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Resisting sentimentality, Laird Hunt's latest book is an elegy for a lost generation

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Resisting sentimentality, Laird Hunt's latest book is an elegy for a lost generation

Book Review

Float Up, Sing Down

By Laird Hunt
Bloomsbury Publishing: 224 pages, $27

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A little more than a century ago, Sherwood Anderson’s “Winesburg, Ohio” introduced a new kind of American novel: one composed of short stories that share a setting and that elevate, one by one, individual residents for our examination. It’s proven a durable and appealing structure, whether employed by fellow Midwesterner Ray Bradbury in “Dandelion Wine” or Mainer Elizabeth Strout in her “Olive Kitteridge” novels. There’s an inherent, Where’s Waldo-style thrill in spotting one story’s main character as an incidental background player in another person’s drama. And it’s structurally both modernist (Gertrude Stein was an influence on Anderson) and democratic: everyone matters, from the outcasts to the losers to those who seem simply too plain for literary attention.

But the form is not without risk. Thornton Wilder, whose “Our Town” is the most famous dramatic inheritor of Winesburg’s legacy, cautioned in his stage directions that the play “should be performed without sentimentality or ponderousness — simply, dryly and sincerely.” When “Dandelion Wine” came out, a critic charged Bradbury with that exact sin, panning him for “diving with arms spread into the glutinous pool of sentimentality.”

Laird Hunt’s new book, “Float Up, Sing Down,” resists that dive (although there is a pool present, unavoidable in mid-July in Indiana). Following 2021’s “Zorrie,” a finalist for a National Book Award in fiction and a novel that itself borrowed characters from the author’s earlier “Indiana, Indiana,” the book is a Winesburg-style story cycle set in small-town Indiana during a single summer day in 1982. Zorrie Underwood makes a cameo or two, but unlike in the novel she anchored, these stories work like a core sampling of the entire community: a rural village surrounded by cornfields, where nearly everyone has memories of a farmhouse their grandparents inhabited — almost none of whom are still full-time farmers. Bright Creek is big enough for a high school, small enough that the school still sits at the center of the town’s stories about itself.

And, like a lot of Midwestern small towns in the Reagan ‘80s, its glory days are behind it. We meet many of the old guard in the book’s first story, in which retired teacher Candy Wilson prepares to host a monthly meeting of the Bright Creek Girls Gaming Club. “Cheating was tolerated though not openly encouraged” by the club’s “girls” (all in their 60s and 70s save the youngest). Candy, Lois, Gladys, Myrtle and the others gamble, snack and gossip, and subsequent stories open up into the lives they’ve lived, their private dramas, the secrets they keep.

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Candy misses her friend Irma Ray, the town’s French teacher who’d lost her job for being “different.” The club meeting coincides with the first anniversary of her funeral, and Candy visits Irma’s grave, where the Latin phrase “Astra inclinant, sed non obligant” (“the stars incline us, they do not bind us”) is chiseled into the stone.

Questions of fate and identity meander through these stories. Where we are born and into what kind of family matters — Hunt’s characters are not self-created in the manner most modern Americans like to think we are. The ripple effects of an abusive father, an indulgent mother, early success that fizzles — all guide a life’s path, sometimes quite literally, as when Gladys Bacon embarks on her occasional long, solitary walks through miles of cornfields (her friend Myrtle calls it “the corn cure”). She only does it on days, “when the sun angled long and blazed everything up in a glory of green and gold.” If there’s a more Midwestern way to manage existential pain, I haven’t heard it.

The old men too have their say. Horace Allen, who served in France on D-day and still pines for a European woman he met while recovering from war wounds, has retired from farming but still takes pleasure in his lawn care that binds him to the land (“the rake was like a metronome. The earth was like a clock.”) Some time after returning from the war, Horace had made a pile of white rocks behind his barn, a kind of altar to things lost. “When his parents died, he had stopped going to church,” Hunt writes. “He still sometimes picked up the Bible though. He was not against any of it. Sometimes he had gone out to the pile of white rocks and bowed his head.”

And then there are Bright Creek’s young people, working fast food and experimenting with sex and desperate to get out of there: We see two of them on the back of a motorcycle, “roaring up the road, burning up the map, being idiotic and beautiful and fifteen” toward the book’s end. Why shouldn’t they want to leave? After all, this is a place where a lesbian teacher is run out of town, where artistic inclinations of any kind are most safely kept to oneself. And yet, as one of the teenagers feels while riding her Schwinn as fast as she can down a country road, “the world smelled like corn and chicory flower and drying dirt and woods.”

When I moved to Boston from Kansas, nearly all my new friends referred to my having “escaped.” As Hunt makes clear, there are plenty of good reasons one might want or need to escape from a small Midwestern town. But his tender attention to these lives reveals that what’s there, good and bad, is as real as any of the stories painted on bigger canvases.

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And somehow, without even the slightest sentimentality about it, the book provides an elegy for a lost generation, or maybe for all the elders still here, as overlooked as the Midwest itself. As Myrtle notices her own mouth hanging agape with age, she thinks that she “never minded that look. Both her grandparents had worn it plenty as they were rounding the final bend. Myrtle thought it made a person look astonished. Like they were thinking on some great wonder. Something marvelous. A memory they were the only ones in the whole big world to have.”

Movie Reviews

Movie review: Ballet-themed erotic drama ‘Dreams’ dissipates in finale

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Movie review: Ballet-themed erotic drama ‘Dreams’ dissipates in finale

Mexican writer/director Michel Franco explores the dynamics of money, class and the border through the spiky, unsettling erotic drama “Dreams,” starring Jessica Chastain and Isaac Hernández, a Mexican ballet dancer and actor.

In the languidly paced “Dreams,” Franco presents two individuals in love (or lust?) who experiment with wielding the power at their fingertips against their lover, the violence either state or sexual in nature. The film examines the push-pull of attraction and rejection on a scope both intimate and global, finding the uneasy space where the two meet.

Chastain stars as Jennifer McCarthy, a wealthy San Francisco philanthropist and socialite who runs a foundation that supports a ballet school in Mexico City. But Franco does not center her experience, but that of Fernando (Hernández), whom we meet first, escaping from the back of a box truck filled with migrants crossing the U.S./Mexico border, abandoned in San Antonio on a 100-degree day.

His journey is one of extreme survival, but his destination is the lap of luxury, a modernist San Francisco mansion where he makes himself at home, and where he’s clearly been at home before. A talented ballet dancer who has already once been deported, he’s risked everything to be with his lover, Jennifer, though as a high-profile figure who works with her father and brother (Rupert Friend), she’d rather keep her affair with Fernando under wraps. He’s her dirty little secret, but he’s also a human being who refuses to be kept in the shadows.

As Jennifer and Fernando attempt to navigate what it looks like for them to be together, it seems that larger forces will shatter their connection. In reality, the only real danger is each other.

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The storytelling logic of “Dreams” is predicated on watching these characters move through space, the way we watch dancers do. Franco offers some fascinating parallels to juxtapose the wildly varying experiences of Fernando and Jennifer — he enters the States in a box truck, almost dying of thirst and heat stroke; she arrives in Mexico on a private plane, but they both enter empty homes alone, melancholy. During a rift in their relationship, Fernando retreats to a motel while working at a bar, drinking red wine out of plastic cups with a friend in his humble room, ignoring Jennifer’s calls, while she eats alone in her darkened dining room, drinking red wine out of crystal.

These comparisons aren’t exactly nuanced, but they are stark, and for most of the film, Franco just asks us to watch them move together, and apart, in a strange, avoidant pas de deux. Often dwarfed by architecture, their distinctive bodies in space are more important than the sparse dialogue that only serves to fill in crucial gaps in storytelling.

Cinematographer Yves Cape captures it all in crisp, saturated images. The lack of musical score (beyond diegetic music in the ballet scenes) contributes to the dry, flat affect and tone, as these characters enact increasing cruelties — both emotional and physical — upon each other as a means of trying to contain their lover, until it escalates into something truly dark and disturbing.

Franco, frankly, loses the plot of “Dreams” in the third act. What is a rather staid drama about the weight of social expectations on a relationship becomes a dramatically unexpected game of vengeance as Jennifer and Fernando grasp at any power they have over the other. She fetishizes him and he returns the favor, violently.

Ultimately, Franco jettisons his characters for the sake of unearned plot twists that leave the viewer feeling only icky. These events aren’t illuminating, and feel instead like a bleak betrayal. The circumstances of the story might be “timely,” but “Dreams” doesn’t help us understand the situation better, leaving us in the dark about what we’re supposed to take away from this story of sex, violence, money and the state. Anything it suggests we already know.

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‘Dreams’

(In English and Spanish with English subtitles)

1.5 stars (out of 4)

No MPA rating (some nudity, sex scenes, swearing, sexual violence)

Running time: 1:35

How to watch: In theaters Feb. 27

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Entertainment

Soho House sued after bartender alleges she was ‘drugged and raped’ by her supervisor

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Soho House sued after bartender alleges she was ‘drugged and raped’ by her supervisor

A bartender who worked at Soho House’s exclusive Soho Warehouse in downtown Los Angeles is alleging a supervisor at the posh membership club and hotel drugged and raped her, according to a lawsuit filed in Los Angeles Superior Court on Wednesday.

The woman, who filed as Jane Doe, said in her complaint that she was “subjected to repeated sexual advances and unwelcomed physical touching” by one of her supervisors, Leonard Marcelo Vichique Maya, immediately after she began working as a bartender at Berenjak, the club’s restaurant, in September 2025.

Doe is suing Vichique Maya, Soho House, Soho House Los Angeles and Soho Warehouse for sexual harassment, retaliation and other claims..

“This is as egregious an instance of callous corporate indifference to workplace sexual violence that anyone can experience,” said her attorney Nick Yasman of Los Angeles-based West Coast Trial Lawyers in a statement.

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Representatives for Soho House and Vichique Maya were not immediately available for comment.

Doe has further alleged that Vichique Maya made “numerous comments” about her appearance, propositioned her to be his “hook-up buddy” and told her that she “would be pregnant by now” had they met earlier, all within earshot of her supervisors and colleagues.

After two weeks on the job, Doe said that she reported Vichique Maya’s conduct to two male supervisors, including Soho House’s floor manager and food and beverage director, states the complaint, but “neither took any semblance of corrective or investigatory action.”

According to the suit, Doe claims that despite “his pattern of harassing behavior and complaints,” the company, did not address his alleged misconduct. ”

She claims his behavior escalated after a “team-bonding” work event on Sept. 13, where Doe said she became disoriented after drinking with supervisors and co-workers, eventually losing consciousness, and woke up naked in Vichique Maya’s apartment.

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“Paralyzed and speechless despite her consciousness slowly returning, Plaintiff was condemned to simply watch in horror as [sic] MARCELO repeatedly raped her inanimate body,” states the suit.

The next day, Doe said that she reported to her floor manager that Vichique Maya had “sexually assaulted her.”

She said her general manager “confirmed” that he “appeared to be preying” on her during the work event, telling her that “These things happen between coworkers.”

When she proclaimed that she could no longer work with Vichique Maya,” she said the general manager dismissed her concerns telling her: “I have a restaurant to run; I can’t have it blow up on me.”

Despite informing three managers that she was “raped,” Doe said she was continuously scheduled to work shifts with Vichique Maya during which he repeatedly sexually harassed her.

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In December, Doe filed a complaint with Soho House human resources, and she was assured that an investigation would be opened and “immediate corrective action” taken.

However, during the investigation, Doe said that she was placed on indefinite leave while Vichique Maya continued working. A month later, she was informed the company had completed its investigation and found her report of rape “was uncorroborated” and he “would not be disciplined.”

In February, the plaintiff said that she was forced to quit her job.

One of the first, exclusive members-only social clubs, Soho House debuted in London in 1995 and quickly became the bolt-hole of choice for celebrities and the deep-pocketed. It expanded globally with 48 houses in 19 countries.

It drew high-profile investors, including Ron Burkle through his investment fund Yucaipa.

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In 2021, the company filed for an initial public offering on the New York Stock Exchange, but it has faced financial challenges. .

Last year, Soho House went private, selling itself to a group of investors including Apollo Global Management and actor Ashton Kutcher, who also joined its board of directors, at a $2.7-billion valuation.

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Movie Reviews

MOVIE REVIEWS: “Mercy,” “Return to Silent Hill,” “Sentimental Value” & “In Cold Light” – Valdosta Daily Times

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MOVIE REVIEWS: “Mercy,” “Return to Silent Hill,” “Sentimental Value” & “In Cold Light” – Valdosta Daily Times

“Mercy”

(Thriller/Crime: 1 hour, 39 minutes)

Starring: Chris Pratt, Rebecca Ferguson, Kali Reis

Director: Timur Bekmambetov

Rated: PG-13 (Violence, bloody images, strong language, drug content and teen smoking)

Movie Review:

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“Mercy” is a science fiction movie based on one of the more common themes of moviedom lately, artificial intelligence (AI). This crime thriller cleverly creates an intriguing story using technology and the justice system, yet it fails to be consistently interesting and intelligent throughout. The conclusion is less significant than the initial setup, as the concluding scenes become typical action sequences.

Detective Chris Raven (Pratt) of the LA Police Department is a huge supporter of the city’s new judicial courtroom. Crimes are now judged by an AI program (Ferguson) in the Mercy Court. The court is run by an artificial program that makes decisions based on all of the evidence before it without any prejudice. Detective Raven is all for this system until he is convicted of killing his wife. Now he must use all of the data, including the AI‘s ability to tap into everyone’s electronic devices, security cameras, and even into government files, within reason, to prove he did not murder his wife.

Mercy is an interesting movie. It entertains throughout, even when the story gets sloppy and characters’ actions are irrational. This mainly occurs during the final scenes. The movie tries too hard to insert unneeded narrative twists. This is disappointing because the story is interesting. What makes it fascinating is that it happens in real time. This is the most brilliant facet.

All the other theatrics are unnecessary. Director Timur Bekmambetov (“Profile,” 2018; “Wanted,” 2008) and “Mercy’s” producers should have just kept the ending simple, no plot twists or superfluous action sequences.
Grade: C (This flick needs some mercy. Let the trial begin.)

“Return to Silent Hill”

(Horror: 1 hour, 46 minutes)

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Starring: Jeremy Irvine, Hannah Emily Anderson and Robert Strange

Director: Christophe Gans

Rated: R (Bloody violent content, strong language and brief drug use.)

Movie Review:

“Return to Silent Hill” is about one man’s quest to return to the love of his life. The problem is she has moved on to the afterlife. Meanwhile, audiences lose part of their life watching this movie, which is unlike any of the two prequels in this series. This one is a psychological horror that bores.

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Artist James Sunderland (Irvine) decides to return to Silent Hill, a place where many people died during a devastating illness that nearly enveloped the entirety of the city’s population. What is left there is a horror show of freakish creatures, all with violent intent. Still, Sunderland searches for the love of his life, Mary Crane (Anderson).

Think of this movie as a slow suicide, where a guy goes back to retrieve his dead girlfriend. To do so, he must travel to the modern land of the dead that Silent Hill has become. This one is a type of swan song by the main character, and the movie becomes less scary while lackluster romantic notions wander aimlessly.

Grade: D (Do not return to see this.)

“Sentimental Value”

(Drama: 2 hours, 13 minutes)

Starring: Renate Reinsve, Stellan Skarsgård, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas and Elle Fanning

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Director: Joachim Trier

Rated: R (Language, sexual reference, nudity and thematic elements)

Movie Review:

“Sentimental Value” is a Norwegian film that won the Grand Prix in France’s Cannes Film Festival and was nominated for nine Academy Awards, including Best Motion Picture. It is a solid drama filled with symbolism and family connections. It is brilliant performances by a talented cast under the direction of Joachim Trier (“The Worst Person in the World,” 2021).

This screenplay is about Gustav Borg (Skarsgård). He is a father, grandfather and a famed film director. He stayed away from his two daughters, actress Nora Borgwhile (Reinsve) and historian Agnes Borg Pettersen (Lilleaas), while he was creating works as a filmmaker. The director comes back into the lives of his daughters after the death of their mother. Their reunion leads to a rediscovery of their bond at their family home in Oslo.

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Stellan Skarsgård is always a solid actor. He takes his roles and makes them tangible characters that seem like you know them, even when they’re speaking a foreign language. That is the quality of his act and why he gets nominated for multiple awards each season.

“Sentimental Value” is a valuable movie filled with enriching sentiment. It is an enjoyable film for those who value a good drama. The acting and original writing alone make the movie worth it. “Sentimental Value” starts in a very simple way, but everything in between, even when low-key, remains potent. Joachim Trier and writer Eskil Vogt have worked together on multiple projects such as “The Worst Person in the World” (2021). Their pairing is once again worthy.

Grade: A- (Any motive valuable movie.)

“In Cold Light ”

(Crime: 1 hour , 36 minutes)

Starring: Maika Monroe, Allan Hawco and Troy Kotsur

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Director: Maxime Giroux

Rated: R (Violence, bloody images, strong language and drug material)

Movie Review:

“In Cold Light” sticks to a very straightforward story, primarily taking place over a short period. The problem is the story leaves one in the cold. Audiences have to guess what is being communicated because this movie uses American Sign Language (ASL) without subtitles. For those moviegoers who do not know ASL, they are left deciphering characters’ actions and facial expressions during some pivotal scenes.

Ava Bly (Monroe) attempts to start a legit life after prison. Her life changes when Ava’s twin, Tom Bly (Jesse Irving) is murdered while seated next to her. As her brother’s killers pursue her, Ava must evade law enforcement, which contains some crooked cops led by Bob Whyte (Hawco).

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For a brief moment, this movie hits its exceptional moment when Oscar-recipient Helen Hunt enters the picture as a motherly Claire, a crime boss who seems more like a social worker/psychologist. Her long scene is wasted as it arrives too late.

French Canadian director Maxime Giroux’s style has potential in his first English-language film, but it does not fit a wayward narrative. A rarity, this crime drama has characters commit many dumb actions at once.

Moreover, Giroux (“Félix et Meira,” 2014) and writer Patrick Whistler forget to let their audiences in on their story. They allow much to get lost in translation, especially during heated conversations between Monroe’s Ava and her father, Will Bly, played by Academy Award-winning actor Troy Kotsur (“CODA,” 2021).

Grade: C- (Just cold and dark.)

More movie reviews online at www.valdostadailytimes.com.

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