Seattle Blog Reviews

Jackie Sumell is no stranger to making a scene – in 2001, she organized a march on Washington, carrying hundreds of women’s pubic hair in order to protest pro-life decisions made by George Bush. Long before that, she was the first girl in Long Island to play competitive tackle football. However, when she attended a conference and ended up getting in touch with Herman Wallace, a now 40-year prisoner in solitary confinement, she had no idea it would eventually become the project she is most recognized for.

Herman’s House, a film written and directed by Angad Singh Bhalla, follows the 12-year relationship between the two unlikely associates. The story begins when Sumell sends Wallace a letter consisting of pictures of what she happened to be doing every hour, so that he will know what is still happening in the world outside his 6 foot by 9 foot cell – a room smaller than the average parking space. They begin a game: if Wallace were able to have any house in the world, what would it look like? Their plans become more and more concrete, and Sumell creates a scale model of Wallace’s dream house, eventually displaying it in 12 exhibits around the world under the name The House that Herman Built. The project escalates, with the goal eventually changing into actually creating the house in New Orleans, so that it can be a community center for youth. However, the movie doesn’t try to shine a positive light on the ordeal the two have been through – it concludes with Wallace still in prison and Sumell stuck in a rut, unable to find a way to make Wallace’s dream a reality.

Sounds echo across the walls of Benaroya Hall. They bounce back and forth in the giant space, resounding in each audience’s ears. However, at Amy Tan’s Seattle Arts and Lecture visit on June 5th, 2013, there were more than just sounds echoing across Benaroya Hall: there were unbelievably inspiring, incredible ideas.

Tan has written many world-renowned novels, like the insanely popular The Joy Luck Club, which was turned into a successful movie in 1993 and has been translated in 35 languages to-date. Tan has many other popular and well-written novels, like The Kitchen God’s Wife, Saving Fish from Drowning, The Hundred Secret Senses,” and more.

PNB is closing out another season and by the looks of Director’s Choice they are quite intent on going out with a bang—a big, Balanchine-y, world-premiere-y bang. If you haven’t made it down to McCaw Hall to see Director’s Choice in years past, this is a good year to do it. The annual show of assorted pieces selected by PNB’s Artistic Director, Peter Boal, can range from feeling like Ballet Trail Mix—light, snacky, and a mix of flavors—to feeling like Very Serious Ballet With Capital Letters, Please Sit Up Straight. This year, though, PNB hits the nail on the head and has put together a show where you can feast your eyes and marvel at the crazy, beautiful things that a dancer can do.

The evening starts with Agon, a 1957 piece by American ballet great George Balanchine. As one might hope at a ballet show, it’s the dancing that’s impressive in Agon. The dancers move in strict Balanchine symmetry all over the stage—except when they don’t. The graceful, rigid ballet you’re used to suddenly becomes deliberately awkward. Limbs swing around like open doors, and the graceful music you were expecting becomes jarring and grating. As a non-old person, I can certify that the awkwardness here is the same awkwardness you felt/will feel in sophomore year of high school or at most of prom. What’s cool, though, is that the unexpected awkwardness forces you to actually focus on what the dancers are doing; when you appreciate the strength and the power there, that’s when the ballet becomes really impressive.

The blossoming musical era of Greenwich Village in the 1960s and '70s is a time long gone, before music was consumed largely by auto-tune and haphazardly recycled lyrics. Told through a series of interviews, photos, music clips, archival footage, and strung together by the narration of Susan Sarandon, in the documentary Greenwich Village: The Music That Defined a Generation, Greenwich Village’s past coalesces into a story of a time where youth and those who deviated from the mainstream could unite because they truly believed that they could change the world through a passion for music.

The film is presented like a series of vignettes interspersed with a mishmash of photos, videos, and music. It captures the feeling of the era and also allows the audience to experience the individual stories as told by musicians such as Pete Seeger, Judy Collins, and Oscar Brand. The grainy music videos are themselves a testament to the musical energy of the 20th century—the songs are performed with vivacity, the strings attacked with such ferocity that they produce a soul-shaking cacophony of sounds, yet are beautiful at the same time. In a way, the film romanticizes the decade, not often referring to important political issues or cultural changes the young musicians of Greenwich Village may have influenced, but focusing more on the nostalgic undertones.

Would you risk your life and freedom for a $100 bill? Probably not, but that is exactly what Victor, a 17-year old wheelbarrow porter in a busy Paraguayan market, does in the film 7 Cajas, or 7 Boxes. An entertaining comedy-thriller, 7 Boxes is well worth a watch. This South American film is a refreshing change of scenery and pace from typical thrillers.

The suspenseful mystery of the boxes’ contents consistently captures the audience’s attention while not slipping into an overly serious narrative. Instead, the film is a witty mix of miscommunications and dramatic irony that certainly provide an artistic escape from cookie-cutter Hollywood action films with predictable plotlines.

Ali is a grocery bagger who lives with her mother. She sells stolen booze to fat kids. Her best friend claims to have a gorgeous spouse from India. She is afraid of driving cars and falling in love with boys.

In other words, she is the average teenage girl. For those who watch Arrested Development, Ali is a lot like Maeby Bluth: often in rebellion simply for the sake of revolt. When fellow bagger and love interest Julio comes on the scene, she has to deal with all the classic dilemmas of young romance. The story is simple, but the script is witty enough to make the ride worthwhile.

Blackbird tells the story of a bullied, teenage, Goth outcast who is wrongly accused of planning a school shooting in a small, Canadian town. I enjoyed this film and the concept overall, but there are pieces that felt a little tired and unnecessary. For one, the film presents polarized cliques and stereotyped teenagers that are often seen in classic teen movies, but are, to me, completely inaccurate. Rarely will you find the letterman jacket jock group facing off against the extreme Goth kid in high school, nor will you see teens throwing food from across the room at their enemies. At points it feels like the story line clunks along in a very monotonous way, but the end result is slightly more satisfying.

The film presents hyper-sensitivity within our society and our tendency to blame the victim and ostracize the “other”. The main character is forced to conform, change his personality, and denounce his interests. He is pushed into a corner, and is forced to admit to a crime that he didn’t commit.

At some point, you’ve been introduced to the man in the moon. Perhaps a parent pointed out his face on a late-night drive, or a friend described his massive grin during a lull in a sleepover. Perhaps you discovered him yourself, making out his cheery face while lying in your backyard.

As it turns out, it’s lonely being the only man on the moon. The Moon Man of Stephen Shesch’s animated film certainly is. Though the children of the world bellow rely on the Moon Man for comfort and reassurance, he grows increasingly agitated in his rocky home. So when a meteor passes by one day on its way to Earth, the Moon Man doesn’t hesitate to climb aboard.

Many American teenagers these days have it easy. Apart from the grueling hours spent sleepwalking around our high schools, we lead cushy lives with video games, junk food, and (if it’s your thing) friends. We take for granted our families, the work that goes in to buying our food, and even how the food is prepared. Our biggest worry in life is not when we are going to next be fed.

If only Jin’s problems were this mundane.

What is dance really? Not Dance Moms or what you do at prom, but the real physicality of it. African Cypher completely answers this question; not through a highbrow analysis of each component, but with just plain movement. The documentary is about isiPantsula and sBhujwaI, two young dancers from South Africa. But even though the focus is on these two and their journey, there’s so much more. The story explores South African Street dance, and the explosion of culture that comes with it. There’s a sense of respect and honor in the dance that is called a complex, convoluted underworld. The movement is all about ritual, celebration, counsel, and storytelling, and the group that is created over dance is a true community. The extraordinary duo of isiPantsula and sBhujwaI leads the viewer throughout the documentary. But on the way we meet different dancers, people, and styles, a mass of diversity in a somewhat small group. Director Bryan Little builds up to the final performance by the duo, but integrates this taste of differences and styles in an amazing way.

One of my favorite aspects of the dancing was the freshness and creativity involved. They use each other as props and foundations, rocks as balances, and anything else they can get their hands on. The movement never gets old or bland because each time the duo manages to make it new and exciting. You don’t have to appreciate a deep concept or subplot to enjoy this documentary, because the dance in itself is thrilling. You get to watch performances of strength and creativity but also get the story of the dancers and their culture. They dance to move and in the words of Mada Sthembiso, “I dance as if I have a gun to my head.” This documentary really should not be missed. It’s the ultimate cinematic experience and depicts at least one side of dance, portraying the real physicality involved in movement.

Sadness and hope. These are a few of the feelings I experienced watching the story of Crash. Crash Coogan (played by Quinn Franzen) seems to have everything: great grades, cool friends, and a school record for most touchdowns in a football game. When Crash’s Grandfather (played by Todd Jefferson Moore) has a stroke, Crash starts to learn that winning isn’t always the most important thing.

Author Jerry Spinelli, who wrote the book that Crash is based on, has written a powerful story about the challenges that many kids face when growing up, such as friendship issues and family relationships. I could understand and relate to all these challenges. Playwright Y York has done an amazing job of adapting Crash to the stage, using engaging dialogue to tell the rich story of Spinelli’s book. Director Rita Giomi’s clear vision of this play comes across beautifully in her staging. She has also put together an excellent ensemble cast. Crash’s little sister, Abby, (played by Emily Chisholm) is a constant thorn in his side. His neighbor, Penn Webb, (played by Rio Codda) wants to win the upcoming Penn Relays to make his great-grandfather proud. They are joined by Mike (played by Adam Standly) who wants to be friends with Crash, and Jane (played by Kate Sumpter), who Crash wants to be friends with.

August: Osage County, a Pulitzer Prize-winning play by Tracy Letts, embodies issues of identity, family unity, and disengagement, as well as a cultural perspective on hierarchies of power and gender roles within a family's core values. Angelo Domitri's lighting design enhances Ahren Buhmann's perfectly executed stage environment. Your eye wanders around the stage, discovering some of the characteristics that identify the Weston family.

The play is set in 2007 in the town of Pawhuska, Oklahoma. The action takes place throughout the month of August in Beverly and Violet Weston’s house. Beverly, a once renowned and talented poet (played by Charles Leggett), introduces the story and the characters in the play. His sarcasm is palpable from the start. His very first line, T.S. Elliot’s “Life is too long,” tells us a lot about how humor is used to face the problems, issues, and tension throughout the play.

There is nothing easy about dancing en pointe. Ballerinas and danseurs often spend years perfecting their abilities to dance on the tips of the toes while still remaining graceful in their upper bodies. Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Swan Lake dancers, however, make dancing en pointe look flawlessly easy.

PNB’s production of Swan Lake, choreographed by Kent Stowell, is a classic performance of Tchaikovsky’s ballet, with four acts and a brilliant company of dancers. The ballet tells the tragic tale of Odette and Siegfried, two lovers who are determined to break Odette’s curse of being a swan, but are undermined by the menacing Odile, who deceives Siegfriend and forces Odette to forever remain a swan by day.

On the surface, Bat Boy appears to be a show about a half-man-half-bat integrating himself into a silly hick town – an amusing situation that would never happen in real life. But this show has deeper messages waiting to be heard. The bat boy is a loner who has been dehumanized. All he wants is to be accepted by society but sometimes he can’t stop the ‘monster’ that he used to be from coming out. His journey can make the audience realize that everyone has their own streak of wickedness and we shouldn't be so quick to label others as evil. But this production of Bat Boy misses the mark and focuses too heavily on the comedic aspects. Instead of amplifying the real emotions and messages that this musical can support, director Kathryn Van Meter chooses to treat it as a farce. For the most part, each comedic moment is very well done while the serious moments are thrown away through melodrama. Again and again honest emotion is sacrificed for a cheap laugh. This makes for some hilarious numbers (Christian Charity; Show You a Thing or Two; Children, Children) but the audience doesn't leave thinking about their personal demons, the audience leaves thinking about that funny part when the woodland creatures had an orgy.

This production starts off promising. The first scene is visually creative and exciting. The sheriff, Meredith, and Shelley are all funny, talented actors, and quality singers. The cast is short a few male actors but they handle this common predicament remarkably well. The female ensemble members strap on bushy beards and play hilarious hicks. While the majority of the boys they do have are very talented: Bat Boy’s physicality is intriguing and believable, Reverend Hightower is a fantastic singer, Pan proves himself a master of fake fornication, and the audience can't keep their eyes off a certain hillbilly with a handlebar mustache. But as the story develops and requires more truthfulness to support the actions of the characters, the underlying weaknesses become blatant.

Music from the renowned Tommy Dorsey Orchestra, what a hoot! This one and only historical big band takes jazz standards to a whole new level. On a technical level, this show is flawless. Every note, every phrase and every cut off is perfect, even down to the tone of the individual instruments. Trombonist Frank Woser has impeccable tone, vibrant and smooth. Frank plays Tommy Dorsey’s solos, and fills the performance with creativity and thoughtfulness. The solos are the main attraction in this carnival of sorts.

About a third of the way through the concert, Bryan Anthony comes in and sings a few numbers with the band. He is an excellent singer. Even though he is young, his Sinatra-like image makes his songs feel like period pieces. When he starts his first few songs it can get quite loud. It is very distracting and hard to hear the wonderful band, but it gets better after those first few songs. His performance definitely opens up in the latter half, allowing him to really shine like the gem that he is. His act goes further than his voice as well. He knows so much about the popular music back in the day and he shares some of the greats--his heroes--with the audience.

Filipino American siblings Edith (played by Sara Porkalob) and Kenny (played by Jose Abaoag) are forced into the adult world after being abandoned by their father after their mother’s passing. Edith is a fierce, powerful, strong-willed 12-year-old who, while old enough to handle a BB-gun and to protect herself and her brother, is still young enough to carry on extended conversations with a stuffed-frog companion.

The only other person in their lives is Benji (Tim Smith-Stewart), Kenny’s nerdy friend who wishes for them to be more than friends. The two teenagers explore what it means to be in a relationship, while growing up in a farm during a time when people make mix tapes for their crushes.

Pentecost. At first it seems like a show about a fresco and the two people who find it, but later the audience is immersed in the social and cultural tensions of war torn central European countries. After leaving the show, I was left speechless, not necessarily because of the script or the actors alone, but because of the complex nature of the issues within the show.

Many of the actors stand out. Brian Culbertson as Mikhail Czaba and Sunam Ellis as Yasmin come to mind for their engaging acting, especially keeping track of multiple languages and maintaining an accent the entire time in an understandable and engaging way. They also express the theme of being people from war torn countries and dealing with the repercussions of war. These two actors paint a clear picture for the audience through their portrayals of the characters.

Seeing Nick Flynn on February 13th was a perfect palette cleanser for the saccharine day that was to follow. Chocolate and unbridled affection are the chosen dessert and emotion, respectively, for the day, but this lecture on “The Intersection of Poetry & Memoir” was an intriguing, bittersweet morsel, leaving my ears and heart wanting.

Sweet, because I have new holds at the SPL waiting by Flynn: Another Bullsh*t Night in Suck City, The Captain Asks for A Show of Hands, The Ticking Is the Bomb, and Blind Huber.

Book-It’s Anna Karenina begins with a whirlwind of characters, plots, and secrets dancing before the audience’s eyes. Overwhelming at first, this intricate culture collage melds together with each character, plot, and secret, highlighting a different facet of the tragic life of Anna Karenina.

Anna, played by the elegant Emily Grogan, is a wealthy Russian woman married to Karenin (played in a delightfully quirky manner by Andrew DeRycke) with a cherished son Seriozha (played by Montserrat Fleck for the opening performance). Unexpectedly, she falls in love with her friend Kitty’s husband-to-be, Count Vronsky (the dashing Scott Ward Abernethy) as the burly Levin (David Anthony Lewis) begins to pursue Kitty. Anna and Vronsky’s love becomes the theme of the play, spinning plot after plot into a Russian soap-opera with a tragic twist.

The bayous of Louisiana are some of the treasures of the United States, rich in culture and wildlife, but are not often publicized in today’s media. One of this year’s Academy Award contenders, Beasts of the Southern Wild, brought us a mythical view of an isolated, yet vibrant, bayou community. Sharon Linezo Hong’s My Louisiana Love brings us a harsher reality of the conditions in the bayous.

My Louisiana Love traces Monique Verdin’s poignant story of love, both for her people and her home. Hong’s first full-length documentary is made more intimate through her use of home footage, recorded by Verdin and her partner Mark Krasnoff, and later by Hong herself.