Category: Blog Post

BOOKS & AUTHORS
Banned Book Week

It’s Banned Book Week, and what better way to celebrate it than with P.O.W. poetry? Join Magers and Quinn tonight — along with bookstores across the country — for readings from the University of Iowa’s Poems From Guantanamo: The Detainees Speak. This collection brings together 22 poems — originally written in toothpaste, scratched onto foam drinking cups with pebbles, and furtively handed to attorneys — by 17 detainees. “Since 2002, at least 775 men have been held in the U.S. detention center at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. According to Department of Defense data, fewer than half of them are accused of committing any hostile act against the United States or its allies. In hundreds of cases, even the circumstances of their initial detainment are questionable.” The fact that they were able to create poetry within these confounds and these circumstances certainly merits a listen.

7:30 p.m., Magers & Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-4611.

A Three Dog Life

“This is the one thing that stays the same: my husband got hurt. Everything else changes. A grandson needs me and then he doesn’t. My children are close then one drifts away. I smoke and don’t smoke… The clock ticks, the seasons shift, the night sky rearranges itself, but my husband remains constant, his injuries are permanent.” Abigail Thomas’ 2006 memoir, A Three Dog Life, chronicles her efforts to care for her husband following a tragic accident that resulted in severe brain damage, total memory loss, fits of rage, terrors, and hallucinations. It’s not easy deciding to institutionalize the man you love. And Thomas’ memoir delves deep into the guilt and the grief she suffered trying to move on with her life. This isn’t just a touching tale of woe, however; it’s a beautifully written one as well. A Three Dog Life was selected as one of the Best Books of 2006 by both the L.A. Times and the Washington Post. Thomas has authored several book, and teaches fiction writing at The New School in New York. She’ll be discussing her book this afternoon and signing copies following the discussion.

2 p.m., University of Minnesota Bookstore, Coffman Memorial Union, 300 Washington Ave. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-626-0559; free.

LECTURE
Changing Hearts and Minds about Animals

Apparently, it’s not just Banned Book Week; it’s also Veg Week. I guess that means no piggly-wiggly tonight, folks. Veg Week kicks off today with a presentation by animal activist and Farm Sanctuary president, Gene Baur. As part of this evening’s lecture, “Farm Sanctuary: Changing Hearts and Minds About Animals,” Baur will share stories of Farm Sanctuary’s rescued animals, to show how “farm animals — like all animals — have feelings and can respond to kindness.” Stick around after the presentation for a catered reception and a chance to speak with Baur one-on-one.

7 p.m., Coffman Theater, University of Minnesota, 300 Washington Ave. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-626-5785; free.

MUSIC
Suzanne Vega

Vega is deservedly getting the best reviews of her career for Beauty & Crime, her tip of the beret to New York City, her home since childhood and also the site of September 11th, her dead brother’s apartment, and sidewalks full of poets and fashion models. Vega gathers it all up — Frank Sinatra, Ava Gardner, and Edith Wharton are in there, too — and winnows it down to 11 songs that come in under 40 minutes. She exacts such a detailed mixture of art (the naked sentiments in her cool, lofty lyrics, the seamless physical and emotional backdrop of NYC) and craft (the immaculate production, sophisticated arrangements, prim intonation) that the entire disc feels as much like scrimshaw as music: a small but potent treasure. –Britt Robson

7 p.m., Varsity Theater, 1308 Fourth St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-604-0222; $37.

Deerhoof

In May of 1996, Deerhoof took on singer Satomi Matsuzaki, who had moved to San Francisco to study film, and went on their first tour with her singing into a strange microphone composed of paper maché and Walkman headphones. That’s probably the best story I can tell to somehow describe their style. Deerhoof is difficult to categorize (and these days, that’s a good thing). Rolling Stone has written quite a bit about them this year, featuring them as the “Breaking” band in their January issue. And The New York Times called them “one of the most original rock bands to have come along in the last decade.” Greg Saunier’s power percussion and John Dietrich’s complex guitar work provide a most unique sound for Matsuzaki’s surreal voice.

8 p.m., McGuire Theater, Walker Art Center, 1750 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-375-7600; $16 (members $13).

They not only wrote the story, they actually ran an AP photo of the men’s room, just in case you ladies don’t know what one looks like. (This cutline corrected from original.)

We’ve been having a debate around my house for several months now…since about the time Par (Mr. Ethics) Ridder took over at the Strib…about whether or not we should cancel our subscription to The Newspaper of the Very Local Twin Cities.

I’ve been saying yes, mostly because, bridge coverage aside, the paper is very weak tea indeed. Every day it seems less like the residual pride of the journalists left there is able to bubble through the crust of the utterly venal management to come through with a story that I care about.

The last straw was Saturday, though. The top of the front page was covered with this story. In case you failed to get your undies in a bunch about anonymous gay sex at the airport, the problem is going to be solved. Yup, the most important story in the Twin Cities on Saturday was that the airport will be lowering the dividers of the mens’ room stalls at the airport. Too late for Larry Craig, of course, but the fears of Twin Citians who are concerned that sex (yes, sex!) happens between consenting adults have now been allayed.

I’ll sleep better knowing that stuff I couldn’t possibly care less about is being assiduously covered by the Strib. I thought that was the job of Channel 5.

LECTURE
The Kids Are All Right

Back in April, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) issued a report on the possibility of regulating television violence that might be seen by children. Though they were unable to define what constitutes violence, they did suggest that it can be regulated constitutionally. Now, as we await the FCC’s next steps, the Silha Center for the Study of Media Ethics and Law invites attorney Robert Corn-Revere to examine the conflict between our First Amendment rights and government control of the media. “The Kids Are All Right: Violent Media, Free Expression, and the Drive to Regulate” offers an opportunity to exploit Corn-Revere’s vast well of knowledge on this issue. Currently a partner at the law firm of Davis Wright Tremaine in Washington, D.C., he has served as counsel in litigation and regulatory proceedings involving the Communications Decency Act, the Child Online Protection Act, FCC Indecency Rules, Internet content filtering in public libraries, and public broadcasting and cable television regulations. The presentation will include a Q&A session, and light refreshments will be served.

7 p.m., Cowles Auditorium, Hubert H. Humphrey Institute of Public Affairs, University of Minnesota, 301 19th Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612 625 3421; free.

BOOKS & AUTHORS
Black & Blue

The NFL’s “Black and Blue” division — composed of the Chicago Bears, the Detroit Lions, the Green Bay Packers, and the Minnesota Vikings — has been playing a good-old-boy ass-kicking game for the past four decades. You know the kind of game I’m talking about. It’s the kind of football that Tom Cruise was trying to get Cuba Gooding to play in Jerry McGuire — the kind that knocks you out dead on the field, the black-and-blue kind. In honor of the division’s 40th anniversary, sportswriter Bob Berghaus takes us back to its glory days with team histories and game accounts dating all the way back to its 1967 inception. Black and Blue: A Smashmouth History of the NFL’S Roughest Division contains original interviews with coaches, players, and sportscasters, along with with stories and photos of some of the goriest games. If you like your gridline violence, you’ll appreciate this opportunity to meet a like-minded authority.

7:30 p.m., Magers & Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-4611.

MUSIC
Paolo Nutini

While Amy Winehouse was too tired, stressed, or drugged up to make her previously scheduled State Theater performance here this week, at least her opening act is pulling through. This is no ordinary opening act, folks. At only 19 years of age, Paolo Nutini already has a number five single on the UK charts, a number three album on the UK charts, and a Golden St. Christopher medal from the city of Barga, Italy — the highest honor the city offers. See him now, and see him first, for I am certain we will be speaking of him for many years to come. Hailing from Scotland, with Italian roots tossed in, Nutini writes his own music, tells a great story, and sings it so beautifully and passionately that you wouldn’t even care if he didn’t.

7:30 p.m., Fitzgerald Theater, 10 E. Exchange St., St. Paul; 651-290-1200; $29.50.

Olu Dara

On the more seasoned side of the musical spectrum, Olu Dara serves up “an eclectic mix of blues, jazz, and storytelling, with tinges of funk, African popular music, and reggae.” While he has been making music for more than three decades, during which time he has won numerous awards — including a 1999 Audelco Lifetime Achievement Award for his theater work — and while he has been oft compared to the legendary Louis Armstrong, you might not even know his name. For many years, Dara took a back seat to big names like Art Blakey, David Murray, and Henry Threadgill. Just under a decade ago, he finally stepped forward with his record debut, proving himself as a worthy leader, as well. You won’t want to miss this trumpet virtuoso.

7 & 9 p.m., Dakota Jazz Club & Restaurant, 1010 Nicollet, Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; $35 & $22.

THEATER & PERFORMANCE
Let Go, and Embrace the Ones You Love

Tired of passing up plays with costly tickets? Tonight, Mu Performing Arts offers a pay-what-you-can production of Bahala Na (let it go), directed by Jennifer Weir. As is standard Mixed Blood fare, the performance highlights socio-political issues of race, gender, age, and sexuality. Written by Chinese American playwright Clarence Coo, Bahala Na centers on a Chinese woman’s relationship with her gay grandson, taking us from 1920s China to the Philippines to America in the 1990s.

8 p.m., Mixed Blood Theatre, 1501 S. 4th St., Minneapolis; 612-338-6131; today only, pay-what-you-can.

Occasionally, I’ll give my creative writing students an exercise that goes something like this: take a candelabra, a piece of fishing wire, a map, a casual lie that can’t be taken back, and come up with a story. It must contain all of these elements, but beyond that the world of fiction is open to you. Now, just let yourself write. . . .

The 3 people (Dick Clement, Ian La Frenais, and Julie Taymor) who worked on the screenplay for Across the Universe seemed to be operating on a similar paradigm. Take all the Beatles songs you can think of, match them up with random historical events from the 60’s and 70’s, and create a story based on the characters and situations therein. Ready, set, go!

The result is a herky-jerky peace-love-and-war narrative that plays like Forrest Gump (another weak, insipid film, in my opinion) on acid. As in Gump, there’s a slender, blonde heroine with woeful eyes, a rather dense love interest, a best friend who goes to war and comes back changed. A stoic mother, a mysterious father figure, the list goes on and on. . . .All this film is missing is the footage of John Kennedy, a character with AIDS, and Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth,” which is a sad omission indeed.

Across the Universe follows — and I use that term loosely — the life of the bastard Liverpudlian Jude in his quest to find his American father. He meets up with Max (who does, in fact, wield a hammer, though it’s not silver), Sadie (sexy as all get-out), and Lucy, that doe-eyed heroine who does, by the end of the film, actually appear from out of the sky. The whole lot lives together in a walk-up in Hell’s Kitchen, hopping from one bed to another, experiencing the turbulent 60’s, visiting smoky bars and relying for spiritual sustenance on rock-and-roll. They ride a psychedelic bus and debate the war and hurt one another on the road to finding true love. Sound familiar?

It is. And it’s probably not a bad story, even if it has been told 3,000 times. But what’s missing in this film is good old-fashioned plotting: rather than allowing events to lead from one to the next — giving the impression of an organic and inevitable outcome — everything in this film is gerrymandered to fit the music. The screenplay reeks of writers who wandered around thinking, “Oooohhh, the race riots in Detroit, I can link those to Let It Be.” and “Strawberry Fields. . . .whoa that’s deep.” Those song lyrics that don’t lend themselves to an easy narrative device, such as the strawberries, simply get wedged in: Jude, the artist, staring at a bowl of fruit; Jude going into a frenzy and pinning strawberries to the wall; Jude struck by inspiration as he watches the strawberry juice bleed. Uh, yeah.

There are some incredibly watchable scenes in this movie. You’d have to have a heart — and ears — of stone not to be overjoyed when Joe Cocker appears on screen, dressed as a beggar, a prophet, and a pimp, to belt out Come Together. But in the gestalt, this is a well-intentioned mess of a movie that uses a flimsy narrative device rather than simply telling a story. As a teacher, I’d give this effort a C+. And that’s if it was executed by my sophomore students at Macalester.

My advice? For the best, most startling wartime tales, check out Tim O’Brien‘s The Things They Carried. For a heartbreaking and beautiful tribute to the Beatles, read the Modern Love written by novelist Ann Hood on the event of her daughter’s death. And if you want to see a couple landmark films about re-entry after Nam, watch Coming Home and The Big Lebowski. In that order.

Across the Universe is showing on two screens at the Edina Cinema.

After noticing my previous post, someone asked me how a Guido could afford an M3. Well there is a difference between common Guidos (also known as Larrys) and Gold Chain Guidos. Guidos work in the chain store, Gold Chain Guidos own multiple chain stores (likely through some Ponzi scheme.)

An automotive badge frequently accessorized with a gold chain

While Gold Chain Guidos are fond of BMWs, the Hummer H2 or H3 Alpha is their favorite ride. If you would like to know more about this species, simply take a little field trip to Bellanote’ in Minneapolis on Thursday night.

To know thyself. . . .no less a mind than Socrates said it’s important. And I agree.

For example, I’m a food writer but I am not Ruth Reichl or Calvin Trillin. Culinary trends don’t rise and fall with my whims. And I’ve come to terms with this. OK, I’m working on coming to terms with it. But in any case, at least 90 percent of the time, I’m pretty clear about who I am.

Many restaurateurs struggle, however. Little Midwestern bistro chefs suddenly start thinking they’re on par with Lupa and take to offering scrambled eggs with foie gras toast at $24 a plate. Successful coffeeshop owners decide to open three-tier dance clubs, or franchise their “original” concept in 37 little towns. In other words, they forget who they are. And the results are rarely good.

Take Big Buck. It was opened in Minnetonka a couple years ago by Jennifer Jackson and Eliot King — the couple who brought you Prima, on 53rd and Lyndale in Minneapolis, and Three Fish on the perimeter of Lake Calhoun. Big Buck was supposed to be their “destination” spot: they were serving wild game — elk and boar — along with steamed mussels and something they called “roasted duck cigars.” But within months, the critics shouted en masse: great hamburgers and grilled salmon; forget about the rest. It never caught on.

So recently, Jackson and Eliot did a very smart thing. They closed Big Buck — quietly — and replaced it with Prima-Minnetonka, a larger, full-bar rendition of the little Italian eatery, serving panninis, pastas, and a tasty little Caesar salad, along with wines in the $5-8 a glass range.

I want to be clear: these people are very, very good at putting together a nice, neighborhood meeting place. A restaurant where you can feel comfortable and well taken care of and get out for under $25 a head. Prima is a lovely little 55-seat bistro; and Three Fish is one of the most reasonably-priced nice seafood places around. But Jackson and King simply don’t have the drawing power of a Tim McKee or a Stewart Woodman or an Alex Roberts — all chef-owners whose reputations will cause people in St. Cloud or Red Wing to get into their cars and drive into town.

Score one for self-awareness. And as it turns out, the move probably was good for the Jackson/King duo financially, as well as in a personal growth sort of way. Their press release [curiously] reports that since the change to Prima, female diners are flocking to the Minnetonka location. And wine sales are way, way up.

I grew up in Minnetonka, actually. I’ve been acquainted with the housewifely lunching crowd in that area for more than 30 years. And no one understands better than I the way the wine flows over servings of butternut squash pasta with pine nuts and caramelized pears.

So I may not be Calvin Trillin — yet — but I know myself well enough that I’m aware running to Cub and Tonkadale Nursery, then ducking in for Happy Hour at Prima every afternoon, is not for me.