The Rake Magazine

Category: Blog Post

  • So Much Trouble in the World

    ACTIVISM
    Not One More Death — Not One More Dollar

    Unhappy Anniversary! (Assume a Shakespearean tone, but don’t fail to take the rest of this seriously.) Today marks five years since the invasion of Iraq. With Iraq falling out of the headlines and becoming nothing more than a platform point in a most engaging presidential primary race, the battlefield is ripe for a solid public outcry against the war. This afternoon, and all through the evening, MoveOn members will be holding candlelight vigils throughout Minneapolis (and around the country) to call for an end to the war and "new priorities for our nation."

    5 p.m. at Lake Street and the Marshall Ave Bridge in Minneapolis, 6:30 p.m. at the Pedestrian Bridge over Highway 62 in Minneapolis, 7 p.m. at the corner of 50th and France in Edina, 7 p.m. just southwest of Rice and Wheelock Pkwy. in St. Paul, and 7:30 p.m. just west of the Mall at 212 and Singleton Rd. in Eden Prairie.

    LECTURE
    Take It from a Union Man Who Knows Danger

    We’ve has our fair share of anti-union violence in this country, but nothing like union organizers have experienced, and continue to experience, in Colombia, which may likely be the most dangerous country in the world for a union leader. According to the International Labor Organization, more than two thousand Colombian trade unionists have been murdered since 1991. Tonight, we have one in our midst, sharing his vast well of knowledge and experience. Edgar Paez, a leader with SINALTRAINAL, the National Food Industry Workers Union in Colombia, will speak tonight in Minneapolis and tomorrow in Rochester. For years, Paez has organized workers and social struggles in Colombia, as well as in other countries. But tonight, he’ll join Gerardo Cajamarca (a former Colombian union activist now on the staff of the United Steelworkers), and Dan Kovalik (associate general counsel of the United Steelworkers) for a panel discussion on the current conditions for union organizers in Colombia and how a free trade agreement with the United States would affect workers, families, and human rights in Colombia. Tomorrow night, in Rochester, Kovalik will be replaced by Tara Widner (staff representative for the United Steelworkers).

    6 p.m., Minneapolis Labor Center, 312 Central Ave., Minneapolis; free. Tomorrow at 6 p.m. (5 p.m. for coffee and snacks), Christ United Methodist Church, 400 5th St. SW, Rochester; free.

    FILM
    Sneak a Peek at Paranoid Park

    A murder mystery wrapped into the life and times of a wannabe skate punk who gets caught-up in the investigation, Paranoid Park
    utilizes a myriad of production devices to take the viewer inside the
    mind of a troubled teenager. While I was expecting a meditative journey
    through the dark side of skateboarding, it was a surprise to get caught
    up in a murder mystery plot intermingled with teen skateboarder Alex’s
    struggle to cope with his insecurities, and what he is willing to do
    not to have to feel. Catch tonight’s free premiere at the Walker, or see it this weekend at the Lagoon. —Christopher Kelleher, read his full review

    7:30 p.m., Walker Art Center, 1750 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-375-7600; free.

    IFP’s Cinema Lounge

    Third Wednesday of the month: that means another Cinema Lounge. And this month it’s all documentaries. Films include: Bronze by Paul Benhardt, The Northshore Project by Cliff Langley, Diego’s Visit to Guatemala by Dan Luke and Diego Mack Xicay Luke, Cross Country with the Snakes by Hansi Johnson, and The Women of Brukman and Oaxaca: The Power of the Commune by Carlos Broun.

    7 p.m., Bryant Lake Bowl, 810 West Lake St., Minneapolis; 612-825-8949; free (but I’m guessing donations are more than welcome.)

    MUSIC
    Patty Larkin: All That and a Bag of Sky

    She has "redefining the boundaries of folk-urban pop music for more than 20 years." She is known for her "inventive guitar wizardry, vocals, and uncompromising lyrics." Acoustic Guitar hails “her soundscape experiments.” Rolling Stone praises her “evocative vocals and subtle sonic shading.” She has been described as “riveting” (Chicago Tribune), “hypnotic” (Entertainment Weekly) and “drop-dead brilliant” (Performing Songwriter). But at the end of the day, you should go see Patty Larkin tonight just because she sounds darn beautiful! …and with so much trouble in the world, we all need something beautiful.

    7:30 p.m., The Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-388-2674; $18.

    Looking for some good reading material to lighten and brighten up your day? Be sure to check out this week’s feature on the Twin Cities burlesque scene: "Minnesota Naughty" — plus three accompanying videos on the birth of Le Cirque Rouge, the group’s controversial split, and the resulting burlesque scene today.

  • Brain Food: Lost in the Details

    If you missed Barak Obama’s speech earlier today, see it here, and get back to this post when you’re done. I’m not backing any presidential candidates, but the speech can’t be missed. Besides, then you can take part in the fun — brain food fun, that is.

    I received an email from MoveOn this afternoon (don’t worry, I get "righty" emails, too), and in addition to letting me know that it’s "one of the most honest, courageous, and thoughtful speeches" they’ve ever seen, they commented that the media had totally missed the point — "reducing
    the whole thing to a few soundbites and hashing over whether he ‘did enough to condemn his pastor.’"

    Surprisingly, this had not been my experience throughout the day. Granted, I was too busy to read much of anything all day, but from what little I could gauge, the consensus was awe — simple, uncomplicated awe.

    Hmmm…

    Of course, I checked my media sources after receiving the aforementioned email. I got online — bullshit, I was already online — and went to The New York Times website, where I found "Obama Urges U.S. to Grapple With Racial Issue." Ok. True. Very appropriate title. That’s exactly what he did. But the first half does focus on the pastor — of course, his speech did as well. Perhaps it’s not how I would have led the story, but it’s fair enough.

    I move on. I check other news sources. I’m not really seeing it. They’re journalists, right? They’re supposed to be reporting the facts, after all. They can’t express awe. Is that the problem?

    When something beautiful or gruesome enough happens, it seems, we need to have it expressed to us somehow. Perhaps we’ve become lazy or weak, or even dumb, but we no longer seem capable of reacting on our own. The facts just aren’t enough anymore. It’s unfortunate; and one could definitely argue that for that very reason, we need to force the issue — that we can’t give up. But we’ve hardened to facts over time. It’s only natural.

    Enter the blog. Why are we suddenly reaching out like desperate fools, poking people in Facebook, amassing "friends" in MySpace, concocting new Google groups, reconnecting with grade-school aquaintance, and checking our email 542 times a day? Oh — and writing and reading about navel explorations. Oh, my.

    We want more than facts. We need more than facts. We need reaction. We need connection. We need context.

    Enter the blog.

    Clearly now, the little information I had received throughout the day was from blogs. Of course, it was awe. Some say it isn’t journalism. Frankly, I don’t care what it’s called. It is.

    So, what then? Certainly we need facts. But do mere facts accurately paint a full picture? Do they offer vision, truth? Or in getting caught in the facts, do we miss the big picture?

    Journalism, as we know it today, isn’t the origin of everything. It isn’t a seed for everything that follows. It’s just one of the things that follows and precedes — a part of the chain. Maybe we’re a little closer to our story-telling origins now. Who knows? But isn’t it all part of a progression, an evolution?

    Who ever said facts have to be dry? Who ever said anyone should be anything less than subjective?

    (I get it. I get it. Tomorrow I’ll rant about the importance of journalistic integrity. But today I’m enjoying the ride.)

    "I sound my barbaric YAWP o’er the rooftops of the world." —WW

     

     

  • The Rise of the Mighty Euro

    Perhaps I’m the only one who wasn’t paying attention to the complications caused by the European Union. But I’ll admit, I’m surprised.

    When we booked our trip to Italy — after receving an unexpected bequest from my husband’s mother — the euro (which had been under a dollar not long before) was trading at about $1.20. By the time we boarded our plane last week, it was $1.55 and rising steadily, which meant we could no longer afford the trip we had planned.

    John and I reassessed quickly, eliminating one city and several amenities. The best solution would have been to shorten the trip by two days, thereby cutting out two hotel stays and several meals, but Northwest would have charged us so dearly to make the change, we would have netted a loss. So we forged ahead, eating dinner roughly half the nights in our rooms rather than a restaurant, which in this country certainly is no hardship. . . .

    In fact, we had some really lovely meals: fresh bread; prosciutto from the local alimentari; a delicious sharp, soft cheese called tallegio; and the best oranges (nearly all Italian oranges are of what we Americans call the "blood" variety, with bright red fruit) I have ever tasted in my life. In addition, each night we would open a bottle of some local wine that we purchased for about €3.50, or $5.

    After a time, John and I began competing in the markets of Italy, a how low can you go sort of game, where each of us would try to find a bottle of something both cheap and remarkable. The best was a Sasso Alto Montepulciano d’Abruzzo 2006 for €2.59 (around $3.90) that we found in a dingy, back-street supermarket in Florence. It was rich and satisfying, a cherry red wine with lots of blackberry and vanilla and dark Tuscan earth. Not complex, but perfect for our middle-of-the-bed picnics. And I have no doubt that when we look back on this trip in the decades to come, it will be those nights we remember most fondly. Food and wine in a small hotel room, oranges so juicy we needed towels to keep the quilt clean, the sounds of city life coming from the darkened porthole window overhead.

    Still, we did a fair amount of grumbling at first about how the cost of the euro was eating into our precious vacation fund. The more we tried to economize, however — e.g. ordering primi plates and house wine in restaurants rather than three courses with expensive bottles, as tourists who came before us have routinely done — the more irritated our hosts became. And it wasn’t only us. I could watch the animosity play out between other Americans and our Italian hosts. There has always, I suspect, existed a battle between merchants and travelers: they rely on us financially but resent us for trampling through their country and neglecting to learn their language; we want to take advantage of everything they know and have and sell, yet resent the prices they charge.

    In the wake of the European Union and the euro, everything relationship-wise has worsened. Tourists feel cheated even before they land in Florence or Venice or Rome. And businesspeople in this country (where employment owes a whopping 67% to the service and tourism industries) are seeing crowds thin and people spend less. So they’re reasonably defensive and upset.

    I thought this was the end of the story — a cultural war that waxes and wanes and happens to be in a peak phase right now — but last night I had a converation that broadened my understanding. We had stopped in a coffee bar and struck up a halting, broken conversation with a very genial barista. At one point, I asked if conversion to the euro had been difficult — meaning, mostly, whether it was tough to recognize the new coins and bills.

    But he took it another way entirely.

    "Terrible," he told us (and I’m paraphrasing, because some of this was communicated with hand gestures). "Everything in Italy costs twice as much as it did when we had lire."

    It turns out [and you probably already know this] that economically powerful countries such as France and Sweden drew in less well-off ones — including Italy and Spain — forcing everyone to adhere to a standard currency that allowed the wealthier Europeans to maintain their quality of life while the poor wound up spending 75-100% more for essentials, such as food, cigarettes (hey, they seem to be essential here. . . .), and gasoline.

    The barista explained all this while tossing a 50-cent coin in the air. He looked simply resigned. As for me, I left the coffee bar far less inclined to complain about my lean vacation funds. Also grateful on behalf of working-class Italian people that at least, they need pay only €2.59 for a very good bottle of wine.

  • The Three Pointer: Finishing Strong

    Copyright 2008 NBAE (Photo by David Sherman/NBAE via Getty Images)

    Game #66, Home Game #34: Los Angeles Clippers 90, Minnesota 99

    Season Record: 16-50

    1. Pick and Roll Call

    The Clippers without Chris Kamen are a feel-good victim for a ballclub ready to generate some springtime momentum despite its inevitable trip to the lottery. Wolves coach Randy Wittman stomped and gyrated and spun and screamed and acted out for a good part of the game on the sidelines, then came in from the nine-point triumph and essentially praised everyone on the roster.

    And with good reason. Abetted by a steady diet of pick-and-rolls–"we run more of them against [the Clippers] than any other team" Wittman said–Minnesota made at least half their field goals for the third straight game, held the Clips to 38.8% from the field, and used a 13-4 run in the first 3:42 of the 4th quarter to turn a two-point lead into double-digits and a relatively comfortable coast to victory.

    With that said, let’s begin the roll call.

    The easy story is Al Jefferson because it follows the classic arc of shame and redemption: Benched for horrid D Friday night against Seattle, challenged to improve at that end of the court for at least the last month, according to Wittman–"it is the next step for him"–Jefferson made a pair of tone-setting blocks on shots by Josh Powell and Tim Thomas in the first 1:10 of the game and then added another against Cuttino Mobley with 4:06 to play in the period. And in the second quarter he lunched Powell again at the 3:16 mark.

    It ruins the plot to point out that those first three blocks didn’t really set the tone: The Clips were firing away at 53% (9-17 FG) during the first nine minutes of the game. But both Wittman and Jefferson were enthused about his defensive play, and the Kamen-less Clips–who also got a subpar effort from a dinged up Al Thornton–did only get 30 points in the paint, so if Big Al wants to use this one as a momentum changer toward a new emphasis on protecting the rim, no self-respecting Wolves fan should stop him. Especially with Memphis (Darko), Indiana (Jeff Foster) and the Knicks (Zach Randolph) on the dance card of what should be a very successful week.

    I’d rather toss garlands at the invisible man, Ryan Gomes, who was second on the team to Marko Jaric in minutes-played, led in plus/minus at plus +15, and in scoring efficiency by getting 19 on 6-9 FG, 1-1 3pt and 6-6 FT–and was barely noticeable. Gomes was the only guy on the team who understood how to play offense in the first quarter, as the Clippers aggressively doubled Jefferson–move without the ball. Jefferson barged his way for 2-5 FG, and Kirk Snyder barreled into the lane for 1-3 FG and 3-4 FT. Meanwhile, dynamite sticks Foye (1-5 FG) and McCants (0-2) misfired from the perimeter. It was left to Gomes to school the lard-heavy (in brain and body) Tim Thomas, from the first points of the period (a 17 footer from near the baseline) to the last (a pretty layup on a deft dish from Corey Brewer). While the rest of the Wolves were shooting 5-18 FG, with none of the baskets assisted, Gomes was 3-4 FG, with dimes tossed in all three buckets, and 4-4 FT to account for 10 of the team’s 23 points. He added 5 more in the second quarter (including a trey) and then deferred once Minnesota discovered the pick and roll between the littles and the bigs, shooting just 1-2 FG in 17:15 in second half play, but chasing Thomas from the paint to the arc and helping out on rotations down low. The Barometer is holding steady: good, unsung game from Gomes, victory for Minnesota.

    Plaudits also to Shaddy McCants, who had one of those games that makes you wonder why he isn’t registering 35-40 minutes per night. After a tepid first and early second quarter, he re-entered the game with 5:08 to play in the half and the Wolves down 2. In the space of 3:36, he nailed a trey on a feed from Foye, caught the Clips napping on a breakout transition layup courtesy of a baseball bullet pass from Snyder, then fed Jefferson for a turnaround 10-foot bunny, Gomes for a layup and Foye for a trey: 5 points, three assists, Wolves up 3 at the break.

    McCants would have finished with 9 or 10 assists instead of 6 had Craig Smith not done an atypically poor job at finishing at the rim. Shaddy to Rhino was one of the choice spreads in the pick-and-roll bread-and-butter, with McCants delivering the bounce pass in rhythm nearly every time. Then there are the purely aesthetic delights, such as the Clips blocking the passing lane as the Rhino stampeded down the left lane, leaving McCants to dribble once, twice, and then right-dribble-to-left-hand crossover dribble as he’s moving left, only to right himself toward the hoop as he skies and squares in muscular ballet, nailing a 21-foot liner the way you and I toss a soggy paper towel in the wastebasket from across the room.

    His 9 points on 3-3 FG, 1-1 3pt and 2-3 FT tied Smith for 4th quarter honors. He finished with 16 points on 10 shots, was a second-best plus +6, and contributed to Cuit Mobley and Quinton Ross (his two primary matchups) going 4-18 FG.

    2. A Pleasing Display of Depth or Disappointing Development?

    Among the evening’s plethora of solid performances were those lodged by Kirk Snyder and Marko Jaric, at both ends of the court. For Wolves’ fans this is of course a good thing, except that Snyder and Jaric got plenty of burn at the expense of Corey Brewer and Randy Foye, the coveted first-round draft picks for whom the Wolves’ tanked down the stretch the past two years.

    The Jaric rescue effort is easier to take, because Foye has been on a bit of a roll lately. As nifty as Sebastian Telfair is at slinging the rock, Foye’s visually less pure floor generalship has nevertheless resulted in a greater spread of shots taken, producing more balanced scoring (and more scoring, period) and assist-making. His defense has been so-so at best, but Foye at the point has found a groove.

    But not tonight. Where McCants and Jaric envisioned and initiated pick and rolls galore, fueling a collective 16/3 assist-to-turnover ratio, Foye was adrift, ignoring Wittman’s entreaties to pound the ball into Jefferson despite the double team and preferring to launch before the pick arrived. He finished the game 3-9 FG, with just 2 dimes and 2 miscues and sat for all but 36 seconds of that win-going-away 4th period, supplanted by Marko and his 5 assists in the final period alone. Yes, it would be preferable in the team’s future for Foye to have racked up another notch on his point guard credibility meter, while Jaric was the dunderhead. But it will take more than these occasional blips to recast doubts about Foye right now, and it’s a minor pleasure watching Jaric revel in his role as the steady, savvy vet.

    Snyder and Brewer is another story. Corey Brewer is a very likable performer–he hustles, he’s smart, his demeanor is sunny and industrious, and he’s got the high profile championship college pedigree. By contrast, there’s something about Snyder that seems a tad too forced and strained, and besides, wasn’t he supposed to be little more than a bit part that enabled Minnesota to shed itself of Gerald Green and filch a second-round draft pick besides?

    During the first half, Snyder did not live up to his role as the defensive stopper (same as Brewer’s), allowing Corey Maggette to run amok, a grievance partially mitigated by him burning Maggette for a pair of fouls and a trio of hoops at the other end. By the end of the night, Maggette had done his thing against both small forwards, getting 20 points in the 22 minutes Snyder guarded him and 14 in the 14:20 when Brewer was the matchup. Nevertheless, watching the game, you had the impression that Snyder was the more effective defensive foil–at 6-6, 225, his dimensions mirror Maggette’s (compared
    to Brewer’s 6-9, 185), and he was more physical, if less constantly in his presence, than Brewer. Wittman confirmed as much by saying, in reference to Maggette’s game-high 34, that the Wolves didn’t have "another big 3 other than Ryan, and I wanted to keep him where he was."

    Then there is the offense. After shutting down Kevin Durant in his first notable game in Minnesota, Snyder bricked enough shots to gain the rep of a defense-only guy. But he’s shown some signs of being able to get to the rim, and finished tonight a respectable 5-10 FG in 25:56. For Brewer, alas, it was the same old shaky aim. He was 1-7 FG in 24:05, with the make being a slam dunk–no funky jumpers converted. For the year he is a dreadful 139-387 FG, barely above 36%.

    Snyder is an unrestricted free agent at the end of the season. Brewer is expected to be a regular, if not a cornerstone, for this franchise for the next 5-10 years. Nearly every game he does something unique–tonight it was using his extra gear, the jet gear, to swoop in a snatch a rebound of an indifferent prayer-shot at the end of the half and immediately gather steam enough to fling a 3/4 court-length shot at the buzzer. Yet at precisely the time in the season when McCants and Foye began to figure it out and emerge during their rookie campaigns, Brewer is fading. When you’re a defensive stopper and a 24-year old competitor defends as well as you do and scores a little besides, well, it will take more than that to bump you out of the club’s blueprint. But it is still enough to sow a little doubt.

    3. Give Me April-June Madness

    As everyone marks their NCAA brackets, I’ll ignorantly claim that the Big East and Pac-10 will fare best, with Butler a huge sleeper and the Big 10 bounced by the final 16. Meanwhile, the Celts toppled the Spurs tonight, the Spurs 4th straight March loss, putting them in a tie with Dallas for the 6th seed in the West. Any one of the top nine teams in the West could lose in the first round. And if San Antonio has to play every series as a road team, the fiedl will be wide open.

  • Death and Murder

    Thirty years ago today, in 1978, Pakistani former premier Shaheed-e-Azam Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was sentenced to death. How is that for setting the tone?

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    Meet the Director and Cast of Frozen

    The Park Square Theatre is dead in the middle of its production of the 2004 Tony Award-nominated play Frozen, and this evening you have an opportunity to share in an "intriguing conversation" with the artistic team, director Jim Cada and actors Linda Kelsey and Karen Landry. Frozen explores our capacity for forgiveness, remorse, and change through a touching tale about a missing 10-year-old, her mother, her murderer, and a doctor studying serial killers. Participants in tonight’s discussion will be able to purchase tickets at half price.

    7 p.m., Hamline Midway Branch Library, 1558 W. Minnehaha Ave., St. Paul; 651-222-3242; call to reserve tickets.

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    The Thing About Life Is That One Day You’ll Be Dead

    "My dad will be dead soon; one day I’ll be dead; despite—or perhaps
    because of—all the data gathered in this book, I still find these two
    facts overwhelming," writes David Shields in his appropriately titled book, The Thing About Life Is That One Day You’ll Be Dead.
    Using a blend of personal anecdotes, biological facts, philosophical
    speculation, and cultural history, Shields explores his mortality
    through his father’s own life and history.

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

    MUSIC
    Vinicius Cantuaria

    Sure, you could go see Bon Jovi at the Xcel Center; I wouldn’t blame you, really. (He was actually the opening act of one of the first concerts I ever saw, and it was quite the memorable experience despite the red and black striped leather.) But let’s face it, if class is what you’re looking for, you’re probably better off with Vinicius Cantuaria — a bridge between classic bossa nova and the hip 21st Century variations on the Tropicalia sound. If you know even a little bit about Brazilian music, you’ll have heard of Caetano Veloso; and if you know even a little bit about Caetano, you’ll have heard "Lua e Estrella," a song written for him by Cantauria. The man is a master. He has played alongside Caetano, as well as other greats, including Gilberto Gil, Laurie Anderson, and David Byrne. Enjoy the Brazilian-in-New York guitarist-percusionist’s avante garde jazz this evening.

    7 p.m. & 9:30 p.m., Dakota Jazz Club and Restaurant, 1010 Nicollet Ave., Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; $20 & $15.

    FILM
    Mafioso DVD Release

    mafioso_new.jpgThis
    acclaimed comedy classic was made in 1962, given a brief American run
    in ’64, and then, for forty years, it vanished like a mob boss on the
    Witness Protection Program. Nino, the lead character, is a portly
    middle manager, happily passing time at a Fiat plant in Milan. He
    finally returns home to a little Sicilian village for the vacation he’s
    been promising his family for years — giving them the chance to
    finally meet his northern Italian wife and two daughters. But before he
    embarks on this trip, a local mob boss asks our poor hero to deliver a
    small package to one Don Vincenzo, the reigning capo of Nino’s
    hometown. Being a comedy, all hell must break loose. However, Mafioso
    isn’t just slapstick, but a poignant examination of the emergence of
    two Italys — the industrial north and the provincial south. Created a
    good seven years before the eponymous novel on which The Godfather was based, Mafioso is an obvious influence, yet it stands on its own as a sunny comedy. —Peter Schilling

  • A Moral Odyssey through Paranoid Park

    The last few Gus Van Sant films that I have seen were all part of the filmmakers’ Death Trilogy, which are best characterized as plotless trips through discomfort. Elephant was like experiencing the Columbine tragedy, Last Days a pseudo re-enactment of Kurt Cobain’s demise, and Gerry a battle of attrition, both in the desert, onscreen, and in the theater, as a viewer. So, when going to see Paranoid Park, I was expecting to be somewhat uncomfortable with the trip I was about to take. But I was pleasantly surprised by where Van Sant took me this time.

    A murder mystery wrapped into the life and times of a wannabe skate punk who gets caught-up in the investigation, Paranoid Park utilizes a myriad of production devices to take the viewer inside the mind of a troubled teenager. While I was expecting a meditative journey through the dark side of skateboarding, it was a surprise to get caught up in a murder mystery plot intermingled with teen skateboarder Alex’s struggle to cope with his insecurities, and what he is willing to do not to have to feel.

    Alex, whose journal writing (or perhaps, letter writing) helps tell the story in narration, attends a very suburban High School with a few skaters that look-up to the freedom and unruly lifestyle of the homeless and runaway inhabitants of Paranoid Park, a skate park built underneath a city overpass in Portland, Oregon. It is obvious that Alex is a beginning skater and has some reservations about going to Paranoid Park for the first time. But his exposure to the park leaves him wanting more.

    Despite being abandoned for a girl by the buddy who introduced him to Paranoid Park, Alex goes back downtown on his own at night. He sits on the sidelines until a few residents make his acquaintance, and he follows one of them, Scratch, on a freight train ride to get some beer. In the process, a security guard is killed, and Alex must deal with the impending police investigation, while also navigating the other circumstances of his life, including sex, dating, divorce, and peer pressure.

    Van Sant brings his meditative style to Paranoid Park in the form of scenes of nondescript skateboarders on the streets of Portland, filmed in Super 8, that serve as kind of an escapist fantasy that Alex imagines possible. But an interesting and twisting plot brings the viewer into Alex’s life and thoughts while navigating the minefield of coming of age. Alex’s journal writings serve as both a narrative device and healing solution to deal with his insecurities and mistakes. He uses his writing as a way to deal with the crazy, messed-up things that happen in life, allowing him to finally move forward.

    The acting may leave a little bit to be desired in this film, and some of the style changes in cinematography and music can be distracting, but the interesting plot, the exploration of Alex’s inner turmoil, and the redemptive message are more than enough to keep the story moving along.

    The thing that "makes" the film, however, is the way Van Sant utilizes music and cinematography to allow viewers to tap into the characters’ minds. His long slow-motion tracking shots, with a myriad of different musical styles, force the viewer to stop and consider what the characters are thinking and feeling in the moment. The result is a very relatable story about the insecurities of fitting in and not understanding what to do with these feelings, especially when something goes extremely wrong as a a result of a bad decision.

    Paranoid Park screens at the Walker on Wednesday, March 19th, and opens at the Lagoon on Friday, March 21st. 

  • Still Wearin' the Green

    Pull out the green clothes and the Irish pride. Today is St. Patrick’s Day, which, according to one avid Secrets reader, is about more than just green beer.

    SPECIAL EVENTS
    Irish Ceili

    Anthony wrote in to tell us about two Irish Ceili (pronounced kay-lee) dances tonight. "My wife and I met at an Irish Ceili and were married that year at the same hall we met!" he wrote. "So these dances are just as magical as the Leprechaun!!!"

    Minnesotans for a United Ireland is sponsoring a Ceili Dance, called by Mike Whalen, with music by the Blackbirds. Arrive a half hour early (6:30 p.m.) for basic step lessons.

    7-10 p.m., Randolph Heights School, 378 Hamline Ave. S., Saint Paul; $8 (students and seniors $5), $1 off with a non-perishable food shelf donation.

    The Minnesota Folk Arts Alliance is sponsoring a Ceili Dance, called by Ann Wiberg, with music by Barra

    7-10 p.m., CSPS Hall, 383 Michigan St., Saint Paul; $9.50 (seniors and children $4.75).

    And Then There’s Always Beer

    For the typical rip-roaring St. Paddy’s Day celebration, head over to
    the Nomad for the 4th Annual Break the Seal Challenge, free beer, a tribute to U2 and the Pogues, Irish trivia, prizes and giveaways, and two-for-ones on Beamish Irish Stout from
    9 p.m. to close. Music will be provided by the
    Flaming Seamus, the Humbugs, County 79, Andrew Lynch, and the Early Effect

    4 p.m., the Nomad World Pub (501 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-6424.

    MUSIC
    Celto-delic Rock-n-Reel

    Fittingly, Boiled in Lead is also performing at First Avenue tonight — their 25th Anniversary St. Patrick’s Day concert. These guys have managed to take Irish folk to a whole new level — somewhere in the realm of heavy metal-Celtic Irish folk-punk. It’s nothing if not interesting, and it certainly gets the blood flowing. See them this evening with the Minnesota Police Pipe Band, Lehto & Wright, Wild Colonial Bhoys, Brass Messengers, Sweet Colleens, and Mark Stillman

    4 p.m., First Avenue, 701 First Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612-338-8388; $12 (free admission from 4 to 7 p.m.).


    Mary Stallings

    For something a little less Irish, head over to the Dakota to hear perhaps one of the best jazz singers around these days: Mary Stallings. With a voice that has been compared to that of Dinah Washington (though I’d venture to say it’s more of a cross between Washington and Etta James), Stallings has shared the stage with some of the top jazz masters: Wes Montgomery, Ben Webster, Dizzy Gillespie, Count Basie Orchestra.

    7 p.m. & 9:30 p.m., Dakota Jazz Club and Restaurant, 1010 Nicollet Ave., Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; $20 & $15.

     

     

  • Abbreviated Three-Pointer: No Tanking Here

    Copyright 2008 NBAE (Photo by Sam Forencich/NBAE via Getty Images)

    Game #64, Road Game #31: Minnesota 121, Seattle 116

    Season Record: 15-49

    1. Engines In the Backcourt, Stoppers Up Front

    My decision to keep a life and hold off on getting League Pass this NBA season is biting me this weekend, as the Wolves were short-circuited by a double-overtime hockey game (U of M vs. Mankato) that allowed me just 5 minutes of second quarter action (the hockey intermission between OT and 2OT) and then the last 20 minutes of the game (after Mankato St. won it, 1-0), from the 7:55 mark of the third onward. And tonight against Portland is blacked out. Hence the abbreviation of this trey.

    But as luck would have it, the television feed clicked in just two minutes before the Wolves exploded for a 23-5 third-quarter run that transformed a 69-77 deficit into a 92-82 lead in just 5:26, the turning point of the ballgame. And they accomplished this with a lineup that almost certainly had never been deployed before, prompted first by Chris Richard subbing in for Al Jefferson, then Rashad McCants entering the game for Marko Jaric. Suddenly the Wolves had defensive stoppers as two out of three front court personnel–Richard and Kirk Snyder, with Ryan Gomes at the 4–and a couple of sticks of dynamite on the perimeter in Randy Foye and Rashad McCants.

    Sonics coach PJ Carlissimo tried to staunch the outburst, using everyone in his 9-man rotation during that 5:26 stretch but Luke Ridnour, to no avail. McCants in particular found the sweet zone between sharing and selfishness, getting 11 points on 2-3 FG while drawing enough fouls to earn 6 trips to the line. Foye fostered ball movement and kicked off the burst with a trey. Gomes had five points, Richard and Snyder a pair of free throws each. But it was on the other end where the change really happened: With Richard/Gomes/Snyder all active in the paint, Seattle mustered just 2-9 FG, and their 5 points in 5:26 stood in stark contrast to the 116 they scored in 48–meaning they got 111 in the other 42:34.

    Sounds like a simple plan: Spread the floor on offense with perimeter threats–Foye, McCants and Gomes all nailed treys in that 5:26 burst–who can also penetrate and either dish for open looks or draw the foul. Yes, Seattle is horrible defensively, but 23 points in 5:26 is good work against the junior varsity–it’s, ah, about 200 points per 48. And on defense, put a pair of sweat equity guys (Richard and Snyder) between the savvy Gomes and instruct them to negate the paint. Presto: Zero points in nearly 4 minutes of action for Chris Wilcox, who’s murdered the Wolves in all four games he played against them this season. Zero points for Kevin Durant, whose inability to solve Snyder has done more to raise Snyder’s defensive profile than any player in the league this season. Just two points for Nick Collison. Just 3 points for the backcourt of Gelabale and Watson. And that was the ballgame.

    2. Another Rant About Jefferson At Center

    There was a disheartening story in the Strib this week about Craig Smith–not the Rhino himself, of course, who is something of a feel-good tale, albeit one that won’t totally turn the frog into the prince. No, the head-slapping part was how the braintrust has told Smith they want him to work on his midrange game so that when he slots in alongside Al Jefferson in the frontcourt, they won’t be ruining each other’s spacing in the low block. The implication, of course, is one that the Wolves have been making in a dozen different, equally perplexing ways this season–that they foresee Jefferson as their center of the future.

    Now there are times when the Jefferson-Smith tandem has been more effective than I would have imagined. It can be an interesting wrinkle, part of a lineup rotation that falls somewhere between a gimmick and the team’s bread-and-butter. But I fear the Wolves Jefferson in the pivot of whatever go-to quintet they assemble. Their quartet of relatively legit centers have been purposefully sliced and diced into discontinuity: Chris Richard leads with 310 minutes, followed by Theo Ratliff with 214, Michael Doleac with 206, and Mark Madsen with 130–by comparison, Randy Foye already has 632 minutes since returning from injury about a month ago. Obviously the idea of getting Jefferson accustomed to the center slot is more of a priority than keeping him at his natural power forward position. Meanwhile, the primary alternatives at the 4 have also been relative pipsqueaks–Craig Smith (6-7 is generous), Ryan Gomes (6-8 with small forward instincts) and Antoine Walker (6-9 outside gunner).

    Normally smallball is designed to pick up the pace and ambush teams with quickness in transition. To push the polemic a little bit, however, what the Wolves have done is create a frontcourt that is both small *and* slow. That’s why they are 29th in blocks–at 3.65 a game ahead of only the listless Knicks–and 27th in scoring; not only 28th in fast break points but 29th in allowing fast break points, and 28th in creating points off turnovers–they get screwed on both ends of the small-and- quick versus large-and-slow equation. They *do* rank in the top 5 in second chance points, mostly because they grab more than 50% of the available rebounds despite their miserable FG%. These things are a tribute to Jefferson’s tenacity.

    To update the argument, let’s go to some pretty stunning numbers versus Seattle last night. As usual, rather than playing a defensive-minded center like Richard beside Jefferson in a large duo, Wittman and the front office subbed one in for the other. And the numbers give a pretty good indication when Jefferson does not belong as the main man on defense beneath the hoop.

    In the first quarter, the Sonics were 12-17 from the field until Richard replaced Big Al with 1:26 to play in the first, at which point Seattle shot 2-4 FG. When Richard was logging the 6:26 of the second period, Seattle shot 6-15, or 40%. When Jefferson came in to play the remaining 5:36, Seattle was a perfect 8-8 from the field. Got that? First half stats: Seattle shoots 8-19 FG with Richard in the game and a whopping 20-25 FG–80%!–with Jefferson as the last line of defense. Go the second half, which included that 2-9 FG stretch for the Sonics mentioned in the first point of this trey. With Jefferson on the floor for the first 3:07 of the third, Seattle shot 3-4 FG, which actually reduced the percentage the Sonics were shooting against him. When Richard too over for the final 8:53, Seattle shot 7-18. Okay, so after three periods, it is 15-37 against Richard and 23-29 FG against Jefferson.

    Richard finished his night helping Seattle go 0-2 FG in the first 1:22 of the 4th quarter, by which point the Wolves had grabbed a commanding 101-88 lead. Understand that Jefferson is a proud man, who could see the disparity that was occurring between he and Richard on the court as keenly as anyone. In his concluding 10:38 of the game, he worked really hard on that end of the court, frequently biting on up fakes and making a determined effort to deny penetration, two things that provoked 3 fouls in that 10:38–all of them greeted with a passionate protest from Jefferson. But the good news is, Seattle shot only 8-20 FG during that 4th period, giving Jefferson a final mark of 31-49 FG, or 62%, versus Richard’s 15-39 FG, which works out to 38%.

    Obviously these stark numbers are not quite that simple. There were always four players besides Jefferson or Richard working the defense, and that needs to be considered. But to me, the more glaring stat is the 0:00 that a limited scorer but hustle guy defender like Richard spent alongside a gifted scorer who has trouble on D like Jefferson. Finally, on the plus/minus end of things, Jefferson was minus -12 in 29:30 (despite shooting 8-13 FG, committing t
    hree steals and blocking two shots) and Richard was plus +17 in the remaining 18:30.

    3. Not Tanking

    There will be the usual controversy about what teams are dogging it for the lottery and what ones are not. Right now, the Wolves will almost certainly finish ahead of Miami, and last night’s win puts them in a win tie with Memphis, just one behind Seattle. The Knicks are also in their sights. The arguments for and against tanking have been made ad nauseum. But for what it’s worth, I just want to give the ballclub credit for continuing to work hard to maximize their production on the court. Perhaps karma will reward them. Because it certainly seems karma has punished them the past two seasons, robbing their tank-centric draft picks of a second productive year in the league two times in a row (McCants and Foye).

    Okay, the Portland tilt is on tap and I am sans visuals. For those who catch the game, educate us about it in the comments.

  • The Bread Wars of Orvieto

    I spent my 42nd birthday on a motorcycle, riding through the hills of Umbria and stopping for a late lunch in a beautiful little village called Orvieto. It was, from beginning to end, magnificent.

    Famous mostly for Classico, a distinctive white wine blend, Orvieto is slanted straight up and home to a remarkable cathedral that has striped stone walls and streaked, marbleized stained glass, and a chapel with the entire book of Revelations depicted in glorious paintings by Luca Signorelli. John and I stopped briefly but had only a few minutes to look. Then we found Ristorante Antica Cantina, a savory-smelling little trattoria, where we ate homemade pasta with ragu and truffles — one of the best simple meals I’ve ever had.

    We left Rome the next day, bound for Florence, and decided to take the train directly back to Orvieto. We wanted to spend a full hour or two in the cathedral. And lunch had been so spectacular, we were both anxious to try dinner there.

    But the train to Orvieto was a bit late [where IS Mussolini these days?] and by the time we got in, bought a bottle of Classico for €3.50 (a little over $5), and found a nice hotel, we were beat. Also just a tad over budget. We’re taking a beating on the dollar-euro exchange rate, of course. And well. . . .there is all this wine and food to experience. . . .

    So we sat in the hotel room, drinking the entire bottle which was crisp and semi-sweet and full of tropical fruit: banana, kiwi, and lime. Then, for the sake of ease and because we’d so loved it, we headed back to Antica Cantina, anxious — cost be damned — to see what the full dinner menu would bring.

    We walked in right past the owner, who had served us the day before. He scowled — a large, bearded man, rather like Stromboli in Pinnochio — and we assumed it had nothing to do with us. We sat. A waiter came to take our drink order. And when he brought us the tiny half-flask we had asked for (mostly out of politeness, because we’d had enough wine), he also set down a bread basket. That’s when I realized I was really hungry, queasy almost, and had had a bit too much Classico on an empty stomach.

    So, I reached for a slice of bread and asked for some olive oil. . . .

    Utter mayhem ensued. The owner was sitting at a neighboring table, drinking himself (who knows how heavily?). He heard my request, jumped out of his seat, bolted to our table and said, "Order now!"

    I explained in my five words of acquired Italian that I needed just a moment to consult the phrase book, that we’d been in for lunch the day before — didn’t he recall? — and would like to try something else. But the menu was all in Italian and difficult to parse.

    He heard all this (or not), and raised his voice this time: "You order NOW!"

    He was not in the business of bread, he went on. He was in the business of bruschetta and pasta and zuppa. He pointed to the piece of bread out of which I’d taken a bite, leaned down into my face and screamed, "YOU ORDER NOW!!!"

    Well, we did. John and I ordered exactly the same dishes we’d had the day before, down to the mixed salad. Five minutes later, our meal was literally thrown on the table in front of us. We ate like prisoners being watched. And the moment we’d put our forks down, the dishes were cleared and a check slammed onto the table along with a pen.

    I take from this experience three things: One, that I did not do my homework properly. I made a cultural gaffe in asking for olive oil before ordering my meal, and for this I feel sincerely stupid. Two, that the tourism industry is suffering from the exchange rate that has us — and nearly every other American tourist — discussing finances before they sit down to a European meal.

    And three? That there is a completely insane restaurateur running loose on the streets of Orvieto.

  • Making Coeds Cry

    Like Jabba the Hutt, whose only purpose was to give George
    Lucas an excuse to put Princess
    Leia in a slave bikini    , this year’s $1 billion budget deficit seems only to
    exist to further divide a legislature already spoiling for a fight. And much
    like the epic struggle between Empire and the Rebellion, the battles are pretty
    damn fun to watch, but the fallout is pretty painful for
    those affected by the proposed cuts.

    Now, there are any number of groups making their case to the
    legislature, whining and mewling like the drunken
    babies Arne Carlson is trying to preserve funding for     as the state
    government digs deep for beer money. And while it’s tempting to sit back and
    laugh at the knee-jerk responses that treat the former governor as if he were
    just another political opponent running for office, accusing him of supporting
    tax increases and questioning the size of his genitalia, there are more
    important things at stake here.

    Among many others, our state’s system of universities is particularly hard hit
    under the proposed budget cuts and faces having $54 million
    summarily hacked from its coffers. $27 million of this money will come directly
    from the U. University of Minnesota President Robert Bruininks has stated that
    such cuts could well raise tuition, reduce the university’s ability to invest
    in research and technology, and force the University Extension Service to start
    selling the primo weed the master
    gardeners have been growing (for purely medical purposes) to cover expenses.

    Strangely, the response to these issues was to call the
    university fat, and accuse it of carrying too
    much dead weight in the administration    , saying that dropping a few pounds
    would do it some good. Now, the state government would seem to not have much
    room to talk in that regard, but rather than comparing one group’s Rikki Lake
    to another’s Kirstie Allie, we can do some quick and dirty analysis. Ohio
    State, a Big 10 school much like the U and roughly on par in terms of student
    population, had expenditures of more than $4 billion last fiscal year. The U,
    in comparison, is operating with around $2.5 billion. OSU, of course, charges
    nearly $6,000 per year for tuition at the least, while the U charts in about
    $1,300 less and is already falling behind in research rankings. So maybe further
    starving Ms. Lake isn’t wise. She looks thin enough as it is.

    Of course, the true victims here are the coeds of the
    university system. Everyone knows the hale and hearty Minnesotan male will be
    able to hunt food to
    survive     when tuition rises and they’re no longer able to afford a quality
    education. However, the gentle females of our fair state, still in need of an
    education to survive, will turn to stripping and prostitution to pay their
    tuition and buy enough beer to make sleeping with the males left at the
    university moderately palatable. They will flood the Warehouse District in
    competition for the limited funds available in our economic downturn and lure
    our congressional leaders into sensibly priced motel room trysts — because charging Emperor’s Club prices just wouldn’t be right for a nice Lutheran girl.

    With this phenomenon will come inevitable moral and economic
    decay, our great cities deteriorating until we’ve become nothing more than a
    poor man’s Amsterdam – albeit with shitty mass transit and more difficult
    access to quality recreational pharmaceuticals. $54 million seems a small price
    to pay to avoid such a fate.

    Just as disturbing is the potential assault on the
    criminal justice system. $11.9 million of the proposed $16.52 million in public
    safety cuts is aimed directly at reductions in budgets for courts and public
    defenders. The right to a fair trial is quickly sauntering toward a brutal slaughter.

    Caseloads are at an all-time high for the state’s public
    defenders – sitting at twice the ABA’s standards. Now, when the Board of Public
    Defense was already looking at a deficit of $2.1 million dollars, the proposed
    cuts put them even further in the hole – at $4.8 million. And since the office
    has already instituted a hiring freeze and cut administrative staff, all that’s
    left is lawyers. According to the Talmud, that’s one of the portents of the
    coming apocalypse.

    Now, in the case of an apocalypse, tradition says the
    moral few would be whisked away    . But those of left behind may still be
    thinking that our public defenders will be so harried we may see more criminals
    put away. But along with that possibility comes longer waits for trials, so the
    accused are out on the streets longer. Not to mention the increased chance of
    success on appeal, mistrials, and other assorted legal entertainments of the
    sort most Minnesotans have heretofore only enjoyed whilst watching omnipresent Law & Order reruns on
    TBS.

    Now, these are dire predictions, to be sure. But take heart,
    fellow tundra-dwellers. The DFL majority in the legislature is eager to score
    points with you by restoring quality legal services and ensuring our state’s
    ample population of drunken coeds give it away to drunken frat boys, not
    well-heeled legislators like the Sex
    Hog    . Just do your best to ignore their attempts at raising taxes to pay for
    all of it.

    Or, like me, you can just pray for a robot
    uprising    .