Author: rakemag

Novelist, essayist, and short story writer Jamaica Kincaid will read from her new novel, Mr. Potter. In this latest book, what is possibly her most luminous and ambitious work to date, the author breathes life into an individual consciousness emerging gloriously out of an unexamined life. Kincaid was born Elaine Potter Richardson in St. John’s, Antigua, West Indies in 1949. After emigrating to the United States and becoming a U.S. citizen, she married composer Allen Shawn and, in 1973, changed her name to Jamaica Kincaid. With the 1983 publication of her book of short stories, At the Bottom of the River, Kincaid made her arrival as an important new voice in American fiction, receiving the Morton Dauwen Zabel Award from the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters in 1983. She is the author of six novels, and she credits the United States as the place where “I did find myself and did find my voice… what I really feel about America is that it’s given me a place to be myself–but myself as I was formed somewhere else.” Kincaid’s obsession with the island of Antigua comes to life under the gaze of Mr. Potter, an illiterate taxi chauffeur who makes his living along the roads that pass the only towns he has ever seen and the graveyard where he will be buried. J. B. Davis Auditorium, Macalester College, 1600 Grand Ave., St. Paul; Ruminator Books, (651) 659-0587

If you know anything about investing, you know about Warren Buffett and Berkshire Hathaway. Buffett, often referred to as the "World’s Greatest Investor", is the helmsman of Berkshire Hathaway, which is a holding company that owns Geico Insurance, General Re reinsurance, Dexter Shoes, The Buffalo (NY) News, See’s Candy, and several others. It also holds major stakes in American Express, The Washington Post, and Coca-Cola. Buffett has some peculiar notions that he has managed to hold onto during the Internet and Telcom boom: He doesn’t invest in anything he doesn’t understand. So, he buys insurance, brick, and shoe companies that just turn out consistent profits, while we all piss away the 401K on fiber-optic switch companies with funny names and web sites. His management philosophy is best summed up by the following quote from this year’s annual letter to shareholders. "Why, you might ask, didn’t I recognize the above facts [of terrorist risk] before September 11th? The answer, sadly, is that I did–but I didn’t convert thought into action. I violated the Noah rule: Predicting rain doesn’t count; building arks does." He takes responsibility for his own shortcomings–not a textbook character trait of American captains of industry. So, why go to the annual meeting? Because you get to listen to Buffett and his partner Charlie Munger tell you everything they know for about six hours on a Saturday. The actual business of the meeting is dispatched in five minutes, and then they both take questions. If you get tired of listening, you can go to the auditorium basement and actually buy products of Berkshire subsidiaries. Before the Saturday meeting, there is a Friday evening cocktail reception at Borsheim’s, the west Omaha jewelry store that Berkshire owns, and where everything is for sale at deep discounts for shareholders. After the Saturday meeting, Buffett appears at the Omaha Royals minor league baseball game and patiently sits for pictures and signs autographs for anyone who wants. Sunday, the sale continues at Borsheim’s and at Nebraska Furniture Mart, another Berkshire holding. One catch–admission is open only to Berkshire Hathaway shareholders. If you were a shareholder as of March 6, you have received your admission information by now. If you bought your shares after that date, you can bring a current broker’s statement for admission at the door. The price of one Berkshire "A" share is, as of this writing, $71,100. Lucky for you, they issued "B" shares a couple of years ago, which are going for only $2,362 today. You also have to pay $6 each if you want the baseball tickets, but they throw in the parking and a hot dog. Berkshire Hathaway, www.berkshirehathaway.com

Spyhouse? A house of spies? Yes, Q, they’re everywhere in this place. Spies from Africa, spies from Hong Kong, spies from behind the old iron curtain. Spies who look like Jack Kerouac, spies who wish they wrote like him, and spies who seem weathered enough that they might have hung out with him in ’54. Mostly, the spies look like they fell off a Pucci runway, hep, swankish, and charmed with life in this moment. They go nicely with the dense smoke, the Ero Saarinen decor, and the music of Montovani, Cale, or Mr. Bungle (perhaps in quick succession), typically played at a volume that is not to be ignored. Unlike most coffee bars that pretend to show art, the Spyhouse earnestly shows talent that would make Bond glance over Ursula’s shoulder. Outside, on one of Minneapolis’ most worldly streets, you and your fellow spies can enjoy a table in the May sun while the Vietnamese women make their way to the market or a mysterious shadow slips into the Mexican psychic’s place across the street. And though you can’t get your martini either shaken or stirred you can get an incredible cup of Sumatra for $1.85. The Spyhouse, (612) 871-3177

Pepito’s is the kind of festive neighborhood joint where even a bad date can turn into a good time. Big flavor is matched by big portions and plenty of hospitality that only gets better once the margaritas arrive. It seems to be a method that works. For more than 20 years this family-run restaurant has been dishing it up with verve, and its popularity shows in its regulars. Some staffers have been around for years, too. And that’s always a good sign. Likewise, take a look at the brass name plaques in the booths: Janet Jackson, Kenny Loggins, Diana Pierce, and innumerable Viking linemen. Sure, it’s hammy, but it’s fun, too. Just what a family should be, and since Pepito’s offers the best deal on kids meals in town ($1.95 buys a child-size entree, a drink with free refills, and an ice-cream sundae!), you can afford to feed your family there as often as you wish. For bigger appetites, the homemade standards are all here–huge enchiladas filled with about a pound of beans, chunky salsa, and spicy pork dishes that are hot enough to bring a trickle to your brow. Sunday brunch offers a zesty array of Mexican comfort foods at an all-you-can-eat bargain, or you can drop in later in the evening for live entertainment. Pepitos, (612) 822-2104

Beer, music, bowling, spoken word, food, cabaret. Could you ask for more? Social from breakfast to bar time, BLB is a mainstay for any trendsetter or wannabe. The mix of 40s-era paneling, dreadlocks, bowling trophies, and ahi tuna somehow comingle in an electric atmosphere for anybody looking for something different. Over the past several years Bryant-Lake’s compact, 85-seat theater has become a hot spot for good local entertainment. On nearly any night of the week you’ll find one or two shows offered, be it music, comedy, or even a little drama. If you’re not in the mood for art, don a pair of ancient suede three-tones and work on your average. Chances are you’ll have to wait for a lane–the six-year-olds on lane one are nearly finished, but the tattooed and pierced bunch on lane two is a smaller group. Brush up on your bowling etiquette, though; when Roger is “in” he takes no funny stuff. While you’re waiting you can pick from fare that ranges from a turkey, sauerkraut, Swiss, and thousand island sammy to a warm fig salad in a balsamic reduction. Bryant-Lake Bowl, (612) 825-3737

Thanks mostly to the Walt Disney Corporation, Hans Christian Andersen is generally remembered as a kindly composer of innocent entertainments for children. But the real Andersen was far more interesting. He was a tormented soul who larded his tales with his own psychic misery, apparently in the belief that what kids want from a story is a stew of self-pity and repressed eroticism. Needless to say, the CTC’s new adaptation of The Snow Queen favors the Disney Andersen over the real one; the casting, for example, pretty much rules out any thought of a future romance between the two central characters. Nevertheless this production does manage to capture much of the story’s inherent spookiness. Scenic designer Michael Sommers turns the rather flimsy script into a parade of strikingly beautiful and weird images. Ruth MacKenzie’s pastiche of Scandinavian folk music—the same stuff that made her recent show Kalevala so popular—provides another layer of eerie atmosphere. Co-directors Sommers and Peter Brosius keep the images and songs moving energetically along. And if the show’s message about friendship seems a little tame, well…the CTC is a theater for children.

Art
by Yasmina Reza
Park Square Theatre, through April 13
What is Art? Three answers come to mind. First, it’s a play that asks the question, What is art? In other words, Art has genuine intellectual content—something we don’t encounter very often in the contemporary American theater. (More’s the pity.) Second, Art is a play with a somewhat misleading title. Yes, on one level it’s about aesthetics; but on another more dramatic level it’s about human relationships. A better title might be The Shock of Discovering Your Best Friend Is a Complete Idiot. That’s what happens in the play: A man buys an all-white painting which he takes quite seriously, thus endangering his friendship with another man who thinks the painting is the height of pretentiousness. Third, Art is one of the most critically lauded new plays to come along in years, and critics aren’t always wrong. This production marks not only the area premiere of Art, but also the return to directing of Richard Cook, Park Square’s artistic director, after a two-year hiatus. Well-known local actors Peter Moore, Jim Stowell, and Peter Gregory Thompson make up the cast. And if you need another reason to see the show, you can tell your friends that you saw Art for art’s sake.

It’s hard to believe that Jeune Lune has never before staged a Greek tragedy. The highly stylized drama of that period would seem to provide fertile ground for the highly stylized productions of this French-derived theater company. Medea, however, is a bit of a surprising choice. Of all the ancient Greek tragedians (all three of them) whose works have not been entirely lost, Euripides is by far the most modern, by far the most concerned with the intricacies of character. Except for the ending, the gods are absent from Medea; this is a play about the messy business of being human. And that’s the weakness of this production, because Jeune Lune’s strengths lie more in the physical than in the psychological. Moreover, Medea is a tough show to pull off unless you have an actress with commanding stage presence to play the title character. Although Barbara Berlovitz is a fine actress in the right role, she’s not the scenery-chomping dynamo this job requires. Still, it’s interesting to see how Jeune Lune’s style matches up with the challenges presented by the script. And watch for Charles Schuminski as Aegeus, King of Athens, who makes his entrance looking remarkably like Jesus Christ Superstar.

It holds up pretty well, all things considered, but then we’re suckers for baseball movies. Tim Robbins’ turn as screwy southpaw Nuke LaLoosh (a baseball picture without clichés just isn’t a baseball picture) represents the funniest performance in le cinema du baseball since the hapless, ever befuddled William Bendix assayed the title role in The Babe Ruth Story. Susan Sarandon is likewise masterful as Annie, the temptress/muse/ home-team slut who undertakes to make Nuke a man. And Kevin Costner is—well, Kevin Costner. The man has made a second career of baseball films. (Field of Dreams, For Love of the Game—and wouldn’t a few pickup games have done a lot to spruce up Dances With Wolves?) Special bonus for Rakish readers: If you act now, the new special edition DVD is available from Amazon.com in a specially priced two-pack with The Natural, Robert Redford’s baseball horror flick about a preternaturally gifted young outfielder whose face is inexplicably melting.