REVIEW: Mickey 17

In 2019, when Parasite captivated both audiences and critics, it became an instant classic. While the film awards season is often unpredictable and sometimes controversial, Parasite triumphed with three Oscars—four if you count the Best International Feature Film award for South Korea—and made history as the first non-English language film to win Best Picture. Director Bong Joon Ho accepted his awards and set the stage for what would come. With this remarkable achievement behind him, Bong faced the daunting challenge of creating a film that could meet the high expectations following the success of Parasite

Enter Mickey 17. The film follows Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), a failed macaron shop owner who escapes his bloodthirsty loan sharks by signing up for a space colonization mission. The expedition, led by failed congressman Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo), aims to establish a human settlement on an icy planet called Niflheim. With no valuable skills to indicate on his application,  Mickey takes on the role of an “Expendable,” a job where his sole purpose is to die. Again and again. 

Body reprinting technology restores Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) after dying

 

Equipped with technology that allows his body to be reprinted and his memories backed up onto a storage device, Mickey acts as a test dummy for the scientists on board. A rapid-fire montage throws us into the numerous deaths Mickey has undergone with forceful brutality as he repeatedly inhales viruses so the scientists can figure out a vaccine and are exposed to harmful levels of radiation to study how it impacts the human body.  In other words, he’s a lab rat modified with the wonders of technology. It’s with this concept that the movie blasts off, throwing us into the captivating realms of science fiction and the potential future that awaits us. It creates the question of to what extent people in power treat those below them as disposable, all in the name of pursuing a better future that doesn’t encapsulate everyone. 

Another standout thread in Mickey 17 is how it bluntly immerses the audience in the reality of American politics and the distinct privilege possessed by some, even in outer space. With cult-like followers sporting red caps, a flair for bravado, and a close brush with political downfall, Mark Ruffalo’s character, Kenneth Marshall, unmistakably echoes a certain president. Interestingly, the film wrapped production around 2023—meaning that many of its eerily familiar political parallels emerged before some real-world events had even unfolded; Director Bong Joon Ho has stated that Marshall was not explicitly modeled after Trump, yet the similarities are hard to ignore. However, the film’s political commentary extends far beyond American politics. Much like its exploration of humanity, ethics, and mortality through the concept of body printing, Mickey 17 also delves into themes of power, herd mentality, and righteous superiority. History is connected, is what seems to be the theme. 

Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo) and his wife, Yfla Marshall (Toni Collette)

All in all, Bong Joon Ho takes on a lot with Mickey 17. It’s wholly experimental, blending genres and tackling weighty concepts while maintaining a sharp sense of humor. Yet, rather than fully immersing itself in science fiction, the film uses the genre as a platform for political commentary, often making its speculative elements feel secondary. With so many ideas in play, it can be difficult to focus on just one and they become generalized. In comparison to Parasite, Mickey 17 is more of a chaotic rollercoaster, but one that remains deeply enjoyable in its tumult. It confronts viewers with the darker sides of reality, caricaturing figures and traits in a way that teeters between humor and discomfort. And, like Parasite, it retains Bong’s signature artistic flair. Mickey 17 is not Parasite, and it never will be. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing and I’m looking forward to all the wonderful, thought-provoking films he’ll make. 



REVIEW: John Proctor Is the Villain

Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On the night of November 21st, my friend and I walked out of the Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre in a passionate discussion about the SMTD performance of John Proctor Is the Villain, a comedy-drama written by Kimberly Belflower. Going in, I was intrigued by the play’s premise and curious about how it would intertwine the themes of The Crucible—a play written by U-M grad Arthur Miller—with contemporary issues.

John Proctor Is the Villain takes place at Helen County High, the only high school in a small town in Georgia. Set in 2018, when the #MeToo movement on social media gained attention, the story follows a group of high school juniors during their spring semester (coincidentally, I was also a junior in high school then). Most scenes occur in the classroom of Carter Smith, a young, charismatic, and popular teacher. Although Mr. Smith’s class is small, his students embody the archetypes of nerdy, sporty, chic, and emo characters you would expect to find in a larger high school. As Mr. Smith and his students read The Crucible, they begin to discuss John Proctor, who, despite being an adulterer, enjoys a good reputation and is praised as a hero. At the same time, a group of girls formed a club to explore what feminism exactly means and how to be a feminist. 

Though it starts lightheartedly, this production dives headfirst into heavy themes, including racist and sexist language, depictions of violence, and abusive relationships. At its core, the play is a commentary on sexual assault, highlighting how it remains a pervasive issue that is too often dismissed or ignored. As the plot thickens, the shifting dynamics reveal the profound disparities and emotional toll that sexual assault takes on both victims and those connected to them. The play explores a range of complex emotions—confusion, disbelief, embarrassment, anger, sadness, and more—all of which feel raw and deeply human. As I watched from the audience, the character development prompted me to reflect on my past relationships, experiences, and vulnerabilities.

The actors’ accurate portrayals of these complexities made the performance even more impactful and thought-provoking. Their depiction of messy teenage friendships—fraught with reluctance and miscommunication—felt incredibly realistic. Through desperate and hesitant tones in their voices and insecure body language, they authentically captured the essence of adolescence. Student actor Hugh Finnigan embodied Mr. Smith’s charismatic persona so convincingly that, from the beginning, I gravitated toward his character. His confidence and mannerisms fondly reminded me of my favorite high school teachers.

The production’s minimal set design—consisting solely of school desks and a blackboard—underscored the idea that no environment, no matter how safe or familiar it seems, is immune to the threat of sexual assault and harassment. The costumes and makeup reflected each character’s stereotypical personality, but by the end of the play, teach us not to judge a book by its cover. Finally, the dance-break transitions between scenes became a powerful visual metaphor for resilience, symbolizing the characters’ capacity to reclaim power and persevere.

John Proctor Is the Villain delivered a surreal and eye-opening experience, culminating in an ending that felt chilling, uplifting, shocking, and awe-inspiring all at once. Moments that initially seemed surface-level gained significant weight as the characters displayed profound growth and emotional depth. By analyzing their behavior, reactions, and capacity for trust, the play sheds light on how people navigate societal pressures and personal challenges.

As my friend and I left the theatre, we found ourselves discussing how societal norms shape the assumptions we make about people in our everyday lives and how dangerous these assumptions can be in perpetuating harmful power structures. This production left an indelible impression, and I would highly recommend it to anyone seeking a thoughtful and emotionally resonant theatrical experience.



REVIEW: 33 Variations

December 6 | 11:00 pm | Newman Studio


 

Humans are naturally doused in curiosity. We’ve discovered the depths of Earth’s oceans while making our way to parts of outer space we probably were not intended for. The desire for complete discovery exists on both the largest and smallest of scales. A riling little mystery from the composer Ludwig von Beethoven’s expansive musical life has enchanted playwright Moisés Kaufman, writing a play of the same name: 33 Variations, in which he sends leading lady Dr. Katherine Brandt on her own expedition to uncover the reason for his insist creation of the tune.

In 1819, music publisher Anton Diabelli commissioned Beethoven to write a short variation of his waltz for a larger publication. Beethoven found it pedestrian and blew it off, but at some point, something intrigued him about the tune. This detail left out of history led him to ambitiously compose thirty-three variations on the waltz over the last few years of his life.

What changed? Why did Beethoven spend the height of his compositional years on a piece considered elementary?

Ella Saliba as Dr. Katherine Brandt.

Modern-day musicologist Dr. Katherine Brandt (Ella Saliba) travels to Bonn, Germany, to study Beethoven’s manuscripts from the 1820s. Clara (Aliyah Douglas), her restless daughter, disapproves of the journey due to her mother’s declining health from ALS and eventually joins her in Europe. The two often exchange fiery discourse, “You don’t love anything that you can’t understand,” Clara jabs. Their rocky relationship is exacerbated by Clara’s lack of career commitment and her cumbersome relationship with her mother’s nurse from the U.S., Mike Clark (Landon Wouters, whose character is hilariously inappropriate & full of laughs).

The play shifts between 19th-century Vienna and the present, while Beethoven (Nick Aiello) struggles to pay rent and faces his own ailments. His secretary, Anton Schindler (a charming James Parascandola), converses back and forth with Mr. Anton Diabelli (Marcus Byers) over four years while Beethoven writes his variations.

Through a plot with cadences that come off more bleak than cheerful, there is an abundance of humor woven into Kaufman’s hefty script. Aiello, Byers, and Parascandola are responsible for that—the three’s hilarious riffs were plentiful and cheeky. Perhaps nudging to the fact many of Beethoven’s variations do undoubtedly poke fun at Diabelli.

A young Ella Saliba earnestly waltzes through the life of the much more mature Dr. Katherine Brant. As Ms. Saliba explored Katherine’s ever-consuming and impassioned journey onstage, what the audience found was a deeply impressive, humble, and moving performance—resulting in a very misty curtain call.

James Parascandola and Marcus Byers.

One of the most exceptional parts of the play is the live pianist performing the “33 Variations” in real time. I would be remiss not to point out pianist Eric Head’s sensitive performance. This notoriously challenging work was greeted with poise from Head, providing an irreplaceable vibrance to the atmosphere.

Kaufman’s play may occasionally feel oversaturated with detail, but I was transfixed by his sentimental characters. The parallels between these two human lives across more than a century are deeply clever. Life’s ever-ticking clock is often responsible for igniting humanity’s obsessive quest for meaning in our short engagements on Earth, a theme poignantly embodied by Mr. Aiello and Ms. Saliba. I do hope Dr. Brandt found the answers she wanted, for she at least discovered the beauty nestled within the ordinary.

 

 

 

Images thanks to Basement Arts. 

REVIEW: Stop Kiss

Rude Mechanicals completes their 2023-24 season with the 1999 play by Diana Son, Stop Kiss. Seeing this play was a new experience for me, and quite a beautiful one.

Set from Stop Kiss in the Arthur Miller Theater.

The play follows two young women, Callie (Emilia Vizachero) and Sara (Victoria Vourkoutiotis), who meet in New York City and begin to have feelings for one another. One evening, they share a kiss in the West Village, and it results in a terrible hate crime leaving Sara with a life-altering injury. The play follows a non-linear storyline, jumping from Sara and Callie’s first interaction to weeks after the attack.

 

I am not cultured on much queer theater, so I haven’t been exposed to many pieces where characters are actively discovering their sexual identity during the show—rather many pieces I’ve encountered have characters come in with their sexuality seemingly decided. I enjoyed this piece’s honest and sincere exploration of queerness.

I was immediately struck by Audrey Tieman’s beautiful onstage set when I walked into the Arthur Miller. It brought me directly into the moment of the show with an ornate pink apartment—the 1990s, young, and within a metropolitan city. The major part of the set was far upstage, juxtaposing the thrust space. This left the apartment scenes feeling more presentational than personal, counteracting the intimacy of a thrust. All of the scenes outside the apartment were on the thrust, such as the detective’s office or moments when characters were strolling through the streets of New York City. An interesting choice, that sometimes led me out of the detail of the world that was created in the embellished apartment set.

Emilia Vizachero and Adam Rogers delivered individually exquisite performances. Rogers is effortlessly charming as Callie’s undefined partner, George, and Vizachero brilliantly leads us through a journey of Callie’s many complex emotions over two timelines—one I would be happy to experience again. Vourkoutiotis also played a sweet and gentle Sara, with wholesome chemistry alongside a witty Vizachero.

 

Emilia Vizachero as Callie.

Direction (by Reese Leif) was cohesive and thorough. Scenes and dramatic moments felt naturally paced, at times skimming on hyper-realism, making the play’s brutal contrast of content duly apparent to the audience.

 

The illuminating kiss that closes the play leaves a fully realized portrait of Callie and Sara’s relationship. This perfectly placed scene becomes charged over the duration of the play due to the revelations about what lies behind and ahead of these beloved characters. It was an unforgettable (and titular) moment of the piece, yet left my heart aching for the two women.

 

 

Leo Kupferberg (a fabulous and frequent SMTD Dramaturg) made a beautiful point in his dramaturgy note about the “in-between” of the piece, which I left the theater pondering. This show revels in the lack of certainty, unwavering bravery, and messiness many women navigate through. Stop Kiss can feel limited to its darkness and crucial messaging of the tumultuous experiences of many LGBTQ+ relationships, but Leif brings out the beauty in such darkness, reminding us that love always prevails.

 

 

 

 

 

April 20th, 8pm. Arthur Miller Theater. Images thanks to @umrudes on Instagram.

REVIEW: Wall to Wall Theater Festival

Wall to Wall Theater Festival was formerly an annual event in the Walgreen Drama Center before the pandemic. I am thrilled to see its return — back and better than ever. Producers Jeff Wagner, Kate Ivanov, and Tate Zeleznik have revitalized the festival at The School of Theater, featuring five unique works directed by SMTD students.

Wall to Wall is described as an “immersive performance experience [where] five different short-form interactive pieces play throughout the hallways, classrooms, and studios of the Walgreen Drama Center. Each performed several times through the night, giving audiences a chance to curate their own experience traversing through live music, theater, and performance art offered through the festival.” It juxtaposes a normal theatrical experience allowing the audience member full control over their space and consumption of the art.

Juliet Schlefer singing Rachmaninoff’s 6 Romances.

The first piece I wandered into seemed like a mini-haunted house. Instantly, I knew this sinister set-up was the work of senior directing student Mirit Skeen. Through a maze of dark fabric, There was a haunting voice looming inside—singing Rachmaninoff Op. 38 otherwise known as “6 Romances”. This set was performed by the glittering soprano, Juliet Schlefer and lyrical pianist Eric Head.  I loved this creative and eerie presentation of a rather mysterious operatic song cycle.

Drake Zhao and Sarah Hartmus performing a scene from “Hookman”.

 

Two performances featured scenes from straight plays. Shakespeare’s Corner (dir. Olivia Ray) featured a short scene from The Taming of the Shrew, which follows the marriage of headstrong Katharina to Petruchio, who employs various strategies in an attempt to dominate her. In the hallway upstairs, a part-comedic-part-horror scene from Lauren Yee’s Hookman was being performed (dir. Katy Dawson). The scene revolves around two college girls being followed by a (you guessed it) man with a hook.  It was a totally unassuming and endearing scene, with such a great use of the hallway space.

UMPH Jazz Band and Musical Theater student Sage Taylor.

UMPH is an up-and-coming Ann Arbor jazz band featuring Cole Oswalt, Luke Pisani, Shudane Hendrix, Max Rubin, Max McDermitt, and Alex Lahti-Thiam. This band brought a roster of musical theater students to sing R&B and funk tunes. I loved the concert-like vibe in the room, it was a nice juxtaposition to the theater.

The final piece I watched was downstairs in the basement. The group of eight performed two numbers from Dave Malloy’s chamber choir musical Octet, a musical about internet addiction. This show does not use any musical instruments, only the human voice. The team included Marcus Byers (Choreography) Alex Confino (Music Director), and Kate Ivanov (Director), who masterfully assembled this lesser-known gem with an all-star cast of vocalists.

I do hope Wall to Wall returns again! The creative use behind each space in the Walgreen and the simplistic brilliance of each nugget of theater came out to be a ton of fun. The creativity within the students of SMTD is truly remarkable.

 

 

April 7th, 7pm. Images thanks to Jeff Wagner. Title Image: Kate Ivanov’s Octet.

REVIEW: For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow’s Enuf

Basement Arts presents their first show of the season: For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Suicide / When The Rainbow’s Enuf  by Ntozake Shange. The 1976 piece is presented as a choreopoem, a unique collection of spoken poems that intertwines staging and fluid movement. Director Sarah Oguntomilade works alongside choreographer Gilayah McIntosh to navigate Ntozake’s lyrical prose to create a piece illuminating the complexities of Black womanhood, friendship, and identity with unwavering grace and power.

In the show, each character is depicted as a color of the rainbow with the addition of brown. They perform some poems alone, but in other moments come together to deliver a unified story, creating a mural of emotions. Characters were acutely aware of one another, offering solidarity when some were delivering heavy-hearted monologues and experiencing saturated joy together for others. The performers breathe life into the individuality of their roles, showcasing a kaleidoscope of personalities that are both vivid and distinct, yet reminiscent of Ntozake’s personal experiences and emotions. Oguntomilade clearly holds a deep understanding of theater and poetry, as her direction was fluid and honest, capturing the essence of each moment poetically and dramatically. Accompanied by McIntosh’s seamlessly exciting choreography, the piece was aesthetically magnificent.

The authenticity of the choreopoem form shines through Ntozake’s meticulously crafted words, breathing life into the performance while speaking radiant visions of her experiences to the audience. The ensemble expertly navigated exhilarating highs and heartbreaking lows with unwavering conviction, leaving the audience both beaming with love and holding back a rush of tears. The poems fearlessly take on topics such as abuse, sex, and emotional trauma—it is a show to be emotionally prepared for while inviting audiences to confront the complexities of the African-American experience with unflinching honesty and empathy. The show humbly forms a mosaic of poetic brilliance that lingers long after exiting the theater.

For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Suicide / When The Rainbow’s Enuf  is a deeply touching piece about the resilience, bravery, friendship, strength, and beauty of African-American women, and went out last week with roaring success. Basement Arts will perform two more shows during the Winter season: Collective Rage: A Play in 5 Betties directed by Brynn Aaronson and Falsettos directed by Naomi Parr. Auditions and performance dates are posted on @basement_arts on Instagram. 

 

More about Ntozake Shange and her legacy here.

Feb 2, 11pm. Image thanks to Basement Arts. Performed in the Newman Studio on North Campus.