TV review: "The Office," episode 7.09

It takes a lot for a half-hour comedy show to make it past the pilot pot, let alone stick around for more than a season or two, especially with moving targets of cast changes, funding, competition and the series’ ongoing storyline. That said, it’s impressive “The Office” has stretched a mockumentary about an unruly branch of a paper company into seven seasons. However, shaky plotlines intending to develop its characters suggest “The Office” may want to call it quits when star Steve Carell clocks out at the end of the season.

In the episode “WUPHF.com” which aired on Nov. 18, exemplifies progression in some character development, yet some lagging in others’. The shiftless dirt-bag Ryan (B.J. Novak) has an offer to sell his annoying social networking tool, WUPHF, an acquisition his investors—comprising Michael (Carell) and a handful of other employees—believe a prudent idea, yet he holds out with continued recklessness to their spending. Meanwhile, Jim (John Krasinski) looses his steam on his sales streak when he finds out he’s hit the commissions cap, and Dwight (Rainn Wilson) runs a hay fair in the building’s parking lot.

As a show that thrives on the actors’ ability to innovate their own characters’ quirks and endeavors, it’s been an uneven season as some players’ developments unfold business-as-usual while some have unnecessarily ventured new territories. A shining example is Jim, originally known for his office antics, who seeks ways to occupy himself with no incentive to make sales on no commission.

Since the beginning of last season, when Jim was made co-manager for a good three months, Krasinki’s character has been lagging. In an episode where the creators have the perfect open for Jim to pull pranks on Dwight and deliver sarcastic commentary to the saps who invested in Ryan’s website, they don’t take that risk and instead Jim cleans his desks, bothers coworkers and sends Gabe an edited version of CEO’s audio book biography, which calls his superior a gay bastard. Really, the only forgivable thing about that sub-story was the exchange Jim has with Gabe, in which Gabe tells him to think of his commissions cap as “a naked old man in a gym locker room.”

Luckily, the rest of the story saves this small conundrum. Wilson’s character continues to be an unpleasant, hayseed dork when Dwight opens a hay fair in which he charges customers almost for almost everything, and assigns pointless activities, such as the Needle In the Haystack game. When a girl finds the needle, Dwight tells her there is no prize but the life lesson that “some tasks are not worth doing.”

What’s most gratifying about this episode is Michael standing up to Ryan, whose character should have been written out of the script after he defrauded Dunder Mifflin in season four. Since then, his douchebaggery and selfish behavior has been more annoying and unnecessary and much less a contributor to the arc of the story. But in “WUPHF.com,” he gets his overdue comeuppance when Michael and the other investors pressure him to find funding in a matter of days.

Art review: “The Secretary of State,” Luc Tuymans

Condoleezza Rice graduated college and earned her master’s before age 21. By age 26, she’d interned with the Carter Administration and earned her Ph.D. and was soon made an assistant professor of political science at Stanford University. As early as 15, Rice has been performing classical music with the likes of the Denver Symphony and cellist Yo-Yo Ma, but she maintains her favorite band is Led Zeppelin.

It’s only fitting that a piece of art should enshrine all this hard work and accomplishment of a woman under 60-years-old.

As part of his exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Belgian painter Luc Tuymans immortalized Rice in “The Secretary of State.” It’s a close view of the politician, and had it been a camera her face may have been pressed against the lens. In the painting as a whole, Rice, in mid-sentence of a debate or a speech, seems disgusted and frustrated with her surroundings. But, in breaking the face into separate factions, her features show different stories. Thought Rice was in her early 50s when she was tapped for President Bush’s cabinet, Tuymans painted her without wrinkles that may reveal age. But, he added worry lines between her furrowed eyebrows, and laugh lines that surround her mouth. One eye is squinting, almost in tears, while the other is more relaxed yet revealing a feeling of annoyance. Her lips, painted deep red, is shaped downward into a frown and a tooth sticks out of the top lip, as if Rice is about to say something in retaliation. Though it’s difficult to make out her head above her hairline, dark hair surrounding Rice’s face are neatly in place but one lock, to her left, that is tapering from the rest of her coiffed style.

Rice, though many saw her as an intelligent taskmaster during her stint as secretary of state, isn’t perfect. Indeed, she’s another American working hard to keep certain freedoms intact, and Tuymans suggests Rice got the wrinkles and imperfections while keeping the country in mind.

Yet, Tuymans’ depiction of Rice makes her seem as if she’s bitten off more than she can chew, as suggested by the tooth exposed. Rice, when shown close-up and in the context of only herself and no influence surrounded her (hence, the white, empty background), is seen someone who’s taken on and strived for more in a lifetime than most, and it’s when she’s part of a president’s cabinet she pauses and realizes she may not be up for the task. As a young girl who aspired to be a concert pianist, Rice finds herself in the midst of political rigmarole and may be questioning her decisions. Tuymans wants us to see not the Condoleezza Rice clad in a conservative suit donning an American flag pin, but the face someone who isn’t a politician, but another one of us.

Revised album review: Sufjan Stevens, "The Age of Adz" (Asthematic Kitty Records)

Endowed with the rare talent of constructing an environment of sound, Sufjan Stevens might as well be the smart kid in high school everyone loves to hate. He’s mastered indie rock, multiple classical instruments, and has a feather-light voice known for delivering smart, heartfelt lyrics. But after laying low for five years, he’s probably lost his edge and could be beaten by such baroque pop acts as Beirut and the Decemberists.

Stevens is known for pursuing projects that, when described on paper, sound like terrible ideas (read: “Illinois,” an ode to Illinois towns and history, and the state itself), but salvages the disaster of folk and electronic dynamics into a gem. It probably sounds like crap, doesn’t it?

But Stevens makes it work. The sound is new, wise and edgy, and he’s taken orchestral pop into new realms that ooze electronica. “The Age of Adz” blends Stevens’ signature sound of classical instruments and ethereal vocals with the latest taste in synth boops and beeps. This is the equivalent of Stevens joining the basketball team and pissing everyone off when he’s automatically made team captain because of his exceptional skill.

“Futile Devices” opens the album in classic Sufjan candor: gentle whisper-singing, harp plucks, harmonic voice layering and ambling guitar. The second track, “Too Much,” catches seasoned fans off guard with the first two minutes containing synth drips and distorted explosions. By the bridge, Stevens gels both dynamics, including the drips and distortion with a string section and fluttering woodwinds.

While it’s a grand effort and great to hear this experiment of yin and yang packaged and polished, it seems as if as Stevens progresses in his musical growth, so does his arrogance. Therein lies the frustration with this artist. Yes, his music is brilliant, but he believes “Impossible Soul” is so great it’s worth publishing the original cut—a whopping 25-minute long track to conclude the album.

Regardless, “The Age of Adz” is a far more personal record than its predecessors, and with his bolder words and how he delivers them, he’s bound to fall victim to his own ego. The lyrics follow a theme of maturity and reflection, as evident on songs such as “I Walked” and “Now That I’m Older.” But, it’s not to say Stevens doesn’t have fun with his newfound musicality (“Get Real Get Right,” “Age of Adz”), or doesn’t return to old-school poetic prose, such as in “Vesuvius.” Stevens breaks out of his soft singing, such as when yelling “I’m not fucking around” as “I Want to Be Well” bleeds into the closing opus “Impossible Soul,” in which he and a chorus repeat, “We can do much more together/It’s not so impossible.” Granted, the simple words seem more like a campfire chant at a church retreat by minute 17, but they hold a stronger impact upon the vocalists’ delivery.

Stevens may not have mastered the realms of trippy pop, as bands such as Yeasayer have, but he’s certainly a force to be reckoned with. He continues to pioneer unsought territories and set up camp in the most unpromising of environments, only to mine gold.