The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Friday, January 17, 2020 — 5

We all want to be remembered 
— there’s no doubt about that. If 
we didn’t, fame wouldn’t be so 
coveted and patent lawyers would 
be out of a job. But when it comes 
to making history, few of us are 
ever able to achieve anything 
“noteworthy.” Or are we? Terrence 
Malick’s (“Song to Song”) newest 
film, “A Hidden Life,” challenges 
the idea that, in order to leave a 
mark on the world our actions 
have to be outstanding. Instead, 
it suggests that simply following 
through on our beliefs, even in the 
face of serious adversity, is enough 
to make an impact on the world. 
The film explores this idea 
through the life of Franz (August 
Diehl, “Salt”), an Austrian farmer 
called up to fight for the Nazi 

regime. Though “A Hidden Life” 
provides a timely conversation 
about what it means to “make 
history,” the film lacks any intrigue 
beyond the typical violence of the 
Nazis. 
“A Hidden Life” should not have 
been three hours long. The official 
runtime is 2.88 hours — 2.88 hours 
filled with Austrian mountainside, 
German prisons and little else. 
Though the contrast between a 
peaceful farming village and bare 
prison yards help create jarring 
transitions, 
the 
scenery 
adds 
nothing to the plot. The mood of 
the film was often affected by the 
cloud cover, but one can only stare 
at on-screen clouds for so long. 
The film is eventually split 
between two viewpoints — that of 
Franz in the German prison after 
having refused his position as a 

soldier and that of his wife, Fani 
(Valerie Pachner, “Bad Luck”). 
The 
couple’s 
letters, 
provided 
as voiceovers between scenes, 
narrate their feelings and longings 
as they grapple with Franz’s 
strained relationship with the 
Germans and Fani’s increasing 
loneliness. But even as they pour 
out their feelings, there is little to 
no emotional connection between 
the characters and the audience. 
Even though Fani bursts into tears 
while tilling the fields and the 
audience takes Franz’s point of 
view while being beaten by a Nazi, 
there is little passion. Instead of 
tearing up at the tragedies Franz 
and his family faced, most in the 
audience, myself included, just 
watched indifferently as these 
moments unfolded.
Eventually, this leads to a pair 
of 
one-dimensional 
characters 
whose only distinctive quality 
is their farm in Austria. There is 
little nuance to the film’s message 
— Franz is nothing more than 
a man dying for his cause. And 
maybe that’s exactly just who he 
was. The simplicity doesn’t take 
away from the nobility of his 
actions, but it does mean that his 
story should be saved for World 
War II documentaries watched in 
high school history classes.
The intent of the story is not the 
problem here. It’s still incredibly 
important to remind ourselves 
that our individual actions have 
consequences, 
no 
matter 
how 
small. Unsung heroes from wars 
should be remembered. But not at 
the expense of a plot. With further 

research, or even just a basic 
understanding of how Hollywood 
works, it becomes increasingly 
clear why Franz’s story was told: 
he is a man. God forbid we make 
movies about women during the 
war that aren’t an American Girl 
Doll story. It’s obvious that the 
Austrian farmer’s story should 
be told before the women who 
cracked key Nazi codes and helped 
win the war.
It is important to discuss men 
like Franz, the ones who quietly 
sacrificed their lives to stand up 
for their beliefs. We obviously can’t 
all be the next Greta Thurnberg or 
Gandhi. But that also doesn’t mean 
we have to devote a three-hour 
film and $7 million to $9 million, 
according to Wikipedia, to a story 
that could be told in a 15 minute 
segment in a Netflix documentary.

‘A Hidden Life’: a film that 
should have stayed hidden

FILM REVIEW

I watched a video about five years ago that 
detailed how states in the U.S. would be affected 
by climate change in the next 50 years. Moving 
from west to east, I saw the expected: more 
droughts and wildfires on the West Coast, intense 
hurricanes in the East and rising sea levels all 
throughout the continental U.S., with large 
areas of Florida and North Carolina underwater. 
But what about the Midwest? Many hold a 
misconception that climate change will affect the 
Midwest less severely. The video affirmed this, 
concluding that Michigan would be one of the 
safest states to live in the near future. While this 
may, in part, be true, we often overlook one key 
factor: the Great Lakes. 
Water levels of the Great Lakes have been 
steadily rising, with a record rise in water levels 
from 2014 to the present. News feeds are cluttered 
with images of entirely submerged lakeshore 
properties, or staircases and ceilings being swept 
away by the passing water. Many of us may 
recognize that climate change is responsible 
for these rising water levels, but will they ever 
return to normal? And if not, won’t our Michigan 
shorelines suffer? 
The Great Lakes Theme Semester, hosted 
through LSA, tries to give us some answers. This 
past Monday was the first panel in a series of six 
intended to give the public perspective on issues 
surrounding the Great Lakes. The Great Lakes 
Theme Semester also includes museum and 
photography exhibitions, among other events 
featured throughout campus.
Speakers at this first panel, titled “Dynamic 
Lakes and Lake Dynamics,” included Drew 
Gronewold, 
professor 
in 
the 
School 
of 
Environment and Sustainability, Guy Meadows 
of the Great Lakes Research Center at Michigan 
Technological University, Susan Och of Leland 
Township Parks and Recreation and James Clift, 
deputy director of the Michigan Department of 
Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy. 
Effects of climate change are startling, which 
is why some of us avoid thinking about it unless 
we have to. Climate change is also a slow process 
(remember, climate not weather), making it hard 
to directly observe unless an expert points it 

out to us. The term “eco-anxiety,” anxiety about 
natural threats such as climate change, has 
been coined in the last decade, and it’s easy to 
understand why. Large scale global changes are 
stressful, even more so when options seem bleak 
without policy change. But I’ve found something 
strangely reassuring in talking about climate 
change with my friends, colleagues, experts or 
even roommates. This is the conversation that 
“Dynamic Lakes and Lake Dynamics” intended 
to continue.
The panel offered both scientific and political 
perspectives on the Great Lakes, contrasting topics 
like the hydrological cycle and shoreline erosion 
with local and state-wide policies. Gronewold 
said the water levels of the lakes tend to oscillate 
between extreme highs and lows (unlike sea 
levels, which have been rising consistently for the 
last 150 years). Lows occur when higher average 
temperatures cause evaporation to increase, and 
highs occur when this increased moisture falls as 
heavy rainfall. It’s hard to predict the water level 
of the lakes in any given year, a trend that climate 
change is responsible for (this tug of war between 
extremes is the same reason that Michigan has 
extremely cold winter during some years, but very 
warm winters during others). This fluctuation 
between high and low water levels, as well as 
increased wave energy, has devastating effects 
through the process of shoreline erosion. Beaches 
and cliffs are being pushed further back each 
year, blurring the line between public and private 
property along the lakes. 
So, what can we do? In truth, not much. Water 
levels are dependent on continental moisture 
patterns, which by nature are challenging to 
predict. Aside from building lakeshore properties 
further from the shore, controlling one of the 
world’s largest reserves of freshwater is no easy 
task. Our best bet is to curb the effects of global 
warming at the individual and national level. 
Michigan will likely become a state that lives along 
the extremes, as will many other states in the U.S. 
As much as we like to believe it, the Midwest is 
not exempt from climate change. The Great Lakes 
Theme Semester opens up an important and 
accessible dialogue that I urge everyone to be a 
part of.
More information about the Great Lakes 
Theme Semester and future panels can be found 
at https://lsa.umich.edu/greatlakes. 

LSA ‘Dynamic Lakes’ 
explores climate change

TRINA PAL
Daily Community Culture Writer

COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW

This past Monday, after attending Kiley’s Reid’s 
book signing at Literati Bookstore and hearing her 
read from her hit debut novel “Such a Fun Age,” 
I spent my night reflecting on the nature of art, 
authorial intent and what I have appreciated so 
much about my recent reads. 
I didn’t anticipate this book signing to be as 
evocative and engaging as I’ve heard Reid’s novel 
to be, especially not as I awkwardly jostled in 
between other attendees to the only available seat 
in the front row — but I found myself surprised. I 
haven’t had the pleasure of reading “Such a Fun 
Age” yet, so this won’t be a review (for that, see 
fellow Arts writer Verity Sturm’s review here), but 
rather a reflection on how the event highlighted the 
transformational nature of a work of art, and how 
art ceases to be limited by authorial intent once the 
work takes on new meaning for someone else.
In many ways, Kiley Reid’s journey as a writer, 
as she outlined it throughout the Q&A segment, is 
emblematic of how a piece of writing can take on a 
life of its own, often in unexpected ways. Before her 
writing career, Reid was trained as an actress; she 
cited her love of telling stories as the underlying 
motive of this lost dream. In her early twenties, she 
landed a role in a commercial for a search engine 
and thought that the opportunity would finally be 
the gateway to a many-storied acting career, only 
to realize… she hated it. So, she decided to explore 
writing (again, citing her passion for stories), and 
set out on a journey that would lead her here. She 
applied to graduate school — two years in a row — 
nannied and, of course, wrote. 
Though not exactly a comprehensive biography, 
the portrait Reid presented of herself was as 
unpredictable as the way she characterized her 
novel’s journey. Reid began with a few fundamental 
ideas she wanted to explore — racial fetishism, 
awkward interactions and a weird three-person 
transactional relationship — but as the story 
evolved, it mutated in unexpected ways and took on 
a life of its own. Reid elaborated on a few things 
that surprised her, but what stuck out the most 
was how she seemed to continually underscore the 
autonomy of her characters. For example, veering 
away from using children in her story as convenient 
plot devices, Reid let “Briar be Briar,” who, like 
many other 3-year-olds, was basically “a useless 
person” in terms of contributing anything. And that 
naturalistic characterization was OK with Reid. 
Kiley Reid’s comfort with 

allowing characters and plots to develop in the most 
natural way reflects an embrace of the interpretive 
and applicable nature that art is inclined toward. 
Thankfully, it’s something she allowed her novel to 
do as well. At the start of the event, she reflected 
on her surprise upon hearing what others have 
said about “Such a Fun Age.” Readers have taken 
away themes and messages far beyond the original 
vision Reid meant to broadcast. The novel’s value 
to readers has gone far beyond the insights into 
class, race and awkward relationships that Reid 
originally intended. To some, it is also a gateway 
into the mind of a privileged but well-meaning 
individual, a meditation on friendship, the tension 
between a nanny and the mother of the child she’s 
nannying and so on.
Regardless of what it meant to Reid, her readers 
or anyone else, the book has a commentative power 
that is typical of well-written fiction. Complex 
and comprehensive literature is able to grow and 
flourish beyond the author’s original vision and in 
turn undergo various transformations in the eyes of 
each reader. In so many literature classes, we focus 
on authorial intent when analyzing a work, but 
when reading for pleasure, what the book means for 
you ultimately determines your level of enjoyment. 
I’m one of those unbearable English nerds, so I’m 
reminded of a lot of boring old literature when I think 
about what writings have taught me something. 
But there have also been recent releases that have 
demonstrated the same thematic transcendence, 
books from which I’ve gained wholly unintentional 
messages from. Maggie O’Farrell’s “I Am, I Am, I 
Am” is one such book and Matt Haig’s “Notes on a 
Nervous Planet” is another, but listening to Kiley 
Reid has truly made me realize how much we need 
to appreciate art that is able to do this. With these 
lenses on, I look forward to reading Reid’s hit, and 
seeing what other masterpieces she will create.

Kiley Reid on her new novel

TATE LAFRENIER
For The Daily

BOOKS EVENT REVIEW

The “What’s the Use?” music video was slated 
to shoot the day Mac Miller tragically died of a 
drug overdose in September 2018. His wounded 
fifth studio album Swimming was a month old. 
It’s a work of introspective resignation, a plea to 
stay afloat amid depression, substance abuse and 
heartbreak. There was a lot to look forward to for 
the forlorn, 26-year-old Mac. “I just wanna go on 
tour,” he tweeted the night before his death. 
In a strange, surreal sense, it feels as though 
Mac never left. In the 16 months since his passing, 
he’s been immortalized through the gestures 
and actions of a music community that felt a void 
after his loss. Even more than the music he made, 
his fans grieved his lost potential. Each album 
was its own era, a monumental improvement 
from the last. The posthumous release of Circles 
continues this legacy. Conceived as a sister 
album to Swimming, Circles was nearly complete 
before Mac’s death. The album is scheduled to be 
released on Jan. 17 and it feels odd to leave an era 
as fresh as Swimming behind. 
Circles’s lead single “Good News” was 
released earlier this week directly following 
news of the album. The song itself is a dejected 
portrayal of the isolation and indifference Mac 
felt during those last few months of his life. And 
while it’s definitely in the same headspace as 

Swimming, the song reveals Mac succumbing 
to his shattered interiority. He is exasperated, 
lonely and depressed. He doesn’t want “to find 
a way” as he did in “Ladders” and questions 
“Why does everybody need me to stay?” These 
jarring, surreal thoughts are accompanied 
by soft optimism in a sparse, plucky and 
breezy instrumental with some gentle bass 
embellishments.
The music video is just as hazy and ambient 
as its instrumentals. The six minute video is 
bookended by clips of Mac entering and leaving a 
recording studio. This takes viewers on a journey 
through trippy, ethereal animated scenes that 
depict a desert, garden and ocean among many 
other scenic destinations. There are videos 
and photo clips of Mac dancing, joking around 
and playing instruments as he sings wearily of 
his trials and tribulations. A sense of comfort 
accompanies every image, almost pastel colors 
standing out despite the despondent lyricism 
that carries them. Flowers, birds, horses and 
other lively images scatter every scene.
“Good News” is just as comforting and 
gorgeous as it is jarring. No one anticipated a 
posthumous release as personal as a Swimming 
track. This puts us in the same position many of 
us were in back in September 2018; Circles was 
produced in the same headspace as Swimming. 
They allow us to revisit the idea of legacy as we 
enter another era of Mac without him, just days 
before what would’ve been his 28th birthday.

Mac Miller’s emotional 
new video ‘Good News’

EMMA CHANG
Daily Arts Writer

Colony House is back 
on ‘Where I’m From’

Leave What’s Lost Behind, the upcoming 
album from the Nashville-native quartet 
Colony House, is lyrically fit to be a best-
selling novel. In just a few pre-released songs, 
the band has already crafted an inspiring 
account of their own dealings with the 
past, filled with vivid imagery of expansive 
landscapes and the notion of playing a role in 
something much larger than yourself. “Where 
I’m From,” their latest single off the new 
album, adds to this narrative by describing 
the beauty found in both joyful and painful 
moments. 
The song begins with steady finger snapping 
before opening up to an electric piano riff. 

With a mellow, resonant register, lead singer 
Caleb Chapman sings of “the scent of cedar” 
and “the warmth of a fire,” reminding us 
of the simple things about where we come 
from. The song as a whole is plain in nature, 
only incorporating a few musical elements 
and keeping the tune rather modest, but its 
simplicity pairs well with the soothing lyrics 
and creates a stunning sense of peace.
“Where I’m From” offers vulnerable 
sincerity and freedom in playing a small role 
in a bigger picture. Unlike their previous 
albums filled with catchy chants and abrupt 
transitions, Leave What’s Lost Behind is more 
mellow and reflective. It’s an opportunity for 
the band to take a step back and meditate on 
the past few years as an indie group slowly 
climbing up the charts.

DIANA YASSIN
Daily Arts Writer

KAITLYN FOX
Daily Arts Writer

MUSIC VIDEO REVIEW

MUSIC REVIEW

“A Hidden Life

Fox Searchlight Pictures

State Theater

The film lacks any 
intruige beyond the 
typical violence of 
Nazis

FOX SEARCHLIGHT PICTURES

G.P. PUTNAM’S SONS

