Author: rakemag

Reservoir Dogs made him the hipsters’ darling, but it was 1994’s Pulp Fiction that, for better or worse, anointed Quentin Tarantino as The New Genius Who Will Change Moviemaking Forever. Nobody, of course, can stand up to that level of hype, and QT certainly later proved himself capable of graceless junk. (Exhibit A: Four Rooms.) But, y’know, it’s not going too far to say that Pulp Fiction’s influence shows up in many good (and bad) crime films made since. Sure, it has faults. The flashy editing and then-radical nonlinear chronology mask a certain superficiality. It’s convinced of its own cleverness, and rings hollow when dealing with questions of morality. It also brought John Travolta back from obscurity, and thus is directly responsible for Battlefield Earth . Still, it’s brilliant and stylish storytelling, and as far-reaching in its way as Citizen Kane.

Jack Nicholson has certainly confirmed many times over his place as a master of the big screen. Who can forget his classic role as Jack Torrance in The Shining, or more recently his deft and hilarious portrayal of neurotic Melvin Udall in As Good as It Gets? Still, we think this is by far his finest performance—as angry young man, slacker sweetheart, and harmless delinquent Randle McMurphy, who tries to parlay a petty sentence at the workhouse into a stay on Easy Street at a mental institution. (Things turn out much worse than expected.) Of course, Nicholson had fine material to work with. It was Ken Kesey’s first novel—the outstanding book that established him as a cultural poobah years before he convened the Merry Pranksters and turned them all onto a little-known drug called LSD. Anyway, one of the reasons we keep on eye on DVD releases is to take notice of great moments in film, and to generate an excuse for you to run out and tag up on films that have taken their place in the canon of great American art. This is one of them.

It’s been almost 20 years since the original release of one of the strangest films to become a cult classic. Koyaanisquatsi is really just a collage of moving images, but there is real structure and direction to the non-narrative movie. Moving from pure natural environments to completely fabricated, manmade settings, it is a visual dictionary of how technology has changed the planet. It also falls in the realm of those films that blur traditional categories between pictures, words, and meaning—so far away from traditional Hollywood contexts, one can see the terrible beauty of a landfill, for example, or the nauseating churn of normal rain clouds. Ostensibly it’s a film about “life out of balance” (it takes its title from a Hopi word with that meaning), and there is an overwhelming sense of apocalyptic moralizing to the thing. Still, the film continues to reward viewers with its lush imagery, and its Philip Glass soundtrack, and it should inspire you to chase down other films in this tiny genre, like Chris Marker’s criminally underappreciated Sans Soleil. Incidentally, Koyaanisqatsi is the first in a trilogy. Powaqqatsi is also out on DVD this month, and the long-awaited final film, Naqoyqatsi, will be released to theaters in the next few weeks.

The thing about Tom Stoppard is that you have to bring your brain to the theater. All of it. Stoppard, whom most know as the author of Shakespeare in Love, is the preeminent English playwright of ideas. His normal modus operandi is to take some small bit from his exhaustive knowledge of history, literature, or science and turn it into a gargantuan display of intellect and wit, with enough theatricality thrown in to make it enormously entertaining. The problem is that to really get all the jokes, you have to know a bit of the background. For Travesties , for example, you need to know something about James Joyce, Dadaism, the Russian Revolution, and limericks. For Arcadia , it’s chaos theory. For The Invention of Love, Virgil’s Aeneid comes in handy. For Hapgood , you better bone up on quantum mechanics, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, and John LeCarre’s novels. Here’s the problem: a Russian physicist, who works for the British, may be passing secrets back to the Russians, with the help of Russian and British twin double agents, under the noses of the Americans who suspect the British of actually working for the Russians. The physics of very small things, such as anti-matter and whizzing electrons, provide the metaphor which gives you the clue to solving the spy game and to Stoppard’s real take on the whole Cold War. Is that all clear now? Jungle Theater (612) 822-7063, www.jungletheater.com

For 10 years, this Minneapolis-based troupe has been working to bridge the gap between Asian and American cultures through the power of the stage, mixing Western-style dramas with Eastern music, dance, and drumming. Their latest offering, “Of Hope and Courage,” is a double shot of one-acts by local Asian-American playwrights, both taking their inspiration from Far Eastern folk tales. In “Distant Song,” Kiseung Rhee retells a Korean fable about a young man who finds adventure and learns hard lessons about life on the way to find a fortune-telling hermit. Jennifer Weir’s “The Demons of Noto Hanto,” based on a traditional Japanese legend, should appeal to anyone who loves The Seven Samurai. Intermedia Arts, (612) 871-4444,www.intermediaarts.org, www.theatermu.org

Ragamala Music and Dance Theater is one of the gorgeous, hidden jewels of Twin Cities dance. Exploring and expanding classical Indian dance (based in Bharatanatyam, the ancient classical dance of southern India) with a blend of contemporary choreography, Ragamala has enjoyed 10 seasons of performances that have garnered international attention. Srishti (Creation) begins the new season with an evening featuring the choreography of Associate Artistic Director Aparna Ramaswamy. Ramaswamy, who has been dancing Bharatanatyam since age six, is a recipient of a 2002 Bush Artist Fellowship. Srishti highlights a new duet performed by Ramaswamy and Toni Pierce, which was collaboratively choreographed by Ramaswamy and Uri Sands, a former Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater dancer and Minnesota Dance Theatre resident choreographer. Another highlight of the evening will be Laya , the creation of composer/musician Rick Shiomi. This piece weaves the footwork of Bharatanatyam with the Japanese taiko drum, creating an interplay of two distinct percussive forms. Southern Theater (612) 340-1725

Arm thy wallet with cash and thy chariot with a full tank of gas, for the Minnesota Renaissance Festival is in full regalia once again in its 30th anniversary of entertainment. Twelve stages with everything from the traditional fairy tale of Cinderella told in spoonerisms from the Tory Steller, to a full-contact Armored Joust. You’ll find 270 craft shops including fine jewelry, leather roses, and four-foot broadswords. And your appetite will be aroused by more than 50 food booths where you can slurp soup in a bread bowl for an appetizer, down a turkey drumstick bigger than your arm for the entree, and indulge in a decadent—and enormous—cream puff for dessert. Altogether, the 22-acre “village” comes to life with fairies, chickens, and royalty, but if you’re planning to bring the kids, covering their ears and eyes now and then might be wholly necessary. The humor is occasionally lewd, and characters have no anachronistic qualms about obscenity. One can bypass these, though, with lots of children’s attractions—games and rides galore! Just don’t forget thy “Lady Visa” or thy “Master Card.” Heh heh. Minnesota Renaissance Festival, (952) 445-7361, www.renaissancefest.com

More a collection of vignettes than large-scale narrative, Seed: Awesome Vessel of Power is a rumination on a simple, oft overlooked object of nature. Initiated by Associate Artistic Director Beth Peterson in collaboration with four other puppeteers and three musicians, Seed was first performed two years ago at HOBT. Peterson’s vision came in response to the radical changes that had recently come about in the bioengineering industry and the broad impact those changes will have on all of us, from the mother in Bangladesh to the farmer in southern Minnesota. A complex global issue has been grounded in a humane and simple —if a little simplistic—clarity. Music and humor are mixed thoughtfully enough with the gravity of the message, so that all ages walk away with their souls well fed. This one-weekend Minneapolis presentation is part of a four-city tour that will also introduce the performance to some of the state’s breadbasket hubs: Mankato, Fairmont, and Silver Bay. In the Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theatre, (612) 721-2535, www.hobt.org

Well, it’s about time. Nine years since the fondly remembered First Avenue reunion shows, 15 since their breakup, and 22 since In Combo first popped up in the vinyl racks, Beej and the boys’ original albums are finally out on CD. It’s a fine opportunity to reacquaint ourselves with the ’Burbs’ brand of buzzy and bouncy punk-pop. Less angry than Hüsker Dü and less drunk than the Replacements, the Suburbs eschewed the aggressive, deliberate sloppiness of their peers in favor of tightly arranged punk for the dance floor—the sugarbuzz-happy middle ground between Culture Club and Wire. They never broke big nationwide, but a ferocious cult developed out of a string of club hits and memorably weird lyrics about cows, monster men, and wives taped to the ceiling. They broke up for good reason—major-label malaise led to 1986’s uninspired The Suburbs , not included in this reissue—but their place in local rock mythology is completely warranted. One churlish note: the packaging is disappointingly spare. No live tracks, no new liner notes, no B-sides, just the original tracks and artwork. But we’re complaining about the parsley garnish when the steak is sizzling.

We’ve been big fans of Greg Brown for a long time now—for almost as long as he’s been obsessed with the Driftless, that rugged beautiful part of the country down where Iowa, Wisconsin, and Minnesota all come together, the land the glaciers forgot to plow under. Seems most of the music-making world is a fan of Brown’s too. Here, Red House Records compiles a tribute to the Mephistopheles of New Folk, with a roster full of talented women performing his songs. It’s not just an exercise in padding the catalog—Red House and Brown are dedicating profits from the album to breast cancer charities. There’s a lot of great stuff here, from Lucinda Williams’ languid take on “Lately” to Iris Dement’s flawless rendering of “The Train Carrying Jimmy Rodgers Home.” Ani DiFranco weighs in with a perfunctory version of “The Poet Game” (the riotgrrl is beginning to lose her quirky sense of modesty, we fear), but the whole thing comes to a throat-tightening crescendo with Brown’s own daughters performing “Ella Mae,” a rarely recorded tribute to his grandmother (and Pieta, Zoe, and Constie’s great grandma) that never sounded so heartbreaking. This pastoral tear-jerker alone is worth several times the cover price.