Author: rakemag

One of the most beguiling shows of the past year, A Cupboard Full of Hate, is a thoroughly Frenchified thing, performed in a style that’s light on dialogue and heavy on visual tricks. Off-Leash Area’s artistic director, the Paris-schooled Paul Herwig, plays a fitful old geezer who so vigorously hates the world that he locks himself in a cupboard, where he passes eternity inventorying and reordering his stock. While that may not seem like the kind of heartwarming fare that befits a bone-chilling January evening, rest assured this show does inspire a few cathartic chortles. And it’s beautiful! Silent film starlets, little girls, and other figments of the old man’s imagination emerge from claustrophobic, Joseph Cornell-style memory boxes. 2821 Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-724-7372; www.offleasharea.org

Maybe the idea of a live puppet rock opera doesn’t catch you–but a live puppet rock opera as conceived and produced by Dan Graham, Tony Oursler, Rodney Graham, and Paul McCarthy? We can’t think of a more alluringly odd quartet of art stars to get together and do a disillusioned send-up of the hippie era that they all lived through. Dan Graham is the sixties rock critic turned conceptual artist who makes tricky glass-and-mirror sculptures. Tony Oursler’s the one who projects onto various objects videos of eerie faces uttering strange and funny things. Then there’s Rodney Graham, who appears in a video riding a bike on acid, and Paul McCarthy, who is just plain nuts, and naughty to boot. The wildly multidisciplinary production also involves live music by postpunk hipsters Japanther and puppets by Phillip Huber (of Being John Malkovich renown), kicking off what is sure to be a memorable Out There series. 612-375-7622; www.walkerart.org

Hair color, style, degree of curl–according to Kimberly Joy Morgan, these define black women more than any white girl contemplating a box of blonde hair dye will ever know. Morgan, who styles her own locks in sassy faux dreads, was a winner at the Twin Cities’ first-ever Ivey Awards for her performance in Hot Comb: Brandin’ One Mark of Oppression, the one-woman show she also wrote. The enthusiastic response to Morgan’s passionate, vivid, and funny characters–ten of them, ranging from six to ninety years old, each with a different hairstyle–encouraged a reprise of the show this month. In a season of short days and dirty snow, we’d be surprised if Morgan didn’t want to be stranded on a warm and sunny desert island–as long as she had the right hair product. Here’s what she’d bring along:

1. I start every day off by reading the Bible, and I can’t imagine going anywhere without it. It also affects the work that I do as a writer and an artist. Sometimes it’s good to just be entertained, but I also think that it’s important to give people art with some substance to it, and the Bible helps guide how I do that.

2. I use shea butter to re-twist my hair, because I have dreadlocksÑI really need an endless supply.

3. My laptop, because I hate to write longhand. When I write people letters, they come off as so impersonal, because I canÕt engage my thoughts in the same way with a pen in my hand that I can when I’m at the keyboard. The computer helps my brain work better.

4. An endless supply of oranges and watermelons. When I was little, my mom said, they were the first fruits that made me happy. They still do.

5. Since I’m not going to be able to see them anymore, I need a photo album of all my friends and family–the people who have made me who I am today.

Hot Comb returns to the Pillsbury House Theatre on January 20 and closes February 18. 3501 Chicago Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-825-0459; www.puc-mn.org/theatre.html

Some people attempt to spite the French by pouring out red wine and voting against John Kerry. Other people believe that a little smirk while enjoying an American version of coq au vin is just as effective. Salut Bar Americaine in Edina celebrates the French and sticks it to them at the same time. Warm, Gruyre-filled gougres appear on the menu as Les Cheesy Puffs, next to the more traditional and buttery escargot bourguignonne. If you prefer your French food more recognizably Amricaine, choose a rich and hearty duck a l’orange or Le Cheeseburger Royale, served beautifully on a ciabatta roll with a side of the classic steak frites. Sunday brunch features a creamy, custardy quiche Lorraine, which reminds us how long French cuisine has been part of the American diet–how can even the most reactionary of diners not enjoy it? 5034 France Ave. S., Edina; 952-929-3764

Woody Allen has made a few changes to the patented Allen formula, which may be why his latest film, Match Point, is better than anything he’s done in ages. For one thing, he’s replaced New York with London, albeit for financial, rather than creative, reasons. For another, there is no neurotic Jew shambling through scenes of painful self-absorption and improbable romance. Instead, there’s Chris Wilton, a sleek and calculating Irishman who slips greedily between two women who offer very different attractions. One promises money and a lavish lifestyle, the other offers steamy and illicit sex, and Wilton wants them both. Played by Jonathan Rhys Meyers, this anti-Woody (or uber-Woody, as wry observers of Allen’s own most recent romantic machinations might say) cuts a shocking and sinister figure. It turns out Rhys Meyers, whose work ranges from a glam rock chameleon in Velvet Goldmine to an amiable coach in Bend It Like Beckham, is quite comfortable playing sinister.

You seem to play a lot of rather dark leading men. Why?
It has to do with my physicality. There is a certain darkness to the way I look; I look slightly morally ambiguous. Also, my life experiences position me well to play characters with a lot of depth to them. For instance, I had an opportunity to be in an interesting film about a young man who has never had sex. But I couldn’t really convincingly play that role, because there’s a look in my eyes. I clearly know what it’s like to be in bed with a woman.

So you bring a lot of yourself to your roles.
Yes, of course. I’ve seen very few of the films that I’ve acted in. Unless I have to go to a premiere, I won’t watch them. See, I live with this actor every day, and I’m kind of bored with him. I’m a different person in every film, but it’s still me.

In Match Point, you’re a murderer. Was that a difficult part of yourself to bring out?
Well, in the confines of the script, I don’t have any moralistic values. So, no, I just called on a different facet of myself. It’s all in there somewhere, in all good actors. You just have to be willing to share everything for a role, and not everyone will do that. For instance, I really get annoyed with actors who won’t strip off their clothes to do a film. If the script says, “naked walking past the room,” do it. But people are like, “I don’t want to show this, or I don’t want to show that,” and usually it’s a financial thing, because they can get an extra two or three hundred thousand dollars showing their tits in Playboy.

Was it a thrill to work with Woody Allen?
I like Woody Allen, but I don’t idolize him the way other people do. I couldn’t work with him if I did—I had to equalize myself with him. He was very good and easy to work with.

Are you easy to work with?
Some people find me maddening. For instance, I didn’t have the greatest experience with Oliver Stone [in Alexander], but I’d work with him again. I don’t have to like everyone I work with, just respect them. And I do.

Most of your films have been rather art-house in nature. Do you shy away from commercial films?
No, I love commercial films! I love seeing things like Armageddon and Pearl Harbor, because they’re fantastic. My DVD collection is filled with popcorn films. I don’t sit down and watch Francois Truffaut or Pier Paolo Pasolini movies. Too heavy for me. I like Jerry Maguire, things I don’t have to invest too much intellectual property into.

Speaking of Jerry Maguire, you’ve just spent five months in China with Tom Cruise, working on the sequel to Mission Impossible. How much of the strange scuttlebutt we hear about this guy is true?
I haven’t read one single word of truth about the man yet. No one has any idea what he is really like.

So give us an idea.
No. He’s my boss.

This bright and airy space in St. Louis Park has a fresh take on takeout. Its menu changes weekly and focuses on homemade, seasonal fare that can be eaten at one of the few tables or taken home. There are four daily soup options (the gumbo is especially delicious) and star entrees like a perfectly crispy and juicy roasted chicken (that wasn’t made twelve hours ago). Morning brings soon-to-be-legendary caramel pull-apart rolls, and desserts are a delight any time of day; if you can avoid the just-baked chocolate cakes, you are supernatural. 4000 Minnetonka Blvd., St. Louis Park; 952-922-4000

It’s as if all the weary waitresses of the Twin Cities banded together, threw down their aprons, and said, “Fine, just do it yourself if you think you’ll be any better!” Bad Waitress is a self-service joint that puts you in your place. Sit down, fill out your order on a pad, and submit it to the kitchen. Nicely priced, classic yet snappy breakfast items (pancakes, omelets, baked goodies) and savory, hearty sandwiches (paninis, burgers, BLTs) make up this all-day menu. The slick and modish surroundings work just as well as a nighttime gathering spot; beer and wine help the transition. Come spring, when they roll up the garage-door-sized windows, this place will be unbeatable. 2 E. 26th St., Minneapolis; 612-872-7575