Author: rakemag

When we called up Kevin Kling to talk about desert islands, we weren’t too surprised when the conversation turned to ice fishing. After all, this mysterious, frigid pastime has come up often in the work of the Twin Cities’ consummate storyteller. While Kling is Minnesotan to the core (he also squeezed in a Sven and Ole joke), he had a pretty Zen outlook on the whole idea of being deserted on a tropical island. “I’ve never been bored in my whole life, so I’m not worried about entertaining myself,” he said. Then the story began: “To me, being on a desert island isn’t so different from ice fishing. You can just sit and think for long periods of time without any guilt associated with it. I was in the Australian Outback in the eighties, hanging out with these aborigines, who I thought weren’t going to get Minnesota at all. But they really loved my ice fishing stories. And I realized that there’s a camaraderie in that form of isolation. Whether you’re sitting in the middle of a lake or the middle of a desert, there’s something universal about being at peace with long periods of thought.” This man is clearly ready for his Gilligan moment, and here’s what he’d bring:

1. Bush, Cheney, Rove, Rumsfeld, and Sid Hartman. I wouldn’t enjoy being stranded with these guys, but just think of the good that would befall the rest of the country! It would be my civic duty.

2. My partner Mary and our two dogs—wait, there’s three dogs now. And along with them would be leftovers from Lucia’s, where we had dinner just before we got on the plane that dropped us on the island.

3. Some really practical stuff: A cotton swab, a bobby pin, hairspray, chewing gum, a sailor hat, and MacGyver—he could get us out of there the cotton swab and bobby pin.

4. Don Quixote. That’s got pretty much everything in it, and at one point Sancho gets his own desert island, so I could read about that. I’d definitely work on my own writing, too. I’ve got a lot of things I could iron out.

5. What about five surprises instead of five things? There’s a lot of creative potential there. Like in Castaway when Tom Hanks has to figure out what to do with the things he finds on the island. Or when Lynne Rossetto Kasper gets five ingredients and has to make a meal with them. It’d be neat if I landed on the island and there were five things that I didn’t know would be there. To me, that feels like storytelling.

Kevin Kling’s new play, Freezing Paradise, is at the Guthrie Lab October 19–November 6; 700 First St. N., Minneapolis; 612-377-2224; www.guthrietheater.org

As the new Museum of Russian Art has mounted a couple of intriguing survey shows since opening last spring, the Weisman has delved into Mir Iskusstva, a multidisciplinary artistic renaissance that marked the turn of the twentieth century in Russia. Borrowing some principles and elements of Art Nouveau, the visual art produced as part of this movement, as well as dance, literature, music, and theater, seemed to augur that happier and more prosperous times were on the horizon. Were these artists idealistic or completely delusional? Either way, this show, which includes nearly one hundred works in various media, demonstrates the fruits and power of wishful thinking. 333 East River Rd., Minneapolis; 612-625-9494; www.weisman.umn.edu

We know where Kurt Cobain’s money goes, but what about the royalties from Jerry Garcia ties and Grateful Dead compilations? A chunk of it helped make this documentary by Garcia’s widow, Deborah Koons Garcia. In looking at the political and corporate forces that shape what we eat, The Future of Food may lack the gross-out power of Fast Food Nation and the dark comedy of Super Size Me–but it tells a thoroughly researched and beautifully filmed story of how genetically modified foods slipped into our diets almost without notice (an estimated sixty percent of processed foods now contain GMOs). It also offers an eye-opening look at how large-scale agriculture’s GMOs are affecting small farmers and the greater ecosystem. 10 Church St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-627-4430; www.bellmuseum.org; www.mnfilmarts.org

The other day I saw a television ad for something called Sedation Dentistry. Obviously, we are taking people’s fears of drills and root canals seriously. We are no longer shunning these hypochondriacs, and that seems like a step in the right direction. Maybe we are becoming more sympathetic as a culture.

What else could be accomplished and overcome if only we could sleep through the process? Sedation National Night Out? I’d love to meet all of my neighbors and their kids at once, providing I’m unconscious. Before you scoff, remember I would be festively dressed and sitting in a lawn chair with a Diet Coke snugly wedged into my limp hand. It all sounds a little Weekend at Bernie’s, I know, but if it’s deemed socially acceptable to be terrified of a teeth cleaning, then I should be able to meet other challenges in a deep REM.

I’m serious: We could really be onto something here. All of a sudden, more people I know would be RSVPing to baby showers and attending their friends’ local rock shows without hesitation. How about a tax audit? I’m so there! Your friend’s girlfriend has a walk-on role with two lines in a community theater production of Taming of the Shrew? Are you kidding? Hell, I’ll even go to the cast party. Imagine the possibility of your next family Sedation Thanksgiving!

Drooling and with head down in the yams, trust me, there would be at least one relative exclaiming on the car ride home, “I had one of the nicest conversations I think I’ve ever had with Lucia. She seemed so happy. We should totally invite her to cousin Marie’s baby shower!” Sleeping through uncomfortable family get-togethers and work functions is nothing new. I believe the word I’m searching for is “alcoholic.” But Sedation Socializing sounds so much nicer.

Email Mary at popularcreeps at yahoo.com.