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