The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, November 22, 2019 — 5

Avant-garde 
British 
singer 
FKA 
Twigs returned with her first project in 
four years on Friday, Nov. 8. The highly-
anticipated Magdalene is a glimpse into 
the distorted interiority of FKA Twigs, 
a masterful depiction of the connection 
between pain and beauty.
The release of Magdalene comes a few 
years on the heels of a well-publicized 
breakup 
with 
former 
vampire 
Robert 
Pattinson 
and 
about 
a year after 
FKA 
Twigs 
revealed that 
she 
suffers 
from 
fibroid 
tumors. In fact, 
the struggle of 
dealing 
with 
the 
pain 
of 
heartbreak 
and 
physical 
afflictions 
while 
under 
the public gaze is discussed in a few 
places across the album (most notably 
“thousand eyes” and “cellophane”). The 
emotions on display are so intimate and 
imbued with jagged resonance that at 
times it feels wrong, almost intrusive, 
to be listening to the album, as though 
you’re reading pages out of someone’s 
post-breakup diary.
The album’s title refers to Mary 
Magdalene, 
a 
devoted 
follower 
of 
Jesus who has 
developed 
a 
widespread, 
inaccurate 
reputation 
as 
a 
repentant 
prostitute 
due 
to 
centuries 
of 
ecclesiastical 
confusion. 
She 
is 
representative of both the vitriol with 
which the sexuality of women is treated 
by Western institutions as well as how 
information and communication can 
be corrupted through compounding 
misunderstandings. 
Both 
of 
these 
connotations play a role on Magdalene. 
FKA Twigs certainly does not shy away 
from sexual themes (e.g. her references 
to masturbation on “daybed”), and many 
of the songs about romantic relationships 

revolve around her struggles with 
reciprocity 
and 
misunderstandings: 
a similar gradual decay of truth that 
led to Mary Magdalene’s promiscuous 
reputation leads to disintegration and 
heartache for FKA Twigs: “I didn’t know 
you were lonely / If you’d have just told 
me, I’d be home with you.”
In spite of the overall strength of the 
project, certain tracks manage to stand 
out even in comparison to the rest of the 
album: “fallen alien” is a stunning, acerbic 
reflection upon a failing relationship 
featuring 
some of the 
most creative 
production 
on 
the 
project, 
and 
“cellophane” 
is an aching 
ballad draped 
in detuned, icy 
piano. 
The 
production 
is handled by 
an 
eclectic 
collection 
of 
eminent 
artists, 
including the 
likes of Skrillex, Oneohtrix Point Never 
and Jack Antonoff (as well as FKA Twigs 
herself). Perhaps the guest producer with 
the most evident influence on the overall 
sound of the record is Nicolas Jaar, whose 
creative sound design and use of empty 
space is fundamental to the cold, glitchy 
emotional resonance of the project. 
In my experience as a music critic, I 
have found it much easier to discuss bad 
albums 
than 
good albums. 
This 
is 
not 
because I enjoy 
being cruel or 
derisive (quite 
the 
opposite) 
but 
because 
I 
am 
lazy. 
Bad 
albums 
tend 
to 
be 
bad in similar and identifiable ways, 
whereas good albums tend to be, by their 
nature, idiosyncratic and very difficult 
to describe or dissect in a way that feels 
sufficient. The emotions conveyed by 
an excellent project such as Magdalene 
are impossible to convert back to mere 
language. The album’s exploration of 
internal disjunction and its relation 
to anxiety, fatigue and love is deeply 
impressive, and I hope you enjoy it as 
much as I do.

FKA’s masterpiece

ALBUM REVIEW

JONAH MENDELSON
Daily Arts Writer

Reading Sharon Olds’s “Arias” is quite the adventure, albeit 
an adventure for which Olds does not provide a map. “Arias” 
refers to the alphabetized collection of poems depicting 
anything from emotionally-draining memories of hardships 
Olds has incurred 
in her 76 years to 
obscure tangents 
that seem to be 
the product of a 
wandering brain 
late 
at 
night. 
Olds’s balance of 
vivid description 
alongside 
eye-
catching 
but 
not 
pretentious 
literary 
experimentation 
helps the majority 
of 
her 
poems 
shine in their own 
right.
Unfortunately, 
Olds’s 
presentation of her poems often falls flat. As a result of the 
poems that pack in around them, the more exceptional poems 
often don’t reach their potential. Since these poems, or arias, 
are alphabetized, they have a thematic consistency emulating 
the composition of a thoroughly shuffled deck of cards. Olds is 
no novice author; this was a deliberate decision with calculated 
effects. The reader wears a hyperactive mood ring as they 
progress from one poem to the next, often amplifying the 
emotional impact of each poem as it varies so heavily from the 
last. When this technique works, it exemplifies the evocative 
power of literature. Olds eloquently executes this transition in 
the few pages between “Mortal Aria” and “Object Permanence 
Aria.” One moment, Olds is depicting the heart wrenching 
final stages of her late partner’s battle with cancer, the 
simultaneous planning for his death and longing for his youth 
that she experienced in the days leading up to his passing. 
Olds’s recollection of her partner’s youth prepares the reader 
for the more innocent portrayal of Olds herself as a young child 
in the subsequent aria, where Olds describes the moment in 
which she understands that her mother still exists when she 
exits the room — that her mother’s being doesn’t orbit her own. 
A chronological organization of these poems would not have 
granted “Object Permanence Aria” the same magnitude of 
innocence, as the poem’s tone may have been diluted by that of 
similar recollections of early childhood. 
But this desired effect does not always materialize. In fact, 

getting through certain portions of the 
collection can be outright frustrating. 
In one poem, Olds reflects on her 
relationship with her father and considers 
the various forms in which love may 
manifest itself. Then, without warning, 
Olds depicts an eerily realistic scene 
— one of a toilet flushing after a bowel 
movement. 
Although 
she relates this scene 
to 
the 
upbringing 
of her children and 
perhaps uses it as a 
metaphor for a turn for 
the worse in her later 
years, 
its 
inclusion 
and lingering takes the 
sting out of the more 
emotion-ridden poem 
preceding it. This is 
a 
recurring 
theme 
among the arias. At 
times, 
Olds 
wholly 
exits the territory of 
vividness and enters 
that of the jarringly 
explicit. While a reader aspires to hear the 
unadulterated version of a poet’s mind and 
vision, few aspire to read “the gathers and folds of the asshole” 
in the same sentence as “like a child at a petting zoo.” Moments 
like these reflect the hiccups in consistency that hold Olds back 
from an immaculate work. Olds’s attempts to push the limits 
of poetic norms 
are 
valiant; 
innovation 
would 
never 
happen 
without 
experimentation. 
But Olds’s edgier 
instances 
of 
experimentation 
simply 
do 
not 
work. 
While 
tangents 
and 
comic relief can 
be 
refreshing, 
at 
times 
their 
inclusion 
seems 
poorly 
deliberated, 
serving to derail 
a previously well-worked narrative instead of contributing to 
it. 
By removing overt, inter-poem relatability, Olds actually 

supplies an additional layer of realism — her structure begins to 
reflect the curious organization of the human psyche. Everyone 
has obscure memories that, no matter how aged or insignificant, 
do not fade. The human brain is not a pristine filing cabinet of 
memories organized by date or theme. There is rarely a rhyme 
or reason to reminisce. One could only imagine this effect 
amplifying 
as 
one’s 
inventory 
of 
memories 
expands over 
nearly 
eight 
decades. 
Olds’s 
spontaneous 
and 
thematically 
inconsistent 
recollection 
of 
events 
sacrifices 
an 
even 
flow 
between 
poems 
to 
obtain 
an 
authentic and unfiltered glimpse into her mind. But without 
access to Olds’s mind, “Arias” requires multiple readings to 
offer more than just this glimpse.

The enigmatic organization of reminiscence in ‘Arias’

BOOK REVIEW

ANDREW PLUTA
Daily Arts Writer

FACEBOOK

Since I began writing this column, I have mainly used 
it to express my views on things that I love or facets of 
the entertainment industry that have left me grumbling 
for one reason or another. Many of those articles have 
mentioned “Star Wars” in some capacity. I like “Star Wars” 
a lot. I always have. Over the past year or so I have tried 
hard to branch into different parts of the entertainment 
industry, writing about Spotify, podcasts and the Chinese 
marketplace just to name a few. It’s been a long time since 
I went back to the old “Star Wars” well. But in a few short 
weeks “The Rise of Skywalker” will be released in theaters, 
ostensibly a final conclusion to the story that began a long 
time ago in a decade far far away, and I would be remiss 
if I didn’t get my two cents in before all is said and done.
I’ve argued time and time again in these pages that the 
ending of a story is what defines its meaning. The curious 
thing about “Star Wars” is that it has already ended. 
Twice. In 1983, “Return of the Jedi” brought the original 
trilogy to a conclusion that left audiences thinking “Star 
Wars” was about the redemptive power of love and the 
relationship between a father and a son. In 2005, “Revenge 
of the Sith” brought the prequels to a close and in doing so 
redefined the then six-part saga as the tragedy of Anakin 
Skywalker. Now “The Rise of Skywalker” will seek to put 
its own stamp on the story George Lucas told and, in turn, 
must justify the Disney trilogy’s entire existence.
It feels like a lifetime ago that Disney first bought 
Lucas film and announced that there was to be more 
“Star Wars” and yet, 
as it so often goes, it 
also seems as if the 
years 
in 
between 
have gone by much 
too 
quickly. 
When 
“The Force Awakens” 
was released, I was a 
senior in high school. 
I actually got into 
Michigan the same 
day the film came out. 
Driving back from 
the movie theater, I 
pulled into the park 
by 
Barton 
Pond, 
loaded 
Wolverine 
Access on my friends 
phone and heard the 
news. My time at 
Michigan will forever 
be linked with the 
time 
these 
movies 
came out. Now the last movie in the trilogy is coming, 
and as the future of “Star Wars” once again becomes 
uncertain, so too has my own. Unlike senior year of high 
school, I don’t know exactly where I’m going to be next 
year. I don’t know what kind of job I will have or who I will 
be living with. But I know I’m glad that I took the journey. 
Glad that I’ve had the experiences I’ve had at Michigan, 
that I got to see what it was like for your team to go to 
the Final Four while you were in school and what it was 
like to anticipate a “Star Wars” movie. The anticipation of 

these movies cannot be discounted; If nothing else, I have 
deeply enjoyed the experience of wondering what was to 
come. The number of conversations I had after “The Force 
Awakens” about Rey’s parentage and what Luke was up 
to were among the best times I can remember as a fan of 
“Star Wars.”
So what do I expect to see out of the final movie? I expect 
it to be exciting, fun, maybe a little bit sad. After “The Last 
Jedi” I’ve learned to let go of what I want these films to be, 
and just take them or leave them for what they are. That’s 
not to say that I’ve come around to thinking that “The Last 
Jedi” is a good “Star Wars” movie (some things can never 
be redeemed), but it means that I will not enter this new 
movie with the expectation that anything in particular 
happen at all. That’s not what I’m here for anymore. For 
me at least, it’s no longer just about the movie itself. It’s the 
lead up to it, the weekly re-watching of all the movies in my 
student house, the intense discussion right after we leave 
the theater, the thrill of seeing a movie with a huge crowd 
on opening night, that communal viewing experience we 
so rarely get in this age of Netflix and Disney+. It’s not 
just about going to see the movie, it’s about the people you 
see it with. The best stories were meant to be shared with 
others. No matter what I think of the Disney “Star Wars” 
movies, I will be forever grateful for the opportunity they 
gave me and so many people I love to have a meaningful 
theater experience together. I have cherished each and 
every opening night. And so as we approach this final 
chapter of the Skywalker Saga I think not just about how 
this chapter of my favorite film series will come to a close, 
but how this chapter of my own life will soon come to a 
close as well.
So 
many 
people 
have asked me what 
I’m 
planning 
to 
do next year. It’s a 
good question; after 
all, 
I 
have 
many 
friends from the film 
department 
who 
graduated last year 
who still don’t know 
what to do. But that 
question 
does 
not 
interest me. Not right 
this 
moment. 
Not 
when Michigan still 
has a final shot at 
Ohio State. Not when 
I have two papers due 
in the next two days. 
Not when I can still 
get that experience 
of seeing new yellow 
text roll across the 
screen to booming John Williams music for the first time. 
Not when there are still old classmates to reconnect with, 
parties to hold, study spaces to uncover, stories to tell, 
adventures yet to be had. Not when I only have six more 
months of living in a home with six of my best friends. The 
question that interests me is not “what are you going to do 
next year,” but rather, “what are you doing right now?” To 
that I simply answer the same way C3PO did in the final 
trailer for the final “Star Wars.” I’m taking one last look 
at my friends.

My senior goodbye to ‘Star Wars’

ENTERTAINMENT COLUMN

IAN HARRIS
Daily Entertainment Columnist

YOUNG TURKS RECORDINGS LTD. / YOUTUBE

MAGDALENE

FKA Twigs

Young Turks

Arias

Sharon Olds

Knopf

Oct. 15, 2019

By removing overt, inter-poem relatability, 
Olds actually supplies an additional layer of 
realism — her structure begins to reflect the 
curious organization of the human psyche.

My time at Michigan will forever 
be linked with the times these 
movies came out. Now the last 
movie in the trilogy is coming and 
as the future of “Star Wars” once 
again becomes uncertain, so too 
has my own.

