The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, December 10, 2019 — 5
I don’t quite remember what I expected out of
“Waves,” director Trey Edward Shults’s (“It Comes
at Night”) latest A24 film. Its promotional material
is frustratingly vague, describing the plot of the
movie as nothing more than an African-American
family in Florida coping with a “loss.” I realize now,
though, the reason
for this. To reveal
anything
more
about what happens
in “Waves” would
spoil the movie and
dampen the sheer
force of its impact.
I wasn’t prepared
for this movie. I
wasn’t ready. I was
crushed by it, but
I
wouldn’t
trade
the experience for
anything. So I won’t
say
much
more
about the plot either, to ensure that you may watch
the film unfold in the same way I did. But I can
write about just how incredible this film is and how
alive it made me feel.
“Waves” is a film consisting of two acts, the
first taking place before the big “loss,” the second
occurring afterward. The
first act centers around
Tyler
(Kelvin
Harrison
Jr., “It Comes at Night”),
a
more-or-less
typical
high school senior dealing
with more-or-less typical
high school problems. He
is supported by a loving
step-mother (Renee Elise
Goldsberry, “One Life to
Live”), a devoted, though
admittedly over-aggressive,
father (Sterling K. Brown,
“This Is Us”) and a shy
but loving younger sister
(Taylor
Russell,
“Escape
Room”). He loves wrestling
and his girlfriend (Alexa
Demie,
“Euphoria”),
and
though these perfect parts
of his life are tainted by a
severe sports injury and a
pregnancy scare, his life
is still, for the most part,
normal, at least by American
standards of teenhood.
It’s
still
riveting
to
watch.
Tyler’s
world,
gorgeously filmed and set
to a wonderful soundtrack,
including songs by Kendrick
Lamar
and
Animal
Collective, is endearing —
it pulls you right into its
atmosphere. Shults does a
rare, extraordinary thing:
He films the contemporary
American teenage experience with warmth and
honesty and a complete lack of judgement.
Yet, just when you think Tyler’s arc is about to
be resolved, the very worst happens. The “loss” I
keep hinting at finally occurs, and it’s worse than
you could ever have possibly imagined. A character
we’ve come to know and trust does something so
horrifying, so devastating, you ask yourself, how
will this family ever recover? How can they possibly
go on? How can they ever smile again? How can we
ever smile again?
All of a sudden, this
family is broken, the
aspect ratio shifts
and the world is
changed
forever,
transformed
into
something
scary
and
cold
and
impossibly lonely.
But then Luke,
played
by
Lucas
Hedges
(“Boy
Erased”)
comes
along
and
makes
everything
better.
Not perfect, not back to the way it was before, but
better. He makes us smile again. He gives Tyler’s
sister Emily, the star of the movie’s second act, a
new lease on life. He provides her with an escape
from the oppressive grief that now holds dominion
over her parents and home life. By being with him,
by being held by him, she
finds a way to heal, or at
least a way to begin to work
toward healing.
Emily and Tyler’s parents
find a similar solace in one
another, though it takes
time,
and
they
actually
come to resent each other
and place their anger onto
each
other
immediately
following the loss. But once
they are finally ready to
confront each other’s guilt
and pain, they readily fall
into each other’s arms, just
like Emily and Luke did.
Maybe
“Waves”
is
too
sentimental,
too
melodramatic for some. But
is that such a bad thing?
I’m reminded of a quote
by
the
writer
Jeanette
Winterson, who wrote that
“to tell someone not to be
emotional is to tell them to
be dead.” Watching “Waves”
and second-handedly taking
on this family’s pain was
painful. But I also felt these
characters’ joy and their
incomparable
love
and
devotion for one another.
Watching
“Waves”
feels
like anything but being
dead, and I’ve never felt
more alive while watching
a movie.
‘Waves’ moves between love,
family and grief in America
ELISE GODFRYD
Daily Arts Writer
W.W. NORTON
“I’ve never seen snow coming from the sky
before!”
With a face full of wonder, my freshman
friend from California spun around outside
without a coat, giggling at the first snowfall of
the year. Childlike glee took over my six-foot
tall assistant director in the middle of musical
rehearsal. The half of the cast that came from
warm states either ran outside to join him or
smiled through the window. But the rest of us
just sat back and laughed thinking, You’re going
to hate it in a week!
I was born and raised in Michigan. Michigan
winters mean pure white snow turns to gray
slush in a matter of hours, cars get trapped in the
driveway from overzealous snowplows, freezing
walks to the bus stop and highways jams from
blinding sleet. I, of course, still feel a twinge of
excitement when I wake up to dusted rooftops
and iced trees. But that only lasts for about 30
seconds, or until I remember I have to walk to
class or clear off my car, and I begrudgingly leave
my warm bed and embark into the cold.
For most of us jaded Michiganders and
northern state residents, the snow lost its magic
long ago. Of course we want a white Christmas
and maybe even a snow day, if we’re lucky, but
for the most part, it’s a nuisance.
But in the huge out-of-state population that
the University of Michigan becomes home to,
some students have never seen snow before.
Freshmen are often in awe of their first snowfall,
and even upperclassmen still get a thrill from
the first of the season. Snow to them doesn’t
necessarily mean slush-covered jeans and traffic
jams. They just see a beautiful scene that rivals a
Hallmark Christmas movie. For those who see
snow as a standard occurrence, we haven’t felt
that way in a long time. But seeing our friends’
faces light up at the first sign of winter, we start
to remember the magic we once felt.
Another one of my California freshman
friends FaceTimed her mom the day of the first
snowfall. Countless Instagram stories showed
the snow-covered campus, window views and
friends in fluffy scarves. I told one of my best
friends to look out her window, and she texted
me back “IT’S CHRISTMAS.” Snowmen
appear in the diag, a block M crop circle covers
Palmer field, snow angels grace the North
Quad courtyard.
My friends from California remind me how
I felt when snow excited me. When a new
coating of snow meant snowball fights with my
dad and igloo building with my sister. When
we would peel off our sopping wet snow pants
and seven other layers to drink hot chocolate
so hot that the marshmallows melted. My
California friends remind me of the look on my
sister’s face when we thought we were going
to have a green Christmas, but instead woke
up Christmas morning to a snowy scene: a
Christmas miracle.
My heart has been frozen to snow for a
while, but seeing my friends’ joy at their first or
just a fresh snowfall is enough for me to start
to thaw. So thank you, California friends, for
making snow magical again.
Snow from the blue sky
COMMUNITY CULTURE NOTEBOOK
DANA PIERANGELI
Daily Arts Writer
Waves
State Theatre
A24
Toward the end of a life, the accumulation of
regret seems an inevitability, with a minefield
of mistakes laid out throughout the decades.
Stephen Dunn’s poetry collection “Pagan
Virtues” enables Dunn to walk himself and the
reader through these mistakes as he endeavors
to change the tone of each misstep from regret
to acceptance. Dunn has mixed and, at times,
unclear results in attempting to do so, with his
cynical style of humor sometimes obscuring his
feelings despite creating a more enjoyable read.
His humor often strengthens the collection,
though, reflecting his divided thoughts rather
than being a deliberate
ploy to mislead or confuse
his audience. But each
mistake is not equal in
magnitude, and Dunn
could
have
benefitted
from greater clarity when
discussing this in certain
passages.
Dunn’s
sentiments
are transported to the
reader through one of
two
approaches.
His
more anecdotal poems
are shielded by a layer of
emotional ambiguity: the
perspective of his former
self blends together with
his reflective opinion on
the event, sometimes to
the point that the two
become indistinguishable. While the execution
of these stories seems lackluster in isolation,
they usually succeed in giving context to the
second approach — poems that provide a more
direct analysis of Dunn’s hindsight, offering
specific feelings in a general sense. The settings
from the former allow one to connect the dots
and understand the broader picture of Dunn’s
life. On an initial reading, these connections
mimic those of a scatterbrained detective’s
bulletin board, but generally are clarified when
revisited.
“The Errors” is one of the more telling
poems from the second category, giving clear
insight to Dunn’s manner of reflection. The
catch? This poem is placed beyond the halfway
point in Dunn’s collection. Up until then, the
reader is unsure of Dunn’s methods, which is
particularly dangerous for certain poems. In
“The Errors,” he projects his own interactions
with past mistakes onto the second person.
He writes, “The errors you’ve made and keep
making / linger and indict you long after /
they’ve become instructive.” Dunn reveals that
his relationship with past faults is on neither
extreme of the regret-acceptance spectrum. He
doesn’t just wallow
in self-pity; he heeds
the advice that his
mistakes
provide
to
prevent
their
duplication, but part
of him still wishes
the mistakes never
happened to begin
with. While Dunn
acts in the present,
he still cannot help but think in the past, often
the distant past, from time to time. This comes
to define “Pagan Virtues.”
Dunn’s anecdotes are not always fully
forgivable even as they are explained. They
often refer to botched romantic efforts,
which unfortunately come off as creepy or
misogynistic. He recalls watching a topless
woman on a beach as she read one of his
books. He further explains his desire to ask
her “What is pleasing (her)” every time she
smiles during her reading. Another time, he
describes one man’s feeling that flirting has
been negatively impacted by the introduction
of media encouraging the use of statements like
“May I?” shortly before that man wishes that a
particular woman would wear a more revealing
dress. In this case, it is unclear whether
Dunn is projecting his own ideals onto this
unnamed man or discussing a sort of person he
experienced in the past. The extent to which
both these events reflect his present beliefs
is unclear. These segments
are wildly distasteful, but it
is important to consider the
passage of time after these
errors later in the reading
when deciding whether or
not the displayed sentiments
apply to Dunn’s current self.
Also worth considering is the
fact that, at the time of writing
this collection, Dunn was
happily married to his wife of
many years, so it is likely that
he is putting himself into the
shoes of his former self when
discussing
other
women,
rather than truly wishing he
had not ended up with his wife.
Even so, the inclusion of such
segments is so jarring and off-
putting that it feels as though
Dunn could not have written them without the
intention of being remorseful for his past gross
misconceptions. Dunn may not even be the
man depicted by the unnamed man at all.
But unfortunately, this cannot be clearly
ascertained.
While
other
poems
depict
profound regrets for past mistakes, the language
of the problematic poems themselves is not
remorseful enough to keep the reader from
feeling great discomfort with Dunn. Many
great poems leave plenty of work for the reader
when it comes to extracting the intricacies of
the author’s meaning, but Dunn simply cannot
afford to take these liberties when dealing
with such sensitive and problematic subject
matter. If people have changed after and felt
remorse for a dark time in their lives where
they were unequivocally wrong, coming clean
and apologizing does not merit admonishment.
Without the certainty of where Dunn stands,
the anecdotes cannot serve their (hopefully)
intended purpose.
Dunn’s overall acceptance and prolonged
regret of past faults allows his readers to
relate to him, although not completely to
darker times in his life. His brutal honesty
in spite of what’s
best for his image
reinforces
his
narrative of regret,
but
sometimes
the reader yearns
that this honesty
be
accompanied
by a more explicit
portrayal
of
current
feelings.
One shouldn’t read “Pagan Virtues” with the
intention of reprimanding Dunn’s past self,
Rather, it is about using Dunn’s flawed years
to reconsider his own history and, from it,
pave a better future.
Gritty personal growth
in ‘Pagan Virtues’ poems
BOOK REVIEW
ANDREW PLUTA
Daily Arts Writer
A24
Shults does
a rare,
extraordinary
thing: He
films the
contemporary
American
teenaged
experience
with warmth
and honesty
and a complete
lack of
judgment
A24
FILM REVIEW
Pagan Virtues
Stephen Dunn
W.W. Norton
Nov. 19, 2019