Ah 
nepotism. 
Defined 
by 
Merriam Webster as “favoritism 
(as in appointment to a job) 
based 
on 
kinship,” 
nepotism 
and online discussion of “nepo-
babies” (children of celebrities) 
has certainly increased as of late. 
Personally, I lost my mind when 
I found out Gracie Abrams is JJ 
Abrams’s daughter. And I guess 
our obsession with nepotism has 
finally reached Netflix as they 
released a new office-comedy 
“Unstable” starring real-life father 
and nepo-baby son, Rob Lowe 
(“The Outsiders”) and John Owen 
Lowe (“Holiday in the Wild”), as 
fictional father and nepo-baby 
son Ellis and Jackson Dragon, 
respectively.
Ellis Dragon is an eccentric 
biotech genius and CEO who has 
gone off the rails since the death 
of his wife and is facing threats of 
removal from his company’s board. 
To put him back on the right track, 
the company’s CFO (and arguably 
the best character), Anna (Sian 
Clifford, 
“Fleabag”), 
wrangles 
Jackson from New York to come 
back and help his father while 
also repairing their relationship. 
Jackson constantly feels that his 
father is trying to make him in his 
image and doesn’t feel supported 
in who he is, while Ellis just wants 
to help his son be the best that he 
can be. 
For all “Unstable” tries to 
be witty and heartwarming, it 
comes up just short at both. Now, 
comedy is subjective, and some 
kinds of humor just don’t land for 
everybody. Many fans have taken 
to Twitter to express their love for 
this show and would go as far as 
saying it was hilarious. I chuckled 
at times, but it certainly was no 
“Modern Family” or “New Girl.” 
“Unstable” did have many unique 
bits (my favorite was easily the 
whole invisibility cloak schtick), 
the plot took some funny turns, 
most notably a kidnapping-turned-
friendship, and the dialogue was 
also quick and had witty banter 

at times, but it wasn’t anything 
special. The jokes felt overused, 
especially an ongoing bit about 
two twins on the company’s 
board whose “humor” was just 
them being incredibly annoying 
and, frankly, dumb in the least 
charming way.
However, 
where 
“Unstable” 
really fell short was in its 
failure to deliver on the father-
son 
relationship. 
More 
than 
anything, the basis of Ellis and 
Jackson’s problems felt like simple 
miscommunication, and the whole 
“estranged relationship” part of 
the plot was pretty much resolved 
by the end of the second episode. 
I was hoping to see some family 
therapy and a real discussion of 
how the death impacted Ellis and 
Jackson, but the most emotional 
scene we get is when Jackson 
breaks down in tears over the 
last jar of peanut butter that his 
mom made. She almost isn’t even 
referenced beyond that point, 
even though there is still so much 
baggage left to be unpacked. 
Both Ellis and Jackson reference 
how she helped serve as a bridge 
between them, so some flashbacks 
or recalls of conversations or 
advice she had for them would’ve 
given both characters so much 
more depth and would’ve added a 
powerful dimension to the show. 
After repairing the father-son 
relationship so quickly, the series 
shifts focus to the new dynamics 
of Jackson working at his father’s 
company and the relationships 

between different characters in the 
office. This isn’t necessarily bad — 
in fact, a lot of these relationships 
were well-developed and enjoyable 
to watch — but by comparison, it 
diminished the emphasis on Ellis 
and Jackson’s relationship.
While 
Ellis 
and 
Jackson 
weren’t bad or single-dimensional 
characters (they certainly did 
have stable characterization and 
were consistently themselves), the 
side characters were still the stars 
of the show. Anna maintained a 
solid character with a strong and 
standoffish, yet loving demeanor 
and an impeccably dry sense of 
humor. Her banter with Ellis, 
Jackson and many of the other 
employees at the company made 
up most of my favorite scenes. I 
also appreciated the relationship 
between Ellis and Anna and how 
it was never made into a remotely 
romantic one. It’s nice to see sheer 
platonic love and just that.
Ultimately, 
“Unstable” 
tried 
and failed to balance humor with 
depth. At times, the show felt 
like it was created just for Rob 
Lowe and his son to act together, 
but at least they were father and 
nepo-baby son in the show too, 
and I can appreciate the humor 
in that. “Unstable” is a good show 
for some decently okay humor, 
and the bizarre plot lines and 
relationships developed between 
characters are enjoyable to watch. 
Keep your standards low and your 
appreciation for nepotism high, 
and you might just like it.

4 — Wednesday, April 19, 2023
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

JENNA JAEHNIG
Daily Arts Editor

‘A Good Person’ will renew your sense of hope

As a firm believer in the 
power of cinema, I’m used to 
walking out of movie theaters 
with a sense of awe. I am not 
used to movies reviving my 
soul from the brink of despair. 
The trauma of the characters 
depicted in “A Good Person” 
brought me to that brink, 
but its inspiring heart pulled 
me all the way back to an 
optimism I’ve never before 
experienced. 
Director 
Zach 
Braff (“Garden State”) depicts 
Allison’s 
(Florence 
Pugh, 
“Midsommar”) 
struggles 
with addiction, agency and 
redemption all through such a 
hopeful lens that it’s difficult 
not to see the world through 
that lens long after the movie 
has ended. 
We’re first introduced to 
Allison, 
nicknamed 
“Allie,” 
at her best. She’s engaged to 
the love of her life, Nathan 
(Chinaza 
Uche, 
“Nigerian 
Prince”), and surrounded by 
incredible friends. There’s a 
magnetic quality about her, 
like she’s always been the life 
of the party and knows it. All 
of that comes crashing down 
while she and her soon-to-be 
sister-in-law Molly (Nichelle 
Hines, 
“Hollywood 
Cycle”) 
are driving to a wedding 
dress fitting. Allie pulls out 
her phone to check the map 
and, in that split second, a 
construction vehicle barrels 
right into them. The accident 
leaves 
Allie 
wounded, 
but 
Molly is killed in the crash. 
Nearly 
a 
year 
later, 
she’s 
moved 
back 
in 
with 
her 
eccentric mother Diane (Molly 
Shannon, 
“Superstar”) 
and 
remains unable to come to 
terms with her trauma and 
guilt. She’s become a shell of 
her former self, floating from 
day to day on a never-ending 
supply of the opiates she’s 
become addicted to in hopes of 
numbing the pain. 
The 
film’s 
portrayal 
of 

addiction is brutally honest 
without veering into harsh 
judgment. 
The 
drugs 
help 
numb Allie’s pain, but they 
also 
inflict 
a 
whole 
new 
kind of torment. This year of 
guiltily falling into addiction 
has warped her into someone 
unrecognizable, from her too-
pale skin to her disheveled 
appearance. Despite the visible 
negative effects of the drugs, 
Allie is too dependent on them 
to give them up on her own. 
When every doctor refuses 
to refill her prescription, her 
mother decides to take matters 
into her own hands by flushing 
Allie’s remaining stash. This 
sequence is brilliantly shot 
in one long, shaky take as the 
camera follows their frantic 
forms into the bathroom while 
they struggle over the orange 
pill bottle. It fully immerses 
the audience in the desperate 
chaos of the moment before 
leaving them reeling with a 
close-up shot of Allie’s tear-
stained face watching the pills 
go down the drain. 
With her old supply gone, 
Allie 
immediately 
goes 
searching 
for 
more. 
The 
next scene shows her riding 
her bike all the way to the 
pharmacy to try and refill her 
prescription. This is one of the 
most memorable shots because 
it sets a tone similar to that 
of a coming-of-age film. An 
overly-optimistic 
song 
and 
wide camera that captures 
the bright sunshine overhead 
frames Allie as a tragic hero 
with a lot to learn about the 
world. Her character is made 
so compelling by these light, 
airy arrangements that it’s 
easy to keep rooting for her, 
even when she blackmails an 
old friend with connections 
and later resorts to begging 
former high school classmates 
for drugs. The lengths she goes 
to in her desperation to satiate 
her 
addiction 
finally 
push 
her to admit, while crying 
in her mother’s arms, that 
she can’t beat her addiction 
alone. 
Pugh’s 
phenomenal 

performance, 
from 
her 
signature frown to the subtext 
of 
swirling 
emotions 
she 
imbues into her character, 
makes 
Allie’s 
heartbreak 
palpable, which only adds to 
the audience’s sympathy for 
her. 
The moment Allie finally 
asks for help feels like a 
triumph. It’s only the first 
step toward recovery, but it’s 
monumental. 
She 
joins 
an 
Alcoholics Anonymous group 
in search of support from 
others who have struggled 
with addiction and beaten it. 
Coincidentally, it is the same 
group her ex-fiance’s father 
Daniel 
(Morgan 
Freeman, 
“Seven”) 
attends. 
Allie 
is 
convinced that this is just 
an unfortunate coincidence, 
but Daniel says it must be 
fate. This is another moment 
where the film’s optimistic 

tone takes hold, affirming 
that the universe provides 
opportunities 
for 
healing 
while still leaving the choice 
up to the individual. The two 
choose to stay in contact. Allie 
still insists she isn’t at fault for 
the accident that took Daniel’s 
daughter from him, and it’s 
painful for the both of them. 
She goes to group meetings 
high, unable to face reality 
without her pills. 
Each time Allie gets high, 
the camera loses focus as the 
world begins to blur. Often, a 
septic green hue will overtake 
the screen, nodding toward 
the gangrenous toxicity of 
the substance’s effect on her. 
In 
her 
desensitized 
state, 
Allie’s thoughts are too hazy 
to dwell on the pain she’s in 
or the pain she’s caused. But 
until she comes to terms with 
the damage she’s done, Daniel 

and his granddaughter Ryan 
(Celeste O’Connor, “Freaky”) 
will keep waiting for closure 
that will never come. Their 
pain continues while Allie 
seeks to ignore hers. Seeing 
the perspectives of both Allie 
in her addiction and the people 
outside of it whom she has 
hurt humanizes Allie in a way 
that doesn’t simultaneously 
villainize her. The film comes 
at a time when Allie’s story is 
all too common. In 2022, over 
10.1 million people misused 
prescription opioids and over 
1.6 million were diagnosed 
with an opioid use disorder. 
Stories of hope for recovery 
like this are vital to those in a 
seemingly hopeless situation. 
When she hurts Daniel and 
Ryan once again, Allie finally 
realizes she needs to take 
responsibility 
for 
herself. 
After a tumultuous road to 

recovery, she comes out the 
other side with the life she’s 
rebuilt. Rather than staying 
stuck in the past, she chooses 
to move forward and take 
life one day at a time. The 
movie’s messages surrounding 
recovery from addiction are 
especially important because, 
as her sponsor Simone (Zoe 
Lister-Jones, “How It Ends”) 
tells her, “some beat it and some 
are dead.” This line expresses 
how truly detrimental this 
spiral into addiction is. It 
isn’t just about escape; it’s 
recovery or death. “A Good 
Person” takes an honest look 
at addiction and affirms that 
no matter how desolate life 
may feel, it’s never too late to 
start over. It’s an incredible 
testament to the resilience of 
the human spirit sure to leave 
you with a renewed passion for 
the “precious gift of life.”

MINA TOBYA
Daily Arts Writer

This image was taken from the official trailer for “A Good Person,” distributed by MGM.

‘Unstable’ is nepotism on nepotism 
with an average display of wit
Fall Out Boy shoots for the stars 
but falls a bit short on 
‘So Much (for) Stardust’

The career of Fall Out Boy 
is a long and storied one, but 
it is popularly agreed to have 
fallen off after their last 
album 
MANIA. 
Excessive 
experimentation 
and 
pop 
elements soured their emo/
punk/rock following, and the 
band largely went silent for 
four years, lost to the annals 
of emo history. So when the 
first track on So Much (for) 
Stardust — “Love From The 
Other Side” — follows London 
Metropolitan 
Orchestra’s 
minute-long 
piano-to-
orchestra-symphonic-rock 
intro with frontman Patrick 
Stump’s 
characteristically 
soulful lament, “We were a 
hammer to the state of David / 
We were a painting you could 
never frame and / You were 
the sunshine of my lifetime” 
The band seems keenly aware 
of their place in that history. 
They don’t dwell, however. As 
the constant drumbeat and 
guitar plucking drive the song 
forward, the band builds and 
layers into the title chorus 
and their mission statement: 
“Sending my love from the 
other side of the apocalypse!” 
Whether 
the 
apocalypse 
they refer to is MANIA’s fallout 
or our more recent brushes 
with the end-times, love is 
what 
persists. 
Everything 
cuts out except for those now-
isolated piano notes. As in the 
intro, the orchestra begins to 
swell in as Stump sings about 
this 
painful 
yet 
fulfilling 
relationship with a lover or 
with music: “I saw you in a 
bright clear field, hurricane 
heat in my head / The kind of 
pain you feel to get good in 
the end, good in the end.” The 
drums come back in, starting 
as cymbal taps crash into a 
drumroll as Stump repeats, 

then rejects, a mantra of the 
music 
industry: 
“Inscribed 
like stone and faded by the 
rain: ‘Give up what you love / 
Give up what you love before it 
does you in.’” 
Stardust tells an apocalyptic 
love story as both the band’s 
traditional 
emo 
tales 
of 
heartbreak but also to honor 
and advance their own career. 
Returning to their Folie à 
Deux producer Neal Avron, it 
only takes the instrumental 
intros — varying from five to 
30 seconds — of each song to 
determine the depth of the 
album’s variation, like the 
aforementioned 
orchestral 
introduction to the album, 
deep 
synths 
starting 
off 
“Heartbreak Feels so Good,” 
more ambient traditionally-
emo 
instrumentation 
established in “Fake Out,” Joe 
Trohman’s 
grungier 
guitar 
riff ringing in “Flu Game” and 
the funky preface of “What a 
Time To Be Alive.” Some of 
these intros also pair tracks 
together: 
Andy 
Hurley’s 
percussive presentations of 
“Heaven, 
Iowa” 
and 
“The 
Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years),” 
Pete Wentz’s basslines with 
Hurley’s drum bangs bringing 
in “Hold Me Like a Grudge” and 
“So Good Right Now,” strings 
sending off “I Am My Own 
Muse” and the finale track “So 
Much (For) Stardust.” There’s 
also two spoken-word tracks, 
one sampling Ethan Hawke 
(“Training Day”) and the other 
performed by Wentz — Folie à 
Deux being the last time he 
performed such a track.
However, 
this 
artistic 
evolution 
and 
the 
almost-
autoerotic 
esteeming 
clash 
with each other. It’s evident 
that 
Stump’s 
singing, 
Wentz’s lyrics and the band’s 
performance are being pushed 
as hard as they can, but 
the end product still leaves 
something 
to 
be 
desired. 

There are occasional bright 
spots that shine in Stardust, 
but “Love From the Other 
Side” is a high point that 
warrants the most analysis 
because the rest of the tracks 
rehash similar themes draped 
in the band’s usual theatrical 
poetry. They’re somehow too 
varied to feel cohesive yet too 
repetitive to feel dynamic. 
Fall 
Out 
Boy 
understands 
this contradiction, however, 
stemming from the album’s 
own 
title. 
So 
Much 
(for) 
Stardust is a simultaneous 
declaration and dismissal of 
wonder, or as Wentz terms 
it, “their dialectical record.” 
Stardust and star power — 
these things birth and elevate 
us, but star power will one day 
run out and to stardust we will 
return, whether it’s existence, 
amour or emo. 
I wanted to love this album. 
I 
spent 
the 
past 
months 
relistening to every album and 
EP the band has ever released, 
discovering new tracks and 
reliving 
secondary 
school 
nostalgia. But sometimes, love 
alone can’t elevate the artistic 
value of an album — rose-
tinted lenses are nice until 
you want to see the world back 
in full color. Still, through 
the band’s lamentations on 
love and loss framed through 
the 
apocalypse 
and 
their 
temporary emo end, it’s clear 
that 
they 
maintain 
their 
fondness for the fans. After “So 
Much (For) Stardust” reprises 
lyrics from “Love From the 
Other Side,” the album ends 
with the cry: “So we thought 
we had it all, thought we 
had it all.” This return isn’t 
perfect, but it might be a good 
revival for better things to 
come, though I still prefer 
“Grenade Jumper” for the 
band’s appreciative anthem. 
We know this is belated, but 
hey Fall Out Boy — we love 
you back.

SAARTHAK JOHRI
Digital Culture Beat Editor

This image was taken from the official trailer for “Unstable,” distributed by Netflix.

