REVIEW: The Favourite

Laura Dzubay 1 Comment

I don’t know quite what I was expecting when I walked into a screening of The Favourite at The Michigan Theatre. I had heard it described as a dark comedy, while other people had told me definitively that it wasn’t a comedy. I knew it involved queer relationships, but people had also told me not to think of it as a gay love story. Emma Stone was the only actress with whom I was very familiar, and her own past filmography has been so varied that it was hard to predict what type of role she was going to play.

As a result, it’s saying something that even throughout the length of The Favourite, I still struggled to pinpoint exactly what type of a movie it was. This isn’t meant as a slight. The movie is of course a historical drama, set during the reign of Queen Anne in Britain during the early 18th century. The comedic elements, although dry and often subtle, were often at the forefront of the screen, from the petty arguments and witty bickering between Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz, The Lobster) and Robert Harley (Nicholas Hoult, Mad Max: Fury Road) to visual jokes, like Robert Harley pushing Abigail Masham (Stone) into a muddy ditch. The romance took a backseat to the drama, to be sure, and The Favourite could not quite be classified as a romance film. However, a major element of the emotional weight of the end of the film was the factor of Queen Anne’s (Olivia Colman) discarding of Sarah, which only landed in the way that it did due to these characters’ romantic history.

The Favourite is a difficult film to characterize, but this lack of definitiveness is done purposefully and well. At its core, The Favourite is about manipulation, which is why it feels fitting that even as the three central characters — primarily Sarah and Abigail — manipulate each other, the film is also manipulating its viewers. It is tempting to side with Abigail for much of the first half of the movie, as she is constantly undercut and underestimated by the other characters. Abigail seems kind and relatable, bringing Anne medicine for her pained legs and shrugging off the advances of Samuel Masham (Joe Alwyn, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk). She is also in competition with Sarah for Anne’s attention, and Sarah, while at times genuinely funny and surprisingly endearing, can also come across as intimidating (especially to a new servant like Abigail), vindictive, and callous.

In the end, though, the film makes a point about the tremendous bearing that wealth and stature can have upon the way that a person acts. When Abigail ultimately succeeds in becoming Anne’s “favourite” and edging Sarah out of the queen’s inner circle, it becomes clear that she was truly the vindictive one all along, motivated by material gain and greed rather than by any real attraction to or interest in Anne. When Sarah is distanced from the queen and then exiled, she comes across as emotionally closer and more attached to Anne than ever before. Anne herself, as the queen, is in a position to take her wealth and status more for granted than the other characters, and therefore exerts the bulk of her emotional energy on her own profound loneliness and despair.

The Favourite ends with an incredibly sad, grave, loneliness-oriented scene, far from the comedic and more lighthearted elements that punctuated the film earlier on. And yet, despite some of the seeming tonal shifts, it feels apparent that this gravity was what characterized the film from the very beginning. On the one end, this movie is about three women possessing varying degrees of power, each able and willing to do various things — some of them outrageous things — in order to gain and maintain this power. On the other hand, it simultaneously perfectly captures the notion of desperation, of seeking all of the material promises of a good life — wealth, power, beautiful objects, political sway — only to be crestfallen upon the realization that these gains have come at the cost of forsaking true and meaningful companionship. Each of the three characters embodies some angle of this concept by the end of the film, completing a trifecta of powerful acting and storytelling. The Favourite is currently playing at local theaters such as the Quality 16 and the Ann Arbor 20 IMAX.

REVIEW: Mary Poppins Returns

Fareah Fysudeen Leave a comment

Image result for mary poppins returns

Mary Poppins Returns hit theatres in December 2018, and was received with mixed reviews– some loved the new spectacular addition to the classic Mary Poppins film starring Julie Andrews; others found it exhausting and drab in terms of plot, characters, and music. I find my own opinion lodged somewhere between the two; I didn’t love the movie, but I will defend its integrity and originality. The movie takes place a generation after where the first movie left off. Michael and Jane Banks, the children who Mary Poppins comes to nanny, are all grown up now. Jane is an activist fighting for union workers’ rights, and Michael is an artist and teller with three children who recently lost their mother– and it seems like that they’re all about to lose something else– their house. Amidst this financial turmoil, Mary Poppins materializes to help the Banks children– all of them– go on a magical adventure to revitalize their sense of wonder and joy.

Emily Blunt’s rendition of Mary Poppins is, well, blunt. This new Mary Poppins, reeled in through a kite with not a single hair out of place despite emerging from the eye of a raging storm, with perfectly poised little kitty heels bent at an artful angle, with her curt responses and matter-of-fact commandeering of the Banks children– she’s not as cheery and la-di-da as Julie Andrews’ Mary Poppins. This new one’s feisty. She’s got attitude. She means business. This new Mary Poppins rolls her eyes and bustles around and smiles less but manages to do more. Her magic is controlled and precise, bestowing the children with their own sense of agency rather than spoiling them with her treats. Emily Blunt’s interpretation of Mary Poppins is slightly spicier than it is sweet– and I love it for that. I’ll defend this movie against musical theatre purists that argue that Emily Blunt is not as good as Julie Andrews. They’ve both made the role their own in fun and inventive ways.  

That being said, however, in all honesty, my reaction to this movie was quite ordinary. I didn’t love it; I didn’t hate it. The plot of the Banks children trying to keep their house wasn’t the most engaging, even if Colin Firth was the one playing the evil banker. I didn’t find myself humming the tunes to the new songs as I walked out of the theatre. They just weren’t as catchy or extraordinary as they’d been hyped up to be. And, most importantly, the movie didn’t light up that spark of wonder and joy that Disney movies usually do; the nostalgic, gooey, fuzzy feeling spreading through my stomach– that life can be seen through a rose-colored lens– this movie just didn’t strike that emotional cord for me.

It did have its ups, though. In a song called A Cover Is Not The Book (possibly my favorite part of the whole movie– it’s really fun and whimsical), Jack and Mary Poppins perform with animated characters under the dazzling lights of a circus tent, and in the classic Hamilton style, we get some of Lin Manuel-Miranda’s crisp rhymes and fast-paced rap-style rhythms. There’s a song where the Banks children’s bathtub transports them to an oceanic adventure, swimming with whales and dolphins under an infinite blue sky and tufty white clouds. There’s the subtle romance between Jack and Jane, and though it’s painfully underdeveloped, it’s cute to watch. But still– I can’t really say that any of this adds up to a hugely substantial and magical movie experience. It’s a fun movie, and obviously part of a larger American musical cultural phenomenon, but in isolation, it seems enjoyably ordinary to me.

(Poster from Google Images)

REVIEW: The Great Tamer

Kianna Marquez Leave a comment

As I approached the Power Center, I was surprised that its glass windows were not completely tinted black after all. As the color of the sky darkened well past the setting of the sun, I could see the golden glow of the inside of the auditorium’s atrium from the outside, my destination. I rushed inside to escape the cold and to arrive at what would become the entire experience of The Great Tamer, from the very beginning to the very end.

The Great Tamer drew people of all ages and from numerous backgrounds; some you could tell were university students who chose to live their Saturday nights in a unique way, some were elder folk who were likely experienced attendees of artistic productions like this one. In essence, this production attracted the appropriate crowd as it consisted of artistic elements, universal morals, and common humor that would appeal to the different sides of many people.

The production began before everyone was seated. Even after calmly rushing up the concrete stairs to the balcony and being one of the first people in the auditorium to take their seat, I noticed that there was already a man lying on stage with his shoes off next to him, presumably dead. As people continued to enter, he stood up, put on his shoes, and stood facing the crowd, expressionless yet observant. When the production began, his character came to life in an intricate storyline.

The entire performance consisted of humans using simple props, strong body language without direct gestures, color and the lack thereof in their clothing and in the setting, and panels that made up the stage floor to communicate various vignettes in what seemed to be a metaphorical way. It was probably not entirely correct of me to think of every action that occurred as a metaphor, but I felt that it was easiest to understand the purpose of a specific scene as an analogy to what occurs in real life, such as death and grasping onto life, letting go of a loved one, being overthrown by one’s own kind, the equity or lack thereof between man and woman.

The ten performers were masters of sleight of hand and melodramatic theatre; I would follow the movement of one particular character in a scene and suddenly witness him or her consistently pull an item out of the air that they couldn’t possibly have carried behind them or in their shadow. They carried a sporadic and vibrant essence throughout the performance, using the black floor panels to disappear and reappear in an instant, to portray the absence of a physical object in space, and to reconstruct different settings.

The final scene resonated with me the most; after some commotion, one man remained. He had a square of gold and silver foil, tossed it in the air, and kept it suspended by constantly blowing air up from beneath it. The stage was dimming, you could see him moving impossibly to keep the foil floating, and as the stage darkened completely, he gave one final breath and it was over. In this moment, I was stunned by the caliber of the performance I had just witnessed and almost felt that there would be no way to explain or justify it in the words I would write for this post. Even so, I am ecstatic that I was able to give even a glimpse of this performance to the public with this post and hope that Dimitris Papaioannou will continue to touch the psyche of many with performances like this.

REVIEW: SMTD Collage Concert

JM Leave a comment

Advertised as an evening of non-stop performances, SMTD’s 42nd annual Collage Concert certainly lived up to expectations. Featuring Symphony Band, University Symphony Orchestra, Chamber Choir, Orpheus Singers, Digital Music Ensemble, Jazz Ensemble, and numerous other groups of students from within the School of Music, Theatre & Dance, I was thoroughly impressed by the professionalism of the production.

For one thing, if you’ve ever been to a collage-style concert before, you may be picturing a performance where half the time is spent waiting for set changes or performers to get to their places. This could not have been farther from the truth. The evening was truly exhilarating in the fact that there were quite literally no open spaces, or even a space to breathe, within the program. It was a wild ride of performance after performance, rapid-fire, with no breaks save intermission. The concert opened with a work called “Sound Piece” performed by the Digital Music Ensemble, and before the last note had finished ringing in Hill Auditorium, or before I could even realize what was happening, Symphony Band had already dropped the down beat of “War” from War and Peace by Michael Daugherty. The logistics and planning that go into the production of Collage must be mind-blowing, and yet it was pulled off without a hitch. The lighting changed, performers switched places on stage, and instruments were moved, all without the audience taking note.

I particularly enjoyed that the concert showcased the full range of SMTD’s performing arts spectrum – music, dance, musical theater, and theatre. The Collage Concert was an opportunity to experience the offerings of groups that I might not otherwise hear or see perform.

One of the most impressive, and entertaining, performances was Melissa Coppola and Annie Jeng’s rendition of Franz Liszt’s “Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.” The penultimate performance, it was the one act for which the audience broke out in applause, despite the request in the program to “please hold applause until the end of each half!” Not only was it a virtuosic performance, the entire piece was a theatrical production in which Ms. Coppola and Ms. Jeng comically gesticulated and shoved at each other. At one point one shoved the other off the piano bench and onto the floor. Near the end of the piece, there is a section of repeated ascending scales in which one performer played a scale, went running from the end of the piano bench, around the piano, and to the other side of the bench, all while her counterpart played the next scale, only to arrive to the bench again to smoothly play the next scale while the other performer ran around the piano, and so the cycle continued. At the conclusion of the piece, the two high-fived at the playing of the final chord. Perhaps most impressive was that amid all the show and staged chaos, the piece was being played smoothly and expertly, such that it would have been stunning even without the theatrics!

Another of my favorite pieces performed was “Nimrod” from Elgar’s Enigma Variations. An orchestral classic, it is melancholy, thickly orchestrated, and a pleasure to listen to.

I expected a great concert, but the Collage Concert far surpassed my expectations. It was a fantastic evening that I thoroughly enjoyed, and the two hours that it ran for passed in the blink of an eye!

REVIEW: Cory Wong

Angela Lin Leave a comment

On his latest tour, Cory Wong returned to Vulfpeck’s Ann Arbor home, playing to a sold-out crowd at The Blind Pig.

Emily C. Browning opened the stage. From New Zealand, her Spotify page says her music is intended as “an electric experience that you won’t know you were looking for until you hear it,” and that is exactly what we got. With a unique mix of jazz, soul, and funk, Emily’s style was refreshing and entertaining, and her own guitar skills were something of marvel. Starting her set with a couple covers and original songs that set the vibe for Cory Wong, his band came out and joined her for a couple more rocking songs before Cory Wong himself came onstage. The chemistry between Cory and Emily resulted in a phenomenal soundscape that had everyone swaying and jamming.

After a little break, Cory Wong and his band came back out, rocking some team athletic gear. Along with many, unbelievable guitar riffs, Cory put on a performance in between songs with a number of jokes that required crazy setups. He also emphasized his need to sell merch, playing several clips throughout the show. As the “millennial ambassador to smooth jazz,” he certainly infused an appreciation for smooth jazz and funk with his incredible songs and technique. Watching his extraordinary right hand picking technique in person was surreal, an impressive skill unrivaled by any other guitarist.

For a wonderful surprise, Vulfpeck’s singing guitarist, drummer, and syncopation master Theo Katzman joined Cory onstage for a funky collaboration. As Emily C. Browning came onstage again to close out the set with Cory, probably the best people that joined Cory’s performance were the two green inflatable tube men that summed up Cory’s personality, music, and stage presence.

The crowd was jamming the entire night, getting excited at the immense talent that Cory Wong and everyone in his band, particularly the drummer, brought to the stage. The excitement surrounding Cory Wong and his reputation as a guitarist is not one to be understated, and the electric funk energy that he brings is certainly contagious in the best of ways.

REVIEW: Roma

changje Leave a comment

Roma, a film directed, produced, co-edited and shot by Alfonso Cuarón, is a semi-autobiographical film set in 1970-1971. It follows the life of Cleo, a maid to a middle-class family in Mexico City.

Roma was originally aired– and is currently still being screened– on Netflix, where it got rave reviews. Select theaters, such as the Michigan Theater, showed the film in theaters. As someone who has watched the film both on my laptop screen and on the big screen, I can attest to the fact that one receives a very different film-watching experience depending on which setting it is enjoyed in. While seeing Roma on a smaller screen makes it no less creative or artistic in its story or message, the scope of its beauty and intensity widens, as sound and images envelop the viewer in a more immersive experience.

The film is completely in black-and-white, and in Spanish with English subtitles. Immediately, though there is no actual use of color in it, the film manages to paint a detailed picture of the affections, tensions, and family dynamics that exist within the household that Cleo works in. Life in Mexico City, as presented in the film, is rich with life and sound; I immediately could sense the energetic and animated spirit of the city through the sights and sounds of its people and animals.

From the beginning of the film, Cleo is the character to whom one is immediately drawn to; she is the center of the narrative, and holds a gravitational force over the other characters in the film as caretaker, provider, source of emotional fulfillment– though her quiet presence means that they may not be aware of that dependence. More than the star of the film, Cleo is a very interesting and nuanced character: though she barely speaks above a whisper, never betrays a hint of anger or frustration, yet her quiet gravity and strength are tangible. The martial arts scene, when she is the only person in a field of people who is able to form an intricate balancing pose– though no one takes notice– serves to illustrate the ways in which her restraint actually is a way of showing her restrained power.

Cleo endures many hardships, both before and during the film’s setting occurs; a diasporic past and rocky relationship with her mother is hinted at, and during the extent of the film she loses several other loved ones. Again and again, we see Cleo abandoned and left alone; in most scenes she may be surrounded by those who claim to love and treasure her, but ultimately she is abandoned. In her darkest moments of agony and sorrow, the people she depended on in that moment leave her to her own devices. For instance, in the scene where Fernin abandons her at the cinema to finish the movie on her own, we are given a view of the screen of the film that Cleo herself is watching, and the scene is drawn out so long that we finish the movie with her. In other similar situations, the director chose to extend the scene and stretch it out for an almost uncomfortable amount of time. This particular decision, in my mind, was made to force the readers to sit with Cleo in her silence for a while so that they can temporarily embody the stillness and the waiting that characterizes so much of her life, and to reflect upon the implicit ideas or emotions that these scenes provoke. One of these subtle ideas is the notion of strength and bravery as being traits not only exemplified by showy acts or performative expression, but that can also be found in quiet reservedness. Cleo is the prime example of this; one cannot help but note the tenacious resolve in her impassive, but determinedly expressionless, face as she watches devastation and destruction happen around her in scenes such as in the hospital baby unit and in the forest fire.

As the film continues, the more surreal and abstract images and concepts that are hinted at at its introduction are expanded upon and incorporated into the meat of the film. Scenes of destruction and violence are superimposed on ones that are canonically joyful, such as birthing a child or looking at newborn children in the hospital ward. At first, the surreal elements caught me off guard, as I had assumed that this film would be more documentary-like in its telling. However, once I realized that this film is more on the artistic side, the various images and recurring metaphors– as well as the slightly exaggerated actions and personalities of some characters– began to work together to make the film a lot more interesting.

Before coming to see this film, I had already heard very positive reviews about it. The amount of artistry and creativity in this film was a lot more than I had anticipated, so I was pleasantly surprised when the film made more of an impression of an art film than a documentary. There are so many beautiful images and ideas that are explored throughout the film, and I am glad that several of my friends watched this film so that I can talk to them about specific scenes and metaphors that I cannot do in this post, as I don’t want to spoil any part of the plot for our readers.

If you are able to catch a viewing of Roma on the small or big screen, defiantly take that opportunity. The film is a beautiful exploration of strength and beauty in the seemingly mundane, and a brilliant depiction of the various ways in which human relationships have the capacity to love and to destroy.