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

