TeenTix Blog Reviews

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.

Soloist Chalnessa Eames in Afternoon Ball. Photo © Angela Sterling

If PNB’s All Tharp is any indication, Twyla Tharp is clearly a woman with a lot to say. You sit down in the theatre, the curtain goes up, and All Tharp proceeds to grab you and shake you around in every direction. Until last night, I had never seen ballet danced as though drunk, groups of dancers swooping across the stage dressed as synchronized swimmers, or dancers mouthing words that definitely cannot be written on this blog, screaming silently at a captivated audience. Tharp’s work is a creature truly and markedly set apart from any other. It is a blend of the traditional, of the movie and the theatre, of the hidden story and dance for the sake of dance.

I'm a 17 year old guy and I read every book. I am (only slightly) ashamed to say that I was at the midnight release party for Breaking Dawn at my local Barnes and Noble. I saw Eclipse at midnight. I own a Spanish translation of Twilight. And while this might usually qualify one as a crazy fangirl, I don't think of myself as one. For me, Twilight is like Cheetos. They're not filling, they're light and fluffy, and you can eat them pretty mindlessly. You also know deep in your mind that in the long run, it's probably bad for you to have them, but hey, what's another hand full, right? So when someone brings up Twilight, especially when it's a big, fat, angry argument for or against it, I just kind of laugh. Love it or hate it, Twilight is pretty ridiculous when you look at it. But really, it's just mental junk food, either way. And really, a little more can't hurt you, right? Right. Our Teen Press Corps will be telling us what Twilight makes them do all week long. Click here to read them all. Movies at the Mural SEATTLE CENTER Saturday, August 21st @ 9pm: Twilight Sunday, August 22nd @ 9pm: The Twilight Saga: New Moon Free!

(Tucker asked if, instead of posting his review, we could just put a big star on the blog with "Go See This" on it. We're doing both.) Really, really cool things continue to happen over at PNB. This time it’s 3 by Dove, three ballets (as the name would suggest) by the choreographer Ulysses Dove. Spliced in between is a new work commissioned for the PNB by Victor Quijada, Suspension of Disbelief.

Pacific Northwest Ballet soloist Rachel Foster in Ulysses Dove’s Vespers. Photo © Angela Sterling

Review of Sound Off! Semifinal 1, February 13th, 2010, by Jordan B. Showcasing the local music scene of the future, maybe even the present, Sound Off! began back in 2002 at the Experience Music Project in Seattle, designed for age 21 and under artists to have a place to get their name out. Many artists such as 2003 runner ups the Schoolyard Heroes and 2007's 2nd place winner, Natalie Portman's Shaved Head, have enjoyed some success from the competition's raising awareness of the bands. Tonight's winner, Candysound, received a spot in the upcoming finals on March 6th.

Sound Off! Semifinal #1 winners Candysound. Photo by adamsayswhatt

If the grey skies have got you down this winter, there’s a show in town for you. Pacific Northwest Ballet’s The Sleeping Beauty is the ultimate picker-upper; filled with fanciful and intricate sets and costumes, excitement, and breathtaking dance, Sleeping Beauty takes a hold of you and won’t let go until the curtain comes down.

Pacific Northwest Ballet principal dancers Lucien Postlewaite and Kaori Nakamura in Ronald Hynd’s The Sleeping Beauty. Photo © Angela Sterling.

The first thing that strikes you about Sleeping Beauty is the sets. The pages of a fairy tale seem truly to have come to life on McCaw Hall’s stage. The austere majesty of the castle, with soaring columns and enormous thrones, is enough to arrest your attention in itself. And when Aurora falls into her slumber, ivy and forests take over the castle, crawling magically from all corners. Sleeping Beauty’s scenery is made only the more beautiful by the costumes. The gowns are detailed beyond belief, flowing, and elegant. Inside of the dreamlike world that all of this creates, the dancers bring amazing new life and vivacity to an old story. At first, the dances of the fairies are whimsical, and happy. With carefree dances, the dancers bring you into the idyllic happiness of the story. And the choreography develops characters through dance—each of the fairies with their own temperament, Aurora’s majestic and graceful dances just before being cursed, and the dances of the many fairy tale characters at the end. Unfortunately, at some points along the way the choreography seems passionless, lacking the energy that the music evokes and that the dancers clearly wish to show. Often, you find yourself frustrated, waiting for the zeal and life that never fully comes. But all of this takes a complete back seat to the indisputable high point of the show, the pas de deux between Prince Florimund and Aurora. Their dance is tender and slow at first, but then the two then began a series of acrobatic lifts and twists that will have you literally on the edge of your seat and holding your breath. They defy gravity and description, with lifts and pirouettes. But most amazing about the dance is their sense of controlled power and strength, the very grace that ballet at its core is all about. Sleeping Beauty is a fairy tale brought to life, complete with all of the fancy, magic, and splendor it needs. And from start to end, you find yourself completely fallen into another world, far from the grey skies and drizzle outside the door. - Tucker C. February 4th, 2010 The Sleeping Beauty Pacific Northwest Ballet Through February 14th

Returning for its 26th season in Seattle, the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Nutcracker ushered in the holiday season last weekend to an enthusiastic audience. Created by Kent Stowell and Maurice Sendak (author and illustrator of Where the Wild Things Are) TheNutcracker has been a holiday tradition for Seattle families for many years. And this year, it can be counted on again to be the fun, whimsical, but also powerful experience that has charmed Washington for decades. The crown jewel of the show is the world that Sendak creates with his costumes and sets. Each piece is intricate and detailed—upon close examination, mice line the frescoes of Clara’s house, Where the Wild Things Are-like monsters can be found in the backdrops at the start of Act Two, and his sets vary in style from European to Oriental to the bizarre. It is this intricacy and detail, combined with his vibrant but simple style that makes Nutcracker come alive in a world formed of the same imagination that whisks Clara away. Combined with Tchaikovsky’s timeless score, Stowell’s choreography, and a small army of excited PNB School students, the production takes off. Building off of boundless energy and passion, you cannot help but be drawn into the spirit and cheer of it all. I had the chance to dance for three years in the PNB’s Nutcracker several years back, and the experience defines Nutcracker for me every time I have seen it since. From the first time I saw it, dancing in the Nutcracker was my childhood dream, and I entered the PNB school just to be in Nutcracker. Now, when I return to Nutcracker, I am captivated just as I was when I was four. In the end, Nutcracker continues to be a tradition for just this reason. Not just any show can make you remember how to dream and feel like a kid again, year after year after year. Uniquely heartfelt and touching, words do not describe what it is like to experience it, and cannot even come close to the joy of coming back again. Nutcracker creates a world that for a few hours you will be blessed to fall into; and when the curtain closes, you will be just as sad to go as Clara. Pacific Northwest Ballet'sThe Nutcracker plays at McCaw Hall now through December 30th. Please note that this production is NOT Teen Tix eligible.

Thursday night, the Pacific Northwest Ballet unveiled Director’s Choice, a collection of four smaller ballets and works. PNB Artistic Director Peter Boal has striven recently to encourage modern and new ballets, and he remains true to this goal in Director’s Choice. All of the four works presented premiered after 1990—one, The Seasons, enjoys its world premiere here. Each ballet is its own creation, and are powerful statements in their own right. Presented together, they reveal the PNB’s commitment to presenting a variety of fascinating new works. Pacific Northwest Ballet company dancers in Jiri Kylian’s Petite Mort Photo © Angela Sterling The first, Petite Mort, is a visually striking dance that quickly grabs your attention. When the curtain opens, six men with swords raised slowly back towards the front of the stage; figures swirl in and out of the darkness at the back of the stage. Dreamlike and surreal, the dancers occasionally run an enormous sheet across the stage. When it falls, you discover that the scene behind it has changed entirely. It is the dancing, though, that is truly fascinating, shifting from graceful steps and duets to stilted, broken movements. At other times, the female dancers come on stage behind enormous wheeled black gowns. They play behind and then leap out from them—the imagery is starkly entrancing. Remarkable and rich in meaning, it truly has to be seen to be appreciated. James Moore in Marco Goecke’s Mopey Photo © Angela Sterling Mopey, presented next, is sure to be a favorite with Teen Tix patrons. James Moore is spectacular in this one-man ballet, a perfectly done exploration of a teenage mind. Beginning with Moore whipping around the stage in anxious, frenzied steps, his angst is palpable. The dance is inward; Moore dances around the stage like a train of thought, moving between feelings in a smooth flow. Next becoming whimsical and vivacious, Moore marvels in his strength and energy with a crazed enthusiasm, leaping about the stage. Mopey changes again; the music stops and Moore begins a writhing dance filled with anger and violence, descending further into chaos as he goes. Mopey perfectly captures the changeability and volatility of the teenage mind, and is one of the show’s best moments. Peter Boal makes a pitch toward the more traditional in The Seasons—here, tutus and more formal hallmarks of ballet return, and the choreography becomes less experimental. Though not as intellectually rich as the previous two, The Seasons is an interesting revision of an older ballet. The Seasons flows through each and explores its different moods, weaving a narrative of love blossoming from the cold of winter and into the craze of summer. The dance shines through autumn’s revelry, capturing the season’s austerity and frenzy. While The Seasons is a well-done work by itself, young viewers may find that it pales in comparison with the first two. The dancers seemed determined to have some plain fun at the show’s close with West Side Story Suite. Perfectly suited for the grace and power of ballet, the dancers dominate the dance and feeling of West Side Story. While some numbers don’t shine as brightly as others, the show ends on a high note with the dancers on stage, singing “Somewhere” with all the passion and power it deserves. Director’s Choice refuses to be pinned down into any category. An innovative, provocative, and breathtaking show, it brings together the classical and the modern. Worthwhile, fascinating, and imaginative, the imagery and energy of it will remain with you long after you have left the theatre. - Tucker C November 5th, 2009 Director's Choice Pacific Northwest Ballet Through November 15th

Review of Act of God at SIFF Cinema by Tucker Cholvin This coming Friday, lightning will strike at SIFF Cinema. Act of God, a Canadian documentary film directed by Jennifer Baichwal, is a masterfully done introspection into the symbolism of lightning and storms in the human condition. In interviews with people struck by this awesome force of nature, relatives of those killed by it, storm chasers, musicians, and in forays that range to France, Mexico, and beyond, Act of God quickly fills you with a sense of awe at the sheer power of lightning. Baichwal uses sweeping panoramic shots of powerful storms set to the stories of victims to stress and illuminate the raw destructive force of lightning—images of twisted trees and mangled metal drive the point home. But Baichwal’s concern is not so much in the lightning itself, but in its metaphysical implications. Is a lightning strike a random occurrence in a purely mechanical universe? Or is it a fated, predestined strike by an omniscient God? In tearful interviews with victims and survivors, it becomes clear that there is no easy answer, but countless perspectives. Baichwal travels through religion, science, logic, and emotion in search of answers. Some in the film say that evolution has wired humans to look for and remember patterns; that looking for significance in a random lightning strike is only an uncivilized remnant of our former primitive selves. On the other hand, a televangelist who had a near-death experience following a lightning strike disagrees—in a near-death experience, he saw heaven and his soul in what he believes was an intentional act of God to change his ways. In the end, one bereaved mother expresses the common middle ground: “I can’t accept that there is a reason that [my son] died, but I can’t accept that there is no reason.” The pure power of lightning provokes differing reactions in people; when faced with such a force, Act of God shows how they will harness it, fear it, revere it, or deny it. And by the end of the film, you will be questioning your own worldview as well. Act of God marvelously takes something that we accept in life as commonplace, and in dissecting it allows us to question ourselves and the nature of life. An enriching and engaging film, Act of God is well worth the time—guaranteed to expand your mind and bring a new dimension to this winter’s coming storms. - Tucker C. Act of God October 30th - November 5th SIFF Cinema

Review of Annie Proulx at Seattle Arts & Lectures by Tucker Cholvin This Wednesday, Seattle Arts and Lectures hosted Annie Proulx, author of Postcards, The Shipping News, Wyoming Stories, as well as the short story Brokeback Mountain (later adapted into the Oscar-winning film) at Benaroya Hall. Proulx read from her new book, entitled Bird Cloud: A Memoir in Progress, giving a condensed but powerful taste of her style as a writer. Audience members were also given the chance to submit questions afterward for a question and answer session. Annie Proulx | photo by John Harding/Time & Life Pictures--Getty Images

Proulx, in her writing and her life, is deeply tied to Wyoming, her adopted home, and its land. She began with the setting of her house along a great cliff named Bird Cloud, describing the plate tectonics and slow forces that formed it, and that will reshape it again in the future. She progressed to describing the indigenous peoples who settled the area first, and then remembered the land as it was when she came to it. As visceral and raw as the wild land she loves, she delights in setting the scene with the small details. Her style reveals not only her great love of the land but also surrounds one in its untamed world. This wild landscape, created so attentively at the start, becomes the foundation for all other things—a fatal car accident on a state highway, an exchange with an overeager shopkeeper in her old hometown, or a fly-fishing expedition are all set against this vibrant backdrop. No matter the subject, Proulx infuses a physicality into her stories that throws one into the moment and makes her stories come alive. The euphoria of her joy is tangible and real; its swift and merciless destruction bites just as coldly as if it had been us. In their extremities, they mirror the blossoming summers and brutal winters of Proulx's Wyoming, where nothing can truly last. Wielding all the power and force of nature and the earth, her writing becomes a living, breathing creature, strong and potent. This mere taste of her book pulled me in, leaving me hungry for more and in awe of a great writer. -Tucker C. October 7, 2009 Annie Proulx was a one-night event Next up in Seattle Arts & Lectures Literary Series: Lydia Davis Wednesday, November 4th @ 7:30 Benaroya Hall more info

Review of Remember Being Born? at Taproot Theatre by Tucker Cholvin Taproot Theatre, it seems, is a busy place these days. Currently in the middle of their production of Enchanted April, Taproot is also offering audiences a hidden late-night gem. Remember Being Born?, a one-man show performed by Solomon Davis, is a quirky and deeply personal story that refuses to be pinned down into just one category. Neither here nor there in its unique combination of stand-up routine, memoir, and coming-of-age story, Remember Being Born? makes full use of its adaptability to delve deep into Davis’ childhood and persona. Solomon Davis in Remember Being Born? at Taproot Theatre Photo by Liz Ragland On stage, Davis begins as the funnyman—Steve Martin comparisons are inevitable, as his effusive, physical energy fills the house as well as when he whips out his harmonica for a doleful few notes at the end of a monologue. Other parts of his act seem improvised and unexpected, only adding to the fervor. His charm as a storyteller and his affection for screwball comedy succeed in winning audiences over immediately, laughing at one self-effacing story after another. The mood shifts a little as Davis recalls his father dating, but the screwball comedy is never far off. With each new story, we see Davis a little bit older—one moment being told by his father to use his middle name, Mark, rather than Solomon, and the next moment auditioning for the high school play. Awkward by their subject matter, his stories are also powerfully endearing, and in Taproot’s small theatre the stand-up comedy of the beginning evolves into a story more deeply and intimately personal. Recounting being raised by his father after his mother’s death in a car crash, Davis yet again transforms the show, this time into a search for identity and where he comes from. Davis dwells most poignantly on the latter, seeking the mother he never knew out through memories, and hoping that she is the answer to who he is maturing into. At its end, Remember Being Born?’s wit and humor does not degrade its intimacy and meaning, and its occasional seriousness does not obstruct the humor. Instead, Davis leaves his audience both with a smile on their face and a profound sense of who he is as a human being. Such a balance is hard-struck, and it is to Davis’ great credit that he can find it. Done well, theatre is the opportunity to delve deeper into the world of others than we can in daily life. In his incisive and magnificent performance, Davis’ Remember Being Born? succeeds marvelously. - Tucker C October 2nd, 2009 Remember Being Born? Every Friday night at 10:15 through October 23rd Taproot Theatre