Category: Arts & Life

Jacques Audiard’s “Rust and Bone” was one of several movies this past Oscar season striking a similar note. Often compared with the more loudly acclaimed “Amour” and “The Sessions,” this French-language film starring Marion Cotillard and Matthias Schoenaerts is a story of overcoming disabilities and also one that utilizes the “life goes on” mentality.

Ali (Schoenaerts), a muscle-bound Belgian immigrant who dreams of winning international boxing titles, suddenly finds himself in a situation he cannot fight his way out of: he has been left in charge of his five-year-old son, Sam, and the two travel south to live with Ali’s sister and husband near Cannes, France. There, living on expired foods that his sister steals from her grocery store cashier’s job, he gets a job as a bouncer at a club where he meets Stephanie (Cotillard) after rescuing her from a violent dance partner.

Meanwhile, Stephanie has her dream job–training killer whales to perform in musical numbers at Marineland. Shortly after meeting Ali, in the height of her element, an accident during a routine show leaves Stephanie without both her legs. Her horrifying moment of realization alone in a hospital bed is punctuated by her sobs of “what have you done with my legs?” that are repeated an uncomfortable number of times until she thankfully succumbs to sleep.

Once just as intensely physical as the brutish Ali, Stephanie finds herself nearly unable to wake up in the morning, tormented by the loss of her way of life and by the uphill struggle of rebuilding the life she has left over. Remembering his invitation to call him anytime, Stephanie reaches out to Ali who, in a surprising display of rough empathy, is able to coax the shame-ridden Stephanie out of her apartment, gradually reintroducing her to life.

Ali joins an underground fighting ring and Stephanie is fitted for prosthetic legs. The pair are drawn even closer together as they begin having sex, at first as an experiment to see if Stephanie still can, and later as friends with benefits. Together with Sam, they form a cohesive unit, but not a happy family per se. Ali slips into some shady dealing which makes his position in his family tenuous, and eventually costs his long-suffering sister her job and source of food. No matter how many strides Ali and Stephanie take towards pulling themselves out of their misfortunes and past mistakes, “Rust and Bone” proves that they cannot ever be entirely whole again, but maybe it can be okay in this new way. 

“Rust and Bone” is a beautiful movie, deserving of praise for its rendering of a believable disabled person’s struggle towards normalcy, rather than that of an unrealistic paragon of virtue and strength. Stephanie is not that great of a person when we first meet her and after her injury, she does not bear up in silent strength, determined to be better than ever. She despairs and contemplates suicide. Once again Cotillard proves herself the brilliant talent of “La Vie en Rose,” combining hopeful vulnerability with a needle-sharp desperation in a performance that is the film’s visceral motivation. It’s only with this darker side of recovery that the success at the end is true to life, and even that success is not quite happily ever after. But a little bit happier is a start, isn’t it?

Ben Rees

Full Circle

This week marks the end of Rees’ Pieces first year. Thank you so much to everyone who stomachs my often-unintelligible writing and lack of humor; your readership is greatly appreciated. That said, I believe it is only fair that I end where I started: with a list of things I disapprove of.

Summer is a time for trying new things: bathing suits, romances, summer ales and jobs. Most everyone can start anew, especially in places like the University, where nature’s manic phases oscillate heavily gloomy and grey. Though many wish to toss inhibition to the summer breeze, there are certain things everyone should keep in mind before departing for recess, and luckily, I have a handy list of all of them.

In the winter, mammals grow their winter-coats in order to trap heat close to their bodies, but in the summer, they shed this hair in order to stay cool. Remember, humans are mammals. Please, please shave your winter pelts. Ladies, this means your legs, and fellas, this means thin out the back mane. Warren Zevon wrote “Werewolves of London” not “Werewolf of South Beach.”

Secondly, tans occur naturally. Granted, tans occur naturally for some more than others (myself included in the “others” category), but get a tan naturally. I find it strange when people are dark in early April. Yes, they may have gone somewhere sunny over spring break, but usually when a person looks as if an orange crayon colored them in, they didn’t lay out in the Tuscan sun.

Third, let modesty be damned. When a beach says nude, go the full monty. This is your opportunity to let your flag fly, no matter how elderly your government I.D. says you are. Every decade you add to your lifespan is another reason to show off your swingin’ bod (rockin’ seemed too youthful a term). Plus, liver spots are in.

If you attend a concert, make a point to pop every beach ball tossed in the air by some dumb girl on an even dumber guy’s shoulders. Music festivals are great, but nobody likes to take a sweaty beach ball to the face in the middle of Dave Matthews jamming out to “The White Man’s Burden,” or whatever he sings.

Finally, for those of you with summer internships or new jobs, although summer is a time to let your hair down and maybe forget to spray yourself with Axe, it is most certainly not the season to let yourself go in the workplace. No employer ever said: “Woah, that pooka shell necklace and dope hemp ankle bracelet truly compliments your suit and tie combo.”

And with that, you have my final installment for the year. If I am invited back in the fall, please pick up a copy of a poor artists’ musings every Friday. Have a great summer!

Bucky: The Follow-Up Interview

 

Eleven weeks ago, The Lying Bison was fortunate enough to print the untold story of the most recognizable face on campus, University mascot Bucky the Bison. He took us into the 60s, down a winding memory lane full of bumps and potholes–drug use, a bender with Rolling Stones leader Brian Jones, arrest, community service and finally a move to India for a journey of self-discovery with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Since his return to the States and his employment as the University mascot, the lane ahead has looked considerably smoother for Bucky, and when we left him, he was looking forward to many more years spreading school spirit at the University. Recently, The Lying Bison met again with Bucky in his favorite grazing pasture to ask his thoughts on the University’s present state and possible future.

TLB: It’s great to see you again, Bucky. Thank you for taking the time to meet.

Bucky: Likewise. I’ve become a big fan of the column since the first interview. Really good stuff. Top-notch journalism!

TLB: Thank you. Shall we jump right in?

Bucky: Of course.

TLB: You ended the last interview optimistically, saying that your future here at the University is “gonna be wonderful.” We know how you feel about the future, but what do you think of the University as it is now? Would you say it’s “wonderful?”

Bucky: [Sighs] That’s a heavy question, man, and I’ll have to be careful how I word my answer. You see, I love the University, and I love the students. Like I said last time, this school took me in when I was at my lowest—the last of my kind and nowhere to call home. For those reasons, I’m going to say that it’s great, fantastic even, but not “wonderful.” [Makes air quotes]

TLB: How so? Are you upset?

Bucky: Not at all. It’s just that to me, “wonderful” is too close to “perfect,” and that leaves no room for improvement. Remember, I said “it’s gonna be wonderful”—future tense. Someday it will be. [Pauses to eat some grass] But it’s like I learned when I went East—the past is gone, and the future is yet to be. All that matters is the present moment.  That’s the time to do good, the time to improve.

TLB: And what does the University’s present look like to you right now?

Bucky: Still lovely, but just look at some of The Lying Bison’s stories the past months. You’re reporting on the room for improvement I’m talking about.

TLB: Which stories have stuck with you the most?

Bucky: The very first story you broke comes to mind. Everyone’s so focused on trends and status. Hell, they want to change the University seal to include an iPad. And then there was that other one you reported, about the abandoned shoes lying around campus on weekends. Students getting drunk and losing their shoes. Yes, Bucknellians like their parties and their Apple products and their North Face, and that’s fine! But it’s not what defines us as Bucknellians, man.

TLB: What do you think is causing this trend of excess?

Bucky: First let me say that I know a big part of college is having fun. I get that. If it wasn’t, I’d have no purpose being here. But you’re right when you say “excess,” and I think it has to do with the University’s official condemning and unofficial condoning of what the students do. We get campus climate emails, yet the bookstore is full of shot glasses, and I read in your column “bison bongs” are coming soon—although I can’t say I hate that idea. [Laughs] From what I’ve been reading on “Bison Boasts,” it sounds like they’ll be a big seller! [More laughs]

TLB: You mentioned not focusing on past or future but using the present for betterment. Do you see the University doing that at all?

Bucky: Certainly. Look at the University’s “We Do” campaign. It’s not “We Did” or “We Will.” It’s the present tense; it’s deep. When the University faced the admissions scandal, it fixed the problem and moved on rather than rest on its reputation or obsess over how that reputation might change. Who believes in transparency? “We Do.” We resolved the matter, fired those responsible and now the University will stop taking looks into account when accepting female students.

TLB: You’ve made it clear that you don’t fixate on the future, but after all we’ve discussed, what would you say about the direction in which the University is headed? Are we a long way from being “wonderful?”

Bucky: We’ve had a rough few years, but I look at the energy with which problems are being addressed and ideas are being generated, and I couldn’t be more excited. You know, I don’t think we’re all that far from being “wonderful.” We strive for betterment, and I don’t ever want Bucknell to stop improving. That’s what makes us Bucknellians, man. Trust me, this bison doesn’t lie! [Laughs]

TLB: Anything to add?

Bucky: Yes. I love this school!

On April 17, Stephan Jones, son of cult leader Jim Jones, spoke to the University community in the Formal Living Room of Hunt Hall about life with his father and his experiences in the cult.

Jones began by pointing out that his presence on campus was rare, as he turns down more offers to speak than he accepts. He did stress that he almost always turns down interviews with adults, but never turns down interviews with students doing projects or papers. Jones expressed that he is fascinated by the many different viewpoints on Jonestown that can come from young people.

Jones read a piece he had written on perspective and how that related to the Jonestown cult. He explained how his father was always convinced that there was only one right way to do everything; the entire cult was based off of this idea. Jim Jones convinced himself that his perspective was helping fulfill a greater good and he took all means to achieve it.  Despite his father’s lack of open mindedness, Jones firmly expressed that he now believes there can be many perspectives, all of which may be right.

Jones spoke about how he, like most young boys, idolized his father and sought his approval, though he knew his father was extremely manipulative. Many people viewed Jim Jones as a good man who became sick, but Jones counters this by saying that both the compassionate and evil sides of his father were always present.

Jim Jones was very independent for much of his childhood; he even taught himself how to walk since he was alone so often. Despite the many issues Jones had with his father, he said that he always felt loved. Jones said his father was always loving and affectionate.

Jones that his mother never left his father because their generation believed in always making marriages work. He said that his mother would always try to love and forgive his father and said he tries to do the same to this day. Jones discussed that the only way to deal with a father like Jim Jones–and a mother who stayed with him–is to always be forgiving.

After discussing his parents, Jones talked about his experience with his children. Several years ago, Jones wrote a piece called “Like Father, Like Son” for himself and his family.  He said that his 10-year-old daughter is beginning to wonder why she doesn’t have grandparents, but he doesn’t think she’s ready for the entire truth yet. Jones hopes that once she’s old enough, “Like Father, Like Son” will explain to her the Jones family’s unconventional past.

Jones then began to discuss Jonestown directly. He said at first there was an amazing sense of integration and tolerance, but at one point, everyone at Jonestown realized that what was occurring wasn’t right. By that point everyone had spent too much time and energy committing themselves to the temple, so they rationalized the situation to themselves and decided to stay in Jonestown.

Jones said that he and his father constantly argued while at Jonestown. In hindsight, Jones believes he should have peacefully confronted his father.

Jones managed to escape Jonestown, but he says he’s not sure whether he would’ve “drank the kool-aid” if he’d been there that day. He stressed that everyone did it, either out of loyalty to each other or out of fear of looking like a coward.

“Jim Jones didn’t do Jonestown himself,” Jones explained, “We didn’t stand up when we should’ve stood up.”

By Laura Crowley

Joe Sangimino ’14, from Butler County, Pa., is an avid hunter and fisherman. His talent for the two sports has been recognized by the University community and led him to take trips with professors and students alike.

When did you begin hunting and how did you begin?

“I was nine years old. I started out with my grandpa and my uncles who are all really big hunters and fisherman. It is a tradition in my family for the grandkids to go to Texas and hunt down there between the ages of nine and 12. One of my uncles was a hunting guide in Texas, so he has a lot of connections with the ranches down there. He will go down with his kids and hunt pronghorn antelope or deer. That was the first animal I shot and I was hooked from there on. I’d go deer hunting with my grandpa until I was old enough to hunt by myself when I was 12.”

What is your favorite part of hunting? Why are you attracted to the sport?

“There are many kinds of hunters. There are the people who do it to save money on meat, but I do it for the actual enjoyment of hunting; I do it for the chase. There’s a lot that goes into it before you actually kill the animal. Deer hunting, which is my main type, requires hours of background work. I put in cameras, scout and make food plots. A lot of people are very casual about hunting and they’ll shoot the first legal buck they see, but I consider myself a trophy hunter. I turn down a ton of deer each year. I’m really picky and I want to wait for a big one. But, when it comes to duck  and pheasant hunting, I do that more for the meat. I don’t kill anything I wouldn’t eat.”

How did you get recognized by professors?

“I got recognized more for fishing than for hunting, because I’m a big fisherman too.  Hunting season is only from mid fall through the winter, so I fish during the spring and summer. One of my engineering professors and I discovered that we both fished one day.  Every day during class, we would almost get distracted by talking about fishing.”

Have you ever gone hunting with a professor?

“No. Hunting isn’t something you typically do with someone. The tree stands are only meant for one person, and I wouldn’t want to give away my good spots. Fishing’s a different story. You can just go out to the river and have a good time. With hunting, you have to be really quiet.”

So you think hunting is very peaceful, meditative?

“Yes, but there’s also a grueling part to it. There’s a lot of satisfaction in being a successful hunter. It’s one thing to go out a couple times a year and shoot the first thing you see, but its another thing to put in all the time scouting and setting up tree stands and patterning the deer and scouting for ducks.”

What’s your take on gun control and background checks?

“I 100 percent support background checks and 100 percent support monitoring the sales and trafficking of firearms. I do think, however, that it’s an infringement of our rights to ban firearm sales of any kind. It’s a different story when it comes to explosives, but I do think it’s against our rights to ban the sale of firearms for lots of reasons. The main problem I have with it that is if they ban weapons, it’s not going to slow the sale of them; it’s just going to create a black market where there are no background checks.”

What would be your proudest moment in the outdoors?

“There are three. When I killed a bear with my grandpa when I was 16, when I guided my friend Sean Cobelli to his first Muskie and when I first killed a buck with a bow.”

You’ve probably heard that John Green’s latest and greatest young adult novel, “The Fault in Our Stars” is this year’s must-read novel. With an upcoming Fox 2000 feature film, a very large and very vocal readership, and that paragon of teenage angst-lit Green himself to recommend the book, how could all this good press be wrong?

I’m only one reviewer, but I’m fairly certain it’s wrong.

“The Fault in Our Stars” is the “heartrending” tale of Hazel Lancaster, a snarky, improbably witty 16-year-old cancer patient. She meets the dreamboat Augustus Waters (age 17, and similarly intelligent), at a support group for “cancer kids,” as she terms her fellow patients. Naturally, the two are immediately drawn to each other, and a flirtatious friendship quickly develops.

Hazel, we know from the start, is not going to survive her cancer. She was fortunate enough to make a miraculous recovery from the brink of death a few years ago, but she is currently playing out a waiting game. This would make most people angst-ridden, so her snarkiness is acceptable. Augustus, on the other hand, is in remission and currently enrolled in school–an unheard of normalcy in this book. This is one problem I have with the novel; Hazel hasn’t been to school since her cancer was diagnosed when she was 13. Regardless of how much she likes to read, and really, she mostly is rereading the same book again and again, I find it very difficult to believe that she would be quite so well-spoken, or so knowledgeable on so wide a variety of subjects as Green grants her. Just something to think about.

Either way, Hazel and Augustus are not for one minute allowed to forget the liminal space they’re occupying in the world of normal teenagers. To keep them from slipping up, Green writes physical reminders for them to lug around: for Hazel, an oxygen tank, for Augustus, a prosthetic leg. Hazel begins to worry that her inevitable demise will leave Augustus heartbroken, but I think we all know that her noble sacrifice will only last a certain amount of pages before our young hero makes some kind of declaration.

Aside from their budding romance and the continual stream of observations about life as a teenage cancer patient, the main plot of the novel is the hunt for answers regarding Hazel’s favorite book, a (fictional) novel written by a recluse, which Hazel deems the best description of a teenager’s battle with cancer. That book ends abruptly, and Hazel is desperate to know what becomes of her favorite characters. Augustus is similarly taken by the novel, and the pair go so far as travelling to Amsterdam to track down the elusive author, demanding answers. But they might not like what they find …

The title, by the way, comes from Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” when the ever-charming Cassius is convincing Caesar’s homeboy Brutus that the time has come for some backstabbing on the Ides of March: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” Green’s heavy-handed implication is that Hazel and Augustus’ underling statuses are the result of their own faulty stars, rather than an inability to take action on their own behalf. Okay, fair enough.

To be fair to Mr. Green, I read this book in one three-hour go, neglecting homework and dinner alike. The pacing is quick, and the descriptions and dialogue are laugh-out-loud funny in their irreverence. Unfortunately, his characters undermine him at every turn. Maybe with different protagonists or a less cliché situation, “The Fault in Our Stars” could have been really great. But, as those things are kind of the point of this novel, I guess it’s not to be.

To summarize, if you generally enjoy the work of John Green, then I’m sure you’ll very much like “The Fault in Our Stars.” Personally, I do not recommend this novel because of its unbelievable characters (who also were apparently all named after their depression-era grandparents. That is the only reason I can think of for three teenage best friends being named Hazel, Augustus and Isaac, I mean, seriously) its unapologetic exploitation of teenage cancer as a setting for a rushed and generally trope-laden love plot, and its schmaltzy, self-important tone. All I’m saying is, if you find yourself looking for a book to read by the beach this summer, maybe skip this one, even if it is on the bestsellers shelf.

You don’t always have to eat your healthy mac and cheese plain! Here are some of my favorite toppings and mix ins: broccoli, bacon bits, sauteed lean ground meat, cubed firm tofu, oven roasted veggies (especially halved grape tomatoes), shrimp, Italian herbs like fresh basil or crushed rosemary.

Ben Rees

Uncle Ben’s Story Time

It’s that magical time of the week again, where you grab your apple juice, your world map placemat, start peeling the aglets off of your shoelaces and sit on down for Uncle Ben’s Story Time.

This week’s installment is about Ben and his friend, Gary. A few months ago, we went to a roller rink. Why, you ask, were we at a roller rink? It’s fairly simple really. Gary’s father wishes he were back in 1968 (the height of the bellbottom and medallion era), so the most logical place for he and his wife to have their anniversary party was at the local roller rink. That said, let the reader be warned: nothing good comes out of 50+ people occupying a place that operates solely on aerosol afro-sheen and leisure suits—but I digress.

One would think that the obvious thing to do once at the roller rink is to skate; however, nobody wants to be the first one shredding across the linoleum to “Car Wash.” So, Gary and I decided the appropriate thing to do was to get the party started, repress any semblance of shame and head to the skate rental desk. Once there, we were subjected to the words: “rad, mad, fab and 10 dollars” far too many times. It was nothing short of a Bee Gee’s barrage from a man with “Sagitarias” (spelled that way) across his exposed chest.

Once obtaining our footwear, we glided out onto the floor and thankfully, the rest of our geriatric entourage followed wide-lapelled suit. As did Gary’s father, who proceeded to call for a “skate off,” which is essentially a gyrate-off on rickety skates. Of course, as it was his special day, Gary and his wife, Helen, soared into the center of the rink more smoothly than a hand through Jermaine Jackson’s Jheri curls, and proceeded to twirl each other around to what I think was a German disko cover of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” When we thought nothing could get any more pathetically nostalgic, Gary shrieked, released his sweaty grip on Helen’s forearms and pointed furiously into the rafters. Helen flew through the crowd of elderly onlookers, shrieking like Aqualung, while toppling over family members like a dented bowling ball through shaky, decrepit pins.

Gary, with his face as pale as Pete Moon after a few too many horse tranquilizers, shouted repeatedly: “Up there!” The entire party craned their necks to see what he was yelling about. The disco ball—the beacon of pixelated light that many of our parents shimmied to—was spinning out of control. All of a sudden, the funkadelic orb detached from its suspension and came plummeting to earth faster than every collective tear shed to “Sixteen Candles.” Gary’s father leaped towards the hurtling sphere and in a miraculous moment of fleeting agility, he caught the disco ball, sheltering it in his chest from shattering on the floor.

As he stood up, taller than Sean Connery after frying Dr. No, he stared into the crowd of awestruck spectators, friends and family alike, opened his mouth and said: “This has been the most—oooffff.” At that moment, the front-left wheel on his skate detached, and while struggling to regain balance, he inadvertently heaved the ball in the air. Everyone looked on in pain as the floating sphere smashed on the rink floor. Without missing a groovy beat, Gary exclaimed to the stunned crowd: “Well, Dad, looks like you dropped the ball.”

Thanks for coming to Uncle Ben’s story time! See you next week.

Masks, Movement, and Mayhem

Anna Jones

This weekend, be sure to save some time to stop by Harvey Powers Theatre to check out this spring’s Mainstage Production of “Masks, Movement and Mayhem” produced by the University’s Department of Theatre and Dance. The show will premiere tonight at 8 p.m., with three more shows: tomorrow at 2 p.m., April 14 at 8 p.m. and April 15 at 8 p.m.

“[The performers will blend] elements of physical comedy, mask work, music, visual poetry and clown in order to build [a] story,” said Kali Quinn, guest artist and show director. 

The show operates on the themes of power, subversion and laughter. Each student will use masks, movements, dance and voice to create their character and tell the story. The show consists of an ensemble of 18 University student performers from all majors and class years, student choreographers, five stage managers, a sound designer and an assistant director, all organized and directed by Quinn. The plot, character list and script were all created by the student performers–with a little aid from Quinn. The show is an ever-changing process, so nothing is ever set in stone.

“Each hour-long performance will include a talk-back with the ensemble to share your reactions and learn more about the process,” Quinn said.

Audience participation is key in a show like “Masks, Movement and Mayhem,” so be prepared to engage in the show and discover the quirks of an unusual theatrical process.

The process of building this show began in the fall of 2012 when Quinn visited the University as a guest artist. She met with interested students to do physical theater workshops and, over a five-week rehearsal period, she ultimately created the piece that will be playing this weekend.

Quinn comes from the Brown University/Trinity Rep Repertory Company Master of Fine Arts Program as a clown and mask instructor. She is also deeply involved in the Accademia dell’Arte based in Tuscany, Italy, where she facilitates movement workshops and also represents the school at conferences.

“Everyone [should attend the show],” Quinn said. “It will be accessible through listening to the music, enjoying the story, looking at the images and seeing the masks.”

“This world premiere theatrical experience … promises laughs, surprises and an innovative and moving exploration of power,” Quinn said.

University students have been working tirelessly devising the set, script and physical movements to prepare this masterpiece. Don’t miss this unique theatrical experience from renowned director Kali Quinn, this weekend only!