The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, December 3, 2019 — 5
This past semester I was in English 425,
an advanced essay writing course focused on
immersion writing. Throughout the course
we’ve focused on personal essay writing and
immersing ourselves into a wider story covering
a pertinent or engaging topic. For my first
assignment I wrote a personal investigative
essay about the life of my father’s mother, Gail
Grober.
She was a 5’3” Jewish woman who died at
age 47 from breast cancer, leaving behind her
young sons, Bobby and my father Vic. I was
interested
in
writing
a piece about her and
investigating
her
life
because
everyone
on
my father’s side of the
family constantly tells
me I take after her
despite the fact that I’ve
never met her.
I
spent
72
hours
writing the now 13-page
piece, breaking down
in
tears
more
than
once as I discovered
more intimate details
about the life of this
elusive
woman.
The
most important thing I
learned about her was
from her high school
yearbook. Beside each
senior portrait is the
word “ambition” with a
colon next to it. All the
students included their
post high school ambitions and upon searching
through the yearbook the vast majority had put
college, higher education or secretary. But Gail
is different. Printed next to her “ambition” is the
word “undecided.” While every other student
in the yearbook felt so pressured to amount to
greatness or reach for insane heights or brag
about a seemingly perfect future ambition,
Gail was apparently alright with not knowing.
I fell in love with this ancestor of mine, one that
nobody speaks of but clearly remembers dearly.
Thank God for technology and for memory.
I thought of my maternal grandmother’s
kitchen the entire time I wrote this essay. I
thought about how there’s no essay to write
about her because every single year I come back
to my grandmother’s home on Christmas day. It
is warm, she is wearing an apron and slippers.
There is a lack of words for the sheer joy that
swells inside this sweet blue home on Jersey
Avenue. There’s luck in the fortune of knowing
at least half of where you come from. There’s
no essay to be written, researching a history
that’s tangible and breathing and mine because
I’ve lived it. I have the ability to live it every
single year. There’s a heart on Jersey Avenue.
There’s life. And I’m fortunate enough that I
don’t have to call to say “Dad, Mom: What was
she like? Tell me a story.” Instead, I can come to
my grandmother’s house and simply watch her
cook in the kitchen on Dec. 25th. I can sit down
for Christmas dinner every year surrounded
by people who know me and always will. It’s
tangible. It’s full of life.
None of us are history.
Christmas
time
is
nostalgic
for
me.
It
always has been a time of
reflection and celebration
in the midst of joyous
December.
Five
years
ago, I found out I didn’t
get into Yale University.
A few days later on
Christmas Eve, everyone
else at my high school
had heard back from the
University of Michigan
and I’d heard nothing. I
assumed I’d been denied.
But
even
that
year,
when I’d assumed I was
denied from two of my
top choice schools right
in accordance with the
holidays and felt neither
festive nor celebratory,
I
went
back
to
my
grandmother’s home and felt whole again. It’s
cyclical — tradition and memory and life — and
in the unexpected places we find the pieces of
ourselves we couldn’t find or perhaps didn’t
know we lost.
Tradition may be expected or ritual. It is
something that regularly comes back up each
year, something that we know and anticipate.
It is easy to take these types of dinners and
mornings and festivities for granted, especially
around the holidays. This year I will not let
it pass me by: dinner at my grandmother’s,
the silly game we play in the living room, the
dancing on tables that takes place early in the
morning in my kitchen on Christmas day still
dressed in glitter. It’s important, it’s here, it’s
not history and for now, it’s mine, it’s ours.
What’s really important
about the holiday season
ELI RALLO
Daily Arts Writer
COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK
Every scene of “Servant” is gorgeous, highly stylized
and utterly overindulgent. Set in a historical Philadelphia
brownstone, M. Night Shyamalan’s newest series
complements its odd premise and hallmark suspense
with a flawless aesthetic.
After the death of their child Jericho, rich couple
Dorothy (Lauren Ambrose, “Six Feet Under”) and Sean
Turner (Toby Kebbell, “Fantastic Four”) are unable to
handle their grief. Rendered nearly catatonic, Dorothy
begins transitional object therapy and takes care of a doll
in the place of her son. Tired of enabling her illness, her
husband confides in her brother Julian (Rupert Grint,
“Snatch”) about how to prevent Dorothy from being
further consumed by grief for her son.
Without Sean’s knowledge, Dorothy hires Leanne
Grayson (Nell Tiger Free, “Game of Thrones”) as the
Jericho doll’s full-time nanny.
Much to Sean’s surprise,
Leanne is entirely unfazed by
Dorothy’s situation and treats
Jericho the doll as if it were
a real child. A shy girl from
Wisconsin, Leanne struggles
to adapt to the upper class
lifestyle of the Turners and
shocks the parents by praying
nightly and hanging crosses
in the baby’s nursery.
Suspicious of some of Leanne’s odder behavior, Sean
avoids interacting with her and buries himself in his
work. One night after Leanne returns from walking
Jericho through the park, Sean hears a noise on the
baby monitor, runs to the nursery and finds a real baby
has replaced the doll. Concerned Leanne or Dorothy
has stolen this child, Sean and Julian investigate where
exactly the baby and Leanne came from.
While the premise of “Servant” is not necessarily
new in the thriller genre, the series masterfully blends
some well-used horror tropes with fresh visuals and
dialogue. The show uses the artifice of luxury to mask
a deep psychological suffering occurring within the
family. Leanne, the plain, understated antithesis to
the Turners’s appearance-based lifestyle, is framed as
exponentially creepy by simply existing in the wealthy
space which rejects anything genuine. Sean continually
refers to her as “staff” and refuses to accept her or her
odd behaviors.
Like many horror movies, “Servant” addresses gender
as an aspect of its most disturbing themes. Within
the Turners’ marriage, though Dorothy may have a
tenuous grip on reality, Sean is the one tortured by the
subtle evils in his home. Frustrated with his wife and
the changes in house, Sean has lost whatever control he
once had and scrambles to blame Leanne for whatever
may be happening to him. While what he experiences
is undoubtedly real, his questioning of his own sanity
mimics the gaslighting female characters in similar
thrillers often face.
In recruiting his brother-in-law Julian, Sean searches
for any answer that could
discredit Dorothy and Leanne
or explain how the doll
was replaced. As he fails to
understand what happens to
him, he slowly becomes more
violent and lashes out at those
around him. “Servant” relies
heavily on an underlying sense
of increasing claustrophobia,
as few scenes take place
outside the strangeness of the
Turners’ home. Essentially trapped in his home with a
mysterious nanny and a child he believes may have been
abducted, Sean cannot escape someone else’s fantasy.
“Servant” may seem like another attempt at a highly
stylized Shyamalan comeback, but — plot twist — the
show actually has some hidden depths worth exploring.
However trite the concept, some of the show’s most
shocking moments and cliffhangers are genuinely
compelling and exciting. Moving forward, “Servant” has
the potential to truly embrace its aesthetic and plunge
entirely into its disturbing atmosphere.
‘Servant’ is beauty & brains
ANYA SOLLER
Daily Arts Writer
When BROCKHAMPTON announced the “Heaven
Belongs To You” tour with slowthai and then added 100
gecs as an opener, I couldn’t think of a crazier lineup.
The SATURATION trilogy was the soundtrack to my
first two years of college, while Nothing Great About
Britain and 1000 gecs have been at the top of my music
rotation since they released in May. On Nov. 30, after
months of anticipation, the three acts came to the Motor
City.
My journey leading up to the show was business as
usual for a Detroit concert. Dump money at the gate of
an overpriced parking lot, scarred by the number of $45
tickets I’ve received because I’m incapable of finding
legal street parking; group up with the gang at Detroit
One Coney Island on Woodward, the greatest Midtown
venue pre/post-concert kickback restaurant; debate
bringing a coat into the venue and stand freezing at
the back of a long line either way; go to the box office at
The Masonic to pick up my
press ticket, and …
General admission —
lower level.
This had to be a mistake.
Now,
I’d
been
ripped
off
once
by
promoters
at
The
Masonic
when
I bought tickets to see
BROCKHAMPTON
in
2018, so I was very familiar
with
the
distinction
between the “lower level”
and the “pit” — lower level
meant the outer ring of
seats, while pit meant the
actual floor. Now, there’s
nothing wrong with having
seats for a concert. But that is not what you want at a
100 gecs/slowthai/BROCKHAMPTON event, and
definitely not the perspective you want to read about
in a concert review. Fortunately, a sincerely wonderful
friend traded me her pit ticket for my lower level ticket,
and it’s her act of extreme kindness that saved this
review from being a purely clinical account.
My pal and I rushed into the theatre to the sight of
100 gecs’s iconic conifer tree in center stage. Laura
Les and Dylan Brady were singing “ringtone,” their
vocals warped and autotuned in their live show just
like they are in the studio version. Thanks to the pre-
show debacle, I missed “stupid horse” at the beginning
of their set. This was a grave loss, one which I would
mourn through the rest of the night and will continue
to grieve until their next appearance in Detroit. But I
did hear Laura Les’s blood-curdling growls in the flesh
during the heavy metal breakdown at the end of “800db
cloud,” so I could sleep comfortably at night.
Seeing the reaction from the BROCKHAMPTON
crowd to 100 gecs’s live performance exposed just how
much of a bubble I live in. In our hyper-art-consuming
corner of The Daily, myself and many friends adore 100
gecs — I wouldn’t be surprised if my editors played 100
gecs at the Arts desk as they published this article. But
for a mostly young crowd that’s into the highly accessible
music of BROCKHAMPTON, such an experimental
opener didn’t go over very well. In our corner of the pit,
me and my fellow big Gec were jumping up and down,
belting every lyric, while everyone in our surroundings
was still as stone. At the very least, though, the duo had
the audience’s genuine interest. A different opener of
similar notoriety might have a crowd staring at their
phones, but everybody at The Masonic was watching the
onstage spectacle. The crowd did scream in excitement
during a brief period where Laura Les shredded on
the guitar, but I think most listeners were just kind of
confused.
When the lights returned post-gecs, my friend and I
chatted with a couple that must’ve been in their mid or
late 20s who were surprised
to see that they were the
oldest people in the vicinity.
I expected a young audience
—
BROCKHAMPTON’s
fanbase is definitely high
school and college aged —
but even I was surprised to
see so many people getting
dropped off at the venue by
their parents.
I was in the middle of some
mid-concert
networking
with one of my new mid-20s
friends (no shame) when
slowthai
came
onstage
and
immediately
jumped
into his first song. Mildly
professional conversation was definitely coming out of
my mouth when slowthai spoke the seven magic words
— “Kodak moment polaroid picture shake it yeh” — and
I dropped whatever I was saying to chant them myself.
Since my first concert, I’ve seen dozens of shows and
dozens of openers, and none of them commanded the
crowd’s energy the way Tyler, the Creator did at DTE
during Kid Cudi’s 2013 tour. But slowthai came pretty
close (and fittingly covered Tyler’s song, “WHAT’S
GOOD”). The UK rapper had the crowd echoing all his
adlibs back to him — “yuh” went slowthai, “yuh” went
the crowd; “brrrt” went slowthai, “brrrt” went the
crowd. After a murderous performance of “Inglorious,”
slowthai literally spat into a fan’s mouth. “This is
fucking punk,” he said. I found it kind of gross, but yeah,
it was punk.
Afterward he rapped “HEAVEN BELONGS TO
YOU,” his guest feature on GINGER. The crowd
seemed absurdly excited for what’s just a chill mid-
album interlude. Then I realized that since it was on
BROCKHAMPTON’s album, for most of the audience, it
was probably the only slowthai song they knew. For his
final song, “Doorman,” he opened the pit, and everyone
circle-moshed in a frenzy — I somehow ended up near
the very front of the pit, perfectly positioning myself for
BROCKHAMPTON. slowthai put on a hell of a show,
one that added him to the ranks of my favorite live
performers, right up there with JPEGMAFIA and Vince
Staples. I just wished his set could have been longer.
BROCKHAMPTON took the stage, the show started
and it was business as usual for the boys. Dom McLennon
climbed to the edge of a balcony off-stage to deliver his
killer verse on “BOY BYE.” Everytime bearface opened
his mouth, hands with recording phones shot up from
the audience; I wished I had my own phone ready when
he did his raspy whisper intro from “I BEEN BORN
AGAIN.” Merlyn Wood, who already breathes life into
BROCKHAMPTON in the studio, doubled down on his
adrenaline-infused delivery for all his verses.
Traditionally, Kevin Abstract and Matt Champion
have been the meat and potatoes of BROCKHAMPTON,
especially on the SATURATION trilogy. But I am a firm
believer that Joba is the heart and soul of GINGER, and
he proved it that night. Half of my notes on the show
were just song titles followed by “holy shit Joba.” Among
those highlight moments were Joba’s gorgeous voice on
the outro of “BOY BYE,” his stunning verse on “BIG
BOY” and his terrifying rage on “J’OUVERT.”
Performances from the band were show-stopping
and jaw-dropping all around — no surprise there — but
I had mixed feelings about all the other elements of
the concert. When BROCKHAMPTON first came on,
slowthai had me full of hype. Then a pattern in the show
started to emerge, and before long, I almost regretted
trading my ticket for the pit. After the first few songs,
the drill became clear: Overuse of the smoke machines
onstage, and if Kevin wasn’t already telling the crowd to
open the pit, then the same high-school-senior-looking
dude in the audience was on the job. Over and over and
over. It got old by the twelfth time in less than half as
many songs.
I can’t knock BROCKHAMPTON for their audience.
It is what it is. But there’s something comforting
about being able to go to a show, look at all the people
in line, and think, “I could be good friends with these
people.” That was not the vibe at BROCKHAMPTON.
I was mildly perturbed when, during the chorus of
“1999 WILDFIRE,” Kevin kept yelling “SING IT!” to
the overwhelmingly white crowd (The chorus drops
a couple N-words). During “SUGAR,” while bearface
chanted “Do you love me, love me, love me,” a girl
behind me — who looked like she came straight out of
BROCKHAMPTON Stan Twitter — screamed back, “I
DO LOVE YOU!” on the verge of tears. The band pulled
several fans onstage during “QUEER,” which was cool
to see, but their youth cemented that I was too old to be
there (and I’m literally only 20 years old).
With all those ups and downs, the experience was
a rollercoaster. The final verdict on the concert is that
BROCKHAMPTON is worth seeing live once before
they break up, but once is enough, and watching from the
lower level seats will do just fine. Every member proved
that they’re infinitely talented, just not in any way that
wasn’t already obvious from their studio recordings.
As for slowthai and 100 gecs, I already immensely
anticipated their acts, and now I’m even more eager to
see them again — when they’re the headliners, that is.
Until then.
BROCKHAMPTON, slowthai, 100 gecs at The Masonic
DYLAN YONO
Daily Arts Writer
CONCERT REVIEW
This year I will not let
it pass me by: dinner
at my grandmother’s,
the silly game we play
in the living room, the
dancing on tables that
takes place early in the
morning in my kitchen
on Christmas day still
dressed in glitter.
After a murderous
performance of
“Inglorious,” slowthai
literally spat into a
fan’s mouth. “This is
fucking punk,” he said.
APPLE+
Servant
Season 1. Episodes 1-3
Apple TV+
Now Streaming
QUESTION EVERYTHING, INC.
TV REVIEW