Seattle Blog Reviews

Daydreaming of what could be. It’s something we all do. Usually you wake up and forget it all together. How do you remember something you know you’re going to forget? You write it down, in paragraphs, in sentences, in phrases, etc. Gustav Mahler takes the phrases past word and into the linguistic expression of music. He turns words into a tone which we all know and understand but few truly speak. He turns this daydream into a nostalgic swirl of worldliness, vulnerability, and a childlike playfulness. He places this swirl into a cone of deep emotional expression and then lets you indulge. All of this work to turn a daydream into an ice cream cone of creation, so that the feeling never fades.

Review of Jack and Diane at Northwest Film Forum by Anika M.Twilight-y. Not in a good way.Jack and Diane tells the love story of two teenage girls with the added element of their inner monstrous transformation. I am unsure of the original intent of director Bradley Rust Gray because this movie seems to lack commitment and development within its plot, themes, and characters and all together looks like a mess of repetitive scenes loosely strung together. Jack and Diane, played by Riley Keough and Juno Temple, are two poorly developed characters that meet by chance in New York City. After spending one night together they decide, through no apparent emotional connection, that they are completely in love and need to drop everything to be together. The angst that these characters perpetuate is almost suffocating at times, an interesting caricature of the stereotypical teen relationship, just like Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart in Twilight. While the angst behind the relationship is established right away and woven throughout the entire movie, the initial connection between Jack and Diane is never made, forcing the viewer to ask "Why is this worth it?" and "What do you see in her?" Because of this I find it almost impossible to really care about the success of the relationship.Did I forget to say that there is a strange monster werewolf gore subtext that is never fully pursued but rather hangs there as an "Oh yeah, I’m here too" fly on the wall? Yeah. They seem to have a mess of hair growing inside of them as their relationship rapidly progresses and at times a grotesque monster appears while they dream.Throughout the entire movie, metaphors and societal commentary are thrown about, making it hard to decipher and consider a core theme or idea. While some of the story and ideology is innovative and intriguing, the approach is confusing and ineffective. If the goal of the piece was put more into focus the story might have been more interesting and provocative, but to me it seems noncommittal and convoluted. Should you avoid this movie all together? No. It will get you thinking about something. What exactly I’m not entirely sure.Jack and Diane plays for three more night at Northwest Film Forum:Tonight, tomorrow, and Thursday, November 27 - 29 at 7:00 and 9:00 PMMore info at nwfilmforum.orgWatch the trailer:

Review of Avenue Q at Balagan Theatre by Sam H-A.

Review of Amarillo at On the Boards by Melissa C.Beautiful, creative, and moving. These are the words I use to describe Amarillo. The use of sand, water, clothing, cigarettes, point of view, multi-media, dance, color, light, movement, and voice were nothing short of perfection.In Amarillo, the tale of the illegal immigrant making his way to the U.S. and back is told almost entirely in Spanish with English translations projected on the back wall along with live-streaming and prerecorded video. That is not all that the back wall is used for. The actors jump at, climb up, talk to, and dance with this large, symbolic piece of concrete. I would like to think that I know why they interacted with the wall in this way, but every moment in this piece, every prop they used, and every line they said could be broken down and analyzed for meaning. In the end you didn’t need to know exactly what was going on for the emotion to strike home. Not only is it an incredibly well done piece, but it holds a message that is really important for people to hear – especially young people. Our country needs to change its perspective on illegal immigration and that starts with the us. This piece made me see that we need to understand the plight of the immigrant – not make them the enemy. We need to work together to find solutions – not decide that the only solution is elimination.However, even with this awakening, I still have some questions. I’ll admit that, with my very sheltered world view, I cannot possibly comprehend what would compel someone to illegally cross the Mexican/American border. I don’t understand how the promise of a country that has massive unemployment, is hugely discriminatory against Latinos, and does not try to make life easy for immigrants could outweigh the sorrow of leaving your home and your family and the risk of death when crossing the border. I also don’t understand what I can do to help. Obviously I don’t want these people dying out there – people who are willing to do whatever it takes to get the privileges that I was born with. But I don’t see how I can change anything. Is the idea that our border should just be open and any one should be allowed in? Or was the idea purely that we should stop looking at immigrant control as a political issue or an economic issue and start looking at it as a human issue? I wish that they had made it through the desert. That they had brought it closer to home, and addressed an issue that I could help correct. Because I feel that there are things that can be done right here in are communities. Often that the border never goes away in America today. The talk back after the show was a perfect example of the never-disappearing wall. There was no proper translator onstage and only about half the audience spoke Spanish while all those being interviewed spoke little English. I sat back, interested, as I watched the attempts at communication breed frustration. Even in this situation, where we desperately want to hear each other and understand each other and communicate, it was extremely difficult.In a way the show was ironic because it brought down that wall. The many different forms of communication that were present made language an afterthought and the personality and emotion the actors brought to the stage made them sympathetic to someone from any culture.Hermoso, creativo, y en movimiento. These are the words I should use to describe Amarillo.Amarillo is closedNext up at On the Boards: Kyle Loven's Loss MachineDecember 5 - 10Read more about Kyle Loven in his TeenTix Crush of the Month profile

Review of The Glass Menagerie at Seattle Repertory Theatre by Joyce R.Photo by Alan AlabastroThe contents of The Glass Menagerie are few; one room and four and a half characters: Tom Wingfield, Laura Wingfield, Amanda Wingfield, the gentleman caller, and a picture of Mr. Wingfield, staring at them through it all.With so little to work with, it’s expected that not much happens, and that’s partially true. In the one room where everything occurs, there are no epic quests, no passionate loves, and no valiant heroes. Rather, this room houses beautiful lighting that looks like silhouettes on sunsets as we watch reality unfold while the characters see only their dreams.Whether it’s Amanda Wingfield, the mother, dreaming of her lost past and her daughter’s future gentleman caller, or Tom, dreaming about his escape, they’re all deluded, they all see a reality that isn’t real.Photo by Alan AlabastroYet regardless of the illusion that this family lives in, there are moments in The Glass Menagerie that are so relatable and tangible and so uncomfortably close to the heart that the knee-jerk reaction is to swat them away. Swat away the pestering mother, Amanda Wingfield, and not bother to look for the love underlying all her actions. Swat away the distressingly fearful sister, Laura Wingfield, and not bother to see the perceptiveness hidden in her silence. Swat away the selfish Tom, and ignore his underlying longings that are so similar to our own.Swat them all away and choose to ignore how similar they all are to ourselves.We are like Tom and Laura and Amanda. We sacrifice, we quietly wish, and we fear. And like them, we all live in our own illusions in some way.The Wingfield family eventually learns that dreams aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Playwright Tennessee Williams wasn’t fond of the happy ending (as evidenced by his other plays, A Streetcar Named Desire and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof) and this play isn’t an exception. By the end, this sad little family that lives in their dreams is coldly brought back to reality.It doesn’t exactly bring the warm fuzzies, but it’s life.Photo by Alan AlabastroAnd that’s why there will be many different interpretations of The Glass Menagerie, because it’s a play so chock full of life; full of recognizable moments that happens secretly in households when no one is around; full of the things you think about before bed, when no one is listening. This play tastes like life and even if it’s not conventionally enjoyable, The Glass Menagerie forces a mirror in front of your face, that’s what makes it so worth seeing.The Glass MenagerieSeattle Repertory TheatreThrough December 2

Review of Landscape of the Body at UW School of Drama by Sam H-A.Photo by Frank RosensteinThe stage is dark except for one guardrail. A woman stands, feverishly looking over her shoulder, frantically writing on sheets of paper. Stuffing them in a bottle. Throwing them over the edge. A man comes up behind her and you are swept up in a conversation that has no meaning to you. Words like "confession" and "yes." Short and curt. Until the woman finally blows up. Launching into a monologue about her son. Blackout. We switch settings to an interrogation room. We soon find out the woman is a suspect in her son's murder. Another woman, with a voice from "above" is talking now. Explaining everything that's going on. Her death, her nephew's death. You are then launched into a story of love, loss, heartbreak, and sorrow. Laughter. Tears. All while finding out the gut-wrenching past history of Bert, a teenage boy from Maine whose mother is mourning the loss of her sister while trying to raise him. All the while--in the present--she's trying to find out who murdered and decapitated him. Seems gory, right? It's not. Beautifully staged and incredibly acted, director L. Zane tells this heart-wrenching story beautifully, and this show will definitely bring you to tears of laughter, joy, and sorrow. Landscape of the BodyUW School of DramaMeany Studio TheatreThrough November 18Watch the Landscape of the Body video:

PNB's All Premiere showcases four world premiere works on one program. Although it seems rather ambitious, the ballet company manages to pull together four distinctly beautiful pieces.

Seattle Shakespeare Company’s Antony and Cleopatra is the young Arnold Schwarzenegger of theater: it’s dramatic, sexy, romantic, it sounds kind of funny, and it sure knows how to pack an awesome punch. In terms of all other plays I have seen prior to this, Antony and Cleopatra is truly the full package. It does for theater what Carmen does for the world of musical performance.

Friday, October 19th marked the first of the Seattle Symphony’s ‘Untuxed’ Series, and it will definitely not be the last. Waiting for the musicians to enter the stage, I had forgotten about the ‘Untuxed’ part of the concert and was taken aback by the wash of colors that flooded the stage. The normal-but-still-nice clothing donned by the musicians made the atmosphere much more comfortable than with their usual formal attire. I loved it – it made the entire performance relaxed and enjoyable. It’s hard to understand why they don’t do every performance this way.

ALERT: THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Review of Something's Afoot at Taproot Theatre by Katie M. Taproot Theatre is continuing their 35th anniversary season with a fantastic production. Something’s Afoot can best be described as a murder mystery musical filled with quirky characters and lively songs. The play is set in the 1930s, and the sets and costumes reflect that time period. Lord Rancour’s lakeside estate is well furnished by scenic designer Mark Lund, providing a great backdrop for the story.

Photo by CeeDotA on flickr

The improvathon that's going on right now at the Market Theater is definitely a blast. Some of the performers had been going for a full 24 hours when I saw them, and a lot of them are pretty (totally, completely) zonked. As such, the improv that they're doing is a lot looser and freer-form than you usually see at Unexpected Productions. This means that they're willing to fly higher and try weird, crazy stuff, but sometimes in improv stuff does come crashing down to the ground. Such is occasionally the case with these skits. It's a different feel than usual in general, too--the audience and performers are constantly coming in and out, and new faces come to the stage frequently. In a lot of ways, it's like falling into some sort of weird improv dreamspace where very strange things happen and stuff is constantly changing around. And with improv, that can be pretty cool--it leads to sketches entitled "Cats Gone Wild" or "Mega-Death Yawwwrp," or frantic experiences with 20-pound zucchinis. As we all know, things like that should never, ever be missed. Above all though, it's a fundraiser for the Market Theatre, where some of the best and strangest weird stuff in the city arts-wise happens. So it's definitely worth the time and money to come down and kill a few hours seeing what improv, enthusiasm, and extreme exhaustion all team up to create in the final hours of the improvathon. The 50-Hour Improvathon is over, but you can catch TheatreSports every Friday & Saturday night at the Market Theatre. More info at unexpectedproductions.org.

Photo by Angela Sterling

When the sun is shining and the thermometers around town finally crack 70 degrees, it may not seem entirely intuitive to go see a very dark ballet about betrayal, death, and supernatural vengeance. Sure, while you’re sitting in a dark, cool, enclosed space, you could be out water skiing or sunbathing. But the fact is that while summer comes only three months of the year in Seattle, the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Giselle is here for only two weeks, and it is not to be missed under any circumstances. The last show of their season and a completely new staging by Peter Boal of the classic work, Giselle is captivating and entrancing.

There are bad movies. There are really bad movies. There are movies that you thought would be enjoyable, but turn out bad. Then there are movies that you had high hopes for, are actually so terrible that they slap you in the face for ever believing they might be worthwhile. Detention is one such film. What Detention aims to be and what it actually ends up being are two very different things. Billed as a witty sendup of nearly every teen movie being made, it promises to be both a quirky parody as well as a horror movie. True to form, the writers seem to have worked hard to mock every teenage movie known to man in less than an hour and a half. References to teen classics are both endless and heavy-handed. I could have saved the writers some time in developing Detention: rather than go to all the effort of actually writing a story, they could have simply loaded the screenplays of Freaky Friday, Ten Things I Hate About You, The Breakfast Club, and Friday the Thirteenth into a gun, fired the gun, and then picked up the pieces at random. They would have ended up with a script of about the same caliber of meaningless drivel. The simple fact is that Detention is prey to every imaginable pitfall in a teen movie. The acting is terrible, the direction is schizophrenic, the plot is simultaneously vapid, ridiculous, and convoluted, and the cliché is laid on so heavily that the actors appear to have actual difficulty standing up. While it is true that in teen movies these are all forgivable offenses, the biggest sin of Detention is that it simply does not have anything to say. As a film and a parody it is soulless; even spoofs need to offer their own insight and take on the world. All Detention does is merely giggle at and plagiarize other movies, without offering anything original. To be blunt, this movie can definitely be passed over in your forays through SIFF. There are some real gems in this year’s festival, and they are not to be missed. Detention is true to its title in that being there is certainly a punishment. My best advice is to do like the cool kids: cut Detention and go see something Swedish. (…That’s what cool kids do, right?) DETENTION Part of Seattle International Film Festival Playing at: Neptune Theatre, June 3 at 9:30 PM Egyptian Theatre, June 5 at 9:15 PM More info at siff.net Recommended for Ages 17+ (contains bloody violence, nudity, and strong language)

To quote the all-wise and ever-helpful Sassy Gay Friend of YouTube fame, “What are you doing. What. What. What are you doing.” Right now, I hope that your answer to this question is not “Sitting at home on Facebook,” or “Watching reruns of Project Runway” (Mondo was robbed), because cool things are happening. Weird things. Funky things. Things that you are not quite sure the significance or meaning of, but that make you laugh all the same. Things with strange instruments. Things with dirt. These things are all often happening in their own right, but rarely do such auspicious events combine into one, funky, eclectic whole. Right now in Seattle, it has, in My Arm is Up in the Air, in the shoebox-like Studio Theater at On the Boards. The one-man, one-hour show stars Charles Smith, a long-time fixture of Seattle fringe theater. Smith certainly makes the most of his hour, and the show reaches in about a thousand different directions. Smith digs into his childhood, pop culture, and Seattle history. The aforementioned dirt comes into the picture when Smith discusses the 1916 Denny Regrade, which was at the time the largest earthworks ever. Seattle leaders decided that Denny Hill had been inconveniently placed by God and was blocking off the northern growth of the city, and so they decided to completely flatten it, to the surprise and anger of some local homeowners, who were stranded atop sudden towers of earth after refusing to abandon their property. As Smith discusses the regrade, dirt rains down from the ceiling, scattering across the stage and his body, as he revels in it. The numerous musical interludes that Smith scatters through the work are as funky as the monologues. Smith sings and plays on the hammered dulcimer, autoharp, and bowed psaltery, which I had never seen until that night and may never again. The songs, in numerous languages, often fail to live up to the rest of the play. Certainly they are a novelty, but they pale in comparison to Smith’s monologues. Words he plays like a master, but the music and singing lacked the same expertise and quality. Though the monologues are excellent, teenage patrons must be warned that some of the pop culture references in this show are obscure. Really obscure. Like before-1980 obscure, which as we all know is before the dawn of recorded history. I followed Smith through The Brady Bunch references, kept up with the Clinton administration jokes, but in some places just got plain lost. Advice to teenagers: laugh along with the thirty- and forty-somethings while nodding reminiscently when this happens. I will not remember My Arm is Up in the Air as the most interesting show I saw this year. Nor will I mark it as the funniest, wittiest, kookiest, craziest, most unexpected, beautiful, or fascinating show of 2011. To its credit, this is because it tries to do all these things, and it succeeds in defiantly being its own, little, weird self. My Arm is Up in the Air On the Boards FINAL NIGHT TONIGHT: Monday, March 28

When Marie Howe walks onstage, something tells you that she is a woman that you want to listen to. Maybe it is her amazingly, delightfully big hair, which seems to have a personality all of its own. Maybe it is her calm, collected manner, or her erudite sense of humor. Maybe she has figured out how to distill gravitas and perfumes herself with it. At any rate, she is captivating from the start, and so is her poetry. Howe does what any good poet must; her words are finely, exactly chosen, and her poems lead you where she wants you. She made us laugh, wonder, and most of all to delve deep into the mind and souls of her work. Howe writes predominantly in personae, many of them religious. Several of the poems she read that night were written from the perspective of the Virgin Mary, reflecting casually on the Annunciation. Howe certainly does not shy away from megalithic archetypes in her work; perhaps the most striking poem of the evening was her piece written as Eve, describing the moment after the Fall. This is where Howe truly shines. She has the ability to worm her way into the giants of our lore, myths, and tradition, and make them seem human. In no way did her work debase them to make them accessible, but in assuming the personae of figures such as Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and others, she was able to remind us that they were living, breathing people, too. When she speaks to you as Eve, it is not hard to imagine that you are simply having a cup of coffee with your friend over lunch, a conversation like any two people might have. Where society has elevated these characters beyond the stature of normal life, Howe’s poetry was able to casually reach up, bring them back down to earth, and to make them real. In doing so, Howe only makes their stories more powerful and more vivid. Tragically, Marie Howe has left Seattle and is back to doing whatever it is poets do during the work week (of all the great mysteries of life, poetry has yet to explain this one to me). However, other opportunities await. The poetry series at Seattle Arts and Lectures never fails to disappoint, and is not to be missed. Seeing Marie Howe and hearing her work took my brain in new directions, put words together in ways that had me nodding up and down, or laughing out loud, and my money’s on the fact that the next poet that SAL has in will too. Check it out—you’ll be glad you did. Maria Howe was a one night only event Next Up at Seattle Arts & Lectures' Poetry Series: Poetry Triple Threat with Brian Turner, Major Jackson & Susan Rich Thursday, April 14 @ 7:30 PM Benaroya Hall REMEMBER: Seattle Arts & Lectures events are ALWAYS FREE for Teen Tix members, and you can ALWAYS bring a guest for $5.00!

If the realization hits you about an hour into Cold Weather that absolutely nothing has happened yet, my best advice is to calmly collect your things and exit the theatre as unobtrusively and politely as possible. The bad news is that you’re dead right—nothing has happened. The worse news is that for the remaining hour or so, it only gets worse. I exaggerate a little. True, stuff happens in Cold Weather. The problem is that it happens at about intervals of about half an hour. And when it does happen, it is done in a manner that is so clichéd, contrived, and sophomoric that it’s almost worse than nothing happening at all. I spent large sections of this movie intently wondering if it would be more satisfying to drive an ice pick through my own head or the head of the grating main character Doug, who is as moronically ridiculous as he is coma-inducing. Even more regretfully, the two mildly interesting characters abruptly and inexplicably disappear for large sections of the film, leaving the audience like castaways on a desert island, desperately trying to find a way off Part of the problem may have been that I had high expectations for this film. Promotional materials touted it, saying “[Director Aaron Katz’s] coy and funny thriller keeps audiences guessing, while sharpening his singular cinematic style. Cinescope hailed it as ‘the greatest American film of the year,’ and we happen to agree.” After reading this and watching the actual film, I can really only come to the conclusion that we were either watching different movies, or that I am a complete and utter moron. However, I don’t think I’m alone, given that several other patrons got up and left in the middle of the movie. I envy them. The fact of the matter is that for every second of footage that might be remotely considered thrilling (if you squint really hard, maybe) there is about five solid minutes of absolutely nothing happening whatsoever. Director Aaron Katz must really, really, love making movies about people sitting in parked cars discussing topics that have absolutely nothing to do with the storyline, because he seems to have gone far out of his way to fill up this film with it. I have a long list in my head of things I could have done rather than see Cold Weather, running the gamut from “read a really interesting book,” to “write an angry and confused letter to Aaron Katz asking why he thinks we are so interested in watching people sit in parked cars.” In the meantime, I will be hanging on to my receipt for the movie, because I expect that when I die I will be able to get the time I spent watching the film subtracted from my sentence in Purgatory. I will be sure to let you know if Purgatory or Cold Weather is more interesting. P.S. Readers! Did you see this movie and agree that I am a complete and utter moron? Please tell me why, because I am mystified. Sincerely, Tucker. Cold Weather Northwest Film Forum Through March 17

Confession: At the start, I wasn’t really thrilled about doing this review. Don’t get me wrong—I think poetry is super-awesome and have zero problem with it, but it just wasn’t something that I normally would have gone to. Regardless, there I was, in Benaroya Hall on a Tuesday night, about to hear a poet that I previously knew nothing about. This, however, was not a huge problem. As it turned out, Patricia Smith is one of those special people who really require no introduction. From her first moments on stage, she was captivating. Her poetry can wax long but never frivolously. She is always in control of her words, and she reminds you of it. At points, the raw power of her words grabs you by your shoulders and flings you across the room into the wall. Her introduction described her style of writing as “trying on many pairs of shoes, seeing which ones are most uncomfortable, and making them dance.” And she did. The dance was not always pretty and simple. Her remembrances of racism growing up in Chicago and the brutality of life after Hurricane Katrina at times made us cringe, shifting our weight in our seats. This was the measure of her power as a poet; to make us look unflinchingly and directly at what we had previously only seen on television and in textbooks.

Photo © Seattle Poetry Slam on flickr

Sunday night at On the Boards, every seat in the house was packed in anticipation of the grand finale of The A.W.A.R.D. Show, a competition for Pacific Northwest choreographers. Twelve choreographers had entered, and for the previous three nights audiences had crowned a winner from among each group of four. Now, with the dirty work of selecting the finalists done, it was our job to sit back and enjoy an evening of spectacular dance before crowning the winner. And it was indeed spectacular.

Photo by Ben Kasulke

Tucker: When the curtain opens on Gloria’s Cause, you are really not sure what to expect. There is no description in the program of what you are about to see, and any descriptions you can find online are sketchy at best and vary wildly. This mystery grows more when the actors come out on stage long before the play begins. They stare at you. You are freaked out, a little. And when the play begins, two forms appear at the back of the stage. Here is what will happen in your head: “Wait. Are they naked? Uhhhh. They look naked. Yep, they are definitely naked. Okay.” And things just get better from there. Dana: The naked ladies leave pretty early on, and a sitting man begins a monologue while another actor stands center-stage eating pie. Other actors enter, exit, taking on different characters and personalities, breaking into rock songs or violent dance sequences. It’s not clear what’s going on, but you get the sense that it’s something big. Sometimes the actors are telling stories you recognize, but things don’t really fit. The word “freedom” is thrown around, and you begin to see that this show is about America. Maybe.