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.