REVIEW: A Little Night Music

A Little Night Music, based off of the movie Smiles of a Summer Night, was an exciting and jaw-dropping musical full of plot twists and shocking revelations that uses humor, song, and dance to portray infidelity as a romantic comedy. Set in 1900 Sweden, the story revolves around a messy love web between a lawyer, Fredrik Egerman; Fredrik’s wife, Anne; a famous traveling actress, Desirée Armfeldt; Desirée’s lover, Count Carl-Magnus Malcom; and the Count’s wife, Charlotte.

The drama between the characters shows the darker side of romance in a sarcastically endearing way. The men are ungrateful towards their partners but down bad for Desirée, which is what generates the jealousy that pushes the plot forward in unexpected ways. The entire time I was on the edge of my seat, uncertain where the story was taking me. The ending was bizarre yet satisfying: happy yet bittersweet. Afterwards, I had a lot of fun talking to my friend about all of the twists and turns in A Little Night Music, which for me is what set it apart from the other musicals I’ve watched. It was a story completely different from what I expected when reading the description of the plot online.

The students really brought this show to life; their voices perfectly replicated the classic European noble accent. The wardrobe was gorgeous, particularly Desirée’s deep red dress and Charlotte’s dark blue dress, a contrast that hints at their differences and heavy animosity. I was also very impressed by the live playing of the cello and piano on stage, as it was my first time seeing instruments played on stage by the actors and not by the musicians in the pit orchestra. Especially the student who portrayed Fredrik’s son, Henrik, who played the cello with a very good tone and vibrato. 

My favorite song would be “Send in the Clowns,” sung by Desirée as she discovers that love doesn’t always go as predicted. The lyrics were relatable and the emotion in her voice mirrors lots of the experiences people face in romance today. This is the last musical I’ll see this semester and was a fun one to review. If you’re looking for something to betray your expectations, then A Little Night Music is for you!

REVIEW: Return to Seoul

Return to Seoul is a film that is resonant in its essential question of “how does one consolidate the roots of one’s own identity when they are foreign to oneself?” The movie follows the 25 y/o Freddie as she navigates the country of her birth and its foreign cultures and people. Originally traveling to Korea on a whim with her friend Tena, she decides to pay a visit to the Hammond Adoption Agency that facilitated her adoption. The creation of these international adoption agencies began from the large amount of Korean orphans resulting from the aftermath of the Korean War in the 1950’s. From this, she is contacted by her birth father, who has been separated from Freddy’s birth mother, and she makes the decision to go see him with Tena. However, her trip there is mixed with reluctance, the ambivalence is painted on her face to the point that you can feel her stomach churning. Her worries are justified when she comes up feeling even more disconnected to the family that revels in her return. While her father wants Freddie to stay in Korea, she cannot as she is a French woman with a home, friends, and family back in France. He cannot accept this, however, leaving her discomfort to culminate in an encounter where he follows her to a bar, and she rejects his drunken fatherly embrace, screaming “Don’t touch me!”

Freddie markedly does not fit in with the culture in Korea, and her experiences in her first trip to Korea certainly show this aspect of her the most. She is explicit in her defiance of cultural norms and etiquette, making sure that others know that she is a French woman, not Korean. To this effect, Tena’s translations fail to express the harshness of her words, and the language barrier between her and the Koreans in the movie further complicate her disconnect from the culture. Additionally, Freddie is simply an interesting character, for she swaps between lifestyles, partners, and friends throughout the entirety of the three-part movie. She is brazen, indulging herself in music, soju, and hookups.

One final thing I was intrigued about was the use of extended scenes of music with the stages of Freddie’s life in mind. In any capacity, the music plays an integral role in representing the different phases of her life through all of the different time-skips. It helps to describe how her freedom and independence manifests throughout different genres, characterizing Freddie through her different stages of life: as a young woman moving through adulthood. It’s an intensely resonant narrative device that creates beautiful juxtaposition with her coming of age.

The film screening of Return to Seoul was shown as a part of the Korean Cinema NOW: Diaspora Edition event. These movie showings are presented by the NAM Center on Saturdays in the Michigan Theatre throughout the Winter 2024 semester. If you’re interested in Korean cinema—especially as they relate to the Korean diaspora or diasporic identities in general—then there are still many more films being put on, and they all have free admission with catering from Miss Kim herself (I have to say that the food is really nummy! (˵ •̀ ᴗ – ˵ ) ✧). So, don’t hesitate to indulge in a fun Saturday outing these movie are worth it!

Runtime: 1 hr 59 min 

Rated R

Screenshot of the movie taken from the npr Article: “‘Return to Seoul’ is About Reinvention, not Resolution”

REVIEW: Maestro

The long-awaited Leonard Bernstein biopic came to theaters on November 22nd. With an unmatched legacy in the classical music-sphere, Maestro offers us a unique look into the personal life of the first American-born composer to receive international acclaim. 

Director and lead Bradley Cooper led a gripping performance as the conductor extraordinaire, providing a rare glimpse into the world of the beloved American conductor. I was interested to see what parts of Bernstein’s life would be highlighted in the film, as he lived quite a vehement life, filled with passionate successes and seething controversy. With so many notable musical moments that Bernstein boasts, the movie is rather centered around his tumultuous marriage with actress Felicia Montealegre (Carey Mulligan) rather than much of his career work.

The film begins with a spritely 25-year-old “Lenny” (as he was often referred to) and progresses with early career successes until he meets Felicia at a house party in 1946. They marry in 1951 and the story uncovers the beauty and bitterness behind their marriage, alongside Lenny’s confusing journey with his sexuality. The story feels complete marriage-wise, but lots of questions about his queerness remain.

The movie presents Bernstein’s life as a constant performance. His inherent presentational-based occupation and obsession with the media seep their way into Lenny’s marriage. This is shown in the way he falls in love: with choreographed dance numbers and flirtatious rehearsals on stage with Felicia. As well as the lavish parties he throws later in life with famous patrons who are watching his every move. His romance with Felicia always remained public in this sense, while his relationships with men were consistently private. Additionally, this was an interesting way to highlight the oppressive culture surrounding queerness in the 20th century. One of my favorite aspects of the film was the contrast between the unmarried and married Lenny. This shift is shown in the cinematography, with a black and white filter over his life while he is falling in love with Felicia, and a shift to bright color into the later years of their marriage, when more problems come to life. 

The film did not necessarily showcase all the music he created or the specific legacy he desired, but it was a brilliantly crafted story that explored deeply into the musician’s marriage and sexuality. This movie is thoughtful and heartbreaking with overwhelming passion—much like the music Leonard Bernstein created himself. Maestro is in theaters for a limited time and is now available on Netflix. 

 

Bradley Cooper (left) and Carey Mulligan.

 

129 minutes. Rated R  for discreet nudity and a ton of cigarettes.

Image thanks to Movie Insider and Netflix.

REVIEW: Heathers the Musical

Pictured from left to right: Emelia Hughey as Heather McNamara, Bianca Garfinkle as Heather Chandler, and Lila Harris as Heather Duke taken from Musket’s Instagram (@ummusket)

On November 10th, the University of Michigan’s student-led organization, Musket, put on its opening night performance of Heathers: the Musical. The musical follows Veronica Sawyer (played by Kaylin Gines) as she navigates her senior year as a part of Westerburg High School’s class of 1989 while trying to avoid the titular Heathers, the cruel popular girls of the school. Heather McNamara (Emelia Hughey), Heather Duke (Lila Harris), and the queen bee Heather Chandler (Bianca Garfinkle) make high school a living hell for the other students including Veronica and her best friend Martha Dunstock (Ellie Omori-Sampson). Along with the Heathers, Kurt Kelly (Sohil Apte) and Ram Sweeny (Dylan Bernstein) torment them with their inflated jock egos. It’s not until Veronica becomes a Heather herself and meets JD (Aaron Syi) do her plans of a quiet senior year under the radar go awry.

Heathers: the Musical satirizes the high school experience, portraying it as a battlefield of hostile personalities. It describes high school as a mimicry of the outside world with all of the hierarchies of adult society, posing the question of why childhood had to transform into this. Themes of gun violence, sexual violence, suicide, and grief of loss pervade the story, understanding that, here, the perils and dangers of adult society are inseparably coupled with the insecurity, longing, and anxiety of coming of age. As Kate Ivanov, the director of the musical, puts it in the Director’s Note, “there is a constant need to change, fit in, and be loved and accepted for who you are, when you don’t know who you are yet.”

The production itself is masterfully crafted in the Power Center’s proscenium stage. The set remains simple yet dynamic, always portraying Westerburg High, comprising a catwalk with two movable staircases that lead up to it. Still, in scenes that weren’t set in Westerburg High, there were parts of the set that were present that helped immersion while not detracting from the immersion of other scenes, including the gas station for “Freeze Your Brain” and the pier for “Kindergarden Boyfriend”. This use of the set, by not having any major set changes, streamlined the viewing experience and made it easy to follow the constant stimulation that the musical provides. The catwalk also gives good visual symbolism whenever the Heathers, but especially Heather Chandler, enters, demanding attention to their presence through the fact they are physically and socially above everyone else.

This experience wouldn’t be possible without the amazing performances from each of the actors as well. The way that the Heathers seem like one indomitable unit with their synchronization make the play as they set the tone of power hierarchy to which all of the play centers around, especially in “Candy Store”. Chandler especially commands her presence showcases devotion to the precision of her character work as in every scene she’s in she steals the show with her attitude and poise. When they eventually break off too the actors play faithfully to each of their individual characters’ emanating their respective traits: Duke’s envy and conniving nature  shown through “Never Shut Up Again” and McNamara’s dumbness that gets deepened by the anxiety and vulnerability she shows in “Lifeboat”.

Kurt and Ram play their parts well as the comedic relief, their energy was outstanding, while still showing their ignorance and ego as almost perpetrators of sexual violence in “You’re Welcome” where they really expressed the childish entitlement they felt to sexual favors. Martha, although not playing the largest role in the play, stood out as not only someone with fantastic heart but an exceedingly impressive vocalist (I’m pretty sure “Kindergarden Boyfriend” held the largest applause of the night).

Of course, the leads Veronica and JD were the stars of the show, faithfully executing their characters to a caliber that exemplified the quality of their performance. As the leading lady, Veronica was intelligent and contemplative, executing the larger themes of the musical with ease and immersion. JD was a contemplative character that showed all the warning signs of his unhinged nature, yet the audience can’t help but fall in love with him the same way that Veronica does. They certainly complemented each other with several musical numbers that showed their exceptional vocal performance such as in “Dead Girl Walking”, “Our Love is God”, and “Seventeen” which I especially enjoyed.

Still, each of the members clearly showcased their love of the show of which I noticed their exceeding amounts of energy and the small details they implemented helped the immersion into the world of Sherwood, Ohio. Additionally, to provide a special shoutout, the production couldn’t had reached as high as it did without the performance of the pit orchestra. The score was excellently executed with each of the musical motifs highlighting each and every scene, not just with the musical numbers.

With my experience, I was overall blown away by the sheer skill, energy, and love of the show the cast had. The musical was comedic yet contemplative, energetic and fun yet satirical, tonally all over the place yet being able to ground itself when it needed to. Quality-wise, it was almost like watching an off-broadway production, and to think that Musket is a student-led organization speaks to the amount of time, skill, and effort it took to put out such a performance. I would definitely recommend to keep the productions UofM’s Musket in one’s mind if one wants to see great performances.

REVIEW: The Holdovers

There was no better way to spend my afternoon like catching the Sunday matinee of a film I have had on my mind ever since I saw a trailer for it this past summer – an early screening of Alexander Payne’s latest film “The Holdovers.”  An apparently highly anticipated screening, as the Michigan Theater was practically swarmed with Ann Arbor-ites of all ages, passionately discussing the ins and outs of their virtuous presumptions. Afterwards, it was difficult to say if their expectations were met – but surely, smiles of perhaps off-duty professors and trend-outfitted undergrads had endured.  And for me, as I left the theater, I left the film inside.  There was no lingering impression that was tied to me, which is infrequently my experience after an Alexander Payne film, but there was an inexplicable warmth that carried through the theater. Ultimately, this overdrawn, meandering, melancholic comedy is made lovable, in part, by touching performances and tender moments, if frustratingly fleeting. 

In the film’s opening, Payne situates us in the snowy outskirts of 1970s Massachusetts, our plot following a whiskey-drinking, fish-smelling, scrooge of a classics teacher, Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti, “Billions,” “Sideways”) at Barton prep school, who is forced to watch over the students who have nowhere to go for Christmas.  Soon, we see our main group of students disassemble – departing via parent-dispatched helicopter – except for an irreverent and awkward junior, Angus (Dominic Sessa.) Leaving Mr. Hunham, Angus, and the school cook, Mary (Da’Vine Joy Randolph,“High Fidelity,” “Only Murders in the Building.”) The three form a makeshift family, bonding through mealtime small talk, clandestine excursions, and ritualistic midnight-viewings of the “Newly Weds” game show.  As their bond tightens, so begins the unraveling intricacies of their own stifled grief – and the solace they find in one another’s company. 

Visually, the film brings a warm, saturated flare to a muted, wintery landscape that envelops the rigid collegiate architecture – and could be easily mistaken for the Law Quad, come January.  And our eyes savor the composition of every long-held, establishing shot, each tempting the bound between effortless realism and dreamlike uniformity – a very Wes Anderson-esque framework. But this aesthetic isn’t contained in these few scenes, instead it remains a lingering presence in the air – just as tangible as the actors breathing it in.  Embedded with true 1970s visual stylings, the film is riddled with covert film flickering, wide zoom outs and ins, making the viewer feel like they are in the middle of a “Columbo” episode. This stylistic undertaking of recreating that “70s look” in modern films is often its own character – giving into gimmickry and performativity.  Yet Payne manages to distill the sweet oddities of the distinctive 1970s cinematography into an illusive, atmospheric mood. 

And while this film’s clear aesthetic certainly builds an intimacy with viewers, the script doesn’t necessarily.  “The Holdovers” at its core, is a film about the impermanence of youth and the grief that accompanies its passing – and this is where it shines – however briefly. 

For example, we have Mr. Hunham who is at a standstill in his life; working for the school that he attended in his youth, and under the command of one of his previous students.  And despite his hard exterior, he softens – sheepishly sharing and diminishing his dreams of writing a monograph.  In a later scene, he and Angus run into a former classmate of his at Harvard.  During their interaction, we see Mr. Hunham lie through his teeth about his employment and accomplishments, keying in the audience to what he dreamed his life could have been.  Arguably, Mr. Hunham is simultaneously the most wretched, but also the most developed and sympathetic character in the film. This is, in part, ascribable to Paul Giamatti’s wonderfully evocative performance.  Sincerely, the best role I have seen him in, thus far – and an undoubted Oscar-nominee.  And speaking of Oscar worthy performances, it would be remiss not to discuss the force that is Da’Vine Joy Randolph’s evocative portrayal of Mary – whose warmth is palpable and was often the perpetrator of the laughter in the audience. In Mary’s case, she is grieving the loss of her son who had previously attended Barton, but enlisted in the military to save for college, which led to his death. However disjointed in the script, she frequently muses over the prospect of what could have been his future – what would have been the rest of his youth.  This is, I think, a poignant commentary (and one that I am sure is relatable to many of us at Michigan) of you can go to the best schools in the world, but there will always be a barrier between opportunities if you are at a financial disadvantage. 

Lastly, we have Angus who has no shortage of privilege – except when it comes to his familial relationships.  In the film, he is ostensibly abandoned by his mother who decides to spend the holidays with her new husband, and pays him off as a desultory apology.  Meanwhile, Angus’s biological father is in a mental hospital, suffering from (herein lies a plot shortcoming) maybe schizophrenia and early onset dementia? This is explained at the end, quite haphazardly.  Nonetheless, this leaves Angus with a fractured household – one that he tries desperately to revive and derive affection from throughout the film.  With that being said, Angus has the propensity to be highly childish, but he is often stifled from doing so as he internally reckons with his neglect, and the imposed independence that is required with no parental guidance.  One of my favorite scenes from the film is when Angus becomes captivated by a snowglobe.  Perhaps insignificant at first glance, but I believe this scene shows his longing for the sanctity of childhood – a childhood which is quite literally trapped within an object that  is unable to be revisited – but only looked upon with admiration.  Though unspoken, Dominic Sessa’s subtleties are what makes his performance memorable.  Fascinatingly, he was reportedly scouted from a nearby school’s theater department.  That and his empty IMDB page give a naturalistic mystique to his performance.  Yet, it wasn’t clear if he has the acclaimed, “it.”  Great actor, yes, but he was lackluster in more emotionally demanding sections of the film.  Although I won’t speak too soon, given the cultural trajectory of the general public flocking to lanky brunette men – I can imagine his future acting prospects are looking positive – if he chooses to forgo that path. 

Come the ending of the film, I found myself reeling at why I felt completely disconnected and untouched by a story that I thoroughly enjoyed and characters that I deeply understood.  I will admit that it remains unanswered still in my mind.  Though my best effort at extracting this dissonance, ultimately boils down to the sheer unfocused execution of Payne’s excellent ideas.  We can see all of our characters suffer and persevere internally, but rarely do they share moments of true, unadulterated connection between their greatest commonality: stolen youth.  And when they do, it lasts no longer than a minute or two, being promptly interrupted by uncharacteristic dialogue, tangential storylines, or an abrupt shift in plot.  Just one example of this is seen after a charming turned overwrought Christmas party, the trio heads back to the car, Angus and Mr. Hunham consoling a drunken, tear-stained Mary.  Angus half-heartedly comforts Mary, in true teenage boy fashion, which elicits a maligning outburst from Mr. Hunham.  Mary then quickly snaps out of her grief to scold Mr. Hunham, and then she is suddenly fine – the scene is never mentioned again. This fragmented narrative hinders a deeper emotional connection to the trio as a whole, leaving the audience yearning for more enduring moments of resonance. 

And this element of the film is the catalyst for what would be an average runtime, to feel so extensive and interminable.  In spite of this, our actors manage to sustain our engagement and investment in these characters through an amalgamation of clever one-liners, vulnerable confessionals, and unquestionably moving depictions of the beauty in unexpected companionship – however sporadically placed and decidedly short-lived.  Altogether, Payne’s “The Holdovers” feels like a vivid, albeit voyeuristic glimpse into the heartfelt happenings of three strangers who form and rely on their newfound family.  With vintage flair, Payne creates a spritely, if a little tedious holiday film that is sure to earn a spot on people’s shelves – even just to collect dust. 

While this was an early screening, the wide release of “The Holdovers” is on November 10th, 2023.  



PREVIEW: Czarna owca (Black Sheep)

What: a Polish comedy/drama film, brought to Ann Arbor by this weekend’s annual Polish Film Festival

When: Saturday, November 5, 9:00pm

Where: State Theater

Tickets: available on the State Theater website, $9.25 for students

Czarna owca, or Black Sheep, is a Polish drama and comedy about a family falling apart at the seams. Magda and Arek have had a successful marriage of 25 years, and are now living with their adult son, Tomek, and his girlfriend Asia, while taking care of their aging father. However, a series of secrets and revelations soon cause chaos, prompting each character to confront their own closely-held desires and fears, while finding ways to mend the tears ripping apart their family. At least, that’s as much as I could find out from the few online synopses available for this film in English. Much of the plotline remains a mystery to me, and I look forward to discovering this family’s secrets alongside the characters this Saturday night.