I make a habit of avoiding 
movie theaters. Among other 
more important reasons, I 
really don’t enjoy other people 
telling me how and when to 
react. 
Misplaced 
laughter 
and 
overzealous 
reactions 
ruin 
a 
movie 
experience 
for me, almost as must as 
cliches 
and 
far-fetched 
storylines. The experience of 
watching “Uncle Frank” was 
an unfortunate mix of all of 
these.
“Uncle Frank” is the type 
of movie that is sure to bring 
in crowds. It boasts big-name 
director Alan Ball (“True 
Blood”) and main lead Paul 
Bettany, pulled straight from 
the 
Marvel 
Cinematic 
Universe. 
Even the plot 
is enticing: a 
closeted 
gay 
NYU professor 
from the South 
must confront 
his past and his 
identity when 
he 
and 
his 
niece at NYU 
take a roadtrip 
back home for 
his 
father’s 
funeral. 
At 
face value the 
film promises to be touching, 
riveting 
and 
profound. 
Instead, it is disappointing.
For 
a 
movie 
featuring 
heavy topics such as suicide 
and sexuality in the ’70s, 
“Uncle Frank” barely lets 
a poignant moment go by 
without 
punctuating 
the 
suspense with a laugh. Most 
of this humor comes from 
Peter Macdissi (“Six Feet 

Under”), who nails his role 
as Wally, Frank’s partner 
of 10 years. But Macdissi’s 

impressive 
performance 
could not compensate for the 
poorly-written character he 
had to portray, and I was left 

begging him to please take 
something seriously. 

Actully, the entire cast gave 
a magnificent performance 
that the film’s plot does not 
do justice to. Bettany plays 
Frank 
with 
a restrained 
ferocity that 
conveys 
a 
million 
thoughts 
with the flick 
of a cigarette. 
And 
his 
wide-eyed 
niece 
Beth 
(Sophia 
Lillis, 
“It”) 
is a breath of 
fresh air on 
this road trip 
to 
rebirth. 
But, without 
giving too much away, this 
film asks us to believe things 
that are pretty hard to accept, 
all in the name of tying up the 
story in a pretty, feel-good 
bow.
Still, I have no doubt that 
“Uncle Frank” will be a box 
office hit. Its biggest flaw 
is also its biggest draw to 
the public — it’s a movie you 
feel like you’ve seen before. 
Though there are some twists 
and shocking scenes, you can 
count down the minutes to 
exactly when you’re supposed 
to cry next, and be assured 
that a laugh is just around the 
corner. 
“Uncle Frank” has a lot 
to say, I just wish it had the 
courage to say it. Though they 
explode in the occasional 
outburst, the real, crushing 
emotions of “Uncle Frank” 
are kept at bay, with nearly 
every disagreement ending 
with a “hey you know what? 
It’s okay.” In the world of 
“Uncle Frank”’, disapproval 
consists of whispers around 
the corner and fights that are 
resolved with a mere hug. It 
would be quite a nice world to 
live in, but it isn’t the truth.

‘Uncle Frank’ 
fails to take even 
itself seriously

SAM DELLA FERA
Daily Arts Writer

SUNDANCE SPECIAL EDITION

We all know technology is 
going to be the end of us. We live 
in an age in which we all ignore 
the fact that TikTok is a vehicle 
for the Chinese government to 
collect our information, while 
covering 
a 
laptop’s 
camera 
with a band-aid is becoming an 
increasingly popular practice. 
But does any of this paranoia 
mean that we’re going to stop 
using our technology altogether? 
Will the flip phone make a 
comeback in 2020? Doubtful. And 
even as it becomes increasingly 
clear that technology is an 
integral 
part 
of 
our 
lives 
whether we like it or not, Olivia 
Wilde’s (“Booksmart”) newest 
short, “Wake Up,” follows an 
unnamed woman in a world 
“where people are more engaged 
with screens and devices than 
with each other,” according to 
a 
press 
email 
from 
Wilde’s 
publicist. 
Despite 
its 
visual 
appeal, 
“Wake Up” does 
nothing for the 
conversation 
it 
attempts 
to 
create. 
The 
short 
film, 
as 
posited by the 
filmmakers 
at 
the 
premiere, 
is 
meant 
to 
encourage 
a 
balance between 
humans 
and 
technology that is supposedly 
missing from this day and age. In 
this regard, the Sundance event 
was 
supposedly 
“phone-free” 
and, hypothetically, everyone 
would have their phones in a 
locked case that would only be 
opened when leaving the event. 
But despite the coordinators’ 
best efforts, phones were still out 
and documenting the premiere 
of a film meant to discourage 
that exact behavior. 
The 10 and a half minute film 
failed to realize its audience and 
reach — the general public won’t 
see “Wake Up” at the Sundance 
Film 
Festival, 
with 
Olivia 
Wilde there to explain what it’s 
supposed to be telling you. No, 
the short is going to be consumed 
on Twitter, passed around by the 
very thing it claims to denounce, 
with the sole message that we’re 
going to end up bleeding on the 
ground if we don’t “wake up.” 
Without the introduction by the 
director or the ruminations of 
a panel following the film, this 
nuance is lost. It isn’t a spoiler 
for me to tell you that Margaret 
Qualley’s (“Once Upon a Time 
in Hollywood”) character ends 
up in the hospital for her 
phone addiction because that’s 

how every single story about 
“disconnecting” goes. And this 
might hit hard for a minute, 

but then whoever is scrolling is 
going to keep scrolling with only 
a vague feeling 
that maybe they 
should 
get 
off 
their phone. 
As an avid fan 
of “Booksmart,” I 
was disappointed 
to 
see 
such 
a 
contrite 
idea 
come 
from 
Wilde. There was 
nothing new to 
this concept — we 
all know we spend 
too 
much 
time 
on our phones, 
but if you’re not 
willing 
to 
toss 
out the iPhone for a Motorola 
Razor or get rid of your phone 
altogether, 
the 
conversation 
“Wake Up” tries to spark is all 
but over. Eventually, though, 
it became clear in the post-
film fireside chat that this idea 
didn’t come from Wilde herself. 
Instead, the concept itself came 
from HP, a fact that restored 
my faith in Wilde’s ability as a 
director. 
And so, none of this is to say 
that Wilde and Qualley didn’t 
do a good job with what they 
had — it’s just that what they 
had was a cliché, irrelevant 
corporate message from HP. The 
fireside chat further revealed 
the questionable nature of this 
short film. It could be argued 
that HP is doing a good thing in 
supporting the arts, in trying to 
“start” a conversation around 
our technology use. But when 
the director of the film asks 
us to consider who exactly is 
controlling 
what 
technology 
we use, after producing a film 
commissioned by those same 
people, the irony is clear. Those 
in power don’t even know they 
hold the power or, if they do, 
they’re desperately trying to 
convince us otherwise.

The description of Eliza 
Hittman’s 
follow-up 
to 
2017’s 
“Beach 
Rats” 
is 
fairly simple: A teenage girl 
from 
rural 
Pennsylvania 
travels to New York City to 
get an abortion. The film 
mirrors 
its 
descriptor’s 
straightforwardness — there 
is little dialogue, and nearly 
all of the scenes take place 
in a fluorescent-lit doctor’s 
office, 
on 
sickly 
public 
transportation or the rainy 
streets of New York City. 
But in its simplicity is where 
the film is most captivating, 
seizing the emotion of the 
occasion so perfectly you feel 
the protagonist’s desperation 
in 
every 
footstep. 
Autumn 
(Sidney 
Flanigan) 
is 
a 
reserved, 
unassuming 
17-year-old 
girl 
who 
we first see 
performing 
a 
folksy 
rendition 
of 
The Exciters 
“He’s Got The 
Power” with 
silver glitter 
painted 
heavily onto her sad eyelids. 
In the midst of lyrics like “He 
makes me do things I don’t 
want to do, he makes me say 
things I don’t want to say,” 
Autumn is interrupted by a 

boy yelling “slut!” Though 
she falters for a second, 
she continues, showing us 
more about our protagonist 

than if she had said a single 
word. After a post-concert 
dinner with her supportive 
mother and sister and not-
so-supportive father, Autumn 
runs home, and the camera 
pans down to the growing 
bump on her abdomen. 
When it becomes clear that 
the parental consent laws 
of rural Pennsylvania won’t 
allow for Autumn to get an 
abortion, she and her cousin/
best 
friend 
Skylar 
(Talia 
Ryder) pocket some money 
from their pervy grocery-
store boss and head to New 
York City. It quickly becomes 
apparent 
that 
even 
in 
a 
pro-choice city, getting an 
abortion is incredibly difficult 
and expensive, and the girls 
are left in NYC with no money 
for food or shelter, with men 
preying 
on 
them 
around 
every corner.
In 
a 
year 
when abortion 
rights 
are 
under attack, 
“Never 
Rarely” 
captures 
the 
crushing 
isolation 
and 
trauma 
of 
the 
process 
poignantly. 
Though it is 
technically an 
“issue” film, it 
doesn’t feel like a PSA, though 
you may feel obliged to donate 
to Planned Parenthood after 
watching it. 
The most remarkable scene 
involves the titular phrase 
being used in Autumn’s pre-
procedure 
interview. 
The 
counselor asks a series of 
questions 
about 
Autumn’s 
relationships 
and 
sexual 
history, requesting that she 
answer either never, rarely, 
sometimes, always. Though 
Autumn obliges at first, the 
biggest 
revelations 
come 
from the questions she leaves 
unanswered, 
demonstrating 
a brilliance in filmmaking 
where the most important 
moments are disclosed in 
silence. 
Between 
the 
beautifully 
comfortable 
relationship 
between Autumn and Skylar 
and the suppressed agony that 
both girls are experiencing, 
“Never Rarely” is a film that 
makes a powerful call to 
action with very few words 
at all. It is overwhelming 
and ravishing, leaning on the 
talents of two young breakout 
stars to tell a story that is 
yearning to be heard.

SAM DELLA FERA
Daily Arts Writer

EMMA CHANG
Daily Arts Writer

HP’s ‘Wake Up’ 
is one giant yawn
‘Never Rarely’ is 
a moving look at 
teen pregnancy 

I’ve been thinking about dating a lot recently. In theory, the point 
of dating is to find the person with whom you’re eventually going 
to spend the rest of your life. In practice, though, dating seems, 
especially in college, more about conquests and gaining experience 
than finding a lifelong partner. This isn’t an issue, but it does make 
me wonder how our relationships change as we get older. “Shirley” 
takes this question and creates a thrilling film in which two couples 
spiral into each other, pushing themselves in and out of reality. 
“Shirley” is rooted in comparisons that strategically reveal the 
flaws of the two relationships. The young Fred (Logan Lerman, 
“Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief”) and Rose (Odessa Young, 
“The Professor”) are bright-eyed newlyweds who have yet to 
experience the emotional rollercoaster of a long-term relationship. 
Rose has a naïve, blind trust in Fred, the kind of trust we all want to 
have in a relationship and the trust that’s missing in Stanley (Michael 
Stuhlbarg, “Call Me By Your Name”) and Shirley’s (Elisabeth Moss, 
“The Kitchen”) relationship. It’s this initial difference in timeline 
that sets the two couples up for the dramatic flair of the film — when 
Fred and Rose move in with Stanley and Shirley, the established 
habits of the older couple have a strong influence on the budding 
marriage and we watch as Fred and Rose slowly fall out of sync, only 
to see Rose grow closer and closer to Shirley. 
And as Rose and Shirley’s relationship develops, it becomes clear 
that neither of their husbands are capable of bringing out the best 
in either character. Shirley is tethered to a cheating and sexist 
professor, a man who can’t stand the fact that his wife is smarter 
than him. Rose, on the other hand, has yet to find her voice. She is 
mousey and barely even secure in her role as Fred’s wife. Neither 
woman fully reaches their potential until they meet the other. As 
“Shirley” unfolds we watch Rose grow into a powerful woman, and 
eventually mother, and leave behind her insecurities as a “little 
wifey.” The film creates an atmosphere ripe with feminism without 

ever raising a picket sign. 
To watch these couples dance around each other is like seeing 
two very strange courtships — Fred and Stanley perform with 
the awkward gaits of two males unwilling to bow to the other. 
In contrast, Shirley and Rose create a symbiotic relationship — 
Shirley’s eccentricity brings Rose’s confidence to the surface while 
Rose’s burgeoning self-discovery motivates Shirley to return to her 
work; neither of which would have ever been accomplished in their 
relationship with their respective husbands. 
“Shirley” is a strange film. Jump cuts and shaky camera work 
often made it hard to follow, but the film creates rich, emotionally 
driven scenes that explore the parallels of relationships in a way 
that is often muddled in other pieces. As “Shirley” comes to a close, 
it’s obvious that what we watched was 
not just two couples living together, 
but the origin story of how Stanley 
and Shirley’s relationship came to 
be. These are no longer coincidental 
parallels in their relationship, but 
intentional patterns that occur in 
committed partnerships. 
This film answered one of my 
burning life questions: what is it like 
to be married to Logan Lerman, our 
resident white boy of the decade? 
Disappointing, to say the least. But 
after “Shirley” I realized we’ve been 
dreaming about the wrong person; 
Elisabeth Moss takes the life of a 
suburban wife, working from home, 
and makes it an adventure. A scary 
one, but an adventure nonetheless. 
It’s this reevaluation of our long-
held expectations, both about Logan 
Lerman and marriage, that make 
“Shirley” such an impactful film.

Elizabeth Moss and Odessa Young shine in ‘Shirley’

EMMA CHANG
Daily Arts Writer

“Uncle Frank”

Dir. Alan Ball

January 25, 2020

Sundance Film Festival

“Never Rarely 
Sometimes 
Always”

Dir. Eliza Hittman

March 13, 2020

Sundance Film Festival

“Wake Up”

Dir. Olivia Wilde

January 24, 2020

Sundance Film Festival

It doesn’t feel like 
a PSA, though 
you may feel 
obliged to donate 
to Planned 
Parenthood after 
watching it

Despite its 
visual appeal, 
“Wake Up” does 
nothing for the 
conversation it 
attempts to create

“Shirley”

Dir. Josephine Decker

January 25, 2020

Sundance Film Festival

“Uncle Frank” 
has a lot to say, I 
just wish it had 
the courage to say 
it

“Uncle Frank” is 
the type of movie 
that is sure to 
bring in crowds

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
 
Friday, January 31, 2020 — 5

