Thursday, April 2, 2020 — 5
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
PARAMOUNT
FILM NOTEBOOK
Movies are projections. Yes, literally, in the
sense of filmstock and screens and projectors
and bulbs. But movies can also be projections
of ourselves — a momentary snapshot of the
internal, the introspective, the metaphysical. And
given the circumstances, we as the film beat are
seeing less literal projections in movie theaters
and doing more projecting ourselves. So what are
we thinking about? Among them are Tik Toks,
Tiger King and — of course — the apocalypse.
This series will traverse the cinematic doomsday
in its eclectic iterations. After all, why grapple
with an uncomfortable reality when you can
watch movies that hyperbolize it completely?
— Anish Tamhaney, Daily Film Editor
*
2005 was a fantastic year for movies. In
just 12 months, “Batman Begins,” “Harry
Potter and The Goblet of Fire,” “King Kong”
and “Brokeback Mountain” all hit the screens.
What do these have in common? They’re all
produced by major studios like Universal and
Warner Brothers, and are absolutely wonderful.
Be it undercutting the superhero myth, pulling
Harry into a race war, simultaneously honoring
and critiquing a classic film or depicting a gay
relationship with honesty and depth, each one
of these blockbusters did something brave and
worthwhile.
Today, most tentpole movies are part of
a convoluted cinematic universe, critically
panned or instantly forgettable. It almost
seems antiquated to imagine a major studio
release that’s finely crafted. Yet 2005 was full
of films like “Rent,” “Munich” and “A History
of Violence,” big budget movies good enough
to be revered even fifteen years later. There’s a
dark horse in this lineup, though, which usually
doesn’t turn up in 2005’s “Best of” lists. Yet it’s
perhaps the most relevant of any movie released
that year.
Steven Spielberg’s “War of The Worlds” is
not considered a classic like “ET” or “Close
Encounters of The Third Kind,” the director’s
two other alien movies. It should be.
In 2005, the USA was just four years out from
9/11 and in the midst of Bush’s War on Terror.
On top of the death tolls in Afghanistan and
Iraq, Americans contended with the Patriot
Act, a ramping up of surveillance across the
nation. Bush’s approval rating was the lowest
of any president ever while prejudice like
islamophobia and antisemitism skyrocketed
throughout the world. Once those towers fell,
it was harder than ever for people to put trust
in their government, their neighbors and their
own safety.
“ET” just wasn’t gonna cut it anymore.
“War of The Worlds” begins like many
of Spielberg’s movies do, with a slice of
Americana as perfect as Grandma’s apple pie.
After finishing a shift as a dockworker in New
Jersey, Ray, played by Tom Cruise (“Mission:
Impossible - Fallout”), goes home to his kids,
Robbie and Rachel. It’s his weekend to have
them from his ex-wife and the first thing he
wants to do is play a game of catch with his son.
Both of Ray’s kids are stereotypical 2000s
kids. Robbie, played by Justin Chatwin
(“Another Life”), is a sullen, earphones-
wearing teenager with slick black hair who
complains about everything. Rachel, played
by Dakota Fanning (“I Am Sam”), dresses in a
colorful sweater with a pink fur hood, carries
around horse toys and watches Spongebob
Squarepants. If one didn’t know the title, they’d
probably guess the movie would be about Ray
connecting with his dissatisfied kids and maybe
even his ex-wife, played by the great Miranda
Otto (“Lord of The Rings”).
There are some hints of the darkness to
come, though. Robbie’s homework, which he
refuses to start, is about the French occupation
of Algeria, a notoriously violent, imperialistic
campaign. In between Spongebob episodes,
Rachel sees news reports about lightning
storms from around the world. She changes the
channel.
That evening, a storm brews above their
block, a black spiral in the middle of the sky.
Lightning strikes again and again, right outside
their house. The power goes out. When Ray
goes outside to investigate, his neighbors are
gathered around the impact zone. The earth
trembles and everyone starts to run, but it’s too
late. A gigantic alien machine rises above the
buildings and gives a great, unearthly screech.
Then it starts torching people.
The imagery in this scene is ripped from
9/11 news footage. Everything is shot on street
level, giving the carnage a massive scale of
importance. As buildings topple and spew
debris in the air and people turn to dust, it’s all
right in the viewer’s face. The clothes of burn
victims fly into the air with the force of the heat
ray but drift down slowly, evoking imagery like
that of The Falling Man.
“We need to leave this house in sixty seconds,”
Ray tells his awe-stricken kids when he makes
it home. He goes to the mirror and realizes
his skin is caked in the dust of incinerated
human beings. Panicking, he washes it off. The
bloodshot terror in his eyes remains.
“Is it the terrorists?” Rachel asks.
All it takes is one minute to bring modern
America to the brink of apocalypse, to forever
destroy its sense of peace and security. While
the aliens are fictional, this scene played
out a thousand times over on Sept. 11, 2001.
Americans watched in horror as carnage rained
down from above. Afterward, they had to face
their kids and try to explain that their country
wasn’t safe anymore.
As the alien attack continues, Spielberg
destroys countless American motifs. A looming
highway is blown apart, sending cars crashing
into a row of townhouses. Rachel stands next
to a sparkling river in upstate New York, like
something out of Walden, and dozens of bodies
float by, clogging the water. An Amtrak train
rattles past through the dark, in flames. A
statue of a Minuteman is wrapped in alien red
weed. Refugees clog the main street of a small
town as Sinatra plays in the background. “If I
ruled the world…”
Rachel herself is a breathing American
symbol, the typical blonde-haired daughter in
her purple coat, clutching her horse toys. She
shrieks throughout the movie like a canary in
a coal mine, American innocence thrown into
violent chaos. In the end, when she faces the
most horrific thing imaginable, she’s silent,
dead-eyed. Like most of us, she’s so used to the
terror that it has become everyday.
Scenes from an apocalypse: ‘War of the Worlds’
ANDREW WARRICK
Daily Arts Writer
Future Nostalgia
Dua Lipa
MUSIC REVIEW
Dua Lipa reinvents the past on ‘Future Nostalgia’
DIANA YASSIN
Daily Arts Writer
Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia was actually
supposed to come out this week, with an original
release date of April 3rd. But in late March, a full
leak of the album hit the internet. This placed Lipa
in a complicated position: postponing her album
release would be a seemingly pointless pursuit.
She addressed the situation in an emotionally
packed Instagram Live stream that ranged in
topics, spanning from the future of her album to
the UK’s response to the coronavirus pandemic.
“In these kind of situations we all need to actively
work together to make a change,” Lipa said. “What
I’m gonna do is, instead of my album coming out
April 3rd, my album is actually gonna come out
this Friday.” In light of the pandemic, many artists
actually did the exact opposite, delaying their
album releases.
Despite the negative background surrounding
its release, Future Nostalgia is a peppy, fun step
forward in Lipa’s career. Lipa’s 2017 self-titled debut
cemented her as a successful, stable pop force.
Radio mammoth “New Rules” dominated charts
worldwide and the debut garnered Lipa her status
as 2017’s most streamed female artist. She played
this route to pop stardom safely, though; her 17-track
debut contained a lot of EDM filler, tactful collabs
and on-trend Ed Sheeran lyrics about anxiety and
party-skipping. Her appeal felt formulaic, almost
indecipherable in a music sphere with receding
pop dominance. There wasn’t a distinct personality
to Lipa’s celebrity, her then lacking stage presence
picking up slack in meme potential. Her leathery,
molasses-thick register was her saving grace,
polished like a relic from pop music’s past.
For this reason, Future Nostalgia is a testament
to Lipa’s evolution and greater control of her career.
The new era is as distinct a shift for Lipa’s image as
her two-toned bob. Shortly following her breakup
with longtime boyfriend Isaac Carew, Lipa had a
relationship with Anwar Hadid and a leading single
that blithely addresses her ex. “Did the heartbreak
change me? Maybe,” she croons in “Don’t Start
Now.” “But look at where I ended up / I’m all good
all ready / so moved on it’s scary.” Her voice is
strong, almost melismatic, but it glides effortlessly
off the thumping percussion and pulsing synths.
An electric violin in the bridge elevates this already
buoyant boogie track with a groovy disco flare.
Follow-up single “Physical” has the same vintage
bubble wrap, but with an anthemic intensity. Lipa
chants “Let’s get physical” over a neon, almost
jazzercise-type
melody.
While very imitative, its
chugging synthline and
synth flares don’t come
off as dated.
Lipa both literally and
figuratively
breathes
“Future Nostalgia” into
the initial title track. A
robotic
voice
harkens
back to Prince’s “1999” while also whispering
“future” throughout the song’s intro. From there
hovers a comfortably cheesy keyboard melody and
flaring synths. Lipa wears the unabashedly chunky
bassline like a chain as she proclaims, “You want a
timeless song / I want to change the game,” as if to
state her album’s mission. The song carries the same
stratosphere of the ’80s, but her attitude anchors it
to the future with contemporary commentary and
references to futurist artist John Lautner.
While never as kitsch as the intro track, a similarly
contagious ’80s pop ether
coats every moment on
Future Nostalgia. Some
songs contemplate the
transcendent,
altering
nature
of
love
and
romance.
“Levitating”
is galactic and starry
eyed
with
wobbly,
rhythmic
synths
and
spacey imagery that call a “sugar boo” to dance
in the moonlight and “fly away.” Similarly, hazy
“Hallucinate” pulses with laser beam flares and
promises to “love you like a fool.” Other songs
wrestle with the tension of recent heartbreak and
newfound love. Most notable is her recent single
“Break My Heart” that considers the anxiety and
potential doom of a newfound love. Hypnotic
and dreamy standout track “Love Again” visits
similar territory with a simple violin melody that
flourishes under the vision of developing trust in a
new romance.
Future Nostalgia operates under a vision that is
equal parts visceral and nostalgic. With the ambition
to reinvent herself, Dua Lipa modernizes an iconic
pop sound. This goes down to the very fabric of
the album, thumb-tacking legendary sounds and
moments in ’80s music with a contemporary bend.
By collaborating with disco legend Niles Rodgers on
the album and tracking back to the near forgotten
pop trend of the 2000s, Lipa honors the past as she
breathes life into the EDM pop scene that kick-
started her artistry. Beyond the ’80s synth-packing
Lipa, Future Nostalgia is a balanced blend of raw
vulnerability and empowerment as Lipa navigates
love, self assurance and heartbreak. Despite its
newness and early appearance in her career, Lipa’s
Future Nostalgia is a timeless pop masterpiece.
WARNER
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