At some point, everyone pictures their life as 

a movie. Be it studying to “Battle Without Honor 

Or Humanity” and pretending to wield a samurai 

sword, mourning a breakup to “Visions of Gideon” 

and doing your best Chalamet or driving like 

James Bond to his theme song, we’ve turned 

the world into our own film, soundtrack and all. 

Lately, though, my inner movies have all veered 

toward one genre: apocalypse. 

To paraphrase Bob Dylan — Corona, Corona, 

gal, you’re on my mind. 

Coronavirus came slowly, advancing like the 

horde in “Night of The Living Dead.” At first, it 

seemed too far away to do any damage, and slow 

enough to be stopped by a capable government. 

Yet in the beginning of March, there it was, 

pounding our door down and stretching its filthy 

hands toward us. 

First it took the schools. Then the restaurants. 

The bars, the libraries, the movie theatres. 

Borders, airports, friends. Writing this article, 

outside my window, the streets are practically 

desolate, like something out of “28 Days Later.” 

To make things worse, our situation is more 

“War of The Worlds” than any zombie movie. 

Zombies are easily killed while, without a vaccine 

or cure, coronavirus is a much more complex 

threat, attacking a society powerless to stop it. We 

spend our days waiting, watching for symptoms 

that could appear at any moment and wreak 

havoc. If my life was actually a movie, I would 

scream, “Cut!” Yet I, like everyone else, am stuck 

living through this horror show.

We’re all (if we’re smart) socially distancing. 

That means most of us are living out our own 

renditions of “I am Legend” or “10 Cloverfield 

Lane.” So how should we fill these empty hours, 

waiting for the zombies to come? 

All jokes aside, what I watch is vital to my mental 

state, especially in times of stress. A few days ago, 

in a moment of weakness, I made the ill-advised 

choice to watch “Outbreak.” Needless to say, I 

became even more terrified than I already was. 

Watching a fictional deadly American pandemic 

while living through a deadly American pandemic 

isn’t exactly the most comforting pastime. Don’t 

be like me. 

After “Outbreak,” I searched for another movie. 

Choosing something too carefree wouldn’t work, 

plastic and sugar-sweet would just remind me of 

the dire straits my life was veering toward. Yet 

darkness clearly wasn’t a good idea either; just 

looking at the poster for “The Mist” gave me a 

cold sweat. I needed an escape, but one that was 

honest. Thankfully, I found the perfect film on the 

Criterion Channel. 

When “Until The End of The World” was 

released in 1991, it was a critical and commercial 

failure. Even at almost four hours, it was deemed 

inscrutable — Roger Ebert called it “a film that 

was photographed before it was written, and 

edited before it was completed.” 

Yet the film that was released in 1991 wasn’t 

director Wim Wender’s (“Paris, Texas”) true 

vision: The studio had forced him to trim the 

movie by at least an hour. No wonder things were 

jumbled. Wenders and his editor then copied the 

film negative at their own expense, making a five-

hour version that they showed throughout the 

world. This September, the Criterion Collection 

made it official, restoring and releasing the 

Wenders Cut. 

“Until The End of The World” is a road movie, a 

love story, a noir film, a science fiction allegory and 

a hopeful meditation on storytelling. It’s the apex 

of what cinema can achieve, crossing continents, 

genres, tones and technological eras. Best of all, 

the plot matches what we’re going through almost 

exactly. 

It begins with Claire Tourneur, played by 

Solveig Dommartin (“Wings of Desire”), waking 

up in Venice toward the end of a Rococo-futurist 

style party (think “Marie Antoinette” meets 

“Blade Runner”). To the tune of “Sax and Violins” 

by Talking Heads, she walks through this fading 

celebration, passing intoxicated dancers in silk 

dresses and stepping over passed out drunks in 

tuxedos. In her eyes we see that she’s tired of this 

life, sick of the overwrought frivolity on display. 

After she leaves the party and decides to head 

home to Paris, we learn that it’s also the end of the 

world. 

In 
this 
alternate, 
futuristic 
1999, 
a 

malfunctioning nuclear satellite heads toward 

Earth and nobody knows where it will hit. Many 

clog the streets in a panicked effort to escape 

predicted drop zones, some hunker down and stay 

home, while many party their days away. In the 

age of COVID-19, this situation was hauntingly 

relevant. As I watched many I knew get drunk, 

lock themselves in their rooms or pack in a flurry 

and rush home, I wondered if the world would ever 

become normal again. All around me, lives were 

upended because of an unstoppable, inexplicable 

existential threat. Like Claire, I felt lost and was 

sick of it. 

Yet Claire is soon rescued by this ennui when 

her car crashes and she meets two bank robbers 

who need her help. This quest soon becomes 

another, then another, and before one knows it 

they have followed Claire from Venice to Paris, 

Lisbon, Berlin and Moscow, all before the movie is 

even halfway over. Almost instantly, this traveling 

cured my quarantine blues. The soundtrack 

mirrors the breadth of scope, too; there’s music 

from the likes of Talking Heads, U2, Lou Reed, 

REM, Elvis Costello, Patti Smith and Julee Cruise. 

If nothing else, “Until The End of The World” will 

add some new songs to your playlist. 

The film’s final act takes place in the stunning 

Australian Outback and involves a scientist 

played by the recently departed, legendary icon 

Max Von Sydow (“The Exorcist”). As always, his 

performance is a highlight. The scientist lives 

with an Aboriginal tribe, and has shades of Steve 

Jobs, Doctor Moreau and Colonel Kurtz. The 

Aboriginal characters’ culture, like the other 

cultures depicted in this movie, are treated with 

great depth and respect, which even now is 

incredibly rare. There’s also an anti-imperialist, 

anti-capitalist message that still rings true, 

especially when many modern movies’ versions 

of representation so frequently involve a white 

savior. 

So much of the film is relevant that I’m tempted 

to call it prophetic. Characters use video chat to 

communicate, all money is electronic, the wealth 

gap is horrific, gun violence is rampant, substance 

abuse is widespread, the globe is connected both 

virtually and physically and everyone lives in fear 

of an imminent, deadly threat. Sound familiar? 

The movie predicted the technology boom and 

globalization of the 21st century, while also seeing 

the dangers of climate change, nuclear power and 

the addictive nature of digital life. It displays how 

advancement isn’t always what it’s cracked up to 

be — after all, haven’t these past few weeks shown 

us how those in a connected world suffer together?

Yet, time and time again in “Until The End of 

The World,” characters still seek joy. Be it through 

music, a walk through the woods, a trip to another 

city or just a good book, Claire and those around 

her find happiness through escape, even if it is in 

the briefest of moments and the direst of situations. 

Wednesday, March 24, 2020 — 5
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

ANDREW WARRICK

Daily Arts Writer

Finding solace in Wenders’ ‘Until the End of the World’

FILM NOTEBOOK

Two weeks ago, I wrote about the cancellation 

of South by Southwest resulting from the COVID-

19 pandemic. It’s safe to say that in the two 

weeks since that article was published, a lot has 

changed in the state of Michigan. As of midnight 

on Monday, Mar. 23, Governor Whitmer’s Stay 

Home Stay Safe executive order (which intends 

to halt any “non-essential” public gatherings or 

activities) was brought into effect. This policy 

was enacted with the news of over 1,000 cases of 

COVID-19 being found in Michigan in the last 13 

days.

I’m sure this news is (hopefully) not new to 

anyone, and I’m sure most people are aware 

of how this global pandemic is affecting every 

industry. The entertainment industry, specifically 

live music, has especially felt the impacts of this 

situation, with countless tours and performances 

canceled. For some, these cancellations come 

with the loss of income. Two weeks ago, I don’t 

think that I had yet grasped the gravity of the 

situation. But over the past fortnight, I’ve started 

to realize just how impactful this will be for the 

world of music as well as the world at large.

I spoke with Ypsilanti musician Chandler 

Loch, known for his project Ness Lake, about how 

things have changed in the music community 

over the past few weeks. Loch spoke about the 

financial implications over the halt of live music. 

“You can see the desperation and sadness in 

every tour and show cancellation because in the 

‘digital streaming age’ the most profitable way 

for musicians to stay afloat is by selling physical 

merchandise at their 

shows,” Loch said. 

Even 
though 

musicians have lost 

such a major avenue 

for revenue with the 

cancellation of live 

performances, they 

still have options. 

“The 
digital 

age also allows us 

a sense of online 

community 
that’s 

being fully utilized 

by musicians,” Loch 

said. 

Platforms 
like 

Bandcamp 
allow 

fans 
to 
purchase 

merchandise 
and 

albums 
as 
well 

as stream them, while taking only a small 

percentage of the profits. However, even with 

the small commision the platform takes, the site 

decided to waive their revenue share this past 

Friday and give 100% of the profits to the artists 

in an attempt to support these musicians. 

And it worked.

The site reported that, “on a typical Friday, 

fans buy about 47,000 items on Bandcamp, but 

this past Friday, fans bought nearly 800,000, or 

$4.3 million worth 

of music and merch. 

That’s more than 15 

times 
our 
normal 

Friday, and at the 

peak, 
fans 
were 

buying 11 items per 

second.” All for the 

music makers.

Amid 
all 
of 

the 
cancellations 

announced 
over 

the past few weeks, 

it started to seem 

like live music may 

be halted for a bit. 

But in the age of the 

Internet, that wasn’t 

the case. As time has 

gone by, I’ve started 

to see more and 

more musicians hosting live streams on various 

platforms, whether it’s my friend practicing his 

scales on his oboe through Facebook live, or Willie 

Nelson and Neil Young streaming on Twitch.

Ness Lake was recently able to perform on a 

livestream for Common Ground Collective and 

Home Outgrown Presents, two organizations 

that put together live performances; the digital 

show was live streamed on Instagram. 

“I think that the event that I participated in 

went really well!” Loch told me.“It was exciting to 

‘share a stage’ with some of my favorite musicians 

across the country. Many people logged in to see 

the art that I have to share and they said nice 

things about it. I always chalk that up as a win.”

With musicians trying to adapt to this new 

situation, it’s more important than ever to offer 

them support, even when live performances start 

happening again. 

“I think that consumers have to realize that 

artists make next to nothing off of music,” Loch 

said. “Even the ones in my circles that folks may 

consider ‘more established’ often have to work 

menial jobs whenever they’re not creating just to 

keep their lives afloat. The unfortunate reality is 

that the industry is created to sap the hard-earned 

compensation we deserve.”

See Ness Lake perform from the comfort of 

Loch’s apartment this Wednesday, Mar. 25 with 

the Obsessives and Shortly at 5:00 p.m. on @

homeoutgrown’s Instagram channel, and stay 

safe. Along with supporting these musicians, 

following the CDC’s guidelines is incredibly 

important. Creating and consuming art has been 

incredibly therapeutic for me in these times, and I 

hope it can be for you, too. 

DAILY DIY COLUMN

Live music learns to adapt in the days of COVID-19

RYAN COX

Daily DIY Columnist

Even though musicians 
have lost such a major 
avenue for revenue with 
the cancellation of live 
performances, they still 

have options. 

Read more online at 

michigandaily.com

