REVIEW: Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers

It was a hole-in-the-wall with several …. well, holes in the wall. The Blind Pig, a music venue established in 1971, is a widely known destination of downtown Ann Arbor. Expecting nothing less than sticky floors, unidentifiable smells, and a room with wall-to-wall people, The Blind Pig did not stray far from my preconceptions. The only indicator that it wasn’t indeed the 70’s was the number of iPhones in the locus recording Snapchat videos and capturing photos of inebriated friends.

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The band Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers blended right into this timeless, nonconformist setting. Before their performance began, they handed out 3 ft long fake flowers to audience members. The stage was an amalgamation of rose-tinted glasses, floral patterns, and psychedelic lighting.

When Joe Hertler sang, I was immediately drawn to his voice. It possessed a familiar-sounding quality while being entirely new to my ears. The music itself crossed the lines of a number of genres, including: funk, rock, Americana, and folk. The group was eclectic and spread their euphoric energy among the crowd. Much of the audience was dancing along to their grooves and singing the words to their songs. Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers had a faithful following.

Normally when I check out a band I have never seen, I’m not overly bothered by not knowing every lyric or not knowing at least some of the words. However, regarding Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers, if you plan to attend one of their performances, I would recommend listening to their music ahead of time. From my observation and conversation with another attendee, those that were there knew Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers; they knew their lyrics, the members, their history, and upcoming performances. As a newcomer, it took a few songs to process their presence and style. Joe Hertler & The Rainbow Seekers are an authentic and lively bunch.

REVIEW: The Florida Project

I don’t remember my childhood. I have overwritten it, systematically burying the memories underneath grammar rules, history lessons, and math formulas. Over the years, they must have been packed away and eventually, lost altogether. The last remnants of my childhood are stashed away in old photo albums, recorded on a few VHS tapes, and retold in my parent’s stories.  All of this makes what The Florida Project accomplishes even more remarkable. The Florida Project is the latest offering from writer and director Sean Baker, whose filmography includes Tangerine, the movie best known for being shot only on iPhone 5s. It was a radical new approach that seemed to prove that modern technology could enable filmmakers to succeed outside of the Hollywood system. Although his new movie may have been created with more traditional tools, Baker has remained very much an outsider by continuing his focus on the lives that are sidelined by other films.

The Florida Project is unique in that it revolves entirely around the perspective of 6-year-old Moonee as she romps around the confines of the budget hotel that is her home and the surrounding community a little bit outside of Disney World. Through her eyes, the world becomes wondrous. The shabbiness and the rampant commercialization of the area falls away to reveal something magical that has nothing to do with Mickey Mouse or fried turkey legs.  Everything around Moonee is huge and exaggerated in bright colors that one could almost believe that it is truly a land created entirely from imagination. There is a fantastic sequence that follows Moonee as she introduces her new friend Jancee to all of her favorite haunts. The children are dwarfed in every frame by larger than life buildings. One is a giant orange, another has a wizard’s head staring down from the roof, and then there is the ice cream shop, shaped, of course, like an ice cream cone. In an age of helicopter parenting, these kids are gloriously free from supervision and rules. They fill their mouths full of sweets and wander with an air of invulnerability. This is the essence of childhood, to be free of all the tiny little worries that nag at the mind of adults.

Yet, Baker never forgets the circumstances from which this freedom is borne. Moonee plays without restraint because her mother, Halley refuses to reign her in. Halley has not entirely grown up herself. She reacts to the world with the anger of a child that still expects to get whatever she wants. Halley’s immature impulsiveness often gets both her and Moonee into trouble.  Yet, we understand her too. This world of orange and purple sunsets seems full of endless possibility and no consequences. We are lured into the same mindset as Moonee and Halley. Providing the voice of reason is Bobby, the manager of the hotel. Willem Dafoe portrays a man that is equally torn between the realities of the world and the dream that is all around him. He manages his little kingdom with efficiency and empathy that indicates a man that is capable of much more. Yet, he chooses to stay, even as he is belittled by his lodgers and the privileged tourists that look down upon him. He becomes a parent, creating a true haven for child-like dreams to survive a little bit longer. There is something noble in trying to preserve something that is already lost. No one can remain a child forever, but perhaps in the syrupy Floridian air, time can be slowed down. The Florida Project proves that the mindset of a child is always accessible even long after we have forgotten the specific memories.

REVIEW: China NCPA Orchestra

What a performance!

I must admit, when I came to the auditorium, the one face I was most excited to see was Wu Man’s. Back home, my dad was a fan of Yo Yo Ma’s Silk Ensemble, so it was just such a pleasant surprise seeing her name in the UMS performances booklet. The main bulk of the pieces, however, was handled by the orchestra itself- she showed up in only one of the three performances.

But I’m not complaining!

While Wu Man’s solos were great, I couldn’t help but be ultimately infected by the overwhelming spirit and energy maintained by the orchestra throughout the entire show.

Anyway, back to the actual review. The theme was, I believe, exploration.  They started off with a virtuosic opera-style piece called “Luan Tan,” a stylistic experiment by composer Qigang Chen. Wu Man showed up for the second performance, Lou Harrison’s “Concerto for Pipa and String Orchestra,” a package of 7 short pieces incorporating and exploring musical styles from all over the world. In addition to this performance, Wu Man played and improvised her very own “Leaves Falling Autumn,” with UM professor Joe Gramley. After intermission, the orchestra performed Brahm’s Symphony No. 4 in e minor, Op. 98, Brahm’s last composition for symphony.

The Good Stuff:

Luan Tan: In Qigang Chen’s own words: “Elements that usually appear in my works […] are almost completely absent, replaced by ceaseless rhythmic pattern, leaps of tiny motifs, and gradually accumulated force through repetitions.”

In my own words: Snow White and the Seven Dwarves in a Chinese drama. Below I added the only sound recording file small enough to fit here. This melody was a motif repeated throughout the piece and it reminded me of chirping birds signalling the entrance of Snow White. A similar melody that was deeper, slower, and combined with clashing cymbals often followed this one, seemingly indicating the presence of dwarves.

Luan Tan excerpt

Lou Harrison’s “Bits & Pieces”: Each movement was a visual and auditory treat.

“Three Sharing” was the most interesting piece I saw. The only instruments in this piece, the pipa and the cello, weren’t actually played, but simply used. Wu Man rapped out a high pitched beat by drumming the base of her pipa while other cello musicians accompanied the rhythm with their own drumming.

Excerpt of Three Sharing

I liked the rest of the performances under “Bits and Pieces.” I could no longer tell whether I was hearing Middle Eastern, Chinese, or Western-style music because they were so expertly melded together. I simply allowed the music to wash over me.

Bits & Pieces excerpt

Overall, a highly recommended performance!

Standing ovation at the Hill Auditorium.

PREVIEW: The Florida Project

Sometimes, we go to the movie theater for escape, to fill our minds with images of far-off worlds and fantastic realities. We sit down and allow the screen to transport us away for two or three hours. In an industry full of reboots and sequels, The Florida Project, currently showing at the Michigan Theater, offers the tantalizing prospect of going somewhere altogether new. Moonee, a six-year-old girl, lives with her mother on the outskirts of the American dream in a hotel near Disney World. The movie follows Moonee over the course of one summer as she experiences the universal turbulence of growing up, but in a strikingly, unconventional living situation. Director Sean Baker’s previous work, Tangerine (2015), similarly chooses to see those in society that other films would sideline. He is also a filmmaker that is unafraid to take risks. Tangerine was gorgeously shot entirely on the iPhone 5. I am excited to see the latest work in what promises to be a very successful career.

The Florida Project will end its run at the Michigan Theater on Thursday, October 9th. Purchase tickets ($8 for students with ID) on the Michigan Theater website or at the box office.

REVIEW: Loving Vincent

A painting in motion — Loving Vincent. Brushstrokes that mimicked the iconic artistry of Vincent van Gogh’s own paintings moved to tell the biography of Vincent in a never-before-seen feature film. An hour and thirty-four minutes of animated paint, in the style of Vincent van Gogh, was an exquisite film that I felt honored to behold with my own two eyes.

It was a rainy Sunday night, with the typical wind chills of early November in Ann Arbor, when I went to see the film with some of my colleagues. We had just come from a fantastic dinner of pizza, including margherita pizza — my favorite kind of pizza — and joined the ranks of Loving Vincent moviegoers lined up outside of Michigan Theater.

Luckily, we had arrived just in time not to miss the beginning of the film itself. The whole lot of us settled upstairs in the balcony, appreciating the extravagance of the Michigan Theater’s classic theater setting and ambience. As soon as we settled into our seats, the lights dimmed and the screen flitted between trailers of upcoming indie films and the like. And then, at long last, Loving Vincent painted itself across the screen.

In a word, Loving Vincent was…divine. Artistic. Exquisite. Every second of it, quite literally the epitome of a painting in motion, enraptured the audience with its imagery.

Honestly, the second the movie opened, I was already mesmerized by the names rolling on the screen through their careful and immaculate brushstrokes. I was watching the lines of colors, imitating Vincent’s illustrious and iconic style, move across the screen in unison to depict movement. It was enrapturing.

I felt chills go down my spine.

The movie opens with the most renowned and perhaps most well-known work by the artist: Starry Night — hooking every audience member with its fine brush work and celebrated imagery as one of the most historically reputable works of art. It was so meaningful to see that be the opening scene to a film revolving around the artist, to whom the film is dedicated for, I was just captivated and touched by it. And then, when that Starry Night picture began to actually move, animated brushstrokes depicting the scene, my heart melted. Such an extraordinary picture transformed into a setting for a narrative to take place. It was the most fitting way to tell the biography of Vincent van Gogh.

As for the narrative itself — the story follows Armand Roulin, who is to hand-deliver a letter from Vincent to Theo van Gogh, Vincent’s brother. In this narrative, Armand learns more and more about the late artist Vincent, who had been a new artistic sensation in Paris at 28 but took his life while at the verge of his own impending success as an artist. Although skeptical and critical of Vincent in the beginning, Armand slowly grows wistful and fond of him. In fact, Armand even comes to Vincent’s defense when bad gossip arises and surrounds his death and reputation.

I’ll spare you all the details, but basically — the film follows Armand, a man who seems far detached from having any relation or kinship with Vincent van Gogh, and Armand’s journey to find the truth behind Vincent’s death — whether it was a suicide or a murder, what his motives were, who Vincent van Gogh truly was.

Ultimately the film really is a biography of Vincent van Gogh, which doesn’t lend itself to having that much opportunity to deviate from reality and express creativity and imagination as wildly as possible, as one might expect from an animated film. I have heard criticisms of the writing in Loving Vincent that claim the story is hard to follow, but they heralded the artistry of the film itself. Animation is a breathtaking craft, and it’s painfully difficult, and being able to dedicate an entire feature film of animated oil paintings for Vincent van Gogh is truly the only way to express his biography, I’d say. I personally don’t have a bad opinion of this film, having been so mesmerized by the immaculate craft of the moving pictures.

Now, my colleagues and myself hail from the art and design school at the University of Michigan, and inevitably we were drawn by the uniquely beautiful craft of the film, especially because we all express an interest in the art of animation. Safe to say we were all very moved and absolutely amazed by the sheer amount of work and effort required to make Loving Vincent and transform his most distinguished and impactful works of art into moving pictures.

If you have not seen Loving Vincent, I hope you at least consider it! If not for the story or biography of the great artist Vincent van Gogh, then for the beautiful craft of the film and its hundreds of artists who carefully painted and animated each frame of the film.

Go and love Vincent!

 

REVIEW: ComCo Presents: Freudian Slip n’ Slide

                                   11.3.17

The end of the week and comic relief are a matchless duo. ComCo, an improv comedy troupe on campus, illustrates this idea better than anyone. Their sense of humor, wit, and unparalleled rapport make them the most sought-after comedy group at Michigan.

I was hooked after their first performance last year and now have a tradition of going with friends to every one of their shows. The timing of their performances (Friday nights after seemingly endless school weeks) are opportune, often attracting more audience members than the Angell Hall auditorium can even accommodate.

Costing less than a soda, ComCo shows are priced at a mere $2.00/person, and their hilarity is priceless. Their performances are comprised of a series of improv games and scenarios which actively engage audience members.

On Friday, they began the night asking for suggestions from the audience for things such as words with a dual meaning, locations, articles of clothing, and food items. The members then interchanged scenes with unbelievable accuracy and rapidity. I was impressed by their ability to remember which scene they were in and with their adeptness at tying in jokes from earlier scenes.

One of the highlights of the night was a scenario where each of the members was given a topic (an idea shouted out from an audience member) for which they then had to act as a radio host for a made-up station. The auditorium went dark and then one of the ComCo members rotated randomly from one member to another, shining a flashlight on someone when it was his/her turn to speak. The members adopted different personas, which left the audience gasping for breath between laughs. I am continually awed by their knack for creating new personalities, voices, and mannerisms.

Another one of my favorite scenes of the evening involved ComCo members answering the prompt to come up with “rejected university ads.” One member stepped forward, saying “We have a student to hot GSI ratio of 3:1,” followed by another claiming we have a very “middle of the pack liberal arts program.” I particularly liked the university-related skits because I found comfort in laughing along with others who share similar U of M experiences and knowledge. Despite how enormous the University of Michigan is, there are still common threads in our experiences as students.

For anyone who has not yet attended a ComCo show (and even for those who have!), I highly recommend going. I am always impressed by the group’s ingenuity, energy, and creativity. They will not disappoint.