Our [art]seen writers cohort is comprised of University of Michigan students who review arts events on and near their campuses, sharing their thoughts and experiences on live music, film screenings, dance performances, theatre productions and art exhibitions. Take a look back at some of our most memorable reviews of arts events this past year by clicking on the Year in Review(s) 2023 tag. See what our bloggers went to and read what they thought!
Editorial note: [art]seen is designed to provide a space for student writers to express their opinions about events they’ve attended, with editorial independence. This forum is administered by the university’s Arts Initiative to foster a robust public conversation by students about the arts on and near campus. As such, the reviews published here do not and cannot reflect the thoughts and opinions of the Arts Initiative or the University of Michigan.
Ribbits, chirps, and croaks take the stage for the spring at the University of Michigan Flint Theater. This fast paced adventure reminds audiences of all ages to take life a step at a time and slow down to smell the flowers, or in this case Toad’s fresh but slightly burnt cookies. The musical that I saw this past Sunday was one that I have been excited to attend for awhile. The Story of Frog and Toad began as a children’s book by Arnold Lobel. It is a book I remember in my childhood before I even entered middle school. From the vintage looking illustrations to the soft spoken easy digestible text. It had left me truly excited to see my childhood characters envisioned through a live production. This university production was directed by Stephanie Dean
The strongest things about the director’s vision had to be the comedy and the heavily lean in on characters traits. As a reviewer, this is the first musical I have seen in over five years. The work that goes into production often goes over my head. Actors are tasked to not only sing and dance but to act and provide stage presents that represents the source material. The pair of friends represented this to a point. On this specific performance however, one of the lead actors portraying the character Frog was out sick. (Morgan Wright) Either the actor had croaked or developed a frog in their throat is unclear, but the show went on with a new actress to play the green and jolly protagonist. Taylor Boes as Frog, and Noah Anthony as Toad tied together a tag team performance that fit like peanut butter and jelly. The character of Frog, an optimist who always say the bright side of life, always had something to say to Toad’s woes. I especially felt Noah portrayed toad astoundingly well. If I had to give a voice to the character from the book it would be something very similar to what I had seen that week. Toad’s voice always has this slight worry, always thinking of the problems in his life even though they may not be the greatest problem at the moment. An example of this is toad worrying about burning his cookies for his friends due to the fact his clock was broken. The Dynamic between the characters set up great humor and made me realize how anxious I myself get at some very small things.
Some people feel that musicals are often slow and can be tiring at times, but the pace of this was anything but. The whole production captured a year of the friends lives. Seasons only lasted minutes and it was a true treat to see the props, lighting, and overall scenes change. Orange lights filled with autumn leaves, winter blues, and Styrofoam snow littered the set, and cool summer nights and an occasional thunderstorm heavily set the tone of each scene. From raking leaves, making cookies, sledding, and even simply sleeping can shows audiences members that they can find joy in life’s simple moments. The funniest joke had to be from a side character though. After Frog had took notice that Toad never receives mail (Another thing for Toad to lose his cool about), Frog employs a friendly snail to deliver a kind note to his house. In a toad-ally hilarious callback joke, the incredibly slow snail takes nearly the entire musical to reach Toad’s residence. Good clean humor like this accompanies the whole performance. It’s the simple comedy that gets me, it puts a innocent spin that reminds me of my childhood. Being a person who may not be the target audience of this production I found myself laughing out loud much louder than my toddler audience members.
Another thing I must mention is the score and music. Although I would love to see a live pit ensemble one day in my university, the backing tracks of light jazz and Broadway melodies made the original scores magical. My Favorite song from this production had to be “Toad looks silly in a bathing suit” The Frog actress of this production had such a beautiful voice and I can also clearly hear Toad’s character even when he was singing. I do feel at times, the dynamic range of the actors could be greater. You can hear it in the score that the musical called for over the top Broadway level “Bring it home” style of singing. Sometimes I feel the singing was a bit more safe. This may be due to it being not only the final show but also the family show. Some things may have been altered but I feel the actors were so close to greatness but just a bit more “mmph” would have taken the musical over the top and don’t you frog-et it. Even with that note, I felt the dancing and staging were very professionally broadcasted. The old New Orleans style jazz being accompanied by having all the animals do variations of the Charleston dance fit the mood heavily. High kicking and spins revealed how much care the actor’s put into their animal, and It was lovely to be a part of it.
It was a real shame that I was unable to take photographs of the live musical due to copyright reasons. The set designs of Toad’s Mushroom house felt incredibly cozy. Being an audience member felt as if I was transformed to be the size of a mouse. For one season, Frog recounts his memory of being lost and separated from his parents. Frog comes across a large and terrible Cannibal frog. The Production then reveals a large artistic puppet that spanned over 10 feet about the ground, fit with terrifying claws and large menacing red eyes. I myself am I big fan of practical effects, so seeing this I felt the art was being honored from passed productions and it is such a nice sight to see the efforts of practical effects still being put to work to this day.
Overall this was a very pleasant work to both listen to and watch. The set and props were very creative and I can see clearly how much effort both actors and backstage crew worked on making an excellent performance. One last thing I noticed is what seems to be the use of generative AI artwork for the programs cover of the performance. Generative AI being the first thing patrons see before engaging in the disciplines and hard efforts of actual artists on our campus is a huge slap in the face to the art community. I was questioning to include this detail as I can not fully confirm if the cover uses generative AI, but I know past advertising efforts on campus have used AI images to promote art performances, and no artist seems to be credited for the illustration. Not to mention minor details in the illustration that do not make sense, nor is it reflective of the book’s original illustration. It is with deep apologies if I have misreported but I felt it was concerning enough for me to mention it. I hope to see more musicals from my university, I am always excited to see more. I may even audition for one in the future.
March 13 | 7:30pm | The Encore Musical Theater Company
Wondering if Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility would be a good musical was not a burning question on my mind. Yet it was answered at the Encore Theater last week to the sound of a four-piece orchestra and a starry cast from Broadway’s favorite shows.
The 1811 novel was adapted by Jefferey Haddow (Book & Lyrics) and Neal Hampton (Music) for the stage, and it’s been in production since 2009, almost 16 years—which is subsequently how long it felt to sit through the show.
(As it goes) In the 19th century, the two daughters of Mr. Henry Dashwood are left with no permanent income after his death. So, marriage to a wealthy man of status will cure all ailments. The girls desire stability, but more pressing is love. The pragmatic Elinor Dashwood (Chelsea Packard) struggles with unrequited feelings for Edward Ferrars (Adam Woolsey), while her passionate sister Marianne (Jessica Grové) falls deeply for the winsome but unreliable John Willoughby (Chad Marge).
With nineteen songs in Act I and a whopping twenty-one in Act II, the show lingered, with few musical ideas to latch onto. The piece felt dense, and not every moment that segued into songs felt convincing dramatically. Some numbers functioned akin to opera, honing in on a character’s feelings in place of advancing the plot. Which makes for a host of details but leaves much exposition to the scenes.
Ms. Packard’s voice is as silky and sophisticated as the five or six pastel dresses she wears, finding herself distant from Elphaba’s belting in Wicked. Her 11 o’clock number, “Not Even You,” explored her wildly flexible voice but fell flat from lackluster lyrics. Ms. Grové was a spunky Marianne on stage, and aside from nearly dying from falling in the rain, was convincing and vocally stunning.
In Act I, the Colonel becomes infatuated with Marianne after only one encounter (reminding him of a past love named Lydia), but Marianne runs off with the charming Willoughby for most of the show. The climax of the story felt grazed over: when we find out that Willoughby has been the abuser of countless women, including our beloved Marianne. The reveal lasted a mere moment on stage, so quick that I almost didn’t catch it. This prompted a swiftly smitten marriage between the Colonel and Marianne, which felt like a tardy continuation of their love story. I’m glad Marianne found a sensible husband, but I craved a depth to their romance throughout the musical for a cleaner payoff in the end.
I wonder about the impetus of telling this story now. The characters have troubles far away from modern strife, but at least they remind us to trust our hearts. Perhaps the true issues of these noble girls could be better solved in a rewrite.
Images thanks to The Encore Musical Theater Company.
Creative, conscious, commanding—Jazzmeia Horn packs it all into every note. The vocalist, composer, and educator brought a fierce trio to The Blue Llama last Sunday, featuring a set of (almost entirely) original compositions.
Ms. Horn is a decorated jazz vocalist based in New York City (originally from Dallas, TX). She won the Thelonious Monk Institute International Jazz Competition in 2015 and the International Sarah Vaughan Vocal Competition in 2013, as well as accumulated three Grammy nominations for her records “Love and Liberation” and “A Social Call”. She lives with her two daughters in the Bronx, which prompted intimate and animated stories about motherhood.
Her music is focused and refreshingly genuine. She finds deep harmonic exploration in her songs amidst lots of unique vocal qualities throughout her (multiple-octave) range. She mentioned church being a large part of life growing up, with clear inspiration from gospel music, accompanied by healthy doses of pop and R&B.
Most of the set included tunes from her 2024 album “Messages“, including “Tip” and “You’re Getting To Be A Habit With Me,” the only jazz standard of the evening. Each tune was dense and impressive, with numbers “Destiny” and “Free Your Mind” being my favorites for their contemporary feel and expansive vocals (in range and rhythm).
The room seemed to stop when Ms. Horn took a solo. There’s an air of fearlessness behind Ms. Horn’s improvisations. When she started an idea, she took the time to finish it, creating beautifully satisfying lines. Some of her improvisational tendencies give a nod to the great Betty Carter, one of the most rhythmically inventive jazz singers.
A sweet anecdote was tacked onto her second tune, “Happy Living”; she recalled memories of her grandfather’s story about the “man with two bags.” One of which has a hole, where he puts negative comments and thoughts. The other is held close to his heart with words special to him. She sings: “I don’t feel bad when others make me mad, I keep a hole in my bag on my shoulders, and I sing my own songs and just keep along on my journey.” Her performance, even more so than “Messages” through my headphones, felt beautifully intimate and personal.
In a crowded, white room, people mill about to see over 700 artworks scattered around walls, bins, and tables. What is the singular thing that connects all of these art pieces? They were created inside prison walls.
The Prison Creative Arts Project (PCAP) is an organization that aims to connect those “impacted by the justice system with the University of Michigan community for artistic collaboration, mutual learning, and growth” through classes, workshops, performances, literary reviews, and annual art exhibitions. The 29th Annual Exhibition of Artists in Michigan Prisons is PCAP’s largest endeavor hosting 772 original artworks made by 538 artists.
“In His Eye” – William “Cowboy” Wright
The exhibit is divided into seven themes: connection, critique, natural expression, portraiture, prison as art studio, self, and what if? Each theme gives the viewer a chance to ground themselves in the chaos of the gallery. With bodies bumping into each other constantly, and hundreds of beautiful art to wrap the brain around, the space can become cacophonous. However, this chaos is the same trait that makes the gallery so wonderful: there’s something for everyone.
One standout piece is “In His Eye” by William “Cowboy” Wright where a close up portrait of a squirrel stands tall and in awe, as the reflection of a man in a Michigan prison uniform kneels down with an acorn. This painting is humorous with the incredulous expression on the squirrel’s face; and it rings home for Ann Arbor residents who see friendly, fat squirrels so often on the university’s campus. Wright wields his paintbrush to shift the view of incarcerated men for his audience from whatever preconceived notions they had to that of the squirrel’s: giving, God-like, and beautiful. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, the squirrel’s in this case…
“Hold On” – Daniel Teribery
Another standout is “Hold On” by Daniel Teribery, which depicts an incarcerated man kneeling over a sunflower in a purgatory of darkness (his cell); he is surrounded by artwork and staring greyly into the flower, as a hand reaches outgrasping the cell with verve. The interesting part of the painting is the way the hand looks to both be holding up the cell and break into it at the same time. Cracks in the cell’s structure could imply that the hand is pushing in, or perhaps they represent the slow degradation of the man’s mind. If it breaks… if the hand can’t hold on, then the cell will fall further into the darkness of the background. I’m not sure exactly, but Teribery’s symbolism succeeds in opening up these important conversations on life inside prison walls.
Beyond these pieces, the 29th Annual Exhibition features art of all genres, styles, and materials. You want to see a portrait of a clown painted in realism crying over a hot dog? It’s there. How about abstract circles crafted with oils and cardstock? That’s there too. Figurines made out of toilet paper? They make an appearance every year! Truly, if you have the time to browse through all 700-some pieces you will find at least ten that you could spend hours analyzing and admiring, and at least three pieces that you feel compelled to display in your home. (I should know– I bought four pieces myself.)
The annual exhibition is a great opportunity to purchase art no matter your budget. Work ranges in price from as little as $15 to over $1,000. It’s a great opportunity to build your collection, and support artists on the inside, as all proceeds go straight back to the artists.
The point of the gallery, however, isn’t to empty our pockets, fill our living room walls, and to pat ourselves on the backs when we use our money for good. The point, first and foremost, is to learn from incarcerated artists about life on the inside: to see them, to hear their stories and to trust their experiences. When an incarcerated person leaves prison after serving their time, they often measure the passage of time by counting the days they’ve spent in freedom. We, me and you reading this, are people living in the free world. We have the privilege to see all 772 artworks, even the incarcerated artists whose work is on display do not have the opportunity to view work made outside of their prison’s walls. I hope you take the chance to view this exhibit and open your eyes to new perspectives.
The 29th Annual Exhibition of Artists in Michigan Prisons is currently being held at the Duderstadt Gallery located in the breezeway between the Duderstadt Center and Pierpont Commons. The gallery is open for viewing now –Sunday and Monday from 12:00 PM–6:00 PM, and Tuesday through Saturday 10:00 AM–7:00 PM– until April 1st. You can also view the art online at the link here. You can continue to purchase art from the exhibition until April 1st at 5:00 PM, but hurry! These pieces sell fast.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched Casablanca, but seeing it on the big screen at Kochoff Hall on February 25th felt like experiencing it for the first time. There’s something about watching a film like this with an audience—hearing the collective sighs, the quiet laughter, the weight of its most powerful moments settling over the room. No matter how familiar I am with it, Casablanca always manages to reveal something new.
Set in the early years of World War II, Casablanca follows Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart), an American expatriate who runs a nightclub in Vichy-controlled Morocco. Rick projects an air of detached cynicism, famously claiming, “I stick my neck out for nobody.” But beneath his indifference lies a man who has been burned by love and betrayal—someone who once believed in causes greater than himself and has since chosen to look out only for number one. To me, Rick symbolizes pre-war America, reluctant to get involved in a fight that seemed distant, but ultimately unable to avoid the pull of history.
That pull arrives in the form of Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman), the woman who once shattered Rick’s heart. She walks into his bar with her husband, Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid), a leader in the anti-Nazi resistance. Ilsa and Rick’s reunion is filled with longing and regret, but it quickly becomes clear that her presence is about more than lost love. Victor needs exit visas to continue his fight against fascism, and Rick is the only one who can help.
Ilsa has always been one of the most fascinating characters to me. She’s not just torn between two men—she’s torn between her heart and her duty. With Rick, she found passion, but with Victor, she finds purpose. What’s remarkable about Victor is that he sees Rick and Ilsa’s connection and never lets jealousy cloud his mission. He knows that the fight against tyranny matters more than his personal feelings, and he trusts Ilsa to make the right choice. That kind of maturity is rare in love triangles, and it’s one of the reasons this story feels so timeless.
In the end, Casablanca isn’t just a love story—it’s about standing for something bigger than yourself. The film builds to one of the most famous scenes in cinema history: Rick, despite having every reason to hold onto Ilsa, chooses to help her and Victor escape. He understands that their fight is more important than his happiness. “The problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world,” he tells her. It’s a heartbreaking moment, but it’s also the ultimate act of love—not just for Ilsa, but for a cause greater than either of them.
Watching Casablanca that night, I was reminded of why it remains one of the greatest films ever made. It’s not just about romance or war—it’s about resilience, sacrifice, and the choices that define us. And every time I hear “As Time Goes By,” I know I’ll keep coming back.
I watched The Godfather for the first time at Kochoff Hall in the University Center on the Dearborn campus. I went in knowing its legendary status, but I wasn’t prepared for how much it would pull me in.
More than just a crime film, The Godfather is a story about power, loyalty, and fate, explored through the journey of Michael Corleone, played by Al Pacino. At the start, Michael is an outsider to his family’s crime empire, led by his father, Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando). Unlike his brothers—hotheaded Sonny (James Caan) and the weak-willed Fredo (John Cazale)—Michael is a decorated war hero with no interest in the mafia. At his sister Connie’s (Talia Shire) wedding, he arrives in uniform, already set apart. When he tells his fiancée, Kay Adams (Diane Keaton), “That’s my family, Kay. It’s not me,” I believed him. But as the film unfolds, it becomes clear that no matter how much he wants to stay out, he can’t escape.
Michael’s turning point comes when a rival, Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo (Al Lettieri), orchestrates an assassination attempt on Vito. When Michael visits his injured father in the hospital, realizing he’s unguarded, he takes his first step into the family business. But it’s the restaurant scene—where Michael kills Sollozzo and corrupt police captain Mark McCluskey (Sterling Hayden)—that changes everything. The tension was unbearable, and when he finally pulled the trigger, it felt like a moment of no return. From then on, he wasn’t just protecting his family—he was becoming his father’s successor.
After fleeing to Sicily and experiencing love and loss, Michael returns home to take over. Sonny has been killed, Vito is aging, and the family needs leadership. At first, it seems like he will follow his father’s code of loyalty and restraint, but by the time we reach the Baptism Scene, Michael is something else entirely. As he stands in church renouncing Satan, his men carry out brutal murders on his orders. The contrast is chilling, and it cements him as the new Godfather, willing to do whatever it takes to secure power.
The final scene, where Kay watches as Michael’s men close the door on her, was haunting. The man who once wanted nothing to do with his family’s crimes is now its most ruthless leader. Unlike Vito, who believed in loyalty, Michael’s rule is colder, more absolute.
Watching The Godfather that night, surrounded by others equally engrossed, made the experience even more powerful. It’s not just a movie about organized crime—it’s a tragedy about transformation. Michael’s descent feels both shocking and inevitable, leaving one question lingering: was he forced into this life, or was he always destined for it?
