western, “The Mandalorian”
follows a masked bounty hunter who
wanders the far reaches of the galaxy.
The unnamed protagonist belongs to the
Mandalorians — a mercenary warrior
people who describe themselves as a
“tribe.” The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal,
“Game of Thrones”) takes an under-
the-table bounty, which leads him to a
suspicious solicitor with ties to the now-
defunct authoritarian military regime,
the Galactic Empire. He’s looking for
a
dangerous
creature, fifty
years old and
unnamed.
All
the
Mandalorian
is
given
is
a
tracking
device.
The
bounty
is
to
be
brought
back
alive.
The
tracker
takes
the
Mandalorian to Arvala-7, where he’s
rescued from Blurggs by a vapor farmer
named
Kuiil
(Nick
Nolte,
“Angel
Has Fallen”). But this bounty proves
dangerous indeed. More than that,
though, it’s not what he thought it was at
all.
The Mandalorian clearly exists on
the vast moral spectrum of the ever-
expanding Star Wars universe. He is
willing to kill a number of people in a bar
in the very opening scene and is disposed
to eradicating an entire town of people, if
it happens to be the case that they’re also
shooting at him. The Mandalorian has
an uncompromising sense of objective.
But his complicated bounty makes him
question his complicated principles. He
has little personality and can’t take off
his helmet, due in part to his religion as
a Mandalorian. Still, he’s given voice and
agency through actions, be them subtle or
violent.
There were moments where I was
certain “The Mandalorian” would suffer
from its reliance on its own mythology,
yet it manages to maintain the delicate
balance of engaging its audiences in a
world both foreign and familiar. The
show — taking place five years after
the events of “Return of the Jedi” and
before “The Force Awakens” — nods to a
universally beloved trilogy to orient itself
while also successfully embracing the
hidden details of that trilogy in order to
explore bolder, more ambiguous themes.
However, it is the western plot that
propels “The Mandalorian” forward. The
show is very minimalist, relying more on
atmosphere and arid landscapes — both
frigid and blazing — as backdrops. The
technology is there, but it takes a backseat,
allowing character, environment and
creature to forge the ambience. Aided
by twangy, distant guitars and beating
drums, the lonelier scenes are gripping
and intense.
The
most
compelling
element of “The
Mandalorian”
is the bounty
itself. Perhaps
it’s
already
been
spoiled,
but
I
refuse
to wreck the
twists
and
turns. I will say
that the bounty
is both puzzling and wonderful, almost
demanding to see its arc carried through.
The fact is that “The Mandalorian” is
bold and confident. For having slim,
fast-paced episodes (that are almost
too short), the show is very willing to
take its time, to ponder its setting and
consequences. In the first two episodes,
viewers are given hints of a grim past,
of questions of ancestry, integrity and
principle. In the absence of Jedis and
Darth Vaders, all that remains are people,
all with questionable morals, struggling
to make it through the economic ruin of
a collapsed government in a galaxy far,
far away. “The Mandalorian” is less about
science fiction. It’s about who we think
we are and what we might do if that’s
called into question.
‘The Mandalorian’ is
engaging minimalism
MAXWELL SCHWARZ
Daily Arts Writer
“Our priority is to do things that matter, first and
foremost,” said MUSKET producer and LSA senior
Alexandra Niforous about the first show of the MUSKET
season. “BARE: A Pop Opera” is directed by SMTD senior
James Harbaugh Jr. with music and book by Damon
Intrabartolo (“Dreamgirls”) and lyrics and book by Jon
Hartmere (“The Upside”).
“There are so many stories that haven’t been told that
need to be,” Niforous said. “We have such a great platform
to share these stories with the Ann Arbor community.
Why would we not?”
The
story
of
“BARE”
is
one that begs
to
be
heard.
The pop opera
follows a group
of
students
at
a
Catholic
boarding school
as they grapple
with
issues
of
sexuality,
identity
and
the future. Like
its
characters,
“BARE”
is
a
musical
that
strays
from
the
status
quo. Unlike similar musicals that stick to a strictly-pop
score, “BARE”’s music is heavily influenced by rock.
Additionally, it focuses on themes that are not often found
in contemporary musical theatre.
“Musical theatre in general does not have a strong
history with LGBTQ protogatonists — let alone more than
one,” Niforous said.
“BARE”’s protagonists are Peter, portrayed by SMTD
sophomore Andrew Cekala,
and Jason, portrayed by
SMTD sophomore Nicholas
Kraft, two students at the
Catholic school that have
fallen in love with each
other.
Unlike
popular
musicals that MUSKET has
produced in the past, such
as “Legally Blonde” and
“Cabaret,” “BARE” never
made it to Broadway.
But
as
Niforous
explained “(We’re) eager to
bring it back now. This show is more relevant than ever.”
With themes as political as the ones present in “BARE,”
acting in this musical has proved to be challenging.
“Playing a character that lacks empathy is hard. As an
actor, you have to try to empathize with the character, so
you can still see him as a human. My character doesn’t
wake up in the morning and say ‘Oh, I am going to be
mean today,’ and I need to recognize that,” said freshman
Business student Jason Donaven, who portrays the
homophobic priest in “BARE.”
“I never thought I would have such an emotional
attachment to the show,” Donaven said.
It seems that he is not the only cast member to feel this
way.
“There have been numerous rehearsals where everyone
in the room is crying because of how beautiful this show
is. Even the toughest guy in the room is in tears,” said
SMTD junior Sara Juliano, who portrays Nadia, Jason’s
twin sister. The production team has worked to help aid
in the emotional turmoil this show brings out in its actors.
“Before every run all the cast and production team
will stand in a circle and hold hands and do a breath in
and out. And afterward we’ll do it the same way. We are
acknowledging the people’s stories on behalf of what we’re
telling and it’s
for the people’s
voices who don’t
have an outlet
about the specific
story
we’re
telling,” Juliano
explained.
However, not
all the content
of
“BARE”
is
heartbreaking.
In fact, Juliano’s
favorite song to
perform in the
show is “Plain
Jane Fat Ass.” “It
is fun, and I get
to be silly! My
character beats herself up during the song,” Juliano said.
“She ridicules her appearance before anyone else can,
which is something a lot of us do,”
“Whenever you do a show, you’re excited to make
a product and to tell the story. Getting to have this
experience and make this story is a dream come true. I am
just happy to be here,” Juliano said.
As far as preparing to watch the show, Juliano
recommends
recognizing
that the content of the
show is heavy. “You will be
affected,” she said.
At a talk back after the
Nov.
23
show,
audience
members will get a chance
to discuss the heavy themes.
Present at this talk will be
director James Harbaugh
Jr.,
music
director
and
SMTD sophomore Andrew
Gerace, SMTD Prof. Jason
DeBord (music director for
“Bare: The Musical”) and Reverend Matthew Lukens
(Rev. Canterbury House).
“I think it’s a show that begs to be talked about,”
Niforous said. “I don’t think the curtain closes and we’re
just done. It provokes a dialogue, and I’m excited to have
the opportunity to open that dialogue up.”
The stories that “BARE” brings to the table are equally
as powerful as they are delicate. They deserve to be
listened to. So, come listen.
MUSKET exposes in ‘BARE’
COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW
ALIX CURNOW
Daily Arts Writer
The Mandalorian
Streaming Now
Disney+
MUSKET
In “The Scarlet Letter,” Hester Pryne and Arthur
Dimmesdale stray from their puritanical ways to
commit adultery by night. In “The Strange Case of
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” Dr. Jekyll is unassuming
and meek during the day, but when the sun goes
down he becomes the ominous and unhinged Mr.
Hyde. Though both fictional, these classics reflect
the very real human capacity for secrecy and duality.
This quintessential literary theme of duplexity can be
applied in the real world to the relationship between
the U.S. government and the people, a relationship
built on the belief that rulers will act justly. Perhaps
we are too generous with our trust, forgetting that
it is human nature to turn to immorality when we
think that no one else is watching. Under the cover
of darkness and away from society, what was once
so clearly right or wrong suddenly becomes blurred.
In “The Report,” director
Scott Z. Burns explores
this theme of light and
dark,
illuminating
that
we often lose ourselves in
the darkness, forgetting
that eventually the light
will come out, and when it
doesn’t, secrets will seep
through the cracks and the
truth will be exposed.
When
U.S.
Senate
employee
Daniel
Jones
(Adam Driver “Paterson”) is assigned by his
boss, Senator Dianne Feinstein (Annette Bening
“American Beauty”), to look into a post-9/11 CIA
interrogation program, he never could have imagined
what he discovers. Despite Feinstein’s warnings not
to get too emotionally invested in the investigation
process, Jones cannot help but become enthralled
in the disturbing and unethical methods pursued
on suspected Al-Qaeda associates. Through Jones’s
work, an internal war of sorts is born, when tensions
erupt and heads butt between the Senate and the CIA.
The more that Jones uncovers, the more entwined
in the messy web of inter-government bureaucracy
he becomes, as he learns that almost nothing can be
trusted at face value and that red tape is thick.
Much of “The Report” revolves around the
never-ending barriers to entry that exist within the
government itself. With so many layers of authority,
truth and morality both become problematically
subjective. Both the Senate and the CIA have different
sides of the story regarding what really happened
during the interrogation program. Was the treatment
of potential Al-Qaeda captives deemable as torture?
Was the treatment of these captives humane? In the
fearful, frenzied wake of 9/11, the central dispute of
the film revolves around the perceived subjectivity
of these questions and the breakdown of ethical
boundaries.
Most outstanding about the film is Adam Driver’s
acting chops. Notorious for his quirkier roles in
HBO’s “Girls,” Jim Jarmusch’s quiet arty flick
“Patterson” and Spike Lee’s “BlacKkKlansman,” I
was not expecting to see Driver portraying such a
serious character. Nonetheless, Driver excellently
embodies Jones bringing the same intensity that we
can recognize in his previous roles. A serious film that
relies minimally on music, costumes or extravagant
cinematography,
Driver’s
character’s
emotional
reactions drive the tone
of the film and, in a sense,
serve as its moral compass.
Although Jones is not the
only one bothered by the
cruel methods of torture
inflicted on the suspect
terrorist affiliates, he is
the only one who feels
compelled to act on it.
While the lack of effects
and excitement create a few lags here and there, they
are a testament to the fact that the film’s purpose is
not so much to entertain as it is to educate and sober
audiences.
And the overarching theme of light and dark?
Jones’s research facility and the torture sites
are located below ground, shrouded in mystery
and concealed from the light of day. Though the
research room is used for investigation and the
caves are intended for torture, both facilities are
secretive, buried beneath the ground and concealed
from the light of day and the public eye. Through
Jones’s classified mission and the CIA’s wrongful
torture tactics, Burns illustrates the chilling reality
that secrecy thrives and right and wrong become
undistinguishable when no one can see.
‘Report’: A solid unveiling
of the nightmarish truth
SAMANTHA NELSON
Daily Arts Writer
Radiohead’s fourth album, Kid A, can be called
many things, but pleasant is not one of them. As
the most experimental of the band’s work at the
time of its release, the record marks the point
when Radiohead ascended from a post-grunge
zeitgeist to a transcendent, persisting voice for
multiple generations of listeners.
Of course, this reality couldn’t have been
apparent upon Kid A’s arrival in 2000. That’s
because it’s neither the catchiest or the most
obviously melodious of its company, particularly
predecessor OK Computer. It is a withholding
tsunami of electronic spasms interwoven with
piercing midrange guitar licks; a journey by
canoe of crystalline caves and pulsating stars and
depraved lonely voices set to impatient, choppy
drums. In the case of tracks like “The National
Anthem” and “Motion Picture Soundtrack,” all
these sonic textures overlay grand orchestral
compositions that explode cathartically outward.
I’ve been unable to stay away from Kid A
this week. Indeed, there is something about
the clotting of snow and slush on the roads,
that pricking feeling of cold air whooshing into
one’s lungs that demands the detached wisdom
of the album. Even from its first few notes, in
that bizarrely shape-shifting synth riff which
opens “Everything In Its Right Place,” the album
establishes its emotional center, or rather its
lack thereof. Chords oscillate between hope
and dismay with discomorting frequency. This
refusal to settle on any dimension of sensory
clarity is everywhere in Kid A — that odd verse of
“In Limbo” that seems to skip a beat by the time
it repeats itself, the swingy outro of “Optimistic,”
those creepy strings that haunt the periphery of
“How to Disappear Completely.”
Kid A is so multi-faceted that its modest chaos
can be off-putting. But it also has an addictive
quality; once you’re amid the madness, you’re
unlikely to leave it without sufficient exploration.
And the best part about Kid A is how completely it
rewards exploration of itself. Most obviously, the
final track, “Untitled,” provides an incomplete
but enriching resolution to the album’s anxieties
over loneliness and broken communication. The
strange combination of electronic strings and
synths release in a single, awesome chord that
envisions disintegration and peace as one and
the same.
But the album’s draw emerges from beyond
simply a single listen. Underneath its facade of
isolation and doubt, Kid A tucks in moments of
warmth, the briefest of escapes into infectious
faith. See the second half of “Motion Picture
Soundtrack,” when the song becomes overcome
with the plucking of multiple harps, back and
forth across the final chorus or that strange
baby’s cry in the closing seconds of the title track.
Kid A is an album that heightens the feeling of
walking through Ann Arbor’s snowy streets.
But it alleviates its own demons with morsels
of happiness that sustain their way through the
entire record.
I likely won’t stop listening to Kid A in the
following months. The ability for an album to
be reassuring without being trite is exceedingly
rare for someone as cynical as I am. It is an album
that keeps on giving, even and especially when
its cutting bleakness is most easily accessible.
While Kid A is not blindingly radiant enough to
be called a beacon, it is certainly akin to a burst of
warmth, a sip of coffee, a random reflecting light
on the bluish-white of a snowbank.
‘Kid A’ for the winter blues
The Report
Michigan Theater
Amazon Studios
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
XL RECORDINGS LIMITED
FILM REVIEW
ANISH TAMHANEY
Daily Arts Writer
TV REVIEW
BARE: A Pop Opera
Nov. 22 and 23 at 8 p.m.;
Nov 24 at 2 p.m.
Power Center for Performing Arts
$7 Student, $11 Adult