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Arts
Friday, January 10, 2020 — 5
In my memory, Winter Break 2019 will
always be defined by “Star Wars: The Rise
of Skywalker.” While I watched some (far
superior) movies like “Little Women” and
“Knives Out” during this holiday season, my
brain still can’t let “Skywalker” go.
It’s a beautifully crafted, wonderfully
performed, roller coaster ride of a waste of
time. While there are imaginative planets
and exciting battles aplenty, the movie is
crushingly soulless. It lacks what makes
the Star Wars movies worth watching — a
heart. Every other film in the saga, even the
prequels, had at least one character whose
motivations, successes and defeats meant
something, or at least could be understood
on basic emotional terms. “The Rise of
Skywalker” does not. Its screenwriters
forced a resurrected Emperor Palpatine into
the story, and the personal conflicts built up
during the first two movies are sidelined,
altered or ignored to accomodate a villain
never meant to be in the trilogy in the first
place. Palpatine is only there for nostalgic
purposes, and his rise takes the entire film
down.
Yet, while “Star Wars” stumbled, two other
smash hits from this holiday season, “Knives
Out” and “Little Women,” blazed a new way
forward. They took well-worn, nostalgic
blueprints, like Agatha Christie mysteries
and a classic novel, and updated them with
emotive characters and prescient topics.
Nostalgia has its place, and it can add a touch
of familiar flavor to movies whose main
concerns are affecting plots and believable
characters. “The Rise of Skywalker” shows,
though, that it should never, ever, be the full
meal.
—Andrew Warrick, Daily Arts Writer
As someone who grew up with an older
sister who was determined to be a spy, I’m
not sure why it took so long for me and my
family to watch the James Bond movies
starring Daniel Craig (“Knives Out”). But
we gave it a shot over winter break, and,
to no one’s surprise, we loved them. I’m
not sure why we liked them as much as we
did, especially considering “Casino Royale”
consisted mostly of an hour-long poker game
that I only half understood and yet was
completely enthralled by.
The plots didn’t always make sense (I
still don’t really know what happened in
“Quantum of Solace,” if I’m being honest),
but I feel like with James Bond, the action
is what matters most anyways. James Bond’s
stunts — a lot of which were performed by
Craig himself — were amazingly done and
often had us rewinding the DVD to see
them again. “Skyfall” was by far my favorite
installment, though, mostly because we
finally got to see more of M (Judi Dench,
“Shakespeare in Love”). When the new
movie comes out in April, I know for a fact
that my family will be first in line to watch
007 kick butt again.
—Sabriya Imami, Daily Arts Writer
Aside from the milquetoast mediocrity of
“Bombshell” and the nonsensical wormhole
of a Star Wars movie, I filled my break with
films released earlier in the year that I had
missed out on. One was “High Life,” which
I found to be one of the most legitimately
compelling and tragically under-discussed
movies released in 2019. Claire Denis’ ability
to tell a harrowing human drama without the
constraints of linear storytelling is a glorious
thing to behold. While the film’s quiet
conversations
and
symbolism-drenched
imagery lent themselves to a slow pace, I
was never truly bored. The movie also made
me realize the largely untapped potential of
arthouse actress Mia Goth (“Suspiria”).
Another 2019 catch-up movie I saw over
break was Johanna Hogg’s (“Unrelated”)
autobiographical feature, “The Souvenir.”
It follows a young film student as she gets
involved
with
a
heroin-addicted
older
man. Nothing about the film’s plot makes
conventional sense — it is nearer to a living,
breathing diary of Julie’s life (Honor Swinton
Byrne, “I Am Love”) than a story. But Hogg
enforces an unwavering subjectivity around
the film, placing a viewer so unquestioningly
in Julie’s perspective that all her decisions
seem inevitable more than unwise. We are
not here to judge Julie, and by extension
Hogg. We are fascinated but powerless
observers. I have never before seen a film
that wraps you up as completely in its own
intimacy as “The Souvenir” does. It’s why I
watch movies.
—Anish Tamhaney, Daily Film Editor
What our film writers
watched over the break
In honor of Ramy Youssef receiving the award for
Best Performance by an Actor in a Television Series -
Musical or Comedy at the 77th Annual Golden Globe
Awards, The Daily is rerunning an interview with
him.
***
Despite the countless positives associated with
the recent surge in representation within our media
landscape, it is easy to be lulled into a false sense
of accomplishment. The mere presence of diverse
faces does not mean that the seemingly never-
ending journey toward parity has been completed.
That’s right, whites. Put your pussy hats back on,
this party’s far from being over. Currently, to be a
person of color with a platform in the media, your
visibility comes at the cost of your individualism.
The beast of fame is indiscriminate in its scrutiny
of those in the public eye, but only those from
marginalized groups know the fatiguing extent to
which their identities amplify this magnification.
In the same way that the only Black kid in class is
expected to retain a doctorate in American slavery
by middle school, creators of color are expected to
use their projects to speak for an entire community.
Part of this stems from a longstanding legacy
of underrepresentation. When a people has been
deprived of representation for — well — forever,
each starved member has ample time to dream
up their own unique expectations that one show
cannot possibly satisfy. This pattern also stems
from the long-established normalization of the
privileged, and the resultant “othering” of everyone
who does not meet a certain criterion. Even shows
featuring niche sects within privileged groups, take
Irish Catholics for instance, avoid the expectation
to speak for all members of the community. This is
because, as Ramy Youssef (“Mr. Robot”), creator of a
new, self-titled Hulu show, pointed out in his group
interview with The Michigan Daily, privileged
groups have historically been afforded the right to
nuance. Marginalized groups? Not so much.
Ramy Youssef is out to combat this norm.
To the untrained eye, “Ramy” appears to be
yet another vehicle for a stand-up comedian too
lazy to think up a title for a show loosely based on
themselves. There’s been “Seinfeld,” “Roseanne,”
“Ellen” and even (yes, I’m bringing it up) “Mulaney.”
Only this time, the old trick comes with a layer of
complexity unfounded in its predecessors: “I think
it’s really important to have people authentically
being themselves. And I think, for me, my approach
in calling the show ‘Ramy’ was to highlight from the
beginning that this is just one Arab-Muslim story.”
In developing “Ramy,” Youssef made it his
mission to create a show with subtleties usually
only reserved for white, presumably Christian
characters. In doing so, he has forged a path for
future creators of color who dream of a day when
their identities can be present in their work without
overshadowing the actual story, or at the very
least, express themselves in their work without the
constant anxiety of appeasing everyone within a
community.
Produced by A24, “Ramy” is now kin to some
of the most talked-about coming-of-age stories
of recent years: “Lady Bird,” “mid90s,” “Eighth
Grade,” the list goes on. Although this is exceptional
company to be in, I had to wonder, in addition to
centering on an Arab-American man, how else does
“Ramy” distinguish itself as a narrative from the
seemingly never-ending stream of projects falling
under the category of Confused Millennial Finding
Him/Her/Their selves™? Youssef’s answer was
unexpected to say the least. And not just because
genteel women never discuss it during dinner.
Religion.
Make no mistake — Youssef, dressed as though
he could have just clocked out from a long day at
VICE News, is not out to convert the masses or
spread the word of how “cool” religion can be like
a cargo short-clad youth group leader. His aim
in emphasizing religion in his passion project is
merely to shed a light on the crossroads he has been
met with throughout his life in attempting to own
his faith while willingly participating in aspects of
secularity.
While most comedies geared towards the coveted
18-34 demographic evade discussing religion
in an earnest way and feature characters either
ambivalent toward or outwardly disinterested in
any element of faith, “Ramy” attempts to bridge this
divide by crafting a nuanced depiction of a man who
is not attempting to escape his religion and culture,
but, on the contrary, to “be his best spiritual self.”
A distinction that is on display from the onset of
the series, in the first episode alone, fictional Ramy
Hassan must have an awkward conversation with
his hookup regarding her misconceptions about his
faith. She assumed he was “culturally Muslim” in
the same way that she was “culturally Jewish.” She
was incorrect. I couldn’t help but picture the scene
as a meta exchange between Youssef himself and
other popular coming-of-age comedies of today.
Comedy and religion are an odd couple of sorts
— with their only successful merger to date being
the archaic setup for jokes about a rabbi and a priest
inexplicably sharing a drink at Applebee’s. Youssef
is not blind to this reality, reasoning that, “church,
the mosque, the temple … whatever are almost
always the punchline.” As much as I like to perceive
millennials and Generation Z as a hold-no-punches
bunch, shying away from no topic too taboo, I had to
wrangle with the possibility that maybe we did avoid
religion like Christmas Eve mass. Just because I am
a disillusioned Catholic (read: only stuck around
for the wine, then bounced), does that mean that
I cannot appreciate a show about someone else’s
relationship to their faith? My fear in beginning
Youssef’s series with this in mind was that it would
be akin to the Christian movies they showed at my
Catholic middle school: preachy, poorly acted and
(maybe?) with an arc related to high school football.
It would be an understatement to say that this is
not “Ramy” in the slightest. No spoilers: There’s a
condom full of water, a cringe-inducing car makeout
and hookah. There are clearer traces of “Atlanta”
inherent in “Ramy” than the Catholic school staple,
“Facing the Giants.”
Rather than being a hindrance to my enjoyment,
Youssef’s exploration of religion provided for a
compelling internal struggle that was refreshing to
see. In discussing the possibility of renewal by Hulu,
Ramy and co-star Dave Merheje (“Mr. D”) both
expressed high hopes for a second season. With
commercial and critical praise continuing to pour
in for the show, this appears to be a very plausible
matter. And for Youssef, who was credited with
penning about half of the first season’s episodes, he
shows no signs of writer’s block: “The importance
[of “Ramy”] lies in that we get to highlight that you
can be very specific and do ten episodes in a season
and there’s still so much that hasn’t been touched.
And I think if there’s anything that is important
about (this), it’s that. We get to highlight how
hyperspecificity is a wealth of story and probably
profitable too.”
Representation and ‘Ramy’
ALLY OWENS
Senior Arts Editor
TV INTERVIEW
LUCASFILM LTD.
DAILY FILM WRITERS
In developing “Ramy,”
Youssef made it his mission to
create a show with subtleties
usually only reserved for
white, presumably Christian
characters. In doing so, he
has forged a path for future
creators of color who dream
of a day when their identities
can be present in their work
without overshadowing the
actual story, or at the very
least, express themselves
in their work without
the constant anxiety of
appeasing everyone within a
community.
Currently, to be a person
of color with a platform in
the media, your visibility
comes at the cost of your
individualism. The beast of
fame is indiscriminate in its
scrutiny of those in the public
eye, but only those from
marginalized groups know
the fatiguing extent to which
their identities amplify this
magnification
Rather than being a
hindrance to my enjoyment,
Youssef’s exploration of
religion provided for a
compelling internal struggle
that was refreshing to see.
A24
It’s a beautifully crafted,
wonderfully performed,
roller coaster ride of a
waste of time.
But Hogg enforces an
unwavering subjectivity
around the film, placing a
viewer so unquestionably
in Julie’s perspective that
all her decisions seem
inevitable more than
unwise.