City Arts Blog

  • Nervous Laughter and Local Beauty in "Your Sister's Sister"

    May 16, 2012 at 6:47 PM | Tony Kay

    Real life is messy—a series of jerky rhythms and fits and starts that throw speed-bumps and hairpin turns at our inherent need for order and normalcy. And the characters in Your Sister’s Sister stumble through those messy bits of existence with an awkward fidelity that feels almost uncomfortably real. 

    Seattle director Lynn Shelton’s latest feature marks the first homegrown opening night feature in the Seattle International Film Festival’s history. But that historic precedent feels less revelatory than how good—and how uncompromising—the movie itself is for much of its running time. 

    Wags who’ve complained about the middlebrow earnestness of most of SIFF's opening night features over the years should find Your Sister’s Sister to be a bracing change of pace. It’s essentially a romantic dramedy, but one that navigates its emotional and sexual minefields with the un-self-conscious ease of an art film and a trio of winning turns from its principal cast members.

    Mark Duplass (a veteran of Shelton’s previous feature, Humpday) plays Jack, a rumpled Seattleite dealing with the recent death of his brother. Jack’s best pal Iris (Emily Blunt) invites him to stay alone at her parents’ remote getaway cabin to decompress. But upon his arrival in this little paradise Jack bumps into Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt), Iris’s earthy sister. Jack and Hannah tumble drunkenly into a one-night stand, and things get messy when Iris shows up unannounced. 

    There’s a naturalistic flow to Your Sister’s Sister that infuses the stock set-up with a breath of spontaneous life. Shelton’s characters talk a lot, but their words—and the uncomfortable pauses and moments of humorous absurdity that punctuate them—always mean something. At the movie’s beginning, Jack delivers a blunt, slightly inebriated, anguished monologue that alternately celebrates his late brother’s social adaptability and exposes a whole underbelly of resentment and outrage. The fact that he lets loose with it at a party celebrating his departed sibling flat-out stings, even as it rouses uncomfortable belly laughs.

    Between his work as a director and actor over the last five years, Duplass has become an "It Boy" of indie cinema, and based on his work here, it’s easy to see why. He telegraphs the messy emotional bits underneath Jack’s surface with an utterly charming combination of caustic humor and schlubby regular-guy affability. DeWitt’s weary sensuality and native intelligence provide a nice counterpoint to Duplass’s bemused comic energy. Even Blunt, the ostensible Big Star here, delivers unaffected work that feels of an organic whole with the rest of the cast.

    Your Sister’s Sister also manages to be a visually-evocative love letter to Washington state. Shelton contrasts all of the dialogue by following Jack around the placidly beautiful surroundings in long, dialogue-free shots, and Benjamin Kasulke’s cinematography captures the scenic Orcas Island locales with an unapologetically romantic eye.   

    While the dialogue never feels less than 100 percent natural, Shelton’s storyline does take an almost soap-opera turn at one point (whether she’s crafted a compelling emotional Chinese puzzle or a plot device straight out of a Lifetime Movie of the Week depends on the beholder, I reckon). But she ends Your Sister’s Sister with an ambiguous final shot that effectively encapsulates her characters and the sensibility behind them. Jack, Iris and Hannah don’t know where those messy emotional bits are going to take them—and neither does the audience. 

  • Sex, Drugs and Selling your Soul in ‘Bed Snake’ at WET

    May 16, 2012 at 5:56 PM | Rachel Gallaher

    How far would you go to fulfill your dreams? This is the inciting question that kicks off Bed Snake, a new play written by Noah Benezra and Hannah Victoria Franklin now playing at Washington Ensemble Theatre, who also play a fame-hungry drug-dropping couple caught up in the chaotic haze of international stardom. Clocking in at just 70 minutes, the show packs a powerful punch—it is essentially a musical, but one filled with violent, hardcore rap. Musical performance takes up a large majority of the show, and the entire production throws a non-stop barrage of youth culture worship into the audience’s face, reiterating again and again the downward spiral of constant drug use and the hollowness of the celebrity lifestyle.

    Wolf (Noah Benezra) is a pot-smoking white kid with big dreams of rap stardom. When he meets international DJ sensation Kry$tal (the commanding Hannah Victoria Franklin) in line at a Pizza Hut/Taco Bell, it starts a tumultuous relationship. He says he’ll sell his soul to become a rapper. She makes him the next whit boy hip-hop superstar. Between rap numbers, both solo and duet, Kry$tal and Wolf’s affection grows, but constant drug use, egos and the inability to find true happiness create an anarchic and toxic environment where the only thing that counts is preparing for the next show.

    The true star of this production is Franklin. A towering presence with messy blond hair, skintight black leggings and a chilling stare, she throws Wolf around the stage, bangs him into walls and slaps his body with a fierceness that’s a little bit scary. She is fully invested in her character’s demonic side, and spits original rhymes with confident swagger. Benezra’s character starts out as a nerdy fanboy who apologizes profusely to others and stutters shyly when he’s not trying to imitate an imagined “gangsta” language. After selling his soul to Kry$tal and becomes an iconic pop culture figure (both he and Franklin are pretty good rappers) he adopts a tough-guy attitude that still fades way to the sensitive, hopeless romantic who just wants to find happiness. Benezra does and excellent job navigating between this duel character, allowing the pre-rap Wolf to surface enough to create empathy—he acts like an asshole, but really he’s just a sad, confused human being. 

    The set (Amiya Brown) was an explosion of graffiti, alcohol bottles, pulsating lights and projected music videos. Every inch of the small stage was covered in spray paint, old TV’s set to static. The set added to the chaos of the storyline, visually simulating the dreamlike (sometimes horrific) swirl of both a psychedelic high and a tumultuous relationship.

    Bed Snake is about sex and drugs and dreams and so much more. The show is packed with clever metaphorical layers at every level of production. With a fragmented storyline and mix of drama, comedy and concert, this show is like a fast and explosive drug trip—a musical for the current MTV generation. 

    Bed Snake runs through May 28. Tickets available here. 

     

    Above: Noah Benezra and Hannah Victoria Franklin as Wolf and Kry$tal. Kara Stokes Photography. 

     

  • The Song Show Podcast, featuring Fatal Lucciauno

    May 16, 2012 at 10:37 AM | Mark Baumgarten

    There are a few musicians who we at The Song Show like to keep tabs on. We bring these familiar faces back to the stage to check in, hoping to hear some new stories and with anticipation to hear new material. Fatal Lucciauno is one of our favorites. More than two years ago, he appeared on the show with a performance that brought many, including himself, to tears. In early March, Lucciauno returned to The Song Show stage older, wiser and with a new album, Respect. In this podcast, recorded that evening, Lucciauno performs songs from the album, a capella, and shares his thoughts on what that word, "respect," really means.

    Enjoy the episode and, if you like it, subscribe. If you really like it, come down to the next live show, Tuesday, June 7, at the Rendezvous, when Throw Me the Statue, Kelli Schaefer and Jose Bold will take the stage, answer my questions and play their songs.

    ...and for those who missed it, here is video of Lucciauno performing "Drunken Poetry" that we recorded prior to the show.

    For future updates, follow The Song Show on Twitter or Facebook.

  • Upward Spiral: Urban Art Concept's New Installation at Lake Union Park

    May 16, 2012 at 9:39 AM | Nate Watters

    A new sculpture is currently under way at Lake Union Park.  Organized by Urban Art Concepts, who also brought the Mad Homes Installation to Capitol Hill, the spiral sculpture is being created in partnership with organizations such as the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and Seattle University's Project on Family Homelessness.  The 300 foot-long spiral will wind upward, rather than downward - "a metaphor for hope and opportunity".  The sculpture opens to the public on May 18 and will be up through June 17.

     

    The Spiral of Hope will be built entirely from fallen tree branches collected by the Seattle Parks and Recreation Department in the East Duwamish Green Belt.

     

    Using a combination of zip-ties and twine, volunteers attach the sticks to one another so that the sculpture will stand on its own.

     

    Visitors will be able to walk through the sculpture as it winds toward one of the park's trees.

     

    Volunteers work to create a section of the spiral.  The spiral grows taller as it winds inward from the entrance.

  • "Sonics Guy," alter ego of Comedy Underground's Kris Brannon

    May 15, 2012 at 11:50 AM | Brett Hamil

    When the Sonics left Seattle to become the Oklahoma Thunder, we became a city of the dumped. Our franchise left us for another city, one who treats her better and loves her more. And now, with the Thunder a serious playoff contender, every jilted Sonics fan faces the greatest nightmare of the dumped: to see your ex doing much better without you, on national television.

    Fan emotions run from deep and abiding hatred to dejected apathy, but there is at least one true romantic left among the vestiges of fandom, one man still carrying the torch. He is the Sonics Guy, alter ego of Kris Brannon, a manager at the Comedy Underground. For three years now, Sonics Guy has been showing up at public events in his throwback uniform and a Save Our Sonics sign, reppin’ for the Green and Gold, “raising awareness,” he says, “that we had a team, that people still miss the team” and trying to agitate for a new franchise.

    This isn’t just a lark for Brannon. He has been showing up at (and sometimes being kicked out of) public events for over three years, mostly in the Tacoma area. The day before I spoke to him he had made appearances at two parades, two farmer’s markets, a 5K race and a Tea Party event (“Sonics Guy is apolitical,” he says.)

    I caught up with Sonics Guy at the Comedy Underground to ask him how he felt about the Thunder’s playoff chances.

    You’ve got to root against them, right?
     Yeah. I do not want to see David Stern hand Clay Bennett the trophy, I will absolutely be floored.

    The Sonics are like a woman that left Seattle—
    Yeah, that’s a spin you could put on it, I definitely see that analogy.

    So, there’s 3 types of ex-boyfriends, right? There’s the kind that hates her and doesn’t want anything good to happen to her, there’s the one that just avoids her and doesn’t want to hear anything about her, then there’s the super-evolved dude that’s says, “I hope they do well.”
    Yeah, you could say that

    But you hope they don’t do well?
    Yeah, I hope they don’t do well. But carrying out your analogy to its endpoint, that’s why I’m trying to work with different organizations to bring back our Sonics, to get a new team, a new girlfriend, so we’re not just stewing about the old one, we’re actively going out there and dipping our foot back in the dating pool.

    So if the Thunder win the Championship, that would be like your ex-girlfriend immediately hooking up with someone else and popping out a kid, right? That would be the legitimizer, where you could no longer hate on her and her new boyfriend because they’re a family now.
    I see where you’re going with it, but let me just put it this way: I never thought I’d root for Lebron, but it looks like that’s what it might come down to. Everybody’s saying it’s Miami and OKC, so I’ll try not to watch, but if I do, I’ll be cheering for Lebron.

    You won’t watch?
    You know, I’ll probably watch some. I’ll try not to. I don’t have a TV at the house, so that helps, but when I’m out and about, if it’s on, it’s like, “Well, I didn’t turn it on” so I’m kinda passively taking glances at it.

    It is the worst possible thing that could happen, right? Do you think we’ll ever get to the point where we can move on and say “Good for them?”
    I think when we get a new team, that’ll pretty much salve the wounds.

    Do you think we’ll get a new team?
    It’s easier to keep a team when you have it than to get a team when you don’t have one. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. Look at LA, they haven’t had a football team in 20 years.

    And then you have the stink of desperation on you, like some single guy at a night club…
    Exactly. And then you’re just being used to buy drinks, like Kansas City. They built an arena to attract a team, and that was what, 6-7 years ago? They still haven’t got a team yet.

    What would you say to the Thunder, on this playoff run?
    I like the players, I think those players are nice guys. I like Harden, I like Durant, I think he’s a great guy. Westbrook seems decent. I just don’t want them to win.

    You can find out more about the Sonics Guy at www.sonicsguy.com or www.twitter.com/sonicsguy

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Offshore Project Choreographers Explore the Abstract Side of Dance

    May 14, 2012 at 2:31 PM | Rachel Gallaher

    If you expected to see some cabaret at last weekend’s Co-Lab 4, then you were not disappointed. It was a production full of Ezra Dickinson-Rainbow Fletcher choreography, after all. But this wasn’t your typical Can-Can show. Co-Lab 4 presented collaboration between Dickinson and Fletcher’s dance company, The Offshore Project, and dancers from Coriolis Dance Collective—all set to live music from Dylan Rieck and his band. Unlike The Buffoon, which the Offshore duo presented at On the Boards in 2010, Co-Lab was less story-driven and more dance focused. Although the usual Dickinson-Fletcher theatrics were there (light-hearted playful moments and acrobatic strength), the beautifully executed modern dance displayed maturing choreography and the skillful ability to blend motion in surprisingly delightful ways.

    Before the dancing came the music. Cellist Dylan Rieck led his band, “Threat of Beauty” in a wonderfully diverse musical composition that combined a little bit of jazz and a little bit of rock, and added some Caribbean and clasical influences. The musicians seemed to perform their own dance—moving in time with the music, embracing their instruments and weaving seamlessly between solos, duets and ensembles. It was refreshing to see the musicians touted as equal performers rather than just the background; a trend seen lately at PNB, in work form Catherine Cabeen, and anticipated in Whim W’Him's upcoming show.

    The first dance piece, Frenchey, Texas, Fritzy and Helga (choreographed by Fletcher) contained the cabaret element, but with a wobbly, humorous bent. Featuring four dancers with teased hair, blue rompers and black heels, the girls’ precision (creating patterns and shapes with their bodies, the way they moved around each other) was similar to that of enthusiastic synchronized swimmers. The playful choreography contained a can-can line, but legs were purposefully bent at the knees; the dancers flirting with the audience, swaying hips seductively, running hands up legs and sliding across the stage on lovely long legs. Fletcher has fun with it, and the way the girls appear to throw themselves into the performance, but not quite hit it (an intentional move) suggests a sadly aging group of women, trying to relive their former glory as once-young dancers.

    The standout was a duet choreographed and performed by Fletcher and Dickinson. Rock, Paper, Scissors used a spotlight to create silhouettes of the dancers against a backdrop at the top of the stage. This double-image dove into deep into the question of what constitutes dance—it was often hard to decide which to watch: the people or the shadows. Sure the people who create the shadows, but is the detached movement of the shadows dance? Regardless of the answer, the two displayed a masterful grasp of their performance. Clad it simplistic black shorts, their well-muscled bodies were on full display, and the ultra-slow movement (set to Rieck’s onstage cello) starting with hands above heads and moving into larger, sweeping lunges, threw a nod to Dickinson’s Slow Walks, and deconstructed movement to its basic roots. The lifts and yoga-esque poses were impressive, showing off an equal mix of strength and grace. The title is incorporated into the piece with the two performing the rock, paper, scissors motions behind their backs in a rhythmic pattern suggesting order and monotony rather than childhood fun. 

    Too many to recount was an interpretive piece with a cast of eight dancers; a mix of Offshore and Coriolis members. Clad in full orange jumpsuits, they moved around the stage peeling in and out of the large group into smaller duets and trios, often simulating violence by throwing each other onto the floor, pantomiming fist fighting, shoving and slapping. A lot of movement and metaphor happens here, completely open to individual interpretation. Although there is no clear narrative, violence is a heavy-handed theme throughout the piece. Dancers undress and dress again, lighting turns their skin purple, transforming them into an alien-like appearance, supplementing the chaos that occasionally breaks out on stage.

    The Offshore Project pulled out all the stops with this production. For a group well known for their theatre-esque antics, they impressed with a strong infusion of modern dance and tenderly graceful moments. Not only can they dance; they can really choreograph. It’s still The Offshore Project, but just a little more grown up. 

  • SIFF 2012’s Embarrassment of Cinema Riches

    May 14, 2012 at 12:03 PM | Tony Kay

    The Seattle International Film Festival officially announced its 2012 line-up last week, and as in years past, the roster includes plenty of local flavor. Here are a few of the standouts you won't want to miss.  

    For the first time in its history, SIFF’s May 17 Opening Night Gala will showcase a true-blue homegrown feature. Your Sister’s Sister, the newest effort from Seattle director (and City Arts' current cover girl) Lynn Shelton, was shot on location in Washington State with a tight local crew, not to mention international star Emily Blunt. It’s just one of several high-profile SIFF screenings showcasing local talent and/or locales.

    The guy who played The Descendants’ sniveling adulterer and Shaggy in those live-action Scooby-Doo movies—actor Matthew Lillard—takes the director’s chair for Fat Kid Rules the World, in which a couple of misfits form a punk rock band against the backdrop of several Seattle locations. And if a fictional feature about budding Northwest musicians has your appetite whetted for the real thing, Nesib Shamah’s and Dan Thornton’s documentary Welcome to Doe Bay puts this region’s biggest little outdoor music festival under the documentary microscope. 

    Local director Scott Levy spotlights another significant force in the local arts firmament—The Pacific Northwest Ballet—and its team of committed artists in his doc, Short Life.The Long Ride Home, by contrast, documents inspiration of the personal rather than creative variety, following Mercer Islander Kevin Mincio on a 4,200-mile odyssey that puts him face-to-face with the spectres of 9/11 and the Iraq War. 

    Several of SIFF 2012‘s locally-bred films throw left-of-center twists on staid genres. The sci-fi-laced comedy Safety Not Guaranteed tells the tale of three Seattle journalists who follow a supermarket clerk who may or may not have learned the secret of time travel. And The Details brings Tobey McGuire and Laura Linney into a darkly-indie-comic, Seattle-set suburban nightmare. 

    Finally, SIFF 2012’s Closing Night feature Grassroots presents American Pie’s Jason Biggs as Stranger writer/monorail champion Grant Cogswell. With all of the real-life comedy that’s surrounded the development of this town’s transportation system, it’s hardly surprising that someone’s made an honest-to-God movie farce out of it.

    Pictured above: Mark Duplass and Aubrey Plaza in Safety Not Guaranteed. Photo by Benjamin Kasulke.

  • Getting Real with Comedy Duo Travis Vogt and Kevin Clarke

    May 14, 2012 at 11:41 AM | Brett Hamil

    Brett Hamil talks to filmmakers / sketch comedy duo Travis Vogt and Kevin Clarke, who reveal how a formative experience from their childhood deeply influenced how they make their movies.

  • Works in Progress: CREATION Project at Erickson Theater

    May 9, 2012 at 11:03 AM | Nate Watters

    Last weekend, the Central District Forum for Arts and Ideas showcased CREATION Project 2012. Each of the three performances featured were current works by the artists, some not yet finished, or still being fine-tuned. As a program dedicated to Black culture and cultural awareness in general, CD Forum encourages the development and success of black artists whose work encourages thought and education about black culture.  

    Guest artist Shontina Vernon performs an excerpt from "WANTED", what she intends to soon become a full musical theater piece. Backed by live guitar, Vernon's songs and monologue illustrated her experiences and struggles as an adopted child.

    Tsige 'Ziggy' Tafesse and Kia Pierce perform in a 20 minute excerpt from "Epicene", a performance written by Imani Sims.  

    Danny Long dances in "The Blood: Unnaturally/Natural", a piece he choreographed himself. In the emotionally-charged performance, he battles with religion and endures everything from pure joy to it's most oppressive qualities.

    Friday night ended with an opportunity for the audience to ask questions and discuss performances with the artists.

     

  • The Softer Side of Death

    May 8, 2012 at 9:06 PM | Amanda Manitach

    In the 19th century it was customary to take clippings from the hair of the deceased and have them woven into commemorative jewelry. Locks were braided into pendants, bracelets and earrings or shaped into miniature scenes of cemeteries and cypress trees and embedded in broaches. The practice fell out of vogue in the 1870s, but if you stop by Lundgren Monuments right now, you'll find an urn made entirely of hair. Rachael Jensen, an artist from Portland, made the urn for Lundgren's latest show,The Softer Side of Death: an exploration of the soft form urn. It's woven from synthetic hair mixed with her own. Inside is a pouch to hold ashes. This piece is a concept urn: In practice it will be made entirely from the hair of the deceased.

    Greg Lundgren is known for Vital 5 Productions, which churns out publications, exhibits and occasional arbitrary art grants. He's also the man behind Vito's, The Hideout and Lundgren Monuments. He stumbled into the funerary art business eight years ago when, dissatisfied with the stigma surrounding the funeral industry and the depressingly bland range of memorial options, he launched Lundgren Monuments, which designs and manufactures very non-bland memorials out of luminous cast glass, steel and other unconventional materials.


    The Softer Side of Death tackles the concept of memorial objects with urns made by artists using materials like paper, lingerie, plastic and faux fur. Like the human body they’re designed to contain, the urns are fragile, capable of decomposing, wrinkling, breathing and changing. Some are tender, others (darkly) laughable, like Susan Robb's plastic Forever 21 bag filled with "the remains of a woman who after drinking 7 appletinis texted a friend 'OMG! I'm toates returning this!' and died on the spot."

    Of the more tender type are Caroline Rankin’s two envelopes made of cotton dipped in beeswax. A hot knife has been used to melt the flap, sealing the envelopes shut. The lone phrase “RETURN TO SENDER” is stitched on the face of each.

    Nicola Vruwink's urn is enveloped in a patchwork of old knit fabric, faded but colorful. Anna Rose Telcs' soft urn—a Victorian reticule with honeycombed smocking—looks like a burst organza flower pod. The inside is lined with coral-colored fragments from a kimono.

    An unforgettable piece is Mark Mitchell’s urn, for which he hand-dyed 275 strips of silk fabric to build an extravagant drawstring sack of ombre ruffles. It’s meant to be released into water where the fabric will disintegrate and the ashes disperse. One imagines the urn dissolving, like a wilting jellyfish, in the sea. 

    The Softer Side of Death is on view at Lundgren Monuments through June 3.
    1011 Boren Avenue
    Tues.–Sat., 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.
    lundgrenmonuments.com

  • Art Lending Library Opening in Pioneer Square

    May 8, 2012 at 11:06 AM | Nate Watters

    Last Thursday, Seattle's Art Lending Library held an opening at it's location in Pioneer Square, where they have been since February.  The opening was an opportunity for new members to sign up for an A.L.L membership and view the art work that is available for checkout.

     

     

    One of the best things about the A.L.L. is that once artwork is checked out, a librarian will come to the member's home to install the artwork, as well as pick it up once the piece is due back at the library.

     

     

    Viewers take in some of the photography on display in the space at 201 Yesler.  All of the artwork is free to check out.

     

    During the opening, viewers were invited to write their thoughts about the library on a piece of paper and exchange it for a piece of the installation on the south wall.

     

    A library member shares her thoughts with one of the library's featured artists.

     

    Available artwork includes not only paintings and photography, but 3-dimensional works, as well.

  • Introducing the Song Show Podcast, featuring Noah Gundersen

    May 8, 2012 at 10:36 AM | Mark Baumgarten

    Welcome to the brand new and much-improved Song Show Podcast. For three years I have been interviewing some of my favorite Northwest musicians onstage during our quarterly Song Show live shows. Now, finally, thanks to our audio engineer Chris Proff, the performances and conversations that take place in the intimate confines of Seattle's Rendezvous Theatre will be available in regular podcasts, available every other week (or so...) and each devoted to a single artist.

    This first episode was recorded on March 8, 2012 when singer-songwriter Noah Gundersen appeared on the show. If you need any background on Gundersen, read here. Otherwise, enjoy the episode and, if you like it, subscribe. If you really like it, come down to the next live show, Tuesday, June 7, at the Rendezvous, when Throw Me the Statue, Kelli Schaefer and Jose Bold will take the stage, answer my questions and play their songs.

    ...and for those who missed it, here is video of Gundersen playing "Cigarettes" that we recorded prior to the show.

    For future updates, follows The Song Show on Twitter or Facebook.

  • Damn Yankees Winningly Throws no Curves

    May 4, 2012 at 12:51 PM | Gianni Truzzi

    Sometimes a straight pitch works best. The loving embrace of the original 1950s style that governs the production of Damn Yankees now running at the 5th Avenue Theatre allows this splendid cast to hit it solidly over the fence.

    The 1955 musical was itself a modern update of the Faust legend, in which a middle-aged baseball fan makes a deal with the devil to transform into a young athlete and drive his beloved Washington Senators team to win the World Series pennant. But director Mark S. Hoebee and his creative team have rightly eschewed any impulse to bring the work of George Abbott, Richard Adler and Jerry Ross into the new century. The result is a stunning appreciation of the craft and precision of one of American musical theater’s golden ages.

    Transferred from Milburn, New Jersey’s Paper Mill Playhouse, the cast includes most of the principals and several dancers from that lauded run, with some notable local replacements.

    The show probably wouldn’t have weathered an update well – the famously hapless Senators moved to Minneapolis in 1960, were renamed the Twins, and the reviled Yankees don’t dominate the sport as they once did. But the pleasing commitment to the era is apparent from the moment the curtain rises on Rob Bissinger’s set of the Boyd home with its flagstone chimney and burnt umber sofa set. It’s here that Joe (Hugh Hastings) is glued to the game on television as his dutiful wife Meg (Patti Cohenour) serves his buddies snacks while wearing apron and heels.

    Mr. Applegate is soon knocking with his soul-buying offer, and Hans Altwies brings a smooth salesman’s charm to the devilish part, as a confident, if hotheaded, alpha male. Lumbering Joe Boyd becomes muscle-corded Joe Hardy (Christopher Charles Wood), to lead the Senators to glory.

    The large ensemble brings a remarkable freshness to the work, even as it pays tribute to its original style. Allen Fitzpatrick, as the team’s coach, delivers the well-worn song “Heart” as if it were the first time we are hearing it, and Nancy Anderson renders her cocksure female reporter Gloria with polished brass. In vigorous numbers like “Shoeless Joe from Hannibal, MO,” choreographer Denis Jones proudly draws on the original Bob Fosse style to create a grand, sexy athleticism.

    Wood commands his leading role with good looks and a sweet voice, lamenting the quandary between his dream and what he is giving up in ballads like “A Man Doesn’t Know.” Yet it is Chryssie Whitehead who entrances as Lola, the seductress that Applegate sends to keep Joe in his grip. The triple-threat performer is a force of nature, convincing that “Whatever Lola Wants” is truly what she will get. The pair execute the duet “Two Lost Souls” with winning zeal.

    In its devotion to the 1950s style, the production is no winking, Mad Men ogle at a bygone era, but a true revival of the musical’s original spirit. As a consequence, the experience is as brightly sparkling as it must have been when new. This talented team may not have sold their souls to accomplish this, but they have certainly restored one to this musical.

    Damn Yankees runs through May 20 at the 5th Avenue Theatre, 1308 5th Ave. Tickets: $19-$129; (206) 625-1900 or www.5thavenue.org.

    Pictured above: Gloria Thorpe (Nancy Anderson, center) and the company of Damn Yankees at The 5th Avenue Theatre. Photo by Chris Bennion.

  • Flaneurie and Floriography

    May 2, 2012 at 4:43 PM | Amanda Manitach

    On April 29, Vignettes showed a fresh face on the art scene, photographer Brian O'Keeffe. O'Keeffe, a self-described cocky-teenage-skateboarder-turned-aesthete, has been settling into Seattle after living in Los Angeles for the past decade. He attributes his recent fascination with flowers to his return to the Northwest and subsequent break with car culture; after so many years driving around LA he's fully committed to the pedestrian life. Of course, walking around Seattle means coming across a lot of flowers and O'Keeffe has begun obsessively photographing blossoms along the way. The one-night show at Vignettes, Moral Floral, showcased some of those images, blown up and pinned to the walls.

    There's not much in the world as prosaic as flowers, nor as poetic. The language of flowers is a decadent, tired poetry. Google "floral still life" and you'll be smacked in the eyes with a nauseating kaleidoscope of romantic cliché.

    But O'Keeffe's photographs are cheerfully bright. Pollen-studded stamen float on velveteen. Blossoms dissolve into color fields. In one picture there's a tiny pool of moisture collected in the center of a cactus and you can make out the reflection of O'Keeffe's head and shoulders bent over as he takes the photo. Simple, but pleasing.

    Though the morality of flowers is up for grabs, the floriographic language of flowers has been long established: this adorable, archaic practice of communicating coded messages through flowers and floral arrangements has existed since the Victorian era. The red tulips: a declaration of love, yellow tulips: hopeless love, cabbage: profit, cactus: endurance and warmth. Of course there's also the potentially noxious, ring around the rosie pocket full of posie, side of flowers. The promised fade and decay, the stench of a bouquet starting to go sour in the vase. It’s easy to want to read all these things into O’Keeffe’s work, since, naturally, flowers are aching to be inscribed with sentimentality.

    As a cautionary tale, Moral Floral was sufficiently claustrophobic and peppered with enough tongue-in-cheek-iness to keep it from being merely filed away amongst the sentimental excess of civilization's floral still life imagery. (He promises the O’Keefe/O’Keeffe double entendre is purely incidental; whether or not it is, the visual punning isn’t lost on the viewer.) The insouciance of O'Keeffe's quick flower sketches taped above the floorboards and the ingenuousness of the snapshots are tender yet ballsy. The perfume of the rhododendrons, tulips, champagne and chocolate cake, and the CD of Romantic piano music in the background are smotheringly over the top. You are momentarily plunged into a Valentine, with all the trimmings.

    The floral moral: to simply stop and smell the roses. The show at Vignettes brought the outside world of the flaneur inside for a moment, making it impossible not to stop and smell them.

    O'Keeffe posts the rest of his pictures online (liquidcrystaldisplayground.tumblr.com). There are candid snapshots of things captured during walks around town: light fixtures, the shine glinting off the curvature of a car, fluffy cats with mint-green eyes, pistils, garden statuary, graffiti, glass tchotchkes hanging in strangers' windows, clouds. A pedestrian’s memoirs. 

  • Fatal Lucciauno Performs "Drunken Poetry" on The Song Show (NSFW)

    May 2, 2012 at 12:57 PM | Mark Baumgarten

    When Fatal Lucciauno returned to The Song Show last month, the man was not in high spirits. Suffering from a days-long cold in the midst of working the release of his sophomore album, Respect, Lucciauno was fighting to get through the evening of interview and performance. He did so without a sniffle, reciting the powerful songs without accompaniment for the packed crowd between segments where he answered needling questions about his craft from me.

    Struggle isn't anything new to Lucciauno, a man who has spent much of his young rap career pushing through obstacles, many of his own creation. Lucciauno doesn't deny this. As he revealed in his interview with me that night at the Rendezvous, his art is an ongoing quest to earn respect from his peers, his family and, most of all, himself. In this song, which we recorded in the Rendezvous's Jewel Box Theatre prior to the live show, Lucciauno explores his place in a pantheon of late greats.

    Audio of the full interview and performance will be available soon. Find regular updates on future episodes of The Song Show on Facebook and Twitter.

    Photo of Fatal Lucciauno on stage at The Song Show by Brad Curran

  • "Pitmen Painters" Offers Fine Strokes

    May 1, 2012 at 1:53 PM | Gianni Truzzi

    What is art and its meaning is the sort of subject that, our prejudices tell us, isn’t expected to be discussed with working-class brogues.

    That’s the bias that The Pitmen Painters, now running at ACT’s Allen Theater, confronts. Lee Hall’s play is based on the real-life story of the Ashington Group, a collective of Northumberland coal miners in England’s far northeastern region who gained some fame in the 1930s for their paintings that reflected their everyday lives.

    The production is a bit like the working-class artworks it celebrates: rough and imperfect, yet abundant with charm and hard truth.

    The Durham university art teacher Robert Lyon (portrayed with plummy verve by Frank Lawler) engaged to instruct the union’s enrichment class brings his own blinkered expectations – among them, that their meeting hut will have electricity to run his slide projector. The men who have been working ten-hour shifts in the mines since they were boys aren’t familiar with the works of Titian, Michelangelo and Leonardo he shows them. They are convinced that art’s meaning is some sort of code to be broken, like the rules that govern their labor. Instead, he teaches them to make their own paintings, to discover art for themselves.

    Much of the fun is in the culture clash, as the plainspoken laborers puzzle with their teacher’s rarified dissertations. Charles Leggett portrays the rigid union leader George who insists that everything follow the rules, while R. Hamilton Wright as Harry offers all his critiques from a strictly Marxist perspective. Joseph P. McCarthy offers Jimmy, a gruffly amiable workman whose paintings of dogs and flowers explode with color.

     Like the film Billy Elliot, which Hall also wrote, these practical men awaken to art and its questions without ever losing their grounding. Hall has too much respect for these rough toilers to turn them into cartoons. They emerge with just as much capacity for intellect and soul as anyone else, and they are enriched by their experience, not transformed.

    Yet they carry another set of ideas that govern their lives, the Socialist politics that dominate their union. The rules of collective ownership, as George stiffly points out, rule out any one of them selling their work to an enquiring enthusiast. As they explore new genres of painting, such as the abstract expressionism of Ben Nicholson, they try to reconcile their unity of purpose with the artistic ideal of the visionary individual.

    This conflict becomes manifest when wealthy collector Helen Sutherland (elegantly played by Morgan Rowe) singles out the sensitivity and talent of Oliver (Jason Marr). Her offer of patronage risks isolating him from the mining comrades his life has relied on.

    These are difficult ideas to balance, and director Kurt Beattie seems more at home with the elevated ideas about art’s nature and purpose that breeze through the heavy Yorkshire dialect, giving shorter shrift to the political ones that moor the workers to the pits and each other. The projected images of the works the miners paint and admire, while necessary viewing, sometimes makes the play feel as if we are the ones in an art appreciation lecture.

    The precarious nature of the miners’ condition is deftly reflected in Cary Wong’s remarkably bare set of planking that plunges at the rims without barrier into coal pits. So too do Catherine Hunt’s 1930s costumes reflect the laborers’ attention to their dignity outside of their dirty professions.

    Hall’s play celebrates the brief heyday of those working-class ideals that resulted in post-war nationalization of the mines, only to be crushed a few short decades later in the Thatcher government. In the wake of capital’s ideological triumph, it’s a welcome reminder of the intellectual capacity of ordinary folks. Great art comes from truth, and The Pitmen Painters remains true to itself.

    “The Pitman Painters” runs through May 20 at ACT’s Allen Theatre, 700 Union Street. Tickets: $37.50-$55 / $15 Students / $20 25 and under; (206) 292-7676 or www.acttheatre.org.

    Photo by Chris Bennion.

  • Throw Me the Statue to Headline the Song Show

    April 30, 2012 at 10:06 AM | Mark Baumgarten

    Scott Reitherman has great hair. This is not the most remarkable thing about the musician who helms the band Throw Me the Statue, but it was the first thing I noticed when I met him at Louisa’s Café two months back.

    Reitherman was there eating a croissant with Mt. St. Helen’s Vietnam Band leader Benjamin Verdoes. They were meeting with me to talk about an early-April show at Neumos, a homecoming for both. Verdoes was returning to stage following a harrowing two year absence while Reitherman was coming back after spending two years in California, getting some sun and contemplating the music that might appear on his coming third full-length record for Secretly Canadian. The two were talking about the similarities of their experiences and what its like to return to familiar ground a changed man.

    And Reitherman has changed; his hair at the very least. It is not an overbearing haircut. It does not demand attention. These are not liberty spikes. Rather, the new contour of Reitherman’s ‘do is subtle. Most of his head is covered with the same short crop that he wore when he last lived in Seattle. The main difference – and please note that I am a layperson when it comes to these things – is that he has let his bangs grow out and allowed someone with training to sculpt his locks so that the short gives way to the long, effortlessly. The party is in the front, business in the back, but everyone gets along. It is the type of haircut one gets in California. That isn’t a knock; its just the way it is. Reitherman appears cool and confident. It's a fitting look for a musician whose pop songs have always sounded crisp, carefree and inevitable.

    I only mention the hair because it is a sign of the subtle change that Reitherman has undergone. The shift was made more clear when Throw Me the Statue performed a raft of untested songs at Neumos earlier this month. The band’s new material was both more aggressive and more buoyant than the group’s early songs. During the show, Reitherman’s feather-light vocals hovered above layers of meticulous pop sounds that sometimes recall the Beach Boys, and at others, the Talking Heads. Reitherman’s talent for writing a delicious pop hook is still fine-tuned, but the hooks he unleashed at Neumos were different.

    How, I can’t quite say, which is why I invited Reitherman to appear on the next episode of the Song Show at the Rendezvous on Thursday, June 7. There he will give me, and the audience, a closer listen to his new work, and answer my prying questions about his new life in his old stomping grounds.

    Also on the bill are Kelli Schaefer, the striking Portland songstress who recently returned from her honeymoon-slash-tour across the United States, and Jose Bold, the dramatic, inventive and brilliant Seattle songwriter who leads the band Awesome!

    All that, plus the fact that both Schaefer and Bold have incredible hair, will give us a lot to talk about.

    Photo: Scott Reitherman recording songs for his upcoming third full-length at a studio in Pioneer Square, a winters cap obscuring his hair.

  • Nothing New in the Racial Conversation of ‘Clybourne Park’

    April 26, 2012 at 4:54 PM | Rachel Gallaher

    History always repeats itself. Although the worn cliché seems to underlie Bruce Norris’ Pulitzer-winning Clybourne Park, the split plot and satirical look at race relations advocate that history isn’t repeating itself; rather the way we approach race relations is a continuation of decades past. The language has evolved in the play’s 50-year span but the conversation hasn’t changed, suggesting that perhaps we aren’t as progressive as we think.

    Clybourne Park opens in 1959 in a white, middle-class Chicago suburb. Russ (Peter Crook) and Bev (Suzanne Bouchard) are packing up their home in anticipation of an upcoming move. Unexpectedly, a slew of guests arrive, including the local pastor Jim (Aaron Blakely), Karl (Darragh Kennan) a very excitable member of the local homeowner’s association, and his pregnant, deaf wife Betsy (Marya Sea Kaminski). After Karl reveals that a black family has purchased Russ and Bev’s home (the family being the Youngers of Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun) tensions rise as racial stereotypes are addressed (including the perception of what black people eat and how they worship) and Bev’s hired help Francine (Kim Staunton), and her husband Albert are dragged unwillingly into the conversation. Chaos breaks out as Karl and Jim try to convince Russ to refuse the sale, and the latter kicks everyone out of the house when the conversation turns to the subject of his deceased son.

    Act II, set 50 years later in 2009, is a reversal of Act I—a young white couple is buying Russ and Bev’s former home and the neighborhood is predominately populated with African Americans. Even with the progression of time, racial relations are still as tense and acrimonious as they were in 1959; this time it is two black members of the community association who are hesitant of the sale, couching hidden racial fears in surface language that suggests they don’t want a modern house built in a historical neighborhood.

    Directed by the talented and subtle Braden Abraham, the actions and placement of actors in Clybourne Park say as much about their approach to race as their speech. In Act I they animatedly move around the spacious mid-century living room— coming in and out of doors, up and down the stairs and passing to and from the kitchen. The white characters become outwardly agitated when discussing the subject of race, and sit apart from the black characters. Abraham often places them visually above Francine and Albert—whether on the stairs or in the raised dining room. In Act II all the characters sit on equal planes in a semi-circle of chairs and crates. They don’t move around much until they find themselves personally attacked (then they stand defensively, stalk the stage and wave their arms); a visual metaphor that in today’s society while race is ever-present, it isn’t until our seemingly “progressive” attitudes are attacked that many of us take action.

    The skillful actors are able to switch from one set of characters to the next, differentiating with speech, gesture and, of course, costume (Constanza Romero). Bouchard makes the strongest transformation, from the high-strung, annoyingly cheerful June Cleaver-esque Bev in Act I to laid back lawyer Kathy in Act II. In a surprising twist of character, she convincingly portrays Bev as a somewhat open-minded woman who, although somewhat naively, insists that it might not be so bad for black and whites to live next door to each other. This complexity propels Bev from stereotypical 1950’s housewife to progressive mid-century woman. Who still employs a black maid. Crook’s portrayal of Russ (grieving the post-war suicide of his son) is much stronger than that of Dan, the construction worker in Act II. He uses body language—avoiding eye contact, sitting blankly in his chair, staring past others—as well as speech to erect a wall between him and his wife, as well as other characters. His acerbic comments, sarcastic tone and ability to deflect comments about his son are spot-on for someone trying to act like everything is alright, even when they are breaking inside.

    Although it is not addressed in the play, the second act takes place in 2009, one year after Barack Obama became the first black president. The dialogue in this section might be looser and more updated, but the lesson is the same—race relations still remain a part of everyday life. We may talk in carefully coded language, but the satirical nature of Clybourne Park uses laughter to bring the truth to the surface. Behind every inappropriate race or gentrification related joke (“Half my friends are black,” a comment about a Whole Foods grocer signifying the eventual rush of white people into the neighborhood) is the cringe-worthy truth that even though African Americans have gained political freedom, they still remain trapped in the cage of racial construct that is a huge part of our country’s current social fabric. These are jokes usually told behind doors in a safe circle of friends, but Norris uncomfortably puts them on stage where we are forced to confront our latent racist thoughts—black or white. We may have a black President, but not much has changed since 1959, even though we like to tell ourselves it has.

    Clybourne Park runs through May 13 at Seattle Rep.

    Above image: (l to r) Kim Staunton, Teagle F. Bougere, Peter Crook and Marya Sea Kaminski star in the Pulitzer Prize winning play Clybourne Park at Seattle Repertory Theatre. Photo by Alan Alabastro.

  • Budding Filmmakers Descend on Seattle for NFFTY

    April 25, 2012 at 3:00 PM | Tony Kay

    For the fifth year in a row, the National Film Festival for Talented Youth (NFFTY) will present a vast array of short films from all over the world, all crafted by filmmakers age 22 and younger (in quite a few cases, much younger). Things kick off Thursday, April 26 at 7:30 p.m., when the Cinerama takes time out from its successful Science Fiction Film Festival to host NFFTY’s Opening Night Gala (limited walk-up tickets may still be available, beginning at 6pm that night).   

    Short film festivals are nothing new, but the niche occupied by NFFTY is. Co-Founder and current Artistic Director Jesse Harris helped start the fest in 2007 to give a definitive voice to the newest generation of filmmakers, an age group thought of more as consumers than creators of film. And with dozens of submissions from all over the globe and high-powered corporate sponsors like Volvo and XBox360 helping to foot the bill, his little film festival’s become a genuine international phenomenon.

    Harris is elated at the response, but not surprised. “None of the big film festivals really showcase young directors,” he says. “[Our] festival’s a super-professional event. It’s at great venues, and it draws thousands of people. Plus, we have a really great demographic that most brands want to get to. They understand this is a great way to reach young people.”

    The number of submissions from those young people continues to swell with each successive festival. “The very first year, we just went out and found 14 films to showcase as a little test. There weren’t really open submissions,” He reports. “The very next year, we actively got submissions and ended up screening, I think, 73 films. This year, we had over 700 submissions. There’s a huge database of schools and organizations around the country, and also a lot of word-of-mouth interest in participating.” 

    So what are these young filmmakers making movies about? “We do see similarities between filmmakers, no matter where they’re from,” Harris acknowledges, “so a film from Kansas can have the same theme as a film from Afghanistan. The trends that we consistently see are coming-of-age movies--films of discovery. Most of these filmmakers are very young, and they’re basically making movies about themselves. There’s a lot of love and romance, too. A lot of [the filmmakers] are just starting to deal with that, and figure that out.”

    Those threads of connection aside, Harris says that the vitality--and the quality--of submitted films is almost dizzying.  “When you see the films, you’re blown away. They have a lot of youthful energy, but they’re not amateurish,” he says. The standard of submissions, Harris asserts, “goes up every year, and this year’s just incredible. It’s the best line-up of films we’ve ever had.” 

    In addition to commandeering the Cinerama for Opening Night and the SIFF Uptown for the bulk of the actual film festival, NFFTY is also presenting the Future of Film Expo in the Seattle Center’s Northwest Rooms on Friday and Saturday. “We already have the best [young] filmmakers from around the world coming to Seattle for the festival, so why not bring the best resources to them?” Harris reasons. Some of the most highly-regarded film schools in the country will be exhibiting, as well as cutting-edge technology companies like Canon and Panasonic. 

    The Expo will also host twenty different panels and workshops over the course of the two days (“Everything from basic 101 Beginners’ Workshops to advanced, high-level filmmaking discussions”). The idea, Harris asserts, is to allow anyone of any age to explore the art--and science--of filmmaking. “It’s really meant, not just for young filmmakers, but for filmmakers of all ages, from families with little kids that want to learn about film, to adult professionals. They’re totally free resources for anyone who wants to learn.” 

    More information (including details on screenings, Expo workshops, and ticket purchases) can be found at www.nffty.org.

    Pictured above: Safe (A Tale About Hope), an animated short from the UK, screens during the NFFTY Opening Night Gala Thursday, April 26. 

  • Kyle Abraham Gets Real at On the Boards

    April 21, 2012 at 11:52 PM | Rachel Gallaher

    Mixing an explosion of hip hop with the lyrical underpinnings of modern dance, New York choreographer Kyle Abraham brought a mesmerizing show to On the Boards. Through his choreography Abraham breaks stereotypes of what it means to be black and what qualifies as hip-hop dance, while seamlessly incorporating the glimpses of the socially relevant topic of homophobia. Although Abraham tackles numerous complicated issues, Live! The Realest MC uses humor, aggression and skillful dance to blend them into a somewhat enigmatic interpretation of life experience within the black community.

    Entering the theatre, the audience was greeted with blasting club music, setting up the expectation of a stereotypical, booty-shaking, music video hip hop. But Abraham is smarter than that. Set to mostly electronic music, the choreography varies between aggressive pop-and-lock hip hop and gracefully lyrical modern dance. At times the choreography contains a simultaneous mix—a dancer sashays across the stage with pointed toes, only to land and explode into a stutter step or hand plant, then sail into a graceful leap. Blurring the lines between classical technique and hip hop pushes the latter away from the typical “gangster” or “clubbin’” stereotype. Abraham and all his dancers are phenomenal, bringing the perfect mix of strength and grace to their performance.

    And strength and grace, with their societal gender associations, are a big part of the show. At times male dancers perform with femininity—en pointe with bar feet, drawing out the arms gracefully, swinging the hips and as a counterpoint there are some female dancers who give off toughness—throwing their limbs, bobbing their heads and stomping their feet. Males embrace and nervously hold hands; one female encircles another from behind. Gender roles are highlighted, although the intent is ambiguous, providing hauntingly intimate (and visually interesting) vignettes that lack a coherent thread of story.

    Abraham’s choreography was fresh and impressive, but at times was slightly redundant, seeming to repeat itself in various sections. Aside from physical performance, he used video projected onto the back wall of the stage. At times it was a group of black children running through a neighborhood, other times it was a single black boy walking slowly along a sidewalk. Although again ambiguous, the cultural juxtaposition of the walking child and the wild hip hop dancing was striking—it highlighted the innocence of youth and once again challenged racial stereotypes. 

    The young choreographer certainly “brought it” to Seattle. With a seriously skilled group of dancers and fresh, energetic choreography, Live! The Realest MC proves a relevant meditation on dance, gender roles and breaking barriers within the black community, but a more conclusive judgment about the presented topics would have made it that much more “real.”

    Above Image: Kyle Abraham by Steven Schreiber

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