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Thursday, May 7, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com ARTS
Netflix’s catalogue hosts a large
range of teenage romantic com-
edies, films usually based on arche-
types who parrot dumbed-down
lines about the “important” parts of
high school without experiencing a
lot of character growth. They’re
short and predictable, and because
their sole purpose is entertain-
ment, they start to blur together.
But when a teen film goes beyond
simple entertainment, it stands out.
This is what makes Netflix’s latest
teen movie, “The Half of It,” so spe-
cial and important: it takes the typ-
ical teen movie format and turns it
into something more.
“The Half of It” seems like some-
thing we’ve heard before. It’s set
in a small town in the USA, where
people know of each other without
ever really knowing each other.
The community values religion and
conventionality; those who stand
out are frowned upon. Ellie Chu
(Leah Lewis, “Nancy Drew”) is a
classic fish out of water, closed off
to her classmates who she struggles
to connect with. After some push-
back, she agrees to help Paul Mun-
sky (Daniel Diemer, “Sacred Lies”),
a sweet, simple boy, write a love let-
ter to Aster Flores (Alexxis Lemire,
“The Art of Murder”), a classic far-
away crush. Despite her own grow-
ing feelings for Aster, Ellie helps
Paul try to impress Aster through
the power of language and under-
standing, and all three go through
a journey of connection that chal-
lenges their perceptions.
But even with the background of
mild catfishing, there’s a lot about
this film that is new: most impor-
tantly, representation. Ellie is a
character we don’t see enough of in
films and television: Whip-smart
and musically talented, but also
multi-faceted and introspective.
She’s one of the only people of color
in her small town, and she speaks
Mandarin at home with her father
Edwin (Collin Chou, “The Matrix
Reloaded”), whose struggles with
English have led to struggles with
employment. Ellie is well-read, and
her way with words has led to her
prolific
essay-writing
business.
She’s shamelessly intelligent (other
than the fact that she only charges
$10 for a three-page essay), but
she’s always felt like the odd one
out in her hometown, whether it’s
because of her race, intelligence,
sexuality or all of the above.
The film struggles with pac-
ing at times, where time feels a bit
too fluid. A lot of things seem to
happen in a short amount of time,
and parts of the story become
confused and chaotic. That said,
watching Ellie shed her walls and
open up to people is wonderful to
watch. Ellie and Paul connect over
cram sessions, old movies and fur-
tive meetings despite being polar
opposites. Ellie is mature for her
age and brusque with anyone who
isn’t her father. Paul is the classic
lovable dope, who claims to be bad
with words but occasionally drops
gems like, “Isn’t that what love is?
How much effort you put into lov-
ing someone?” Despite being the
subject of a love triangle and occa-
sionally seeming a bit too good to be
true, Aster is refreshingly fleshed-
out; Aster and Ellie’s connection as
they ponder life and love is undeni-
able, even if Aster doesn’t know the
truth of who’s writing the letters.
The connections between charac-
ters are the heart of the story. Ellie
and Aster connect over their love of
literature and feeling out of place.
Paul and Ellie’s dad connect over
their struggle to articulate their
thoughts into words. And Ellie and
Paul connect over the simple mat-
ter of having someone to talk to and
ponder their place in the world.
“The Half of It” is a teen movie
that defies the genre. Regardless
of any issues with pacing, the story
created by director/screenwriter
Alice Wu (“Saving Face”) is unique-
ly real and relatable. It’s a story that
deals with conflict, whether it’s the
reconciliation of beliefs or dealing
with the subtle racism of being one
of the only people of color in a small
town. It’s an LGBTQ story that
hinges on identity that doesn’t feel
strong armed or unrealistic. The
colors of the setting may be muted,
but the language of the script is
beautiful and vibrant, with lines
that you want to hold close and
moments that come satisfyingly
full-circle. The film is not exactly a
romance, but it is a film about love
in various forms, about friendship
and connection and finding the
people that make you feel more
complete.
Not your ordinary romcom
ELISE GODFRYD
Daily Arts Writer
FILM REVIEW
FILM REVIEW
Netflix
You’ve got three big reasons to
revisit 2014 sci-fi epic “Snowpierc-
er.” Firstly, as is the raison d’etre
of this notebook series, movies to
do with the apocalypse are pretty
timely right now. Secondly, it’s
directed by none other than Bong
Joon-ho, whose Oscar domination
this past February was so iconoclas-
tic and bombastic that conserva-
tive South Korean politicians who
once vilified him as unpatriotic and
“Parasite” as a “commie flick” are
now proposing building a statue
and museum in honor of Bong in his
hometown of Daegu. Oh, and third-
ly, it’s on Netflix.
Admittedly, for an entry in a
series titled “Scenes from an Apoc-
alypse,”
“Snowpiercer”
doesn’t
contain that many scenes from an
apocalypse. The disembodied voic-
es of pre-apocalyptic newscasters
exposit about pre-apocalyptic poli-
tics. A trio of planes jettison a nox-
ious-looking white substance into
the atmosphere. And that’s about
it. The rest of the film fast-forwards
17 years to a Snowball Earth and a
“rattling ark,” the eponymous train
Snowpiercer.
In post-apocalyptic films like
“Nausicaä of the Valley of the
Wind,” the apocalypse is ancient
history. In “The Road,” it’s a more or
less irrelevant detail given the ata-
vistic dog-eat-dog circumstances.
In “Children of Men,” the catalyst
for the film’s sterilizing dooms-
day is entirely unknown. But in
“Snowpiercer,” it’s all spelled out: it
was us. No two ways about it. First
humankind polluted the heck out of
the world and threw the climate all
out of whack. Then, in an attempt to
reverse what we did, 79 countries
shot some sort of cooling agent into
the sky, causing the entire planet to
freeze over and all life to be extin-
guished. That is, all life without the
good fortune to a receive a ticket to
board the train.
The coronavirus pandemic has
thrust us uncomfortably close
to an apocalypse film. We have
a deadly virus and incompetent
governments. We have guns sales
skyrocketing as people prepare
for the worst. We even have some
people talking about stringing up
their neighbors and “eating ass”
… and no, not as a sex thing. One
thing maintaining that thin separa-
tion between reality and the silver
screen is the movies’ failure to pre-
dict that some people would protest
their right to get eaten by the zom-
bies. Truth is truly stranger than
fiction.
But what “Snowpiercer” reminds
us is that, before the pandemic
forced the impoverished to starve
and the more well-off to bake bread,
we were already in the middle of an
apocalypse, albeit one that moves
at a much slower pace (hint: it’s the
climate crisis) and that the dystopia
may already be here (hint: it’s capi-
talism).
The passengers of “Snowpiercer”
aren’t all grateful to have gotten
the golden ticket to circumnavigate
the globe for the remainder of their
lives. Some no doubt are — the pas-
sengers who live near the front of
the train enjoy steak dinners, bath-
houses, nightclubs, string quartets
and even sushi twice a year. For
the ones who live near the caboose,
it’s the Polar Express from hell, but
they don’t even get Tom Hanks.
One character describes the first
few months aboard the train, when
there were too many mouths and
not enough food. Miraculously, like
the fish and loaves of the Bible, a
veritable cornucopia was produced:
“One by one, other people in the tail
section began cutting off arms and
legs and offering them.”
Instead, they have Chris Evans,
starring in the film only two years
after his debut as the exuberantly
optimistic, muscle-bound Captain
America. In “Snowpiercer,” Evans
dons a woolen cap, scruffy beard
and world-weary face as Curtis,
the leader of a revolution. With his
second-in-command Edgar (Jamie
Hill, “Rocketman”), grieving moth-
er Tanya (Octavia Spencer, “Ma”),
security specialist and drug addict
Nam (Song Kang-ho, “Parasite”)
and Nam’s clairvoyant daughter
Yona (Go Ah-yung “A Resistance”),
Curtis must travel the length of the
train from the tail-end all the way to
the near-mythical engine in order
to pursue justice and enact reform.
‘Snowpiercer’
and the pandemic
JACOB LUSK
Daily Arts Writer
SUMMER SERIES
Read more at michigandaily.com
The Half Of It
Netflix