Arts
Wednesday, November 11, 2020 — 13
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

“extremely online” to my friends,
they usually agree — they too
love memes and spend hours on
Twitter.

gets messy. It usually turns into
some form of me reciting my own
version of Bane’s quote from “The
Dark Knight Rises”: “You merely
adopted the internet; I was born in
it, molded by it.”

To say that the musical career

of Daniel Lopatin (aka Chuck
Persons aka Kaoss Edge aka
Oneohtrix Point Never aka OPN)
is complex, well, is a bit of an
understatement.
Though
each

moniker comes corresponds to a
distinct style, Lopatin’s work is
deeply entrenched in mythos —
his projects connect in a way that
creates a canon. Naturally, some of
this lore comes from fan discourse,
but a large majority of it feels
intentionally crafted by Lopatin
himself. Particularly as Oneohtrix
Point Never, every project of his
provides some new way to view his
artistry. He is fixated on how aura
and feeling manifest themselves
within sounds, a fixation which
has led him to craft some of the
most experimental and innovative
pieces of the last decade.

Because of how truly alien

so much of his music sounds,
one might think of him as the
type of avant-garde that deep-
cut historians who spend most
of their time in record stores or
rateyourmusic forums would brag
about
“discovering.”
However,

despite all signs pointing toward
maintaining a career outside
the
establishment,
OPN’s

trajectory has put him not only
at the vanguard of experimental
electronic music, but as a frequent
mingler with the mainstream.
Within the last few years, he has
been able to catch the attention
of and collaborate with many
well-known
artists,
including

FKA Twigs and The Weeknd,

as well as soundtrack several
movies, including “Good Time”
and “Uncut Gems.” Perhaps the
greatest testament to the quality
of his music is that these artists
don’t want to work with him
because of his accessibility (OPN
is many things, but accessible is
not one of them), but because his
artistic intention remains clear.
They want to collaborate with him
despite the challenging nature
of his work and the chaos of his
vision.

A question that many had was

how this explosion of exposure
would affect his music. Would
he try to incorporate a more
accessible structure to his sound,
or would he further embrace the
unpredictable aesthetic he has
built for himself? Magic Oneohtrix
Point Never provides the answer:
both.

In his last album Age Of, there

were slight signs of a change in
methodology. Chiefly, it used
Lopatin’s voice as a tool. The fact
that there was actual singing
going on created the perception
that the music was taking on a
more traditional format, but on
closer inspection, the singing
was actually used as a way to
discover new ways of displaying
unconventionality. With Magic,
he appears to explore his own
voice even further, flirting closer
and closer with traditional song
structure.
This
traditionality

also shows up in the various
collaborations across the album,
including
features
from
The

Weeknd,
Caroline
Polachek,

Arca
and
NOLANBEROLLIN.

However, this is only one aspect
of the album. Almost as if it’s

in response, the other half of
the album contains some of
OPN’s most experimental and
aesthetically complex music to
date. The way the experimental
pieces are arranged in the album
can make it seem like they are
the “filler” that take up the space
between the more songish tracks,
and yet they somehow contain a
plethora of ideas and feelings. As
an artist, Lopatin might be one of
the best at unveiling meaning from
within that which seems vacant.

If there is one thing that has

remained constant throughout
OPN’s career, it is Lopatin’s
obsession with the potency of
memory. Often this sense of
memory may seem strange, even
alien, but never unfamiliar. Magic
presents itself as the summation of
the discoveries he’s made through
his exploration of the topic. In
many ways, it feels like this is the
first time Lopatin has looked back.
There are so many callbacks to his
prior works (the plunderphonics of
Replica, the incongruity of R Plus
7, the nostalgic angst of Garden
of Delete), and they all function
as a self-reflection and also an
obituary. The chopped up radio
interludes really bring this point
home. In them, you hear the voices
of announcers speaking in pseudo-
Lynchian dialogue, there’ll only be
a memory of music and this dream
is the sound. And this dream will
self-destruct in 3 … 2 … Everything
fades and gets replaced eventually,
memory, dreams and, as Lopatin is
trying to establish, so too will his
music.

Daily Arts Writer Drew Gadbois

can be reached at gadband@umich.
edu.

Serendipity, storytelling at
AA’s West Side Book Shop

For Jay Platt, bookselling

has always been about stories
and
serendipity.
Celebrating

its 45th year on September 21,
his store West Side Book Shop
opened at 113 W Liberty Street
in Ann Arbor in 1975, a few
years after Platt graduated from
the University with a degree in
naval engineering.

Last week, Platt sat relaxed

in a leather swivel chair, sipping
water out of a small styrofoam
cup as he described how this
store began with just a few
bookshelves, pointing out the
rows and stacks of scattered
books.

Though
originally
from

Virginia, Platt stayed in Ann
Arbor after graduation to be
amid the political fervor of the
late 1960s.

“It was a pretty crazy time,”

Platt said. “I didn’t really
know what I was wanting
to do. I didn’t want to be in
engineering, to be behind a
desk all the time. And so I got
into books. I feel very lucky that
I found something I really like
to do.”

Around 1970, while still in

college, a friend of Platt’s took
him into a bookshop in New
York City — Booksellers’ Row
on Fourth Avenue.

Surrounded by the towering

shelves of used and rare books,
Platt got “bitten by the bug.”
The mysteries and histories
hidden within those old covers
drew him in.

Platt is also fascinated by far-

off travel, and this is reflected
in the West Side Bookshop’s
collection — especially polar
explorations. Platt asked me
if I knew anything about the
history of the Antarctic. When
I said no, he sat up to tell me a
story.

“Relatively
early
19th

century, no one even knew the
Antarctic existed. No one had
even cited it until the 1820s,”
Platt explained. He cited books
by Ernest Shackleton, one of the
most famous explorers from
the “Heroic Age of Antarctic
Exploration” — the book of
the same name is one of Platt’s
favorites. His eyes lit up while
recounting
Shackleton’s

expedition,
barely
stopping

for a breath at the Endurance’s
(Shackleton’s ship) peril on the
ice.

“He (Shackleton) made that

decision to do it and not take
the glory. He’d rather save his
men. Anyway, later on, the pole
had been reached by a couple of
explorers. Shackleton wanted to
be the first across the Antarctic
continent.
The
Endurance

got stuck in the ice and was
crushed ... And long story short,
he saved those men. Nope, not
one life was lost. It was just an

incredible story ... It probably
got me started,” Platt said.

The West Side Book Shop

also has a sizable collection of
children’s books, literary first
editions and books on Michigan
state history.

“That’s one thing about the

book trade. You have to have
curiosity. You have to know a
little bit about everything. And
you’re always learning because
there’s always something new,”
Platt said.

Building a collection of over

20,000 books has kept Platt
busy for the last 45 years. When
I asked him if he keeps an
inventory of all these books, he
simply tapped his forehead. He
remembers it all without notes.

Platt acquires many of these

books from people who are
moving or acquaintances of
someone
who
has
recently

died. He also attends book
fairs all across the country.
During non-pandemic life, the
events take him to Chicago,
Minneapolis,
Washington,

Boston, San Francisco, Los
Angeles,
St.
Petersburg,

Floridam and Austin, Texas.
There is also usually a book fair
at the ballroom of the Michigan
Union.

“Every now and then you

find your little gem. I mean, it
kind of keeps you going,” Platt
said. One of his favorite finds
was from five years ago when
someone from the western side

of the state brought in a book
published in 1498. Any book
published before 1501 is called
incunabula, Platt explained —
the word comes from the Latin
for “swaddling clothes.” This
was one of those gems.

Part
of
the
West
Side

Book Shop’s history is in the
building itself. Built in 1888
in
Ann
Arbor’s
originally

German
neighborhood,
the

former owners, the Haarrars,
sold German newspapers and
carried German school books.
They also had a photography
studio in the back. Now, thanks
to the passion and expertise
of Doug Price, the back room
retains its photographic roots,
but as a gallery of vintage
photography.

“I started buying and selling

vintage photographs from say
1840, up to about 1930. So that’s

really the bulk of my business,”
Price said. One of his favorites
is a photograph of the 1908
International
Brotherhood

of Teamsters convention in
Detroit. The panoramic shot
includes all the attendees in
front of the Grand Army of the
Republic building.

“Photographs
like
this

contain
a
great
number

of
stories.
They’re
like

anthologies, they’re like novels,
there’s texture. There’s human
complexity, there’s ambiguity,
there’s both subordinate and
dominant points of fact in
the
photograph.
That’s
all

interesting to me,” Price said.

Unfortunately,
like
all

businesses
threatened
by

COVID-19, the West Side Book
Shop fell on tougher times this
year. The bookstore was closed
for three months, from March to

mid-June. In April, Platt’s wife
set up a GoFundMe. Luckily,
on top of the online donations,
a stranger dropped off a $2,000
check a few days ago.

“It worked out pretty well,”

Platt said. “A lot of people come
in and say how much they love
it. There’s nothing like this. I’m
proud of this. Just the fact that
I try to carry good books, you
know, I mean, hopefully pretty
well chosen.”

With
the
afternoon

light
filtering
in
through

the windows and onto the
photographs, the room feels
steeped in history. When I
commented on how I enjoyed
the disarray and homey feeling
of the store, Platt said, “It adds
to the serendipity — discovering
something.”

Daily Arts Writer Nina Molina can

be reached at nimolina@umich.edu.

NINA MOLINA
Daily Arts Writer

COURTESY OF NINA MOLINA

2020’s ‘Rebecca’ is the
wrong kind of haunted

Around this time of year, we

become invested in ghost stories.
Stories of haunted houses and
paranormal
activity
fill
the

screens as people deliberately
scare
themselves.
But
there

are different kinds of haunting
beyond
vengeful
spirits
—

hauntings by past actions, by
decisions, by expectations. And,
in the case of “Rebecca,” being
haunted by those who came
before.

Based on the 1938 novel by

Daphne du Maurier and the 1940
Hitchcock film that followed, this
2020 “Rebecca” has many shades
of the original. The film is set in
the same time period, giving it a
subtle period piece feel, and the
plot as a whole remains nearly
identical: a young woman (Lily
James, “Baby Driver”) meets
and marries Maxim de Winter
(Armie Hammer, “Call Me by
Your Name”), a wealthy widower,
but finds herself struggling to
overcome the shadow of his
deceased wife, Rebecca.

The young woman is never

given a first name, referred to
only as “Mrs. de Winter” after
her marriage to Maxim — the
only name that is important, it
seems, is Rebecca. Rebecca’s face
is never seen, but her presence
is
everywhere
at
Manderley

— everything the new Mrs. de
Winter sees, from the unopened
mail to the items emblazoned
with a signature “R,” seems to
belong to Rebecca. Mrs. Danvers
(Kristin Scott Thomas, “Only God

Forgives”), the housekeeper and
former confidant of Rebecca de
Winter, has a sinister vendetta
against the new lady of the house:
She ominously lurks in corners,
sabotages
Mrs.
de
Winter’s

attempts to try new things in the
house and continuously tells her
how special and revered Rebecca
was. Between the emotional
ghosts
and
psychological

grudges, Mrs. de Winter feels like
an imposter in her own home.

The
film
is
undoubtedly

stunning: The gorgeous shots
of gardens in Italy and cliffs
in
England,
combined
with

the
delightful
1930s-inspired

clothing, create a vibrant color
palette that jumps off the screen.
Creative directing and editing
create an effect of fluidity in
memories and dreams — flashes
of moments make their way into
the story, but it’s occasionally
unclear if they are images of what
is to come or images of a past that
the unnamed protagonist did not
see. Yet the film still falters. In
general, there’s some solid acting
from James and Hammer — and,
pleasantly,
Hammer’s
British

accent isn’t atrocious, which is
more than I can say for some
American actors — but little to no
substance in any of the characters.

The
portrayals
of
women

are particularly disappointing.
Mrs. Danvers is so one-track
minded that she becomes one
dimensional. Mrs. de Winter is
the cliché kind of unique — she’s
an orphan who knows about cars
and reads lots of books, which
of course is surprising because
what woman would ever read or
know about cars? But despite her

intelligence and capability she
is always at the mercy of others.
And Rebecca, despite her looming
presence, is little more than an
idea.

The biggest issue, however,

is the manifestation of the plot.
While some imagery finds a
strong foothold in the story,
there are moments that feel like
important
foreshadowing
but

end up being meaningless. The
rising tension doesn’t quite reach
a point that makes sense; because
of this, the climax feels hollow
and undeserved in context. At one
point, as more details are revealed,
the story shifts so abruptly that
it feels almost like two separate
films, one right after the other.
Even the ending feels a little off,
like the moral of the story doesn’t
match the story itself.

The question that remains is

why — why recreate the award-
winning Hitchcock adaptation
of “Rebecca” from 1940? Though
I haven’t seen the original, it
seems odd to do a remake without
adding
anything
particularly

new
or
interesting.
Instead,

this “Rebecca” is a film, soaked
in an exorbitant amount of
dramatic rain, that isn’t much
more than two attractive leads
in an exquisite house dealing
with psychological gothic horror
and/or maybe solving a murder
mystery (depending on which
half of the film you’re watching).
One can’t help but think that,
like Mrs. de Winter, “Rebecca”
is also haunted — haunted by the
superiority of what came before.

Daily Arts Writer Kari Anderson

can be reached at kariand@umich.
edu.

KARI ANDERSON

Daily Arts Writer

WARP

‘Magic’ adds yet another
feather to Lopatin’s cap

DREW GADBOIS

Daily Arts Writer

NETFLIX