ARTS

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Edited by SASHA COHEN and ANA CUBAS

Dear Artists: Risks have rewards

Review: The White Existentialism of ‘The White Lotus’

SUSAM BEHRENDS VALENZUELA | WSN

The world is full of critics and people wanting to shut you out. That’s all the more reason to make your art.

By SASHA COHEN Arts Editor

Let’s face it: people are insecure. Between balancing the desire for social acceptance and putting forth our most authentic selves, we feel as if every decision we make puts our reputations at stake; we question whether our talents are good enough, if our images are different enough or when we will be cool enough. But, who decides what is or isn’t enough?

While everyone experiences judgment, artists get the worst of it — their talents and personal choices are constantly being examined and dissected. With social media, fans — and of course, haters — can now troll creatives’ choices from the comfort of their futons, which are covered in Cheeto dust. Meanwhile, outside of the virtual world, artists are bombarded with criticism from magazines and people on the street.

Sure, such toxicity is part of being an artist, but it also influences some creatives to produce work that appeals to the broadest audience as opposed to what they find creatively fulfilling. Think about it. No one likes rejection. We want to feel love and acceptance. So when an artist receives hate, it feels personal — as if there is some sort of greater issue with who they are as people. Consequently, these feelings influence many artists to create too many songs about trucks, plays about star-crossed lovers and movies about mean teenage girl, becuase that is what sells.

On the other hand, don’t we remember the outliers who challenged the conventions of their artistic facets the most? Look at Pablo Picasso and cubism: critics despised his work, and yet his paintings decorate the walls of MoMA, Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, Musée d’Art Moderne de Paris, and more. Toni Morrison fought to represent the Black experience in a whitewashed literary canon; with a net worth of 20 million dollars at the time of her death, Morrison’s novels fill people’s bookshelves around the world. In the music video for “Like a Prayer,” Madonna kissed a Black saint and burned crosses, but that did not stop her from selling 15 million copies worldwide.

If artists make safe choices, innovation does not occur. Without courageous creatives like Alvin Ailey Jr., Bong Joon-ho, Billie Eilish, Laverne Cox, Norman Lear, Mindy Kaling and many others, we would be trapped in a wasteland of homogeneous culture. Art is all about taking risks and expressing one’s genuine thoughts, emotions and beliefs, so creating something for the sole purpose of appealing to the widest audience feels contradictory.

With that said, now is the time for artists to trust their intuitions. They know if their talents are good enough, if their images are different enough or when they are cool enough. Art is about the work itself as opposed to ephemeral money, fame or appreciation, so who are we to use these measurements to determine which artist is the best?

So, to the artists reading this article: not everyone is going to like your work, and that is OK — art is meant to disrupt the mainstream. Use people’s disapproving remarks to fuel your passions and ambitions. Take a risk. Dye your hair that color. Sing that song. Bust that move. Write that lyric, set or line. Listen to feedback, yet trust your gut. But most importantly, be willing to endure the growing pains that come with transforming into the artist you want to be. Then — and only then — will you truly feel like enough.

Contact Sasha Cohen at scohen@nyunews.com.

By ISABELLA ARMUS Deputy Arts Editor

Cradled by lapping tides, a boat full of white, wealthy and unreasonably attractive patrons arrive at the paradisiacal island of Maui as doting staff members wave from the distance, relegated to a mere speck within the frame. This is one of the first scenes of creator Mike White’s latest show “The White Lotus” — a moment that remains emblematic of the entire series throughout its six-episode run.

The show’s opening concerns a mysterious corpse being packed into an outgoing flight and a man returning from his (presumably ruined) honeymoon. This image hangs over the audience as the series then loops back to the beginning, showing the events leading up to this untimely death. With this, we officially meet the primary cast of characters. First, a WASP-y tech family and their daughter’s friend Paula, then a lonely woman named Tanya mourning her dead mother (played with hilarious brevity by one Jennifer Coolidge), and finally, the newlywed couple — who have already grown to disdain each other — going on their honeymoon. These three groups each have equally fraught dynamics that bleed into one another and come to separate dramatic climaxes as the series continues. But what really gives the show depth is the eclectic staff that runs the hotel on the sidelines, including a bellhop named Kai, who begins a secret tryst with Paula that eventually goes south, and the powerhouse hotel manager named Armond, whose eerie ability to snap from drugged-out mania to a hospitable Cheshire cat should receive several accolades. Also on staff is the show’s center of rotation: a Black spa worker named Belinda, whose immaculate service causes Tanya to turn obsessive and demand that Belinda remain at her beck and call. It’s on these characters that the families wreak their havoc, as they belittle, disregard and even flatout insult the staff in a vain attempt to exert control over their situations.

Watching privileged people spiral under the stylish and seductive atmosphere of a tropical hotel makes “The White Lotus” a late-summer catnip and daring satire of the American tourism industry that has taken over Hawaii — one of the more famous yet ignored examples of stolen and colonized land. However, as well-intentioned as this parodic rendering of the 1% is, the show’s constant focus on the hotel guests creates yet another piece of media obsessed with whiteness. Instead of opting for parts of the narrative to narrow in on the staff, who are predominantly people of color, White chooses to only skewer the problematic behavior of the new arrivals. We see the twists and turns of snobby newlywed Shane’s erratic behavior towards Armond as retaliation for Armond’s failure to give him the suite he wanted. We watch in horror as tech company girlboss Nicole espouses neoliberal Twitter lingo about cancel culture to her teenage children. Even more heartbreakingly, we see Tanya’s obsession with Belinda’s service culminate in her revoking an offer she made to fund Belinda’s wellness company, leaving Belinda in tears at the front desk. All of this is as wild as it is painfully accurate. Unfortunately, the hotel industry is curated to satisfy every demand of entitled white people. The working-class people of color employed at these establishments are seen as completely replaceable, perhaps best represented by the pilot episode in which a trainee gives birth in the hotel lobby — only to never appear in the series again. There’s a cruel cyclical nature to the hospitality industry that “The White Lotus” completely nails, as the white guests take over or even colonize the frame. However, it can be argued that the series leans too far into a realm of existential pessimism for its point to resonate. Though the series is spot on in its representation of overwhelming whiteness in the tourism industry, the plotlines are not nuanced enough to warrant embodying its own critique. The same points about class, colonialism and race can be made while giving secondary characters an equal amount of screen time. Why can’t the audience know exactly why Kai told Paula that he was forced to take this job? How does Belinda recover everyday from catering to white people? In short, why are these characters not portrayed as interesting enough to legitimately be represented — even when the narrative is about them?

A didactic history lesson about America’s colonial past isn’t even required here. Indigenous TikTok creators have already gone viral doing the free labor of explaining how Hawaiian tourism has gotten so out of hand. Even just an outline of these hotel worker’s lives would have painted a richer portrait of the gruesome effects of the hospitality industry, rather than merely showing the fiery entitlement we’ve already come across in HBO’s other popular outfits such as “Succession” or “Big Little Lies.” Beyond the way unlikeability is constantly performed and presented here, the way some of the characters are written leans more toward caricature than complexity. Though played with gusto, Shane’s whiny condescension as he calls his new wife a trophy makes for more of an operatic villain than a legitimate breakdown of the male ego. “The White Lotus” could’ve created human or even slightly relatable characters that evoke the quotidian microaggressions that most people in the service industry have to face on a daily basis. Instead, the series seems determined to address all problems with tourism in Hawaii with a few crazed examples rather than as a nuanced problem with many moving parts.

The finale of the miniseries sees the three parties swiftly making their exit as the murderous plotline comes to a harrowing conclusion. The families remain relatively unscathed, but the staff members go back to exactly where they started: smiles plastered on and waving to the horizon. This ending relays the hopelessness that “The White Lotus” was determined to convey and presents the characters’ separate fates as inevitable. This sequence mourns for yet accepts tourism’s effects in Hawaii and makes the twisty plotlines feel more like an admission of obvious guilt rather than a revelatory exploration of underserved populations. “The White Lotus” is a series that is undeniably successful by way of entertainment. From its swelling score to the mesmerizing set design, the series begs the viewer to stay glued to the screen for whatever narrative sucker punch may approach the idyllic location. It was this aspect that most likely caused HBO to renew the series for a second season and possibly more in the future. However, as “The White Lotus” continues, it’s in the audience’s best interest to consider how much more self-indulgent critique from white creators is needed and if they should just move aside.

Contact Isabella Armus at iarmus@nyunews.com.

Review: ‘WE LOVE NYC: The Homecoming Concert’

Review: Forget Lorde, ‘Solar Power’ is Ella’s Album

IMAGE COURTESY OF MICHAEL APPLETON/MAYORAL PHOTOGRAPHY OFFICE

A star-studded lineup of musicians celebrating the return to semi-normalcy drew large and enthusiastic crowds. Unfortunately for the revelers, the event was cut short due to lightning from Hurricane Henri.

By ANA CUBAS Arts Editor

With a Broadway-like dazzle, “WE LOVE NYC: The Homecoming Concert,” was a candy-coated outlook on the city’s resurgence after COVID-19. In the assortment of indulgent performances, hesitation was absent, and only the positives were noticed by the audience. The optimism floated above current events until Hurricane Henri brought things back to reality.

The concert took place on Aug. 21 in Central Park’s Great Lawn to celebrate the city’s vaccination efforts and return to semi-normalcy. The event marked the end of eight days of celebratory events across the five boroughs. For the grand finale, music industry icon Clive Davis, the namesake of NYU’s Clive Davis Institute of Recorded Music, worked with New York City and Live Nation to develop a flashy lineup. The artists span genres and eras, from Andrea Bocelli to Maluma, with The Killers, Elvis Costello, Paul Simon and audience favorite Bruce Springsteen as headliners.

It was a pride-filled party for New York, with the same kind of idealistic patriotism as the Fourth of July — aesthetic idolization of the city’s landmarks and characteristics became the background for performances. New York-themed songs were scattered in between performances, or even overtly integrated. The New York theme also found its way into the clothing sported at the event — Rob Thomas wore a New York or Nothing tee and a flood of John Lennon’s famous black and white New York City shirts were seen among event staff and concertgoers.

Concertgoers acted as if they each drank three coffees before the event, showcasing an excitement that carried into the breaks between acts. These brief pauses were filled with the kind of classic tracks that are usually found among family barbecues and middle school dances. As much as they seemed to discriminate little in their excitement towards artists, the audience howling of “Bruce” was as eminent as hearing “Free Bird!” shouted at a rock concert.

The Homecoming event opened with the New York Philharmonic, an orchestra whose music is easily stereotyped as stuffy and uppity. Any preconceived notions of the group were defied. The orchestra began with the overture to Bernstein’s “Candide” before melting into Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue,” Christopher Cross’ “Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do)” and a rendition of “New York, New York.” Their swift blending of tracks sparked fist pumping and shouts of thrill and surprise; clarinet solos and climaxes in the medley kindled hearty whoops.

When the Philharmonic’s time seemed to be coming to an end, Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli joined them on stage. As he sang the Neapolitan song “’O Sole Mio” backed by a fleet of strings, Bocelli’s voice was dense with emotion and furiously unwavering. Were the crowd not already standing, I’m certain they would have risen to their feet.

After Bocelli exited the blinged-out stage, Jennifer Hudson gracefully appeared. Her performance was brief, but potent. She sang Puccini’s “Nessun dorma,” a well-adored opera classic.

The man standing in front of me turned around, pointed at his arm and said, “Look, goosebumps!” There is no better summary of Hudson’s performance at the concert.

In a stark turn of genres, the softhearted rock band Journey prompted ferocious singing from the crowd. Arnel Pineda, a new and improved version of Steve Perry, led the audience in “Any Way You Want It” and “Don’t Stop Believin’,” with an abstract design of New York’s subway map serving as their background.

Like Journey, singer Carlos Santana shared his hits “Maria Maria” with Wyclef Jean and “Smooth” with Rob Thomas. Although a slightly rigid performance, Santana’s charisma and presence were enough to make up for it. Earth, Wind & Fire performed similarly — concise and without improvisation, but lively and gratifying.

Each performance felt like a tease, a display of the classics that only made the ending of the acts that much more tragic. And whether it was underwhelming or as thrilling as expected, there was no time to savor what was experienced before the next artist emerged.

While most performers sang two full songs and others strung together the catchiest of their hits, LL Cool J made the most of his time. He and his ensemble of accompanying artists stormed the stage with a compilation of hip-hop hits from five decades’ worth of the genre’s history. Audience members were gasping for breath from both rapping along with surprise guests Run of Run-DMC, Fat Joe, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s Melle Mel and Scorpio.

But nobody exuded more energy and enthusiasm than Jon Batiste. His positivity was that of a Disney character, his dancing a mix of James Brown and a puppet on strings. He sang “Freedom,” a track fitting for the extravagant optimism of the event.

The celebration was just starting to peak when Hurricane Henri began to make itself known with subtle clouds and trickles of rain.

Barry Manilow was the unlucky victim of the demise of the concert. The hitmaker sang the tropical-influenced “Copacabana” and “Mandy” before being cut off while singing “Can’t Smile Without You.” His pure, jubilant spirit radiated from the stage, which made the timing of the alert all the more unfortunate.

The blind positivity that hung over the event was undercut by the weather, and the concert halted in a seemingly split-second decision. Screens once showing aesthetically worn down apartment buildings and the Statue of Liberty now asked over 60,000 audience members to evacuate immediately. Murmurs of confusion and annoyance, shouts of “Bruce” and remarks of “poor Barry” were heard in the process.

With the concert’s slightly eerie undertone, Hurricane Henri was almost a manifestation of all that was overlooked to make the celebration happen. If the concert occurred at a safer time, it would have been as iconic as anticipated. It is disappointing that such an explosive event, of its capacity and caliber, was thrust naively into a moment too early.

Contact Ana Cubas at acubas@nyunews.com.

SUSAN BEHRENDS VALENZUELA | WSN

Singer-songwriter Lorde released her latest album Solar Power on June 10. The album, her first in four years, reflects her progression into a new phase of her artistic journey.

By MICHAEL CAMPANELLA

Contributing Writer

When Lorde first teased her new album, “Solar Power,” my initial reaction was “oh no.”

Anyone who listened to her last album “Melodrama” close to a breakup can likely relate: the project is earth-shattering and gut-wrenching. “Writer in the Dark,” “Hard Feelings” and “Supercut” are songs that fundamentally changed my understanding of love and heartbreak. The thought of another “Melodrama” — an album containing the same level of emotional evocation — was both frightening and exciting.

Born Ella Yelich-O’Connor, Lorde released the album’s first single, “Solar Power,” on June 11. With it, the prospect of the album being a Melodrama 2.0 went out the window. The song is a light and zany musing on the flirtatious air of the summer months, with cultic imagery and a music video reminiscent of “Midsommar,” a horror film about a Swedish cult. As Ella runs around the beach, accompanied by dancers wearing neutral clothing, the scene resembles the May Queen dance in “Midsommar.” “Solar Power” contrasts the devastating track “Green Light” — the first single from “Melodrama.” In an interview with Zane Lowe from Apple Music 1, formerly known as Beats 1, Lorde described “Green Light” as a musical representation of the “drunk girl at the party dancing around crying about her ex.” The second single of “Solar Power,” “Stoned at the Nail Salon,” came out just over a month after the title track, and it completely debunked any predictions I had made about the album being breezy and carefree. With “Solar Power,” we got an upbeat single about the beauty of summer at the beach, but with “Stoned at the Nail Salon,” we got an affecting folk song about getting older, choosing the right path and feeling confident in the life you’re building for yourself. Ella is not shying away from more serious topics after all. Then the final single “Mood Ring” dropped on August 18th, three days before the full album release. A searing satire on wellness culture and pseudo-spirituality, it further concealed Ella’s agenda for “Solar Power.” So what is “Solar Power”? Is it a reflection of Ella’s experiences gallivanting in nature? Is it an introspective folk album? Is it a distillation of what it means to connect spiritually? Turns out, it is all of those things and more. Album opener “The Path” directs listeners to the sun for healing and growth. “California” is a rebuke of the glitz and glam of celebrity life. “The Man With the Axe” is a vulnerable poem about the simple side of being in love. “But there, by the fire, you offered your hand,” she sings in this song. “And as I took it, I loved you, the boy with the plan.” Each song on the album, in its own unique way, says the same message: return to nature. Embrace simplicity. Be present. The answers to all your questions await you.

But “Solar Power” is also about the familiar turning unfamiliar. The most exciting thing Lorde did in the four years since “Melodrama” was nothing — she essentially went on hiatus, refraining from putting out music or performing in public. That close examination of mundanity is what makes “Solar Power” so compelling. Take “Stoned at the Nail Salon.” Ella begins with the seemingly banal phrase: “Got a wishbone drying on the windowsill in my kitchen,” but then follows it with, “Just in case I wake up and realize I’ve chosen wrong.” In doing so, she puts the mundane under a microscopic lens, making the familiar become foreign and then it becomes beautiful.

Ella did not write “Solar Power” to cater to her fans, capitalism or bogus music award ceremonies. She did not write it to fit a certain theme or genre — she wrote it as an earnest and meditative reflection on her four years since “Melodrama.” As she stated in her newsletter announcing the album, “Solar Power” is a “celebration of the natural world, an attempt to immortalize the deep and transcendent feelings I experience when I’m on the outside.”

Lorde’s previous two albums — “Pure Heroine” and “Melodrama” — still have a grip on the music industry and pop culture. Young up-and-coming artists continue to explore heartbreak and the tragic romance ballad, a genre of which Lorde is a master. But Lorde has grown out of the music she loved at 16, and odds are, you might have too.

The extent to Ella’s growth becomes explicit in the stellar “Oceanic Feeling,” which tops off the album. In the refrain, she sings: “Now the cherry-black lipstick’s gathering dust in a drawer/I don’t need her anymore/ Cause I got this power.” The items that used to make Ella happy do not anymore. Ella has gotten older, and she has changed. As listeners, we should not expect her to revert.

“Solar Power” might not have been what we anticipated, but that is the point. Beginning in her 2013 breakout single, “Royals,” Lorde continues to rail against our hyper-capitalist society in songs like “Leader of a New Regime.” She is opting not to produce any CDs of the album for environmental reasons. This album is about Ella; it is her journey away from her popstar persona and into a mature and defiant artist. The songs are self-aware and subdued and the writing intensely vulnerable. The guitar-heavy instrumentals are the perfect backdrop to her meditations.

“Solar Power” is more than Lorde’s album — it is Ella’s album. You’re welcome to come along for the ride.