Arts
Wednesday, November 18, 2020 — 13
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“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 this past week was
stressful is an understatement.
I found it difficult to focus
on anything, whether it was
homework or watching a lecture
for more than 30 minutes. But
recently
I’ve
rediscovered
something very special: the
Charlie Brown holiday
specials. I know these
are important parts of
the holidays, but for
whatever reason I had
completely
forgotten
about them — until now.
It is wonderful that
there are three specials
for
three
notable
holidays of the fall and
winter
(Halloween,
Thanksgiving
and
Christmas),
especially
because
they’re
perfectly
spaced
out.
In October I watched
“It’s the Great Pumpkin,
Charlie
Brown,”
and
this weekend I watched
“A
Charlie
Brown
Thanksgiving.”
I
thoroughly enjoyed both
and was smiling the
whole time through.
I’m
used
to
watching
Disney-Pixar
movies
where
the animation is crazy detailed
and creepily realistic. Charlie
Brown is the opposite of this,
but to me, it’s still incredibly
immersive.
Movies
like
“Monsters Inc.” and “Toy Story”
are gorgeous and comforting
in their own right, but Charlie
Brown
feels
particularly
nostalgic.
Its
simplistic
animation is whimsical and
endearing, and I think part of
Charlie
Brown’s
everlasting
charm. There’s a reason Charlie
Brown has remained a favorite
for so many after all this time.
It’s rather obvious what makes
these specials so delightful, but
since I hadn’t watched either of
them in so long, I was surprised
at how much I still liked them.
The animation and color palette
are beautiful and feel like
they’re right out of the comics.
That silly spirit is captured so
well through the icons that
are Charlie Brown, Lucy, Sally,
Snoopy and more. They exist
in a world where their parents’
voices are replaced by a muted
trombone. These specials are
solely from the perspective of
children. This adds to their
dreamlike
quality,
making
them truly feel like an escape.
One thing that absolutely
defines these specials is Vince
Guaraldi’s
music.
Guaraldi
initially composed for Charles
M. Schulz for a documentary
about
the
Peanuts
comics
called “A Boy Named Charlie
Brown,” and since then he has
become integral to the Charlie
Brown legacy. After watching
the specials, I found myself
putting the soundtracks on
while I studied because they’re
so peaceful.
I also appreciate how
short
these
specials
are. At 30 minutes each,
watching one of them is
not a big commitment.
Finding time to watch
anything
is
difficult,
and especially at times
when focus is hard to
come by. During election
week
in
particular,
anytime I tried to sit
down and relax I was
instantly
distracted
by my phone to check
the polls. “A Charlie
Brown
Thanksgiving”
is only 30 minutes, and
it goes by so quickly!
As soon as December
comes,
I’m
going
to
watch “A Charlie Brown
Christmas,” and I highly
suggest that you do too.
We’re all unsure what these
coming months will look like.
This semester has been so
different from what it should
have been, and I know I’ve been
trying to find ways to make
things feel normal. Full of
nostalgia and joy, these Charlie
Brown specials are a sure-fire
way to lift anyone’s spirits, and
who doesn’t want that?
Daily Arts Contributor Judith
Lawrence can be reached at
judelaw@umich.edu.
The K-pop queens of vocals
stage a forgettable return
The goddesses of vocals,
Mamamoo, return for their
crown with their new mini-
album, Travel. Their recent
track of success with “HIP”
and Hwasa’s “Maria”
created
incredibly
high
expectations
for this album. Aptly
titled,
the
project
takes inspiration from
a plethora of music
from
around
the
world, ranging from
the ’70s aesthetic in
the U.S. to traditional
Middle Eastern music.
They
were
quite
adventurous
with
their
internationally
inspired
stylistic
choices; some of them
were used to a great
synergistic
effect,
although other times
the
results
sounded
tacky.
While
their
vocals are perfect, as
always, there is an
overall sense of complacency
and
mediocrity
across
the
album — two things that do
not represent Mamamoo well
at all.
The mini-album begins with
“Travel,” a laid-back, chill
summer-bop with the cliché
high-pass filter. It’s nothing
revolutionary.
Moonbyul’s
melodic rap perfectly weaves
in and out of the otherwise
very ordinary and basic song.
The
song
has
the
classic
Mamamoo slowed-down beat
rap verse in the middle of the
song, then ramps back up to the
chorus. Even the bridge is very
formulaic, the instrumentation
is
more
sparse
and
the
vocalists trade lines. Overall,
“Travel” is as forgettable as it
is unoriginal.
The next song makes up for it,
though. “Dingga” is everything
“Dynamite” by BTS wished
it was. The bouncy bassline
is infectious and invites the
listener to groove with the
song. Strings join in for the
chorus which has a really full
and rich sound, and it’s really
groovy. It combines bass
drum hits on every beat
with syncopated disco
elements that create a
compelling
rhythmic
drive.
Hwasa’s
and
Wheein’s voices lend well
to this song, as Hwasa
brings her sexy sultry
style, and Wheein really
comes into her own as
a distinct voice in the
group.
The title track, “Aya,”
seems to rely more on the
word “Aya” than an actual
melody
to
be
catchy.
The flute motif of “Aya”
pervades
throughout
the song and carries it
melodically (I definitely
can
see
it
becoming
the
subject
of
many
TikToks
and
memes).
The build-up of the pre-chorus
to the chorus generates great
expectations, but the anti-drop
of the chorus is anticlimactic
and disappointing. The third
and fourth verses are the
silver lining of the song. The
introduction of the low brass in
the beat gives it a sort of Latin
pop flavor — it’s definitely a
killer combination. The faster
tempo
dance
break
seems
tacked on, like a last-ditch
effort to generate some sort
of variety within the song,
and the ending is sudden and
dissatisfying.
“Chuck,”
“Diamond”
and
“Goodnight” carry the album.
“Chuck” is a unique sound for
K-pop: It starts with a breathy,
raspy, quieter singing style
complemented by a stripped
back synth beat. The chorus
features heavier instrumentals,
but
it’s
incredibly
catchy.
It is such a dramatic and
effective
sound
when
the
group harmonizes and slides
up to a chord, and it really
showcases
how
wonderful
they are as vocalists. “Chuck”
also highlights a sexier side
of Solar’s voice that we really
only got a glimpse of in her
single “Spit it Out.”
“Diamond” is badass. The
beat is slow but confident.
The lyrics are slurred and
seem to form one long string
of beautiful melody. There are
some really funky harmonies
in there too — the pre-chorus
to the chorus shifting from the
G major to A major 7 gives a
dreamy, ethereal quality to the
music.
The queens of the emotional
ballad strike again with “Good
Night,” and do not disappoint.
In
an
oversaturated
field,
filled with incredibly talented
K-R&B
artists,
Mamamoo
still manages to stick out.
Mamamoo fills the song with
their
angelic
voices,
and
heaven may actually sound like
this.
Travel fails where it needs
to succeed; its most important
songs, the first and the title
track,
are
lackluster
and
leave a lot to be desired. The
other songs on the album
are fantastic but don’t quite
make up for it. Mamamoo has
consistently been putting out
music throughout quarantine,
and frankly some of the songs
on this album sound like they
are burnt out. Maybe they
should take a well-deserved
break.
Daily
Arts
Writer
Jason
Zhang
can
be
reached
at
zhangjt@umich.edu.
JASON ZHANG
For The Daily
WIKIMEDIA COMMONS
‘The Shadow King’ on our
memory of war, violence
The
author
of
one
of
the
Guardian’s
“10
Best
Contemporary African books”
has
made
a
triumphant
contribution to the literary world
with her pre-WWII epic “The
Shadow King.”
Shortlisted for the Booker
Prize for Fiction, Maaza Mengiste
remakes and rebirths Homeric
mythology in 1930s Ethiopia,
embarking on an evaluation
of war, trauma and memory.
Covering a lightly fictionalized
Second
Italo-Ethiopian
War,
Mengiste documents Mussolini’s
invasion of Ethiopia and the
people’s resistance.
Usually war novels attempt
to hold your heart and emotions
hostage, harming you with an
onslaught of devastating events.
However,
Mengiste’s
novel
is
a
beautiful
and
relatively
non-
traumatic read. Pulling
from both history and
Greek tragedy, Mengiste
transforms her forgotten
conflict into a new Iliad,
complete with capricious
higher
powers,
irresponsible
kings
and
fighting
women.
By
including
mythic
elements
(repeated
Greek chorus chapters,
allusions, etc.), Mengiste
helps muffle the dark
topics native to wartime:
war,
rape,
assault,
extreme violence.
On one side, fascist
Italy is ramping up their late
imperialism.
With
better
weaponry and technology, the
Italians hope for an easy victory.
However, Ethiopia is not an
easy prize to be won, plundered
and stolen. Out of necessity
and national pride, Ethiopian
generals and households rally
for war, echoing the Greek
Basileus (kings) who kept their
oath to retrieve Helen of Troy in
Homer’s “The Iliad.”
The epic begins with the
main character Hirut fingering
through a box of photos taken
by an Italian war photographer.
Through the pictures, Hirut
and Mengiste recall trauma and
violence. And it is through Hirut
that Mengiste interrogates how
one can physically survive battle
and emotionally cope with its
trauma. Hirut begins untouched
and
unmarred
before
the
beginning of the war. She lives
a small existence on the edge of
an Ethiopian estate. Having lost
her parents, she has seen little
of the world beyond the estate
she works on. Over the course
of the novel, her naivete hardens
and she evolves into a soldier.
However, Hirut is an abnormal
protagonist. Mengiste is not
pracious with Hirut. Often, her
narrative leaves Hirut behind to
explore other, more interesting
characters. In one scene, Hirut
is pointedly ignored by two
embracing
characters.
While
another author might delve into
Hirut’s
feelings
of
rejection
and confusion, Mengiste does
not indulge Hirut. Hirut is not
clever or particularly pretty. She
is not the center of the story. By
excluding Hirut’s feelings from
the narrative, Mengiste signals
that Hirut herself is tertiary
to the larger tapestry of war,
plunder
and
Ethiopia
being
woven.
Menguste’s
disregard
for
Hirut is brilliant. It’s one of the
most daring literary choices
made by an author in a long time.
Goodreads reviews reacted to
Mengiste’s tactical disregard by
taking umbrage, misinterpreting
Mengiste’s distance from Hirut
as negligence. Usually, main
characters are celebrated or
special in some way. Mengiste
does not coddle Hirut or indulge
her thoughts and hopes. Instead,
Mengiste deposits the same
opaque, archetypal figures from
myth into her story. Just as you
do not know Achilles or the
Euripides’ constant thoughts,
you are similarly shut out from
Hirut’s perspective. Like Homer
and Aeschylus, Mengiste makes
you privy to Hirut’s primal rage
and confusion but keeps her
psychology a secret. She does
this to cleave Hirut and the
Ethipidans closer to legend. She
forces the audience to observe
and question the impact of
violence and wartime.
If enduring is only one way
through violence, how can we
ensure that the violence doesn’t
pillage our bodies and person?
Is there a way to escape war
physically and mentally intact?
Are there metaphysical human
conditions that get torn out of
ourselves during wartime?
As
a
contrast
to
Hirut,
Mengiste also follows Ettore, a
Jewish Italian war photographer
whose psyche and psychology
is very clearly laid out. He is
an invader on the other side
of the war, commissioned to
photograph
the
triumphant
Italians. But within the war and
the Italian front, he is unsafe.
Anti-Jewish
sentiment
seeps
from Italy into Ethiopia and
Ettore is anxious and morally
conflicted about the atrocities
commited against the Ethopians.
However, paralyzed by fear that
Italy’s violence will be turned
against him, Ettore tries
to keep his head down
as he documents the
war. At his best, Ettore
is uncomfortable. At his
worst he is complicit.
Whereas Hirut and
her
cohort
become
immortalized,
Ettore
remains
desperately
small
and
human,
a
witness
to
others’
greatness. If Hirut and
the Ethiopians represent
the
subjects
of
the
mythology, Ettore is the
scribe.
Continuously
taking
photos
and
documenting the war,
Ettore keeps the themes
of legacy and legend
alive.
His photography facilitates
the Second Italo-Ethiopian War’s
transformation into a legend,
using his camera and viewfinder
to create main characters and
sell a narrative to Europe and
Ethiopia, producing propaganda
and stories to sate curiosities.
Mengiste, through a variety
of angles, transmutes her novel
and national history into a myth.
Whereas most myth retellings
try to turn the myths into a
novel, Mengiste does the reverse.
She immortalizes the fighting
females of Ethiopia in the form of
lyrical prose. She constantly and
cleverly embeds allusions and
includes a Greek chorus in her
novel, planting a consciousness
of legacy and legend. Startling,
mythic and vivid, Mengiste’s
novel wakes up your senses
without harming you.
Daily Arts Writer Elizabeth
Yoon can be reached at elizyoon@
umich.edu.
ELIZABETH YOON
Daily Arts Writer
PIXY
Finding warmth in Charlie
Brown holiday specials
JUDITH LAWRENCE
For The Daily
While their vocals
are perfect, as always,
there is an overall
sense of complacency
and mediocrity across
the album — two
things that do not
represent Mamamoo
well at all.
Is there a way to
escape war physically
and mentally
intact? Are there
metaphysical human
conditions that get
torn out of ourselves
during wartime?
Full of nostalgia and
joy, these Charlie
Brown specials are a
sure-fire way to lift
anyone’s spirits, and
who doesn’t want
that?