2-News

Wednesday, September 23, 2020 — 11
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

FILM REVIEW
‘The Babysitter’ is gory, mindless fun 

In need of a laugh and looking 

for a Tarantino knockoff with 
a B-list cast? Look no further 
than 
“The 
Babysitter: 
Killer 

Queen,” released last Thursday 
on Netflix. This film is a sequel 
to 
Netflix’s 
2017 
film 
“The 

Babysitter.” 
At 
the 
time 
of 

writing this, “Killer Queen” is 
#3 in the US on Netflix, but it 
peaked at #1. 

I 
pressed 
play 
with 
no 

intention of liking this movie. In 
fact, I was fairly certain that I’d 
have nothing but criticism for a 
cheesy, gory horror-comedy. And 
oh, is it cheesy. But I find myself 
eager to overlook the film’s many 
faults, and to appreciate the 
puerile one-liners for what they 

are: simple entertainment.

In 2017’s “The Babysitter,” 

Cole’s 
(Judah 
Lewis, 

“Demolition”) parents go out 
for the night, leaving him with 
Bee (Samara Weaving, “Guns 
Akimbo”), his babysitter and the 
apple of his eye. After Bee thinks 
Cole has gone to sleep, she invites 
some friends over for good old-
fashioned fun. One thing leads 
to another and (spoiler) Bee’s 
friends turn out to be members 
of a cult, having all made various 

deals with 
the devil. There is a ritual to 
be performed, and the young 
satanists 
need 
Cole’s 
blood! 

But Cole doesn’t plan to go 
down without a fight. With the 
help of his best friend and love 
interest Melanie (Emily Alyn 
Lind, 
“Doctor 
Sleep”), 
Cole 

emerges victorious and has his 
first kiss (thanks, Melanie!). 
The unfortunate part? Satan’s 
intercession 
involves 
an 

obstruction of justice and the 
destruction of evidence. In short, 
Cole’s parents don’t buy the 
“Satanic cult” story, and instead 
think their kid is delusional.

This brings us to 2020’s “Killer 

Queen.” Two years later, Cole is 
afflicted by flashbacks and an 
overactive imagination. There’s 
a new girl at school, enigmatic 
Phoebe (Jenna Ortenga, “Saving 
Flora”), destined to wind up 
involved in Cole’s predicament. 
Cole’s parents make him take 
pills, which don’t seem to help, 
and have resolved to send him 
off to a psychiatric high school. 
But once again, Cole lives by his 
own rules. Ditching school to 
party at “the Lake” with Melanie 
and her crew is certainly out of 
character for the shy and sharply 
dressed Cole, but his feelings 
for Melanie have him convinced 
that what he needs is to let loose. 
Needless to say, the party boat 
quickly becomes a crime scene, 

and Cole must fight his demons 
once again, now with Phoebe’s 
help.

This 
movie 
is 
fun. 
Yes, 

the 
characters 
are 
awfully 

shallow, and bodily fluids are 

sprayed with excessive force 
and 
frequency. 
And 
yet, 
I 

found myself engrossed. The 
incorporation of text, flashbacks 
and martial-arts battle between 
the two leading women all have 

a distinctly Tarantino flair. That 
is, if Tarantino was a 14-year-old 
boy. Astonishingly, the film is not 
without social critique, either; 
it seems these hellions are all 
seeking internet fame (which is 
ironic, given Alexander Bachelor, 
aka King Bach’s, leading role and 
Amanda Cerny’s cameo). The 
viewer is left with several clichéd 
aphorisms, the most relevant 
of which being “shortcuts don’t 
pay off.” In other words, earn 
your fame, don’t buy it from 
Satan. Perhaps the most off-
putting and unnecessary element 
of this film is the euphemistic 
montage, meant to represent 
Cole and Phoebe’s tryst, set to 
The Sugarhill Gang’s “Apache.”

Between pithy criticisms of 

influencer culture and seismic 
spurts of blood, this flick is 
funny. Bad acting and moderate 
ableism aside, director McG gets 
a lot right. If only because it does 
not take itself seriously, it’s best 
if the viewer doesn’t take this 
film seriously either. Perfectly 
mindless, 
funny 
enough 
and 

engaging — “The Babysitter: 
Killer Queen” entertains. When 
you next find yourself with a 
free evening, turn your brain 
off for a while and watch “Killer 
Queen.” I can’t say you won’t be 
disappointed, but I’m pretty sure 
it’ll make you grin.

ROSS LONDON
Daily Arts Writer

Mainstream:
Don’t be so 
tough on TV

‘DROWNING IN THE MAINSTREAM’ COLUMN 

In 2013, Tina Fey opened her Golden Globes 

monologue with the line, “Tonight we honor the 
television shows that have entertained us all year, as 
well as the films that have only been in theaters for two 
days.” It was a sly quip at awards season releases, how 
the December month becomes saturated with the next 
best film. But as a matriarch of television, Fey was also 
poking fun at a phenomenon she probably knows all too 
well: People don’t view television as “art.”

Think about it — when you picture that bleach-haired 

boy in your film class playing devil’s advocate, what 
media does he project onto? He unplugs his Sufjan 
Stevens and tucks the Ayn Rand book into his backpack 
to begin an unprompted and unwanted discussion about 
the latest Tarantino movie (it’s not that HE doesn’t 
respect women, it’s that his CHARACTERS don’t). He’s 
not sweeping aside self-cut bangs to watch you as you 
talk about “Atlanta” or making side comments to his 
friend about how no one truly understands “Stranger 
Things,” because to the high society artist, television is 
not worth a critical eye. 

Whenever I coyly throw a television reference 

into conversation or get giddy over my favorite show 
restarting, too often the response I get is “Oh, I don’t 
watch TV.” Rarely do people say “I don’t really care for 
books,” or “I don’t listen to music much,” and when I 
mention that I am not really a movie person, every head 
turns with shock. But for some reason, television is a 
medium that is acceptable to ignore. 

In a lot of ways, I get it. Television — with its excessive 

advertisements and time-sucking nature — can be the 
medium most associated with indulgent consumerism. 
“The Irishman” didn’t have three separate Poptart 
commercials peppered throughout and no one is 
binging “The Lord of the Rings” franchise in a two-day 
bender. There are drawbacks when it comes to watching 
television, but that’s true with every art form. Not every 
movie you paid to see is going to be worth it, and not 
every album you anticipated is going to be great. But 
nobody stops watching movies or listening to music 
because of these realities, so why be so tough on TV?

One of the things that draws people to art so much is 

the opportunity to live through stories they themselves 
are not a part of and be moved to feel a range of emotions 
from something they could not create. I would argue 
that television is the medium that excels in this the most. 
There are very few movies in which the viewer can grow 
with characters over years, sometimes decades, and 
those that do feature such a thing get critical acclaim. 
Television exists beyond the constraints of 90 minutes, 
having multiple episodes and seasons to add depth to 
characters and create multiple story arcs. 

Those that abuse this opportunity to change and shift 

their shows fail loudly and miserably — “Community” 
refers to its own Season 4 as “the gas leak year” and 
many “Arrested Development” fans choose to ignore the 
existence of the last two seasons. But so many television 
shows run their course gracefully, ending in ways that 
are both artfully sound and fan-friendly. Two recent hit 
shows — “The Good Place” and “Schitt’s Creek” — both 
ended their run on the writer’s own terms, recognizing 
that the shows had run their course and therefore 
giving themselves the time and opportunity to flesh out 
proper endings. The results from both were particularly 

poignant for two network comedies, touching on topics 
ranging from a family’s love to the legacies we leave 
after we die. 

Denying yourself television is denying yourself the 

chance to truly fall in love with stories and characters, 
and to follow them beyond the confines of a two hour 
film. How can you worship “The Godfather” but never 
bother to watch “The Sopranos”? How can you watch 
every war movie ever released without recognizing the 
impact of “M*A*S*H”? How can you throw “Star Wars” 
posters up on your bedroom walls without even trying 
out “Battlestar Galactica?” Television comes in every 
genre we know and love, elongating the stories and 
offering us new characters that don’t disappear once the 
theater lights flick on. 

Watching television has been painted as the lazy 

man’s vice, the activity we partake in when there’s 
just nothing else to do. Yet I say to watch television is 
to observe art, to understand different people and be 
moved by different stories. Don’t be ashamed if your 
favorite form of media is television — whether it’s 
“Cutthroat Kitchen” or “Killing Eve.” Television is 
suspenseful, it’s disturbing, it’s clever and sometimes 
it’s downright dumb. No matter what it is, television is 
what you and your family or friends are always going to 
gather around for something to do, something to enjoy 
together. 

Daily Arts Columnist Samantha Della Fera can be 

reached at samdf@umich.edu.

SAMANTHA DELLA FERA

Daily Arts Columnist

NETFLIX

TV REVIEW
‘Ratched’ dismisses its iconic origin

On a list of iconic movie villains, 

Nurse Ratched from the 1975 
Academy Award-winning “One 
Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” 
usually ranks near the top. Based 
on the 1962 novel by the same 
name, the film quickly became 
a beloved part of American 
pop culture, mostly because of 
Jack 
Nicholson’s 
charismatic 

portrayal of Randle McMurphy 
as he struggles against Nurse 
Ratched’s oppressive practices 
on her psychiatric ward. 

“Ratched” 
is 
uninterested 

in 
acknowledging 
that 

legacy. Instead, it opts to be 
indistinguishable 
from 
any 

season 
of 
“American 
Horror 

Story” or otherwise generic Ryan 
Murphy 
production. 
Focusing 

on the titular nurse, this new 
Netflix 
series 
explores 
the 

origins of a Mildred Ratched 
(Sarah Paulson, “Mrs. America”) 
as she transitions from caring, 
compassionate caregiver to cold-

hearted 
sadist. 

Like most Ryan Murphy shows, 

“Ratched” opens on a brutal and 
bloody massacre. This massacre 
is of an entire Catholic clergy 
house of priests in 1947. A few 
months later, the killer, Edmond 
Tolleson 
(Finn 
Wittrock, 

“American Horror Story”), is 
headed to a psychiatric facility 
in scenic Lucia, California so 
that doctors can determine if he’s 
clinically insane or if he’s fit to 
stand trial and possibly recieve 
the death penalty.

Like Tolleson, Nurse Ratched 

is also headed to secure a job at 
the Lucia hospital. When the 
head of the facility, Dr. Hanover 
(Jon Jon Briones, “American 
Crime Story”), is hesitant to hire 
her, Mildred begins manipulating 
the staff, patients and even the 
governor of California in order 
to rise through the ranks and 
get close to the mysterious new 
admission, Tolleson. Before long, 
she’s befriended the governor’s 
wife Gwendolyn (Cynthia Nixon, 
“Sex and the City”) and secured 

her place as a the woman behind 
the curtain.

“Ratched” fails to stand out 

from the crowd of other Ryan 
Murphy shows on TV right now. 
Nearly every scene feels cut and 
pasted from “American Horror 
Story: Asylum” or the fellow 
Netflix 
series 
“Hollywood.” 

While the monochromatic color 
palette, sharp-tongued dialogue 
and graphic moments of sex 
and violence may have been 
groundbreaking a few years ago, 
this formula does “Ratched” little 
favors. This campy, slasher TV 
genre of the 2010s desensitized 
audiences long ago — there is 
nothing truly shocking left. 

Perhaps the most infuriating 

thing about this new series, 
however, 
is 
that 
it 
doesn’t 

feel remotely adjacent to its 
source material. The only thing 
connecting the titular character 
of “Ratched” to the villain of 
“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s 
Nest” is a name. What makes 
Nurse Ratched such an iconic 

character is the savagery of her 
mundanity, the weaponization 
of bureaucracy to suppress the 
vulnerable. With a show as 
in-your-face and over the top 
as “Ratched,” there’s no room 
for subtlety, reality or even just 
compelling commentary.

“Ratched” may find inspiration 

in its title, but the similarities 
end there. If viewers watch this 
series expecting something that 
honors the 1975 film, they’ll be 
disappointed. If viewers watch 
this 
series 
without 
knowing 

who Nurse Ratched is, they 
might enjoy the frivolity of the 
excessive gore and the 1940’s 
glamour. 
Without 
properly 

grounding itself, this Netflix 
series will waste its potential to 
revisit a classic character and 
remain indistinguishable from 
every other unnecessarily gritty 
franchise reboot on television.

Daily Arts Writer Anya Soller 

can be reached at anyasol@umich.
edu.

ANYA SOLLER
Daily Arts Writer

NETFLIX

Perhaps the most 
infuriating thing 
about this new 
series, however, 
is that it doesn’t 
feel remotely 

Watching television has 
been painted as the lazy 
man’s vice, the activity we 

partake in when there’s 

just nothing else to do. Yet 
I say to watch television is 

to observe art.

And oh, is it 
cheesy. But I 
find myself 

eager to 

overlook the 
film’s many 
faults, and to 
appreciate the 
puerile one-

If only because 
it doesn’t take 
itself seriously, 
it’s best if the 
viewer doesn’t 
take this film 
seriously either