REVIEW: Out There: A Performance by art duo Princess

There is a distinct difference between natural weirdness and the sort that is manufactured. Entitling an album “Out There” is far too self-realizing a move to truly belong to the former distinction. Things can be disastrous in cases like these, and unfortunately Princess’ performance veered quite drastically into the side of inorganic. This is not to say that there was no value in their work; quite the opposite, the intentional obscurity of meaning, though cringeworthy, was useful in forcing me to figure my own ideas about what I was seeing and hearing.

A concept album seems perhaps the wrong medium for what these two are doing. There is simply a lot going on, and their work suffers as a result.  They have a good sense of rhythm and tune (especially the flow of the rapping sections), but whatever their flat choreography was supposed to be doing was not being accomplished. The lyrics were often impossible to glean much meaning from. Most notably, the “party-party-party” song, most of whose words were about as inspired as you might imagine. I could speculate on what the song’s purpose is, perhaps some link to the procedural, routine nature of party culture, and the poisons that hide within its mindlessly indulgent atmosphere–the sexual harassment and assault, the brainwashing of men to be hunters who deserve prey, of women to bat their eyelashes and be a thing to desire. But to expect an audience to leap this far to make any conclusion of meaning is a bit much.

A bit too dark to see, but they are currently on the ground in anatomical position.

The space travel motif’s linkage to the album’s purpose was unclear. And though it was often visually striking, I found it relied too heavily on a single type of color scheme (red/blue combination and the vibrant, neon flat coloring of random objects). Also, the repetitive, jerky movements of the characters and objects in the video got old about halfway through the act. However, it still must be noted that the complex layering technique of visual artist Jennifer Meridian was impressive, if at times monotonous. Her work might perhaps be more suited for shorter videos and advertisements that demand the sense of excitement her design provides so well.

Mostly what I find fault with in the performance was its over-the-top brashness. I find it distracts from an audience’s ability to gather meaning from what they are experiencing. It’s more closely related to modern art than an exploration of misogyny in society. In all its spectacular glory I feel they are unable to develop their ideas into anything beyond the surface level. This is a shame, because the two clearly have an enormous creative capacity. I feel that, if they used their potential differently, they could have great success in creating thoughtful, deep, provocative art. While I and others in the audience can certainly derive our own meaning from the performance, the chasm over which we must stretch to get there is too wide. Perhaps this is the result of too many strongly creative people collaborating on a single project–in the process it became too much of a conglomeration than a precise piece of art.

If you’d like to check out the album for yourself, it’s currently available for preorder at their website bandofprincess.com. There you can witness one of their songs under the “videos” tab, and find other information about the band, including tour dates and background on the duo’s origins.

 

REVIEW: Tigers Are Not Afraid

It’s hard to describe this movie. It feels like it was made a while before its 2017 release, reminiscent of ancient fairy tales and old westerns. Fantasy blends with the supernatural with cowboy kids and unspecific wars that rage eternally.

The whole film had a strange feeling to it, a dark beauty made all the more sinister by the twisting of youth into a violent survival. Sandwiched between scenes of children killing to live–pistol large and awkward held in their small hands–we witness a lavish mansion, a beautiful koi pond, the sun laying warm orange hands upon the earth.

In various scenes I drew a similarity to the 2010 adaptation of Alice In Wonderland, whose creators favored the duller, harsher, rotting side of marvelousness. The blueprint to this wonderland is reflective of that, its color scheme made up of romantically bleak sandy expanses and pastel paints faded by time under the watchful eye of the sun. Dust covers all in a show of a strangling embrace, clouding the landscape in an attempt to dilute its horrors.

 

What was unclear was the lack of explanation of the adverse effects of making wishes. This seemed an uneven piece of the plot, as Estrella’s mother and the other victims of the gang are seeking justice for the violence through which they’ve suffered. Perhaps they recognize some need for balance, granting wishes being too disruptive an act unless it was accounted for by some random tragedy. But this concept is not corroborated by any other behavior by the dead; they seem motivated only by the rage from the injustices committed against them, and in this basically solely self-interested. Adhering to a lawful cosmic order does would not seem to be an overly pressing concern for them.

 

But beyond this confusion, there is at least some dark beautiful justice to mingle with tragedy. All the conflicting directions involved in the film makes it difficult to process, but truly this is what film should do: confuse, make us process at once all it’s trying to communicate. There is no movie of any quality that does not frustrate.

I don’t know exactly that any romance should be juxtaposed with real, current violence. I have some creeping sensation that its beauty, however clearly dark it may be, is dangerously placed. Perhaps this movie is only this way as it’s shown through the eyes of children. Though hardened by their circumstances, they still possess the imagination of the young, and need to cope somehow with their orphaning. They seek shelter in each other, yes, but must see something else in the world that can distract them from what they’ve lost.

 

 

PREVIEW: Out There: A Performance by art duo Princess

I’m always one for expanding my horizons, especially when it comes to the arts. I have no idea what to expect for this one! Part performance art, part film, Out There approaches a serious subject (mens’ role in combatting misogyny in society) with creativity. Described as having a “science fiction narrative,” the performance is a collaboration by JD Samson, visual artist Jennifer Meridian, and the band TEEN.

The event has free admission, though there is a limit to how many people can occupy the performance room. So, please RSVP via https://www.eventbrite.com/e/out-there-a-performance-by-art-duo-princess-tickets-70631796605.

See you Friday, October 11 at 5 PM at the Stamps Gallery, 201 S Division St!

 

 

 

PREVIEW: Tigers Are Not Afraid

With Halloween well upon us, we have descended into scary movie season. While horror isn’t for everyone, there’s something about the graying skies and the melancholy cold that brings out at least a little bit of enjoyable frightfulness in us all.

For lovers and haters of horror alike, Tigers Are Not Afraid is a must-see movie. In it, a ghost haunting is shown from the perspective of a 10-year-old child. Part fantasy fairytale and part creepy supernaturalism, Issa Lopez’s film will amaze everyone in the audience.

There are several showtimes available at the Michigan Theater in the coming days:

Wednesday, October 9: 5:00, 7:30, 9:55 PM

Thursday, October 10: 7:30, 9:55 PM

Monday, October 14: 12 AM

Hope to see you there! Wear something spooky…

REVIEW: CCPS Exhibition. Stasys Eidrigevičius: Collages

Before you read on, take a close look at Stasys Eidrigevičius’ pieces. Notice what you will about his placement of objects in relation to one another, the emphasis on odd shadows, all the shapes and angles involved. Regard each separately, trying not to immediately put any of the images together:

What can I say about these works? I was so befuddled by each one, torn by the wanting to fixate on the alarming details and the knowing that taking it as a conglomeration is the meaning of collage.

All I could do was be overwhelmed by slight curves in the edges of the pieces and the uncomfortably forced eye contact between figures. The expressions on characters’ faces ranged from haunting to somber to desperate to dazzled to sadistic to sly. I wasn’t sure what to make of the positions Eidrigevičius puts these persons into. It feels like each piece has an element of force that I find unsettling. Hands grip, eyes pierce, feet trample. Everything seemed too jarring to work together as cohesively as I expected it should.

Eidrigevičius further adds chaos to his work through additions made by his own hand. He deals in scribbled shading and blocky figures, asymmetrical faces and indiscernible expressions. I was so distraught by the time I’d spent ten minutes in the room with the artwork that I could hardly see straight. An unfortunately poetic, single tear rolled down my flustered cheek. Seconds after the only other people entered, I had to hightail it out of there, but not before I heard their first impressions (“Very symbolic,” says the man with an angular European accent. “Hm,” replies the woman, curtly. “I’ve been trying to figure out what the symbolism is,” he continues, illuminating nothing).

I don’t know that I could pick out any one symbol that persists throughout the pieces, or even a general grouping of motifs. Everything seems literal to a point of discomfort (mine), but I suppose there was a similar line of thinking throughout the collection. Something in each piece is being trapped, maybe not by the specific creature in the image, but by something. Entrapment could be a metaphor for something else, or it could represent nothing else but itself. Perhaps the artist is feeling constricted by the world’s narrow view of what art should be. Maybe he is reflecting on a home country whose practices of censorship are too harsh for goodness to grow.

Or maybe, as I always prefer to believe, Eidrigevičius strives only to challenge the limits of his viewers’ and his own thinking by combining unrelated objects and ideas. His mind knows few borders between things, preferring to string a doodle onto the end of everything. He sees shadows that might not be there, connections bridged between the physical and the emotional. There may or may not be anything much deeper than artwork that wishes to be fully open to interpretation.

If you’re interested in seeing Eidrigevičius’ work in the flesh, I urge you to visit Weiser Hall’s International Institute Gallery, room 547. The exhibit will be up until the end of November.

 

 

 

REVIEW: CSEAS Film Screening–Thai Movie Night. Ploy / ‘พลอย’

I loved this movie, especially as I wandered into the screening room without thinking that I would.

Ploy follows the addition of a stranger (the titular character) into the lives of two troubled people making the mistake of languidly existing in a deeply flawed marriage, and doing nothing about it. She looks far younger than the nearly 19 years she claims to have lived; her doe-eyed youthfulness plays into the strength of the chaos she innocently unleashes. While unsettling given her childlike features, she holds a clear sexuality that serves to beckon forward the evil already within the couple’s complicated relationship.

Although the director fiercely guards his definition of the movie as a simple, commercial one (and certainly not of the art house variety, as many critics and fans have claimed), the entire time I was seeing metaphors in everything, appreciating his sense of aesthetics; the subtleties of object placement and camera angles and color and slight expression changes on the characters’ faces.

The intense scene with Dang trying to escape her armed captor at the abandoned warehouse was chillingly beautiful despite the typical artlessness of violence. The wind rustling through the ripped, translucent plastic created a feeling of being inside a kind of dust storm, the panic of the events coalescing with an uncertainty of direction and decreased visibility.

The hotel’s hallways were strikingly bare, though the inside of the rooms are lavishly modern suites with full kitchens and enormous beds. The bar has a lonely, electric feeling to it, part old-timey diner and part futuristic hangout. The lobby feels more like an empty airport, the back of the taxi a warm, wet cavern.

Some things were left mismatched, maybe as a nod to how the paranoid, lonely mind creates frantic stories when reality gives out less information than needed. The purpose of the thievery of the suit jacket and pants is never revealed, nor is the question of whether the hot-blooded romance between the maid and bartender is real or a dream of Ploy’s. Also, the identity of the boy she’s with in the beginning is never revealed. Rather than viewing these things as plot holes, I recognized their role in enriching the jarring feeling of love lost Ratanaruang was trying to create.

But whether or not the romance between the two young lovers was a fabrication of Ploy’s imagination is unimportant. Instead its significance lies in the sad hope they and we all have in new love. Placed next to (in all its beautifully erotic glory) the failing marriage Dang and Wit share, it both depresses and envigorates, causing us to question how we unfailingly fall into the ecstacy of novelty despite our knowledge that it may eventually end, or at least shift into something far less enticing.

It’s hard to say whether to take Ploy as a gift or an evilness. The way the movie ends, it seems we are supposed to conclude the former, but I didn’t feel satisfied with that. Her presence does exacerbate the couple’s arguments, which eventually leads to uncharacteristically bold actions that end up bringing the two closer together, but the pain she brings about is almost glazed over in this. Dang is the victim of violent sexual assault and (we are led to assume) she ends up killing her captor, but after the fact this is not mentioned, the enormous range of emotions created remaining unexplored and unexpressed. Having an ending where the couple comes back together, seeming to even happily glow in the backseat of the taxi, seems again a direct ignorance of the lesson in communication Ploy was meant to teach. But then, maybe this was the film’s vision, to show the cyclical nature of apathy to anger turning into self-fooling false happiness. Or maybe it’s meant as a truly happy ending, in which honesty is less important than intentionally appreciating one’s partner.

If you haven’t seen this movie yet, I would strongly urge you to watch it.