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

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Call: #734-418-4115
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father near North Campus 
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By Jeffrey Wechsler
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/22/19

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

11/22/19

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Friday, Novemver 22, 2019

ACROSS
1 New England’s 
only National 
Park
7 Eponymous 
explorer of 
Australia
13 Pressure sensors 
attached to 
buoys are parts 
of their warning 
systems
15 Recorded, in a 
way
16 Colbert et al.?
18 Useful thing
19 Additionally
20 Coastal raptor
21 Something to file
22 Frond source
23 With 53-Down, 
maxim
25 Ob-__
26 Jacket fabric
27 First name in 
a 2010s first 
family
29 Part of a 
candlemaker’s 
design process?
31 Subarctic forest
33 Hawke of 
“Boyhood”
34 Outdoor 
wedding guests 
on a steamy 
day?
38 “Over the 
Rainbow” 
composer
39 Bowling venue
40 PD alert
43 Understand
44 Oil equipment
45 “Because 
Freedom Can’t 
Protect Itself” 
org.
46 Meditation goal
49 Keurig Dr Pepper 
brand
50 1954 Honorary 
Award for 
35-Down
51 What a hiker 
might do after a 
nap on the trail?
54 December decor
55 Gift with tracks
56 Absinthe herb
57 Chocolates, e.g.

DOWN
1 “You’ve heard 
this from me 
before ... ”
2 Replaces a 
dancer
3 Adams with 
negatives
4 Bonkers
5 “Here’s a 
thought,” briefly
6 Reef diver’s 
need
7 Sock part
8 Prince Harry’s 
aunt
9 Ado
10 Early Mississippi 
flag symbol
11 Farthest-from-
the-sun orbital 
point
12 Monarch catcher
13 Country music 
sound
14 Unexcitable
17 Marseille man
22 Pie-topping nut
24 Newscaster 
Rather
26 Invitation to eat
27 Daydreaming 
Walter

28 Wan
29 Bic’s __-Out
30 First known 
asteroid
31 Car manual topic
32 Like the seats 
in an SRO 
performance
34 Funny one
35 She never went 
to 50-Across 
ceremonies
36 Flexible

37 North African 
capital
40 Confront boldly
41 China pieces
42 Pop
45 Together
47 Corned beef order
48 Tiny insect
50 “Hamilton” award
51 Scrabble-like 
app, briefly
52 Puckish org.?
53 See 23-Across

HELP WANTED

Last Tuesday I found myself laying in bed 
when I should have been making myself a 
proper dinner. My thumb had settled into the 
routine up-down motion that all Instagram 
users know too well. Images of dancers and 
clips of dances floated by as reflections in 
my glasses as I glazed over in a bored stupor. 
Each post seemed more cliché or downright 
stupid than the last, and I found myself 
teetering on the familiar consideration of 
quitting Instagram for good when my thumb 
hit one final video: a clip of a dance set to “All 
These Things That I’ve Done” by The Killers. 
The post came from dancer/choreographer 
Nicholas Palmquist and was captioned with 
a plug for his upcoming class at Steps on 
Broadway, a famous New York City dance 
studio. Though well filmed, the clip is more 
of a rehearsal than a performance — the 
dancers wear leggings and T-shirts and 
stand inside a studio lined with bags and 
water bottles. The purple light coming in 
from the windows tells me that it was filmed 
in the evening, most likely at the end of 
another average day for the lives of everyone 
involved. 
The dance, however, feels very much above 
average. Palmquist’s choreography uses the 
section of The Killers’s song that layers a fast 
drum beat underneath the slow repetition of 
the words “I got soul but I’m not a soldier.” 
For a choreographer, this poses a question: 
Which rhythm should I follow? Palmquist 
somehow melds both. Dancers bounce their 
shoulders quickly and then whip their upper 
bodies in slow motion. They move through 
intricate jumps only to stop and luxuriate 
through the air in relaxed power poses. It’s 
a brilliant mix of tension. 
Most of all, I’m captivated by one dancer, 
specifically the woman in the front. Though 
Palmquist tagged everyone in the clip, I 
don’t feel comfortable making assumptions 

about which handle is hers. Perhaps the 
mystery becomes part of my intrigue. From 
beginning to end, she dances with a joy that 
builds in both ferocity and subtlety. She 
starts by whipping her head to the front to 
make eye contact with the camera and then 
breaks into a sly smile as she dips her head 
backward. Her entire chest and neck open 
as her upper body releases. It’s a vulnerable 
position, but her command over the space 
makes it powerful at the same time. 
As the music and choreography build, so 
does this woman’s fierce combination of 
strength and grace. The steps increase in size 
and sinuosity, but her musicality does not 
waver. The entire time, she stares down the 
front of the room with a beautiful intensity 
that only makes me want to keep watching. 
By the end, all the dancers break into 
their own informal jumping as if all those 
structured steps have finally bubbled over 
into pure, intense bliss. The front dancer 
lifts her palms to the sky and tips her head 
back as if she’s a girl in a made-for-television 
romcom and she’s dancing in the rain. 
The first time that I found it, I watched 
the whole clip four times back-to-back. 
I saved it to my Instagram archive and 
watched it again the next day. The day after 
that I linked it in my story because I couldn’t 
get enough of it. This weekend, I watched it 
some more. Today, I started to think about 
the serendipitous events that allowed me to 
come across the video at all. 
I don’t remember any of the other content 
that floated by my eyes in the time I spent 
scrolling last Tuesday. I only remember a 
sense of gray frustration over how mundane 
everything online was, and the specificities 
of that time are gone forever.
Despite this, I am left with the innate sense 
that time must not be equal, as this one-
minute dance easily makes up for an hour 
lost somewhere else. Palmquist’s dancers’ 
fiercely joyful attack to musicality is enough 
to keep me on Instagram, wondering where 
my scrolling will take me next. 

Musicality on the internet

COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK

ZOE PHILLIPS
Daily Arts Writer

There is an inherent ebb and flow of life. 
When you are not being pushed or pulled, 
you are stagnant. Apathetically waiting 
as the world yawns by. It is within art that 
we can fulfill our craving for the thrill of 
life’s ebbs and flows. Whether they are 
joyful or sorrowful, there is no doubt that 
experiencing them is far more exciting than 
standing still. 
Irish company Teac Damsa’s “Swan Lake/
Loch na hEala” exemplifies an extreme push 
and pull in performance. Choreographer 
Michael 
Keegan-Dolan’s 
masterfully 
reimagines 
Tchaikovsky’s 
ballet 
— 
directly 
contrasting 
childlike 
elation 
with 
terrified 
isolation, 
his 
iteration 
of 
“Swan 
Lake” 
is a uniquely 
aesthetic dance 
and 
theatrical 
performance 
rich with Irish 
history 
and 
folklore. 
The 
only 
similarity 
between 
Keegan-Dolan’s and Tchaikovsky’s “Swan 
Lake” is the presence of the titular animal. 
In Keegan-Dolan’s iteration, a chronically 
depressed man walks to a lake with a shotgun 
that his mother bought him for his birthday. 
The man appears ready to commit suicide 
when he encounters and falls madly in love 
with a wild swan that is equally as broken as 
he is. 
The piece opens with the narrator of 
the story, naked except for a pair of white 
underwear, tied to a cement block. As the 
actor begins to bleat in an animalistic nature, 
it becomes clear that the man is not a man 
but a goat. The goat begrudgingly circles the 
cement block and, as the lights go down, is 
surrounded by three dancing men. He bleats 
in fear until, under the pressure of the men, 
he takes human form and begins to tell the 
saddening tale. The actor who plays the 
narrator also plays a corrupt politician, a 
priest and, at one point, a radio. 
The theme of humans embodying animals 
does not end in the overture. It is soon 
revealed that a priest has turned four dancing 
women into swans as a form of punishment, 
since they were vocal about his raping of one 
of them. When this was revealed, the overture 
made more sense to me. Perhaps this man 
turned himself into a goat as punishment for 
raping the swan woman. Perhaps all of these 

dancers are viciously fighting to be free from 
a hellish world they either brought upon 
themselves or had thrust upon them.
Throughout the performance, I discovered 
that witnessing humans embody animals on 
stage is oddly satisfying. At their core humans 
are animalistic, yet we must suppress these 
instincts in order to be functioning members 
of society. It is through physical movement 
that these instincts are best released, and 
Keegan-Dolan seemed to have a firm grasp 
of that concept. 
Because of the saddening nature of the 
piece, the performance could have remained 
one-note. However, Keegan-Dolan found 
childlike joy just as well as he encapsulated 
the evil in this story. In a moment of brilliant 
choreography 
at the end of 
the show, the 
dancers 
begin 
to 
toss 
light 
feathers around 
like snow. 
Their 
feet 
moving among 
the 
mass 
of 
feathers 
on 
the 
ground 
served for an 
aesthetically 
pleasing 
end. 
Each 
dancer 
simultaneously 
kicked 
up 
a 
puff of feathers 
with 
one 
swift 
motion, 
seeming to wake from the hellscape that 
they had lived in during the show. In the 
last fifteen minutes, they were granted the 
freedom to live in pure ecstasy.
Skillfully using the white feathers as a way 
to shed light onto the darkness, the audience 
themselves were brought into the enjoyment 
of the moment. The feathers were tossed onto 
the front row and audience and performers 
alike relaxed into a state of what can simply 
be described as joy. The joyful metaphor 
continued on even into the bows. As the 
audience applauded the performers for their 
work, the dancers took their time soaking it 
all in, coming out for not just a second round 
of bows but a third. 
I was completely elated in this last 15 
minutes, although I struggled to justify 
its connection to the rest of the piece. 
Eventually, I decided it was about finding 
joy in the terrible, yet this is widely open 
for 
interpretation. 
In 
fact, 
the 
entire 
performance could have been a different 
story for each viewer. What was a goat to 
me may have been just a man on a rope to 
another. I had trouble labeling this piece 
as either dance or theatre because, to me, it 
was both. The endless possibilities this work 
provides the audience make it special. It does 
not give its audience answers. Instead, it 
poses questions.

The push and pull of ‘Loch
na hEala,’ or ‘Swan Lake’

COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW

ALIX CURNOW
Daily Arts Writer

Halloween has come and gone, and Thanksgiving 
is on the horizon. And with Thanksgiving comes 
the holiday movie season, specifically the Hallmark 
Christmas movie season. The thing about Hallmark 
movies is that they lean into the fact that they’re 
Hallmark movies 
— 
actors 
who 
kind-of-sort-of 
look like that one 
big A-list star and a 
plot that’s far from 
Oscar-worthy but 
still 
comforting. 
These aren’t bad 
things, they’re just 
what to expect 
from a Hallmark 
Christmas movie. 
In 
the 
end, 
it 
doesn’t really matter if they’re good because more 
often than not they’re only playing in the background 
of a fun holiday cookie baking party. And “Last 
Christmas,” Universal’s newest Christmas movie, is 
exactly that, but with none of the Hallmark Christmas 
charm.
Starring 
Emilia Clarke 
(“Me 
Before 
You”) as Kate 
and 
Henry 
Golding 
(“Crazy 
Rich 
Asians”) 
as 
Tom, 
“Last 
Christmas” 
follows 
the 
pair as Kate 
falls in love 
with the aloof 
and seemingly 
perfect 
Tom. 
A classic series 
of meet-cutes 
populates 
the 
first 
20 
minutes 
of 
the 
film, 
highlighting 
Kate’s whiny self-centered nature, while Golding 
continues to play the typical debonair, two-
dimensional 
hunk. 
Emma 
Thompson 
(“Love 
Actually”) stars as Kate’s mother and Michelle Yeoh 
(“Crazy Rich Asians”) as her boss. Tragically, though, 
the two mother figures in Kate’s life never interact 
until the final scene of the movie, where they’re simply 
in the same room. 
The movie had the potential to be similar to “Love 
Actually” with its large cast of stars and intertwining 
storylines. But instead, “Last Christmas” focuses on 
the budding relationship between Clarke and Golding. 
And though the two are cute, there is none of that 
tension that comes with falling in love during a two-
week period because of pressure from the constant 
attention of friends and family. The relationships that 
actually show potential for a movie are cast off to the 
side, like Kate’s parents. From the beginning, it seems 

as if they’re on the rocks and somehow, through some 
Christmas magic, they reconnect to sing a Yugoslavian 
folk song. The film treats Kate’s sister in a similar 
manner: It becomes clear that she has been hiding 
her sexuality from her parents for years, and, despite 
being an obvious way to connect with an audience, the 
relationship is pushed to the side to focus on the flimsy 
relationship between Tom and Kate. Even the random 
policewomen have a more interesting connection than 
the title couple. 
Some 
might 
argue that the two 
aren’t meant to 
have 
chemistry, 
that it’s all part of 
the story’s grand 
plan to help Kate 
find herself. But 
that doesn’t mean 
the two characters 
need to seem like 
complete strangers 
throughout 
the 
whole movie. Though they eventually pour their 
hearts out to each other, the emotional connection 
seems seemingly out of left field. There was little to no 
context for the friendship, let alone the relationship. 
At least with Hallmark movies, even if the actual 
situation seems 
unrealistic, 
the characters 
spend 
significant 
periods 
of 
time together 
fighting 
over 
the future of 
a 
small-town 
bookstore. 
A 
holiday 
film 
isn’t 
complete 
without 
a 
cynical 
title 
character 
finally 
realizing that 
whatever 
material gain 
they’re chasing 
isn’t worth it 
if they miss 
the joys of life. They’re imbued with the magic of the 
Christmas spirit and “Last Christmas” is no different. 
In the span of two hours, Kate transforms from a 
lackluster Christmas cynic into the giving, generous 
spirit we all have inside. She realizes that the trauma 
from her heart condition the year previous, a plot point 
that is hardly explored, isn’t worth torturing her boss 
or her family over. She becomes a picture-perfect 
daughter, friend and employee. 
Obviously, the holidays are a stressful time for 
everyone — family is visiting, hams are in the oven 
and I’m still in the process of convincing my parents 
to let me sit at the kids’ table to avoid small talk about 
my future. The only real constants during these 
supposedly cheery winter months are the endearing 
qualities of romantic Christmas movies, and if you 
don’t make the time to see “Last Christmas,” there’s 
always next year.

‘Last Christmas’ isn’t good

FILM REVIEW

EMMA CHANG
Senior Arts Editor

UNIVERSAL PICTURES / YOUTUBE

Because of the saddening 
nature of the piece, the 
performance could have 
remained one-note. However, 
Keegan-Dolan found 
childlike joy just as well as he 
encapsulated the evil in this 
story.

Last Christmas

Universal Pictures

Ann Arbor 20 + IMAX

