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Have you ever had a day that was so horrible that the extent to which it sucked was astounding? How did you deal? Did you stuff your face with junk food and drown your sorrows in the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy? Or did you call your friends and bitch to them about your issues? Well readers (aka my parents), this past Friday I experienced the crappiest day of my life and indulged in all the things listed above. I won’t go into the details of what caused the mental breakdown (and lack of good sense regarding the limit of cream puff intake), but suffice to say there were tears, Tiramisu, and tweed. Lots of tweed- specifically of the Chanel kind. That’s right folks- when I get bummed I do some serious window shopping. However, instead of scouring gap.com for five dollar t-shirts, I decided that a good ol’ fashion movie was in order (Key words being fashion and movie). So, chocolate in hand I made my way over to the Michigan Theater to catch a screening of “Coco before Chanel.” I went in thinking the gorgeous dresses and presumably inspirational story about a French woman creating a fashion empire would cheer me up. As usual, I was completely wrong.

I left the theater completely underwhelmed and slightly more irritated than when I had entered. Save for the gorgeous shots of the French countryside and early twentieth century French fashion, the plot lacked a consistent driving force. The film spent much of its run time of 110 minutes building up to a climactic moment that happened far too quickly for anyone to notice. It seemed as if one moment Coco was a poor orphan girl singing in sleazy bars, while the next moment she was showcasing her world famous fashions to Parisian elite. Where was the struggle? Where was the triumph? However, the lack of a steady plot wasn’t the only thing that made this movie frustrating to watch- the entire movie was painfully SLOW. So slow in fact, that at several points during the movie my friend opened up her bag, picked up her cell phone, and began surfing the internet. Just FYI to the directors, producers, etc. of feature films- it’s never a good sign when people are texting while watching your movie and contemplating how much longer this “torture session” will last.

However, if we take away all the superficial aspects of film presentation, there is a deeper, more fundamental problem with the movie “Coco before Chanel.” It was essentially a love story. Call me a pessimist, feminist, or ludicrous, but I couldn’t help but to agree with my friend when she mentioned that the entire film was basically an ode to men- specifically the men in Coco’s life. Through most of the movie, she is seen chasing after men in order to get by. In fact, it isn’t after she meets her boyfriend (more specifically the love of her life) that her career begins. It is also interesting to note that even though she does eventually succeed in her endeavors, the movie ends on a rather depressing note. The first line of the ending narration is that “Coco never married.” Is that what’s really important?! Is the institution of marriage more important than describing the maverick and visionary that Coco was?

Maybe you think I’m overreacting. Maybe I am. Maybe I am just a crazy feminazi who is overly sensitive to cultural images and stressed out from my orgo exam. Or maybe this movie is crap and perpetuates the patriarchal institutions within our society. Take an evening out of your day (hopefully not a crappy one) and see it- let me know what you think 🙂

It had been sitting either on my desk or the coffee table downstairs for about a month before I finally gave it more than a “I’ve got to get to that” thought. I had been receiving e-mail after e-mail about its due date, and being the lazy product of the Internet that I am I simply checked renew instead of making an effort to actually view the film and then walk down to the library to return it. By the end of the month, I could have sworn it was not only following me around the apartment but also growling softly in my ear.

Or maybe making a high pitched “Mmhmm”.

I really should have popped this movie in sooner.

The Dark Crystal is a product of Jim Henson, that amazing mind who came with Muppets Treasure Island, and firmly has a place in cult 80’s children movies like Labyrinth and the Never Ending Story trilogy.

The plots are never award worthy, but they have their moments of such absurdity that you cannot help but love them. For example, The Dark Crystal’s trial for emperor is not a fight to the death, but rather a test to see who can make the biggest dent in a rock. And in Labyrinth, who doesn’t laugh a the line “Your mother is an aardvark!”. Things in the 80’s were just so out there, hair included, that you can only raise an eyebrow and laugh.

But what really made this movie for me was the sets. I’ve never seen anything so elaborate. Okay, so Middle Earth is drop dead gorgeous and Hogwarts is jaw dropping, but a lot of the sets are natural or done digitally. Sometimes even with paints.

The forest in the Dark Crystal thrums with life that come straight out of a think tank of seven year olds, and it all moves. It’s a real, working set and the details just blows me away. Nothing like it is seen in movies today and it almost saddens me because it’s such a great work of art. And then of course I think of how just how beautiful the Transformers are and think not is all lost in this digital age.

What also got me during Henson’s movie was the puppets. The entire cast is composed of them, and yet there are moments when they move so fluidly in full body shots you can’t help but pause in following the narrative and think, how does that work?

And the detail! You can see in every wrinkle of skin, every sunken scab, every exoskeleton dent that it’s obvious much time, effort, and money went into constructing them. How can you not love a movie that pays so much attention to the details? Everything is taken care of and watched closely. As amusing as catching the tiny out of place details in other movies is, it’s nice to know that some film crews love their work so much that they make sure everything is perfect. True artists if you ask me.

Your 80’s fanatic,

Jenny

♫How high does the Sycamore grow? If you cut it down, you’ll never know♪

Ah, Disney songs. There are few things in life that give me as great pleasure as blasting them from my laptop and singing along, or move me as much, bringing back so many memories. I know, I know, am I so obsessed with Disney that I would be a Disney princess for Halloween then speak about it again in this post?

Well, yes… I won’t deny that I do love Disney. For all of its big corporation characteristics, its unrealistic and unattainable childhood dreams so deeply inculcated within us since our births, its stereotypical and standardized representations of different people, its formulaic story lines, I love Disney. That is to say, the old Disney. The old Disney where we cheered on the mice as they sewed ribbon onto Cinderella’s pink ball gown; where we urged Prince Eric to kiss Ariel then cringed with their boat got turned over; where we became fearful as Jafar gained power and made everything his in the kingdom. Where we learned life lessons of looking beyond appearances in Beauty and the Beast, to ignore social class distinctions in Aladdin, to keep fighting for love in Hercules, to keep an open mind about others in Pocahontas. Where we learned how to be strong even as a woman from Mulan, to pray and care for others in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, to be a leader and take responsibility in The Lion King. These are the morals taught by such movies.

What are Disney movies like nowadays? They’re filled with fodder for teenyboppers, featuring favorite artists like Hannah Montana and talking about everyday life and everyday things sometimes not befit for children. There are little clear moral values and lessons, there are no inspirational and scene-fitting songs. There lacks the sweet simplicity of childhood movies and in its stead is a complicated plot involving love triangles, dating mishaps and disobedient children. It just isn’t the same.

I’m afraid for the future generations. Those children who won’t know who Aladdin is or what Mulan did for her family. Those who don’t grow up having learned the tragedies that sometime overtake a family, like in The Lion King, or those who don’t understand the importance of painting with the colors of the wind (of course, highly metaphorical). Kids don’t seem to learn from the media anymore. When they do learn, it’s about boys and makeup and dating; it’s about how to skip class or make peanut butter sandwiches. It’s not about the broader life-integral lessons anymore, it’s about the normal day-to-day things.

While, yes, many academics have made the case for culture being the ordinary, perhaps the media industry takes that too far in this day and age, using this as an excuse to just produce the same formulaic, unstimulating fodder for an audience who no longer uses its ability to critically think or function. Where, because what is portrayed on the screen are the everyday images we are used to, we stop analyzing or critiquing them in an edifying manner. We don’t really learn anything. At least these Disney movies, as removed from reality as they were, still managed to teach us core values still inherent and relevant in society today, and which we carry within our hearts to this day.

It makes me sad to know that these movies ended with my generation. I think we were at the peak of the cycle of awesome Disney films and of course, as the crest has ended, so has the trough come. Maybe I’m being nostalgic, but I’m also speaking the truth. Greater inspiration will seldom be found than from great old Disney movies.

—–

Gabby Park likes to wear maroon tights and go swinging in the playground.

It’s a rare occasion for all of the three roommates that live in our home to gather themselves into some semblance of synchrony and sit down for a proper dinner in the dining hall. Because phenomena like this are few and far between, we decide it is all too appropriate to indulge in dessert and coffee following the generous helpings of exquisite dormitory cuisine. But alas, the perspiring lemon tarts, shrugging in a fatigued melancholy under the unflattering fluorescent lights looked as appealing as a hot poker to the eye. And alas, the community coffee holder was depleted of its contents. I had lost all my dignity while stubbornly and furiously depressing the button in hopes that by sheer force — by my superior cognitive and muscular might— some secret compartment within the device might open and coffee would, in a sudden happy deluge, spill forth into the awaiting cup. This did not occur.

To compromise for this setback, we decided upon a Plan. But before I divulge the details of the Plan, a little background information may be appropriate.

While one of my roommates is typically home, diligently learning two foreign languages and intermittently bending completely out of shape in the name of economics, the other one is mysteriously absent from her one-third of the room. Only between the odd hours of 1 and 5 am do we ever chance upon to hear the lock click and subsequently see a dark, disheveled, abstraction emerge silently from hallway. We have already crawled under our covers and we are now rubbing our eyes in sheer exhaustion and half-conscious confusion from reading an excess of cryptic Middle English. Because my brain emphatically demands sleep and possibly also because I am myopic, the construct of this nebulous silhouette diffracts and then liquefies into complete and utter incoherence.

The next morning, we find evidence of her presence by the chaotic array of blankets and enigmatic imprint of a body within the fabric. But for all we knew, she had vanished to the distant outposts of infinity.

This is the life of an Art and Design student living on central campus.

Now, you see, the Plan involved ascertaining that this roommate of ours was in fact still enrolled at the UM Art and Design School and not frolicking about on North Campus, engaging in an array of boisterous tomfoolery of which we had not been invited to. She happily conceded to our request to view her projects and so, on a Friday night tinged with the slight bite of the November air, we made our way to The Land of the Engineers and Artists and entered the Art and Design headquarters.

We immediately found that she had obviously not been engaging in boisterous tomfoolery and were quite taken aback at the talent of our peers whose works, poised tactfully behind glass, invited, and on occasion even, stole our attention. The reasoning behind her extended absences was explained in the series of cases, the manifolds of studios and workshops holding student art. The sheer weight of the ideas, the manifestations of complex and meticulous concepts combined with earnest workmanship, strained the architecture of the building.

After some preliminary perusal, she brought us to one of her pieces that she had worked on with a group in her multi-medium class: a school of fish cut from copper and held together by the continuity of their collective three dimensionality and the aquatic, streamlined body shapes they shared. Concurrently, each creature glimmered in its individual undulations to and fro creating patterns of shadows and playing with the physics of light to create a cohesive, aesthetically pleasing piece. Although anchored to the wall, it nevertheless suggested the concept of motion.

To continue the tour, she brought us to an art classroom where her most recent group project – the culprit responsible for her currently sleep-deprived state – stood in all its glory and casting sharp, impressive streaks of shadow on the concrete floor. We decided it was well worth the cost of one night’s slumber. The paper architectural framework appeared to burst in outrage; a tangible interpretation of an exclamatory, willing its viewer to come forth and inspect its integrity. (Interestingly, the work appeared to have toppled in exhaustion of its persistent visual strength, and needed the temporary bolstering of a chair.)

We eventually scoured most of the building. Every corner that we turned in the Art and Design building, we encountered more creations by students at our school – artists that would continue the revolution of visual art, define aesthetic appeal and cultivate notions of beauty in our era. They would do this, in exchange for coming home to their roommates, and in exchange for turning in for the night. There is no such thing as suspension of consciousness in their endeavors.

Sue majors in Neuroscience & English and tends to lurk in bookstores.

If you are a person interested in any aspect of your present day life, then Current TV is perfect for you.  Current is a station through Comcast..yes, I know Comcast is the bane of your existence, but at least is offers Current, which highlights important and prevalent stories that are not discussed in the popular media.  Those of you out there who have escaped the devilish workings of Comcast, kudos to you, but don’t fret, like everything else you can find Current on the Internet.  Here you can watch episodes from Current TV, read articles, listen to music, and respond like a blogger would to any one or more of these mediums.

If you are one of those people, like myself, who feel guilty about relaxing and watching TV, Current alleviates that guilt because this information is essential to your growth and knowledge of the world and its events.  So please, relax.

It provides a gateway to the most abundant and versatile newsroom I have ever seen.

A few of my favorite Current shows are Vanguard, Embedded, and Max and Jason: Still Up.  Other shows include The Rotten Tomatoes Show, Current Vitals, Current Tonight, Supernews, and infoMania.  Vanguard is on Wednesday nights at 10 pm and follows a journalist as he or she uncovers worldwide issues.  A couple of the episodes I have seen explore both national and international drug wars, making you aware of some heavy issues going on around the world.

So for those of you reading this statement that have known about Current for years, and thus are snickering at my slow uptake skills, I apologize for the cultural redundancy.  On the other hand, those of you who are reading about Current as a foreign notion, I strongly urge you to go turn on your TV or sit at your laptop and allow Current to open your eyes to the untold stories of your world.

You can find Current at current.com

Enjoy!

Sara majors in Art History and enjoys long walks

I stood in line in front of Michigan Theater staring at a glass covered poster. The background was white and clean. A pair of dark sunglasses sat neatly atop a thick platform. Words in black and crimson typeface were organized into discrete pockets of space on the poster. I tried to make out the words behind the glass pane, but the cold night air made my eyes water. Before I could make my way closer to the poster it was my turn. “One ticket for ‘The September Issue’ please.”

The tag-line of the movie reads “Fashion is a religion. This is the Bible.” Though this may seem like a gross exaggeration, it is in fact the truth. Fashion is not only a form of artistic expression, but also a multi-billion dollar industry. Each issue of Vogue serves a forecast of sorts, determining the trends in business and retail that will affect the coming seasons. In fact to say it is anything but a holy text is an understatement. It is the golden standard of fashion and has catapulted the careers of many designers. But, you may ask, who is in charge of this revered publication? Her name is Anna Wintour and she is almost as legendary as the magazine which she runs.

The film “The September Issue” tries to uncover the mechanics of putting together the September issue (the biggest one of the year), while also introducing audiences to the people behind the publication. However, for ninety minutes, the documentary does not go beyond the surface with Wintour’s character and ultimately fails in shedding new light on her persona. Instead, the audience is treated to a constant parade of colorful clothes and even more colorful personalities. Though the larger than life Andre Leon Talley and witty Grace Coddington serve as consolation prizes for the audience, they both provide a window through which Ms. Wintour can be examined. However, this examination is purely professional rather than personal. The only scene where the audience gets a slight sense of  Wintour’s humanity is in the waning moments of the film. It is during those final moments where you see Wintour’s hard exterior crack as she describes her sibling’s negative attitudes towards her and her work. It is then that the audience starts to feel sorry for her and begin to see an almost insecure shadow of Wintour. However, this fleeting scene unfortunately does not make up for the 85 minutes spent recording the same chaotic scenarios of botched photo shoots and mismatched clothing.

To be honest, I was thoroughly disappointed in the execution of this film and left the theater wanting more. Though the movie achieved the easy goal of elucidating the process of publishing, it did not delve into the most interesting part of the fashion industry- the people, more specifically, Anna Wintour. As a fan of Vogue, I would have loved to learn more about the woman in charge and her own personal thoughts on the industry rather than witnessing her formulaic display of professionalism. However, I do believe that any fan of fashion and art would find parts of this film highly entertaining. If you end up checking out this movie let me know what you think in the comments section below. Have a great week!

P.S Check out the trailer here