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ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT • THURSDAY, APRIL 23, 2015 • PAGE B1
Political satire, Middle Eastern
culture merge in new exhibit
BY LIPIKA RAGHUNATHAN
Spectator Staff Writer
Satire and politics come together at the art exhibition “I won’t wait for grey hairs and worldly cares to
soften my views,” with pieces that reflect the culture of
the Middle East. The art consists of men dressing and
posing in varied scenes and scenarios, illustrating Middle
Eastern politics, culture, and identity.
This exhibition, featuring works by Ramin Haerizadeh,
Rokni Haerizadeh, and Hesam Rahmanian, opened at
Callicoon Fine Arts on April 12 and will remain until
May 24. Described as “exhibition-cum-theater,” the exhibition includes video, painting, sculpture, and collage
elements.
Adapting Jean Genet’s “The Maids,” images show the
artists performing their version of the play. According
to the press release, “They enact a campy version of the
sadomasochistic scenes and incorporate a tableau that
references David’s ‘The Death of Socrates.’” Other components of the exhibition include “a sculptural assemblage with a water fountain at its base and a tumbling
array of mannequin limbs, a pink-rimmed jug and artificial flowers.”
In another portion, “a draped canvas depicts a partially
obscured wedding procession, royals from a Madame
Tussauds display, over which is placed a handmade bowl
and tennis racket altered with a stocking and clay.” The
idea of communal and group art is clearly demonstrated
in this exhibit with several artists working on one large
project together. The Dubai-based artists came together in the effort to
convey a satirical performance of Middle Eastern culture
and politics. The artists worked together on this group
project but also have solo work on similar themes.
Ramin Haerizadeh, one of the featured artists, has
exhibited internationally, notably in “Unveiled: New Art
from the Middle East” at the Saatchi Gallery in London
(2009), “Sharjah Biennial 10” in the United Arab Emirates
(2011), and “The Trees Set Forth to Seek for a King” at
the Museum on the Seam in Jerusalem (2014). On his
own, he presented his work at Gallery Isabelle van den
Eynde, Dubai, and at the Galerie Nathalie Obadia, Paris,
in 2012. His works also appear in a number of prestigious
collections such as Guggenheim Abu Dhabi, the British
Museum, the Devi Art Foundation, and the Rubell Family
Collection.
Rokni Haerizadehi, Ramin Haerizadehi’s brother,
is another of the featured artists. Like his brother, his
work has been featured in many exhibitions, such as the
Carnegie International (2013), “Here And Elsewhere” at
the New Museum in New York (2014), and the Sharjah
Biennial (2011). His art can also be found in collections
at the Carnegie Museum of Art, the British Museum, Tate
Modern, the Devi Art Foundation, the JPMorgan Chase
Art Collection, and the Rubell Family Collection, among
other places.
The third and final artist is Hesam Rahmanian from
Dubai. Rahmanian’s work has been featured at Gallery
Isabelle van den Eynde in Dubai (2013), Paradise Row
in London (2011), and Traffic in Dubai (2010). In 2011,
Rahmanian was involved in a group showing at the Royal
College of Art in London as one of eight finalists for the
Magic of Persia Contemporary Art Prize. Associate at Callicoon Fine Arts Elizabeth Lamb described the exhibit as both an example of art creating a
dialogue about social issues and a group demonstration.
Because the exhibit makes such a statement about
public affairs and commercialization, the meanings
behind the pieces could be explained and understood
without context. Influences include “art historical to
contemporary politics to protests in the news and also
referencing things from their families and magazines and
popular culture,” Lamb said.
By using different forms of media such as video,
sculpture, painting, and collage, the artists are able to
SEE GREY HAIRS, page B3
ILLUSTRATION BY ISABEL CHUN
PAGE B2
Best
of
WEEKEND APRIL 23, 2015
Satirical Films
Though kicking back with a mind-numbing romantic comedy or nonstop barrage of CGI-laden effects à la “Avatar” can be a relaxing
form of entertainment for many, these satirical films are equally entertaining. They ask viewers to consider issues like politics, religion,
and consumerism in a humorous, cerebral way. —AFRODITE KOUNGOULOS
‘Dr. Strangelove or:
How I Learned to Stop
Worrying and Love the
Bomb’
‘Life of Brian’
Monty Python’s “Life of Brian” was released to
extreme controversy in 1979. Set in biblical times,
the film centers around a man named Brian who
is mistaken for the Messiah after being born in a
stable next door to Jesus. Much to his chagrin, Brian
acquires a horde of followers who declare his every
action a miracle. He later gets arrested and is almost
released, but in a parody of “Spartacus,” other people
use his name to avail themselves. The film ends with
Brian and a couple of other inmates singing along
to “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” while
being crucified. Many religious groups condemned
the film as blasphemous and irreverent, and it was
even banned by several town councils in the U.K.
However, the creators maintain that they meant
to satirize left-wing politics and dogma, and it has
earned itself a place in the pop culture cannon.
‘This is Spinal Tap’
Stylized as a parody of the stereotypical rock
documentary, “This is Spinal Tap” is about the fictitious British band Spinal Tap. Like a traditional
documentary, footage of one-on-one interviews
is interspersed with periods of them on tour during various points of their career. They lose several
drummers due to freak accidents like spontaneous
combustion, and one member’s girlfriend causes
a rift between the group in an exaggerated homage to Yoko Ono. After the film’s release, it became
popular for rock groups to refer to themselves as
behaving like Spinal Tap, such as Pearl Jam or Quiet
Riot. However, other musicians have admitted that
the film gives a stark portrayal of the degradation of
the music industry.
ILLUSTRATION BY KAYA TIBILOVA
One of director Stanley Kubrick’s most wellknown films, “Dr. Strangelove” follows a maniacal
U.S. Air Force General who singlehandedly orders a
nuclear attack on the Soviet Union. General Ripper
triggers an air attack on Russia because he is convinced that the Soviets are attempting to poison U.S.
citizens through the fluoridation of drinking water. Though the U.S. warns the Russians of the impending attack so that they can defend themselves,
the Soviet premier angrily retaliates by exposing a
doomsday device created by the former Nazi Dr.
Strangelove that is meant to wipe out all human life.
The bomb eventually detonates, and the film closes
with a montage of explosions dramatically set to
“We’ll Meet Again.” Meant to parody the Cold War
attitude of mutually assured destruction and the
so-called “missile gap,” the film has become iconic
enough to spawn pop culture parodies, including
on “The Simpsons.”
‘Fight Club’
Based on a bestselling novel of the same
name by Chuck Palahniuk, “Fight Club” tells
the story of an unnamed office drone (Edward
Norton) who meets the charismatic soap maker
Tyler Durden (played by Brad Pitt during his
prime). The men form a club where they get
together with other men to beat each other up
to release their pent-up frustration and rage.
They eventually band together to form an anticapitalist group called Project Mayhem, set on
vandalizing corporate property in a somewhat
misguided attempt to protest consumerism.
While the story’s general premise is meant to
satirize the mindlessness of working a desk job
and aspiring only to own another sideboard
from IKEA, it also comments on the dark parts
of activist movements, as Project Mayhem spirals into a terrorist organization.
COURTESY OF MAGNOLIA PICTURES
OFFBEAT
|
Iris Apfel drew her sartorial inspiration from traveling the world with her husband, collecting unique garments and trinkets from souks, flea markets, and bazaars.
‘Iris’ a poignant look at cosmopolitan identity, devotion to fashion, unconventional beauty
BY SETH VAUGHAN
Columbia Daily Spectator
“Are people at Columbia even interested in
fashion?” asked Iris Apfel, the 93-year-old subject of the late Albert Maysles’ final documentary film, “Iris,” which opens next Wednesday.
The documentary is a portrait of identity,
devotion, and a well-lived life. Albert and David
Maysles began filming the cinematic portrait in
2011, with the documentary premiering during
the 2014 New York Film Festival this past fall.
And as Apfel told me this week, it started
when Maysles called Apfel and proposed the
idea.
“I met him over the telephone. ... He called
and he wanted to do a documentary, and I
wasn’t interested. And then my friends all chastised me, telling me I was being very foolish. ...
So, one thing lead to another and we did it. He
was a wonderful gentleman,” Apfel said.
The film follows Apfel in her day-to-day life
with numerous tight sequences of Apfel burrowing her way through both her New York
and Palm Beach apartments, piled high with
curios. Interspersed throughout the film are
biopic montages, detailing Apfel’s childhood
in Astoria, Queens and her marriage to and
professional partnership with her husband
Carl Apfel.
It was in these early years together that
Apfel, who initially began her career working
at Women’s Wear Daily, transitioned to interior
decoration and received a commission that required the reproduction of a hard-to-find fabric. After having successfully reproduced it and
others for projects of hers, she and her husband, along with a partner, began the company
Old World Weavers, which sought out discontinued fabrics and reproduced them in the most
historically accurate manner possible.
“I never felt pretty. I don’t feel
pretty now. I am not a pretty
person. I don’t like pretty.”
—Iris Apfel
Their clients included White House administrations beginning with Eisenhower, the
U.S. Senate, and the Metropolitan Museum
of Art. Seeking out new designs and locating
mills to replicate them, Iris and Carl began to
circumnavigate the globe.
During these years of trekking through endless
souks, flea markets, and bazaars, Apfel felt drawn
to collecting accessories and local garments on a
larger scale. This process of searching, learning,
and discovering is what she credits as the driving
force behind her trademark ensembles, which
embodies this cosmopolitan ethos.
“I am a great believer in process. The result
is not enough,” Apfel explains.
Ultimately, the Apfels were offered a sum
too good to pass up by textile giant Kravet and
opted to sell the company. The compulsion to
collect accessories, however, had begun much
earlier in Apfel’s life, far before her company.
It was the need to cultivate her appearance
that prompted her to begin acquiring pieces at
age 11 or 12 from a threadbare shopkeeper in
Greenwich Village.
“I never felt pretty,” she states in the documentary. “I don’t feel pretty now. I am not a
pretty person. I don’t like pretty.”
Some of the film’s most poignant moments are
when Apfel insouciantly scavenges in shops, wherein her fiendish desire to examine all that is around
her reveals her palpable and unceasing curiosity.
Yet after the 2005 exhibition “Rara Avis:
Selections from the Iris Apfel Collection” at the
Met, curated by Harold Koda, plenty of people
were curious about Iris.
The exhibition then traveled to Palm Beach’s
Norton Museum of Art, Long Island’s Nassau
County Museum of Art, and the Peabody Essex
Museum in Salem, Massachusetts.
The public’s response was immediate and
certain. Apfel suddenly became a cult figure,
celebrated for her disregard for conventional
dressing, which she eschews in favor of a highlow mix of garments, punctuated by oftentimes
curiously alluring accessory amalgamations.
And while the ensembles change, her trademark large black glasses and blue-rinsed coupe
are constant.
Apfel’s last quip in the movie is “I’m really
uninterested in beauty ... but the rest of the
world isn’t with me.” What one takes from this,
however, is that she is not interested in conventional notions of beauty.
Maysles’ film ultimately brings these personality traits into focus along with what is so
often overlooked: Apfel’s serious pragmatism
and unyielding work ethic. Iris, the film and
woman, are therefore remarkable in their originality and straightforwardness.
“Iris” will open in select theaters on April 29.
[email protected]
APRIL 23, 2015
WEEKEND PAGE B3
Friendship ‘Like a
G6’: College come full
circle
A
COURTESY OF AMANDA GENTILE
INNOVATIVE | “Rhythm in Motion” brings together both established and emerging talent through its six-part dance series over the course of five days.
Tap dance series explores social issues through choreography
BY CAUVERI SURESH
Spectator Staff Writer
The American Tap Dance Foundation’s
“Rhythm in Motion,” a performance series directed and curated by Tony Waag, seeks to combine
young and emerging talent with premier choreographers in its new showcase.
The series features six performances over five
days.
“After years of presenting tap and seeing that
there was a growing number of dancers, and more
festivals and more work choreography being created in the field, I decided we needed to find a place
where we could present this new work,” Waag
said. “Not an easy task, as there are so few venues
even available or affordable. I think that our audiences are also growing, therefore an urgent need
for more productions.”
Waag also finds that dancers want to continue working with tap, despite the notion that it is
outdated, because it is flexible and lends itself to
individualized expression.
“I feel it allows me, and allows anyone who is
interested in it, to be themselves and create their
own style and give their own voice to it,” he said.
Through the American Tap Dance Foundation
and “Rhythm in Motion,” Waag is providing a forum for dancers today to create an individualized
style of expression. Caleb Teicher, one of the choreographers for “Rhythm in Motion,” echoes this
sentiment.
“Tony has given opportunity to many new voices in the tap dance community, and we’re all very
thankful for that,” Teicher said.
Program B, which runs April 25 and 26, features works by Caleb Teicher and Felipe Galganni,
among many others, both of whom are premiering
pieces that are largely influenced by the music to
which they are set.
Felipe Galganni, a Brazil native whose work
is based in Brazilian music and rhythms, has two
works premiering in “Rhythm in Motion.”
“My intention at first was to give a taste of the
Brazilian Samba to the students of the TCYE, after
I started choreographing it I found this other song
that I also really liked,” Galganni said. “I realized
the pieces were connected. That was a story and
a very dramatic relation between them.”
“Many of the pieces are comments regarding our society
right now, dealing with everything from climate change to
racism.”
—Tony Waag, Director
“The mood goes from cold to hot, it’s almost
a hunt story,” he said. “I was inspired by the way
blood flows in our bodies like a dance of energetic
and vital movements, which constitutes the eternal
pulse of life.”
Teicher’s work “Variations” is set to Glenn
Gould’s recording of Bach’s “Goldberg Variations”
and is performed by Teicher and dancers Elizabeth
Burke and Gabriel Winns.
“The compositions are short, fast, and playful,”
he said.
The piece pushes pattern, form, and convention
with movement ranging from intricate and dense
to simple and silly.
“I want the audience to connect to these patterns and the idea of variations on a theme in a
new way,” Teicher said.
Beyond playing with the boundaries of form
and rhythm, “Rhythm in Motion” also confronts
larger social issues. “Many of the pieces are comments regarding our society right now dealing
with everything from climate change to racism,”
Waag said.
Brenda Bufalino’s piece, “Diary of a Racing
Pigeon (Chapter 3),” deals with these larger issues by addressing climate change. Bufalino, one
of the founding members of the American Tap
Dance Foundation, demonstrates how tap can
deal with the sort of rich and complex themes
that people often assume are reserved for other
styles of dance.
Her piece, which is at times comic and at others
poignant, features a mix of monologues and dance
compositions of her own creation. She takes on the
persona of an “ingenue, a matron, and an elder,”
she said, with “wonderful environmental projections created by Tony Waag.”
The final chapter of a series she has created
over time, Bufalino’s piece shows the racing pigeon
as “brave, loyal, and hopes to win, is challenged by
her age and also fighting the elements of climate
change with the final race which she dances.”
Such a diverse, far-reaching series showcases
just what makes Waag so excited about the future
of tap.
“It’s a growing and expanding creative art form
that people are taking note of and they are realizing how amazing it is, and how inclusive it can
be,” he said.
This inclusivity stems from the style’s ready
acceptance of work that is serious as well as
lighthearted.
“It can be a lot of fun, or it can be taken very seriously,” Waag said. “And that’s a beautiful thing.”
[email protected]
The ‘exhibition-cum-theater’ includes sculpture, video, and collage
GREY HAIRS from page B1
simultaneously convey their message and show
their creative processes. The fusion shows the
multiperspective aspect and gives the viewer
more insight into the artists’ thought processes
in assembling the components of the exhibit
and the exhibit as a whole. “The artists are referencing various sources of inspirations in their
lives and these uses of media are just various
extensions,” Lamb said.
The art can have many interpretations depending on the viewer’s perspective.
Lamb noted: “How does the visitor experience this art for themselves? A lot of this is set
up to be interpreted as what does this mean
to you. I think a strong takeaway point is that
the artists are installing the exhibitions in this
way to show their communal and individual
practices.”
The satirical aspect of the exhibit comes
through as many pieces may come across as
comical though about a more serious subject.
“There is an underlying sense of humor that
is throughout all of the works,” Lamb added.
The eccentricities and uncommon themes of
the work make it especially fresh and relevant.
Every part of the room is a kind of artistic expression, making the exhibit an immersive experience. As people walk through, the utilization of the gallery’s entire space showcases the
creativity and originality of the artists. Lamb
has observed that exhibitgoers often feel like
they have stepped out of New York when they
enter.
“People make comments that this exhibition
is like walking into their world. The floor is covered in panel that reflects Islamic mosques and
amaryllis flowers coming up from the ground.
The whole floor was created in Dubai, and that
process is shown on a structure playing in the
exhibit,” she said.
Other artists are featured in the exhibit
as well; their works of art lend the exhibit a
multidimensional aspect, complementing the
original artists’ meaning and vision. Communal
collaboration is an important tenet of art for
the artists, as exemplified by their working together and by the other art in the exhibit.
Lamb pointed out that there are five works
by other artists now part of the collection.
“They’ve taken these summer white lawn
chairs and created anthropomorphic thrones,”
Lamb said.
“We’re really proud to bring this work to
New York. We think it’s an important, interesting experiment on what is collaboration and
what an individual artistic practice looks like,”
she said.
[email protected]
few nights ago I’m pretty sure my college career came full-circle. Picture
this: me and one other person dancing in the Lerner
Party Space, four years’
MADISON
worth of Days on Campuses
SEELY
after my own. Staffed to
Guilty
DJ the Late Night Dance
Party famous for facilitating
Pleasures
awkward ass-to-crotch ice
breaking, my best friend Matt and I ran laps
around the room to the only song that mattered for four years: “Like a G6.”
I will dance to this song until the day I die
and probably for several days after. No party
I have ever attended has felt right without
the complement of that bent synth and the
uninterested twentysomething who sounds
like she’s singing in a room made of tin. It’s
on every party playlist I’ve ever curated and
has been the representative song of my best
friendship for the past four years.
There’s more for me in this song than
the drop that sends me into full, unflattering deep-squat. “Like a G6” is, in the largest
sense, a representation of—bear with me—my
most meaningful college achievements. Most
of these have strayed from being academic
in nature and I’m okay with that. When I
leave here in a few weeks I’ll still remember
those, but I’m happy to say they’ll be coming
up short behind the nights I’ve shared with
people like Matt.
I’ve been listening to this song since high
school and there’s really very little about it
that’s remarkable. It’s a hard song to defend because there’s no distinct high point
of musicality or intricacy to speak of, nothing to pinpoint and say, “There, that’s why.”
But it resonates with a bounce that rattles
the empty parts of my brain and tells me I’m
satisfied. Frankly I enjoy that sensation too
much, which means I often shout, “This is my
JAM!” when I hear it at parties, even when
I’m the one who played it.
What I’ve learned from “Like a G6” is what
happens when I allow myself to completely
lose control. This, I’ve found through experience, is dangerous when done in the wrong
company. Having such a ridiculous love for
something so insignificant is a weapon when
wielded around those without a similar sense
of recklessness. College has been, for me, a
journey of finding the right company—those
who will not raise eyebrows at overly enthusiastic dance moves but will instead drop it
low at the same time I do.
Four years later we were still
dancing to pop songs, not for
their quality but for how far
they meant we’d come together.
That’s why when I first played this song
in the company of someone who immediately
reciprocated my excitement, he stuck with
me in a big way. This is the point I’m trying to
make: I was ridiculous and yet I was immediately loved in return. I dropped the defenses
we’re often encouraged to maintain in order
to survive at Columbia, and that’s given me
someone who has helped make me who I am
today. And I really, really love that person.
I’m exaggerating because my best friendship is founded on more than a visceral reaction to “Like a G6.” It’s also founded on an
appreciation for really good mac and cheese,
on a recognition of our strengths and weaknesses, on quoting Kristen Wiig’s appearance at the Oscars. All of these are related, all
equally significant because I have someone
I’ve shared them with without abandon. This
is what I mean when I talk about my achievements: I consider my time at Columbia most
significant when I measure it by the times
I’ve let my guard down around my friends.
Several of those times involve “Like a G6.”
An hour or so into the Days on Campus
party, Matt and I had gone through several
more songs and accumulated a crowd of recent admits. We were sweaty and clearly the
best dancers there due to years of practice
and an innate sense of what absurd, flailing
motion we could each do that would complement the other. Another friend soon joined
us, one I’d known since that exact dance
party four years prior. That was back when
we only knew each other as people wearing
the same lanyard and wristbands that let us
into dorms whose names we didn’t know, so
of course we became friends. Four years later
we were still dancing to pop songs, not for
their quality but for how far they meant we’d
come together. “Like a G6” would be played
several times that night.
Madison Seely is a Columbia College senior
majoring in creative writing. Guilty Pleasures
runs monthly.
WEEKEND PAGE B4
Flipside
Guide
APRIL 23, 2015
WHERE IT’S AT
Time: Various
Place: 1564 Broadway
Cost: Tickets start at $47
Rating: »»«
COURTESY OF SYLVAIN GRIPOIX
ROMANCE
|
The musical follows the love story of American Jerry Mulligan and French Lise Dassin in post-World War II France.
‘An American in Paris’
A beautiful, though unsubstantive
look at Parisian life
BY KALLY PATZ
Spectator Senior Staff Writer
WHERE IT’S AT
Time: Various
Place: Various theaters
Cost: $15
Rating: »»»
COURTESY OF CAROLE BETHUEL
RECKLESS | The movie follows one actress’ struggles with anxiety and loneliness as she feels alienated by her career.
‘Clouds of Sils Maria’
Juliette Binoche, Kristen Stewart
shine in emotionally charged drama
“An American in Paris,” now playing at the Palace Theatre in Midtown,
makes tourists of its audience. Set in the easily romanticized Paris and
lifted up by Christopher Wheeldon’s balletic choreography and direction,
the musical twirls out of New York City with the first swooping bellow of
Gershwin’s score. It is a show made for escapists and makes no secret of it.
The musical—based on the 1951 film of the same name—makes everything more beautiful. The dancing, the sketched set, and the actors
twirling as they takes props offstage all soften the edges of post-World
War II France. Lead actors Robert Fairchild, a New York City Ballet principal dancer, and Leanne Cope, who trained at the Royal Ballet School,
are standout dancers, though not performers. Their liquid movement
seems made for Gershwin’s molasses-thick music.
It’s tempting to make comparisons between Wheeldon’s project and
the revival of “On the Town” running a few streets away. Both shows are
built around balletic choreography and concern soldiers gazing starryeyed at big cities and a mysterious, idealized woman. But while “On the
Town” is always tinged with a degree of irony—as New Yorkers, we see
the flaws in the sailors’ vision of a magical city—Wheeldon asks us to fully
inhabit the perspective of the tourist.
There’s something to be said for whimsically sketching a city or pirouetting just for the thrill of a turn. The world Wheeldon presents is
a beautiful one. We can’t help but give into a romance made through
danced introductions and glances caught in the crowd. However, the
musical doesn’t go any further than that. It’s filled with vague gestures
to our romantic notions of art in Paris—the cast of characters consists
of an artist, singer, dancer, and composer who wax poetic about their
work—and little more.
In one of the musical’s first scenes, Jerry Mulligan (Robert Fairchild),
our American in Paris, rips up his train ticket and flings the scraps into the
air. The moment is supposed to indicate that he has become more than a
visitor, but it’s only a superficial gesture. He never loses the perspective
of someone who is just visiting.
Mulligan first sees Lise Dassin (Leanne Cope) as a figure frozen in
the crowd. Like a small-town boy dreaming of Paris, he falls in love with
the idea of her—sleuthing elusively across stage, always in a sort of slow
motion—before she speaks a word. When they do meet, he renames
her to fit his vision. Liza, once Lise, becomes an imagined figure rather
than a fully developed character, incapable of fleeing anywhere but into
Mulligan’s arms.
Though seductive and powerful as she moves, Cope becomes meek
and docile as soon as she begins to speak. An empty, accommodating
canvas, she blurs easily with Mulligan’s dreams of her.
Presenting Paris through Mulligan’s lens, the musical unfolds as if
under a sepia filter. Though we’re in post-World War II France, even mob
attacks become soft under Wheeldon’s romantic hand. This is the Paris
we see in postcards and magazine spreads, where people only cry while
gazing into the water and love is an inevitable conclusion.
The impossibility of the picture, easily swept over in dance, becomes
horribly apparent whenever a character begins to speak. Craig Lucas’
clunky, hackneyed, and often ridiculous script distorts the beauty of every
scene we see danced. Suddenly, the musical feels like a family-friendly
affair promoting wholesome, feel-good values.
It reveals just how far we’ve traveled from true life, and reminds us
that the people of Paris walk rather than twirl.
[email protected]
BY AFRODITE KOUNGOULOS
Spectator Senior Staff Writer
“What’s wrong with my acting? What do I need to do to make you
admire me?” So asks gray-faced, slightly tipsy actress Maria Enders during a tense conversation with her assistant Valentine.
While the above scene takes place inside a mountainside home, not
the picturesque Swiss landscape, and the dialogue may not seem the most
poetic, its desperation and loneliness are at the heart of Olivier Assayas’s
film “Clouds of Sils Maria.”
Played by Juliette Binoche, Maria Enders is an accomplished actress
who got her start in the play “Maloja Snake.” The play details a tumultuous relationship between a young girl named Sigrid and her boss, Helena,
with Sigrid eventually driving the older woman to suicide. Twenty years
later, Enders is invited to star in a remake, but this time to play Helena—a
role which embodies everything Enders detests in herself.
Tabloid princess Jo-Ann Ellis (Chloe Grace Moretz)—a reckless starlet
reminiscent of Justin Bieber—is slated to fill Enders’ old role. Before the
two even meet, Enders develops a fascination and contempt for Ellis,
watching online videos of her drunkenly slamming her purse against a
paparazzi’s windshield. Her face illuminated by the bluish glow of her
iPad screen, Binoche looks like a woman defeated, foreshadowing the
storm of her discontent that is later to come.
Even when the director takes full advantage of the gorgeous expanse
of rolling mountains, the outdoor parts of the film are unified with the indoor parts by an overhanging sense of gloom. Visually conveyed through
the film’s blue-heavy color palette and liberal usage of shadows, Assayas
sets a quiet, melancholy tone. Coupled with the numerous solo shots of
Binoche, the viewer is forced to confront Enders’ outbursts of sadness
and jealousy—and, by extension, their own anxieties about loneliness.
Kristen Stewart delivers the standout performance in the film as
Valentine. The significant age gap between herself and Enders makes
their exchanges more meaningful, as Valentine often makes the case for
why younger stars and directors should be taken seriously. In one scene,
after having watched a futuristic space film starring Ellis, Valentine ardently defends Ellis’ capabilities and the sci-fi genre as a whole. Enders’
blank look when Valentine argues that “there’s no less truth than in a
supposedly more serious film” reinforces the generational divide between them and calls into question the shifting definition of art.
The divide between Enders and Ellis seems to be mainly generational.
The idea of an out-of-touch aging woman worrying about clinging to her
youth may sound clichéd—even unfairly stereotypical—but Enders is
so earnest in her emotions that it’s hard not to sympathize with her. At
one point, Ellis snips that no one cares about Helena when Enders asks
her to focus on Helena’s character during the play, leaving the audience
taken aback by Ellis’ brashness. One only has to look at Enders’ sunken
cheekbones—her slight smile—to put themselves in her position.
Though the direct parallel between Enders’ dislike of modern movies
and her worries about fading into obscurity is a bit heavy-handed—indeed,
built into the plot—there’s something to be said for a film that makes its
message so hard to miss. When Enders asks Valentine what she should
do to become a better actress, she invites not only pity, but also empathy.
Enders invokes the familiar wish of every desperate person to put social
conventions aside and be simply told what to do, because they no longer
have it in them to grope blindly and fail.
The visual appeal and the simplicity of the dialogue may not linger
with viewers long after they’ve finished the film, but the message carries
enough potential staying power to stick around. Even if the staying power
is short-lived, the mark of a good piece of art is being able to emotionally
connect with the viewer—for however long that may be.
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WHERE IT’S AT
Place: iTunes
Cost: $10.99
Rating: »»»
ILLUSTRATION BY NATHANIEL JAMIESON
‘Cherry Bomb’
Tyler, the Creator’s new album has a
mature, retro-inspired sound
BY ALEXANDRA WARRICK
Spectator Senior Staff Writer
Tyler, the Creator’s new album “Cherry Bomb” is slick, star-studded,
and surprisingly sugary. Less his hallmark knot of gristle, it gushes with
sticky-sweet optimism, more Nerds rope than hangman’s. This is a stark
inversion of close collaborator Earl Sweatshirt’s recent dirge, “I Don’t
Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside.”
An album heavily influenced by Tyler’s affection for poppy, boppy oldies, “Cherry Bomb” is crammed with retro flourishes, chiefly of which
are its fake classic-hits radio station outros that smack of red pleather
diner banquettes and midnight milkshakes. Tracks like “2Seater” skitter
from style to style with the flick of a dial, and present in tracks like “Pilot”
and “Run” is that charming kind of “Bad Ronald”-lite ’70s horror synth
that only furthers the album’s B-movie drive-through mood. Grab some
napkins: “Them golf boys bad for you like the food from McDonald’s,”
Tyler warns in “2Seater,” and we don’t doubt it, as the whole album is shot
through with mean, crunchy, borderline unhealthy guitar riff loops you
feel in your teeth. Tyler thrillingly compounds these with over-annunciated taunts that slam star-shaped pegs into square holes (see: “Potter”
and “David,” “are” and “important”).
As the radio dial turns, you catch snatches of intentionally treacly R&B—tracks like “Cherry Bomb” and “Blow My Load” let their
female features pour honey over all that Death Grips distortion and
deathly ideation. “Fucking Young/Perfect,” the album’s most radiofriendly double feature, is basically a rap remake of Del Shannon’s
“Go Away Little Girl” that permits the little girl in question to
say her piece, with a kewpie-cute rebuttal from Kali Uchis. Just
when you think things can’t get more gumdrop, there’s “Find Your
Wings,” which this reviewer theorizes could probably be snuck into
the Christmas rotation at your local Brooks Brothers. The clincher
is “Smuckers,” a rap-juggernaut sandwich featuring the mother
of one-two punches, Kanye West and Lil Wayne. Let that sink in.
It’s fascinating to examine how Tyler and Earl, once operating
as self-professed brothers with complementary styles and ethos,
have violently veered—delirium versus depression, the conceptual
versus the coldly confessional. While Tyler crows about finding
his wings throughout “Cherry Bomb,” Earl only aspires to “start
a motherfucking end.”
They’re antithetical right down to the imagery of their album
art and music videos: While Tyler scoots through a pastel-scape
of (too) young love and comically oversized sunflowers, Earl opts
for a color-leached ghost world. The contrast is psychologically
transfixing—while Tyler’s face may be “melting from the flash of
the big old lights,” they have near-superstitiously stolen Earl’s soul.
The big-dog features and playful production are entirely
done away with, however, in Earl’s “I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go
Outside”—there are curdled carnival organs and the tinkle of abandoned piano lessons here and there, but they’re unobtrusive, and
there’s no godly grandstanding with his involvement of close friend
Nakel Smith and other scrappy upstarts like Wiki of Ratking. (In
fact, the single apparent overlap remaining seems to be their penchant for dark samples of “Wonder Showzen”-y, cloying children’s
cheering.)
Tracks like “Mantra” and “Faucet” are rife with sadness and disillusionment—not since Chuck Palahniuk has someone been so alienated
by a fanbase taking his words too close to heart. He’s grateful to the
“gaggle of 100 fucking thousand kids” for his livelihood, but, after his
infamous stint at a Samoan boarding school, his unceremonious booting into the spotlight, his grandmother’s passing and the apathy that
resulted, can now see none of himself in them. Earl, a true Kübler-Ross
model, spikes from catatonia (the gut-punch “Grief”) to irritability (“Off
Top”) and back again (“Up and I’m down and I’m low and I’m peakin,”
he confesses).
Beyond psychology, hanging over the album is a thick fog of prophecy, a sense of premonition coming to pass (“I haven’t been outside in
a minute I been living what I wrote.”) Ultimately, when played in succession, the listener’s choice of camps is clear: Baby blue go-karts? Or
fading in the dark?
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