Author: rakemag

Here or there? That’s the eternal conundrum of the immigrant, and it’s conveyed in a number of ways in this exhibit of young Arab-American artists. There–be it Egypt, Iraq, Palestine, Morocco, or Jordan–has beauty, tradition, and the resounding rightness of home. Here, in the United States, offers religious and creative freedom, for men and women. “My work questions what is unjust in my tradition,” says Saudi Arabian artist Hend Al-Mansour, whose hennaed cloth panels hang from the ceiling to create a private room within the gallery. In photographs of mosques and children, paintings of faceless draped women, and calligraphic figures from the Qur’an, homesickness collides with criticism. The most emphatic piece here is Jumana Al Hashal’s silkscreen of a plane dropping bombs labeled “WMD” onto the map of Iraq. 4137 Bloomington Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-728-5728

Not every cyclist on Nicollet Mall is a kamikaze messenger. Look, there’s Minnesota Orchestra principal flutist Adam Kuenzel, zipping between buses, flute strapped to his back! Kuenzel bikes to work in fair weather and foul, and even waved off the official tour bus during the orchestra’s 2003 centennial tour of Minnesota, choosing instead to follow on his bike. With his movie-star gaze and technical virtuosity, Kuenzel has become a popular figure with audiences here and on the road. For those fools who dismiss the flute as the instrument of choice for preteen girls, just listen to challenging works like the Nielsen Flute Concerto, which Kuenzel blows apart like a wily March wind moving through an ice-coated pine. And then look at how this flutist spends his free time: cross-country skiing, kayaking, living life with true muscle. It takes a lot of lung power to play a wind instrument, even the lithe and silvery flute. So really, all that biking is just part of his practice routine. With his penchant for adventure, we thought Kuenzel would do pretty well stranded on a desert island.

1. My flute so I can practice, in case someday I’m rescued and I want my job back. If I give up hope, I could use it as a tent pole.

2. My recordings of Cecilia Bartoli. I’m sure I could rig up a primitive CD player from material found on the island, a la the professor on Gilligan’s Island. Listening to her would give me the illusion of having female companionship.

3. My book of Robert Service poems. This is poetry for men, about men, clinging to life in the Yukon. I’d be reminded that I’m not in such a bad situation after all.

4. I’d like to continue to receive the Atlantic Monthly, to stay abreast of world events and give me something fresh to read while I sway among the palms in my hammock.

5. Last of all, I’d have a voice-activated tape recorder small enough to hang from a string around my neck. I’d end up talking to myself a lot, and would want to review occasionally to see if I’d had any brilliant thoughts.

During this month’s Twin Cities Mozart Marathon, Kuenzel helps the Minnesota Orchestra recreate a Vienna Akademie concert from 1783. 612-371-5656; www.minnesotaorchestra.org

God blessed the Baldwin sisters with outstanding voices. He also fixed them into separate vocal ranges, so while they might look alike (when directors aren’t lopping off or bleaching their coffee-colored locks), they sound completely different. Jennifer is the soprano ingenue. Christina is the sultry mezzo-soprano. This prevents them from competing over operatic roles, since sopranos get all the girly parts and mezzos play seductresses and adolescent boys. But in making a foray into other performance genres, the sisters have occasionally found themselves face to face at auditions. Thanks to their shared blood, however, they have evolved into a novelty act of sorts (“a freak show, the Coney Island of sisters,” says Christina). They often find themselves sharing the stage, especially when the script calls for sisters, as it did in Great American History Theatre’s Sisters of Swing and Theatre de la Jeune Lune’s Cosi fan Tutte. At present, the Baldwins can be seen as a package deal in an obscure but sexy tango opera, Maria de Buenos Aires, at Theatre de la Jeune Lune. The Rake caught up with the pair to chat about the show, sisterly love, and the hard-knock life of professional theater and opera.

THE RAKE: When did you embark on your singing careers? Was there a bit of big-sister copycatting going on?

JENNIFER: I don’t think either of us wanted to be singers. I wanted to be a ballerina and Christina wanted to be a fashion designer.

CHRISTINA: We both had different diversions and interests, but we both decided at the same time to pursue music. I was in my first year of college and Jen was transferring out of microbiology into music.

Have you ever competed for the same part?

J: We both went up for a part, any part–God, just give me a part–in She Loves Me at the Guthrie. I think they had us both singing for the role of Amalia. Christina made it into the ensemble, but I wasn’t offered a role.

C: It made Jen and me think about competition, because we hadn’t been thinking about it much before. We talked about it, and we both said, “I want you to get it and I want me to get it, too.”

You both made it into Maria de Buenos Aires at Theatre de la Jeune Lune. In fact, you’re both playing Maria. How does that work?

J: We’re kind of the different sides of Maria. She’s kind of mythologized, so sheÕs a person, but she’s also every woman. She’s a little larger than life. I start out as the playful Maria.

C: I’m the lugubrious Maria. Serious. Tough.

J: But she wears down completely. She’s so lonely that her heart breaks and she dies. For a brief moment, I become the ghost of Maria. But Christina plays the Maria who dies.

Any sibling rivalry on the set?

J: It’s hard not to be sisters when the moment calls for us to be colleagues. It’s caused us to renegotiate the way our relationship works, because you can’t really take the sister part out. And we want to remain colleagues, so we really have to negotiate.

C: Luckily, both of us are talkers. We have such history. We have our shared upbringing and life in general. Often there’ll be a childhood memory, and we’ll say, “No, that happened to me! Quit stealing my memories!”

What happens when you have it out?

C: Jen’s not afraid of conflict. If something’s not quite right with someone, she is very good about telling them in a very direct but workable manner. I tend to get quiet and removed, whereas Jen will name the elephant in the room.

J: I might be direct in conflict situations, but I think Christina uses humor more effectively than I do. That’s her way of working through relationships. She disarms people.

C: I grab them and throw them down to the ground and then I take their weapons away.

Maria de Buenos Aires runs through March 26 at Theatre de la Jeune Lune, 612-333-6200; www.jeunelune.org

A seven-film celebration of the ancient tradition of making a living by entertaining others. In The Magical Life of Long Tack Sam, director Ann Marie Fleming embarks on a trip around the world to learn about the acrobat, magician, comic, and linguist who was also her great-grandfather. The documentary Kings of the Sky follows a circus troupe of tightrope walkers from Tajikistan through China, and in the German film Artists Under The Big Top: Perplexed, Leni Peickert dreams about a new kind of circus, in which animals are treated more humanely and the art of the show is adapted for a modern world. The stunning Latcho Drom follows the gypsy people from India and through the Middle East to Eastern and Central Europe. Along the way, they absorb the music, dance, and costumes of various cultures, creating their own traditions. Traveling Sideshow: Shocked & Amazed offers an intimate view of the Lizard Man, Zamora the Torture King, George the Giant, and other freak legends. 10 Church St., Minneapolis, 612-331-3134; http://mnfilmarts.org/bell

We have to admit that we came rather late to the Francine Prose bandwagon. Maybe it was her name, which somehow suggested to us cat mysteries or droll little English parlor comedies. We are, however, big enough to admit when we’ve made a mistake. Prose’s Blue Angel, a dark comedy that mined the fatuous culture of university writing programs and sexual shenanigans in academia, got us hooked, and landed a National Book Award nomination to boot. In delving further into Prose’s backlist–which dates back thirty years–we were pleased to discover that many of her books were even better. She’s that rare writer who can pull off biting satires about mores and morons while maintaining a genuine affection for her characters, however confused, misguided, or tangled in their delusions they may be. Her latest novel, A Changed Man, is the story of an erstwhile skinhead who volunteers his services to a nonprofit run by a Holocaust survivor, ostensibly, he says, “to save guys like me from becoming guys like me.” It’s a classic Prose premise, and we certainly wouldn’t expect much in the way of deadly earnestness.

Judging by the elbowroom during a recent happy hour, this place hasn’t completely caught on yet. But it’s a short drive across the river to East Hennepin for the downtown set, and one that is amply rewarded. The signature martinis, which feature exotic infusions, defy easy categorization. This much we know: The tastes are complex and stunning. An organic fruit plate and a selection of vegetarian spreads were equally satisfying, while a turkey breast sandwich garnished with prosciutto and a chicken salad to go made the family at home very happy. (The happy-hour prices made us very happy.) The evening ended with a hot chocolate infused with ginger that did more for winter respiratory distress than the course of antibiotics we’d just finished. And the aroma in the adjacent boutique, stocked with Horst Rechelbacher’s elixirs, is the perfect cure for a long day in a downtown office. 983 E. Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-617-2000

What’s with the lodgification of the outer metro–this idea that if you give your restaurant a northwoods lodge feel, people will believe they are on vacation? The latest entry on the knotty-pine-everywhere scene is Big Buck Roadhouse, which comes complete with a giant portrait of the titular buck. Of course you’d expect a menu full of rich venison and big beefy burgers, and you’d be right, but there are some offerings that go beyond the expected, like the rustic scallop stew and the seared yellowfin tuna, a bright choice amid all those landlubbing animals. The lamb shanks come with a tangy side of cheddar grits and the brick chicken is juicy and tender. Service can be spotty, but with a little more time, they should work out the kinks. 17805 Highway 7, Minnetonka; 952-380-0333

Where have all the pizzas gone? It’s getting hard to find one that hasn’t been gussied up with odd toppings like potatoes and corn, or with a dull wheat crust, or some oily white stuff that isn’t pizza sauce by anyone’s stretch of the imagination. A real pizza is a simple affair: salty mozzarella, zesty tomato sauce, and a perfectly chewy white-flour crust. And it should be big enough to feed at least three people–dainty one-person/appetizer pizzas don’t count. Is that so much to ask for? Not at Gina Maria’s, where they nail the crust, the spicy sauce, and the really good cheese requirements, and stick to classic toppings. With thirty years in the business, Gina Maria’s got the recipe right a long time ago. 7416 Mitchell Road, Eden Prairie; 952-937-1589; 14655 Excelsior Blvd., Minnetonka/Hopkins, 952-933-5735; 330 E. Lake Drive, Chanhassen; 952-934-6600

This 27-year-old Harlem painter has hundreds of collectors on a waiting list for his work–artists don’t get any hotter than he is right now. At first glance, the six paintings by Wiley on view here are a crack-up. Handsome young black men in urban street wear assume classic poses of religious figures and events like St. Michael, the Annunciation, even the Marriage of the Virgin; they are rendered against (or really, within) electrically ornate, often Renaissance- or Baroque-style backgrounds. Man, it’s tough to look tough when you’re surrounded by pretty little flowers. At second glance, you get pulled into Wiley’s deft use of oils. His bold, graphic approach blends the in-your-face appeal of poster art with the subtlety and symbolism of the Old Masters (whom he also mimics by using assistants to paint all those dazzling backgrounds). 1021 E. Franklin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-872-7494; wwwfranklinartworks.org

As the baby boomers age, we expect to see a lot more shows set in retirement communities. And why not? As a latter-day version of dorm life, with drugs (non-recreational), sex (nineteen women for every guy), and gossip (what else is there to do all day?), it makes for perfect theatrical fodder. In this play, set in Florida, naturally, a rash of murders exposes the ill will of just about every resident in a retirement community. They all have good reasons to bump off their neighbors–and trust us, it’s not just about money, in a world in which an attractive man is a breathing one. This wicked comedy was the talk of last year’s Fringe festival, and it’s back for a proper, twisted run. 528 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-339-4944; www.illusiontheater.org