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.