PREVIEW: Aftermath: Landscapes of Devastation

Aftermath: Landscapes of Devastation offers an unflinching look at environments wrought with decay and destruction. Opening at UMMA this Saturday, the exhibition forces viewers to search for traces of beauty amidst landscapes of despair.

 

 

On view January 13th – May 27th at the University of Michigan Museum of Art (525 S. State St).

Presented by the Herbert W. and Susan L. Johe Endowment, with support by the University of Michigan Department of Screen Arts and Cultures and the School for Environment and Sustainability.

REVIEW: Accidental Photographer: Seoul 1969

Dr. Margaret Condon Taylor’s snapshots of 1969 Korea offer a glimpse of a nation on the brink of rapid transformation—a moment of stillness before the spectacular growth to come. The U-M Nam Center for Korean Studies’ presentation of Accidental Photographer: Seoul 1969 showcases Taylor’s work from this period, revealing the beauty of a Seoul in transition.

 

 

Taylor’s focus is attuned to the humans that make up the city, whether confronting or turning away from the camera. Her shots capture opportune moments through muted tones; ethereal Ektachrome whites and blues transfix viewers. Despite the images’ presentation without object labels, the exhibition is remarkably clear. Each image teases a hint of a hidden-away historic Seoul.

 

 

In her photographs, Taylor documents a Korea that is now inaccessible in many ways. Her visual archive of the capital city, however, can still be visited. Accidental Photographer presents the human essence of a Seoul that we as viewers pray still persists today.

PREVIEW: Red Circle: Designing Japan in Contemporary Posters

Explore the 1980s work of three Japanese artists who shifted outside opinions of their country with their striking graphic designs. Red Circle: Designing Japan in Contemporary Posters presents the pioneering joint efforts of Ikko Tanaka, Shigeo Fukuda, and Kazumasa Nagai.

On view January 6th – May 6th in the Jan and David Brandon Family Bridge at the University of Michigan Museum of Art (525 S. State St).

Presented by the E. Rhodes and Leona B. Carpenter Foundation and the University of Michigan Center for Japanese Studies.

PREVIEW: The Shape of Water

Guillermo del Toro has the knack of tackling unsettling subjects. Whether it be depicting the Spanish Civil War through the lens of a twisted fairy tale in Pan’s Labyrinth or a bleeding, haunted house in Crimson Peak, del Toro has never shied away from showing the beauty within the ugliness. It certainly seems as if he has done so again in his newest film, The Shape of Water. The Shape of Water puts del Toro’s skills to good use, by focusing the story around a mute cleaning-woman named Elisa who discovers the existence of a mysterious aquatic, human-like creature from South America. Her friendship with him is quickly endangered by emerging threats from the government and the science lab that houses him. I am looking forward to yet another del Toro film that centers around a woman. He does an exceptional job depicting characters that are often marginalized or unheard. With del Toro, it is just another stale romance. It is always something different and decidedly strange. The Shape of Water is currently showing at the Michigan Theater. Purchase tickets ($8 for students with ID), online at the Michigan Theater website or at the box office.

REVIEW: Pitch Perfect 3

Objectively, Pitch Perfect 3 was not a good movie. Several plot choices were odd and unnecessary (especially for the best musical comedy trilogy since High School Musical; no need to deviate from the formula that worked). The character development was uneven, especially when it came to Emily.

But a movie doesn’t have to be good to be entertaining. Pitch Perfect 3, despite its cringe-worthy moments, was a ton of fun. It’s a movie I wouldn’t watch again, but at the same time I’m glad I saw it.

What Pitch Perfect 3 did best was the way it seemed to not take itself too seriously. At times the writers almost seemed to be making fun of themselves. One of the best parts of the movie was the running joke regarding Jessica and Ashley, two members of the Bellas who were introduced in the first movie but seemed to disappear. Jessica and Ashley’s amazement at Fat Amy’s acknowledgement of them is the writers poking fun of themselves for essentially forgetting their characters, and as a comedic device it completely works.

It wouldn’t be a Pitch Perfect movie without a riff-off, and this one follows the trend. The riff-off is altogether unrealistic and doesn’t do a lot to advance the plot of the movie, but then, the same was true of the riff-offs in the other movies and I loved them anyway. The riff-off is a pure joy to watch, and this time it comes with a new twist that throws a wrench into the Bellas’ plans.

Much of the plot, in which the Bellas travel overseas to compete for the opportunity to open for DJ Khaled on a USO tour, feels contrived. Some of the subplots, especially the quasi-action movie one with Fat Amy and her father, felt like they belonged in a cartoon.

The subplot with DJ Khaled and his decision on which of the groups to choose was also ridiculous and contrived, but I enjoyed it. Khaled played himself perfectly, poking fun at the lavish and eccentric celebrity lifestyle. Many of his parts were hilarious and the humor was enough to make me forget about the writers’ other questionable choice.

However, at its heart, Pitch Perfect 3 is about all the same things the first two movies were: the desire to belong, balancing personal desires with others’ expectations, and above all staying true to oneself. And despite the odd plot choices, those themes were as relatable as ever.

In one of my favorite exchanges, Chloe strikes up a conversation with a soldier named Chicago. She begins by asking about the Bulls and Cubs before realizing that he’s not even from Chicago and had no idea what she was referencing. I laughed out loud at that moment because it felt so much like something I would do.

Throughout, the Bellas struggle with finding their people and their passion now that they have to move on from college and the a cappella group that shaped them. Each character realizes how to do what she loves while still maintaining an upward trajectory in her life. As someone who has struggled with many of the same feelings, I found that part of the movie relatable and I appreciated how the writers handled it with both humor and heart.

I wish that this struggle had taken more of a main role in the movie’s plot; I think it could have done just as well as a movie about the Bellas coming together one last time to do what they loved, finding themselves in the process, without the Fat Amy action-movie subplot.

The movie culminated in a perfectly cheesy Pitch Perfect sort of way: with a musical number that pulled together all the loose ends. (I also appreciated Beca using live looping onstage.)

And in the movie’s very last scene, the sexist commentator John Smith gets absolutely owned by his female co-commentator Gail Abernathy-McKadden-Feinberger — a moment the entire series seemed to be building up to.

It was the perfect culmination to a film and series that was sometimes dumb, sometimes weird and sometimes hilarious, but always a lot of fun.

REVIEW: Princess Ida

Having been involved with the UM Gilbert and Sullivan Society for seven shows now, I’ve had plenty of opportunity to see their shows and compare them to each other. Princess Ida, in my opinion, was one of the better ones they’ve done in the time I’ve worked with them.

The plot is as follows. Princess Ida has renounced men and is running a school for women. Her husband, Prince Hilarion, to whom she was married twenty years ago when they were both infants, comes looking for her with his two trusted friends, Florian and Cyril. To get into contact with her, they sneak into the castle dressed as female students.

Ida‘s libretto is in itself quite humorous (as it should be): the humor is on the subtle side, mostly deriving comic effect from wordplay, tongue-in-cheek comments, or absurd statements. For example, the lyrics of one song go, “Like most sons are we, Masculine in sex.” I, for one, was taken by surprise when first they delivered this line, expecting something less obvious. Or, while preparing for a battle, Princess Ida surveys her troops: “My fusiliers, advance! Why, you are armed with axes! Gilded toys! Where are your rifles, pray?” Chloe, the head of the fusiliers, replies: “Why, please you, ma’am, we left them in the armoury, for fear that in the heat and turmoil of the fight, they might go off!” With every show I watch, my respect for Gilbert’s writing abilities increases. If I could be as humorous a writer, I would be so happy.

 However, as funny as Gilbert’s lines are, they stand very little chance of evoking laughter if the actors don’t take every effort to tease out the humor in them. In my opinion, comedy is all about the small things. This performance of Ida did a fantastic job of inserting small additions to their actions that enhanced the existing humor. Using the above example of the fusiliers, Chloe lowered her voice as she delivered that line, pausing before she said “go off”, making it seem like the rifles going off would be an unspeakable scandal. Another example: when Hilarion attempts to have a conversation with Ida, he is continuously interrupted by Cyril, who has managed to get drunk and keeps making comments that verge perilously close to revealing that they are not female students in disguise but men. In this show, Hilarion, in trying vainly to prevent this from happening, at one point bodily picked Cyril up and carried him across the stage. That entire scene, watching Cyril whirl around singing a kissing song while flirting with the students while in the background Florian tries to restrain Hilarion from tackling him, was made quite amusing solely because of what the actors were doing off script. It’s those details that make a performance stand out in my mind, and those details were abundant in this performance of Ida.

Then, on the other hand, there are the moments of genuine emotion that Gilbert and Sullivan manage to integrate into even the absurdity of their shows. For me this moment came when the students were preparing for battle and came onstage in their military uniforms, wielding weapons. That song, “Death to the invader,” is musically the most reminiscent to a tragic opera. It is chromatic and full of desperation. The girls don’t want to fight, but they are there for Princess Ida, and that knowledge added to the music makes it clear they are on a doomed last stand.

I think that emotion is part of what has made Gilbert and Sullivan’s work so enduring. Their operettas may be comic and quite ludicrous, full of legal technicalities that magically save the day, but their characters, for the most part, are genuine and believable. (And if you are worrying after reading the part about the doomed last stand, don’t, because there is no bloodshed in Princess Ida. Everyone lives safely and happily ever after.)