Category: Blog Post

  • The Three Pointer: A Golden Breakthrough

    Copyright 2008 NBAE (Photo by Rocky Widner/NBAE via Getty Images)

    Game # 38, Road Game #19: Minnesota 95, Phoenix 115

    Game #39, Road Game #20: Minnesota 108, Denver 111

    Game #40, Road Game #21: Minnesota 109, Golden State 108

    Season record: 6-34

    First of all, apologies for the near-weeklong absence. I wrote a fairly detailed three pointer on Sunday after the Phoenix and Denver games, only to have it eaten by computer gremlins. Some of what disappeared into the virtual ether needs to be updated or chucked, some of it still stands.

    1. Foul Play

    We’ve got to begin with the whistles. When first Ryan Gomes and then Rashad McCants were sent to the bench with three fouls midway through the second quarter Friday night against Phoenix, the Wolves were down a mere point. By the halftime intermission, the lead was 14 and the ballgame was essentially over. "You saw the momentum change right there," McCants told the Strib. But was he magnifying his own importance or lamenting his shortcomings by once again playing himself to the sidelines due to fouls?

    The next night against Denver, the Wolves lose the game by 3 and the free throw contest by 28, being outshot at the line 43-15 (for made free throws the disparity was 35-12). Al Jefferson got tagged with a technical in the closing seconds arguing an out of bounds possession call. After the game, coach Randy Wittman complained, "All they had to do was yell and get free throws. I guess we still have to teach our guys how to do that." McCants added, "Sometimes we find a way to lose a game. It wasn’t that we found a way. It was kind of taken away from us."

    I have strong feelings on both sides of this issue. First of all, as I mentioned a few treys ago, the Wolves get jobbed by the officials on a regular basis, both due to the relative lack of stars on the team and the relative lack of smart, consistently aggressive play that builds up goodwill on borderline calls. Only one team–Indiana–is whistled for fouls more often than the Wolves, and only one team–Toronto–has its opponents whistled fewer times than the Wolves. Consequently, the disparity of foul calls between Minnesota and their opponent on a per-game basis is +6.15. Six extra fouls, on average, every game. That’s enough to disqualify a player, or automatically land the team in the penalty for a quarter. It’s saddles at least two or three Timberwolves with enough additional "foul trouble" to affect their play, or their playing time. And it is grossly out of line with the other 29 teams in the NBA–Indiana, the team with the second-worst disparity, is just +2.70, or less than half of the onus on the Wolves.

    But the kind of victimization talk voiced after the Denver game is counterproductive for this franchise. The main reasons why the Wolves get screwed by the refs is because they are callow, timid, and inconsistent in their aggression. They reach in with their hands and flap their mouths more diligently than they move their feet, and they simply lack talent. Take Saturday night: The matchups off the starting lineups were Jefferson vs. Marcus Camby, Gomes vs. Melo Anthony, McCants vs. Iverson, Telfair vs. Anthony Carter, and Marko Jaric vs. Linus Kleiza (Jaric was supposedly guarding AI, with Shaddy on Kleiza, but the switches were frequent and appropriate.) There wasn’t one spot on the floor where you could say Minnesota had a lockdown advantage on defense.

    Meanwhile Denver was throwing out two players among their starting five ranked among the NBA’s top ten at getting to the line–Melo and AI. Anyone who saw the Denver game saw that many of Minnesota’s fouls were purposeful, meant to make the Nugs "earn it at the line" after they had beaten the Wolves off the dribble, in transition, or with an interior pass. Yes, there were some tough calls down the stretch–it does seem as if Iverson travelled on a crucial crunchtime possession, for example. But on the three plays that so vexed (and involved) Jefferson–some contact on his strong move to the hoop, a turnover for him stepping on the baseline trying to save a ball, and an out-of-bounds call that earned him the T–were all very close judgment calls that could have gone either way (the drive to the hoop and the confluence of hands on the out of bounds cite) or were correctly called against Minnesota (Jefferson did seem to step over the baseline).

    McCants in particular needs to realize that he either needs to move his feet and commit himself at the defensive end more thoroughly, purposefully avoid either the cheap or, when he’s already in foul trouble, the purposeful, strategic infraction, or resign himself to long minutes on the bench that significantly reduce the Wolves’ chances of winning, and besmirch his reputation. The Denver game is a case in point. He picked up two quick fouls in the first quarter trying to guard Iverson and was sent to the bench. In the second quarter, he played a vital role in sparking Minnesota’s comeback, especially his ability to pass and flow in transition, giving the Nugs some of their own medicine. In the third period, he fouled Iverson again and then Melo, sending him to the bench with 3:20 play in the third period. Then, with 6:32 to play in a one-point game, Shaddy made the wrong pass in transition (he fed to his right, into a defender’s hands, while Gomes was open on the wing to his left), and committed a no-doubt loose ball foul scrambling to atone for the miscue. That sent him to the bench for a crucial three-minute stretch of crunchtime.

    Why was it crucial? Because McCants is a matchup nightmare for the Nugs, having gone off for a career high 34 against them last time the two teams played. He had 23 and was a team-high plus +15 in the 35:05 he stayed on the court. That means the Wolves were minus -18 in the 12:55 McCants was on the bench. Now what was that he said again about the game being taken away from the Wolves? His inference was toward the refs’ bias, but every one of the five fouls that limited his minutes seemed legit.

    Ah, but against Golden State this afternoon, the light bulb finally seemed to pop on in Shaddy’s head. When Monte Ellis beat him off the dribble in the first quarter, Shaddy resisted committing the foul that would given Ellis (a 78% foul shooter) two trips to the line instead of a basket. McCants was also moving more diligently on defense, while continuing his recent offensive contributions–he’s fit into the flow of the team’s offense better than ever the past week or two. Yes, he had some turnover troubles–four, by halftime, after getting four against Denver–but also picked up three dimes and, perhaps most significantly, had the fewest shots of any member of the starting five. And just one foul.

    Got that? McCants was resisting his reach-in temptations on D, and, while being a tad turnover prone, was passing out of the perimeter double-teams Golden State occasionally threw at him and rarely if ever short-circuited the offense by hogging the ball. Despite all this, Randy Wittman still chose to sit him for an 8:22 stretch in the second quarter, When he departed, replaced by Antoine Walker, the Wolves were up ten 37-27, with 10:37 to play in the half. When he returned, with 2:49 to play, the Warriors were up by 1, 48-47.

    Wittman did not learn from the experience, but instead duplicated it in the fourth period. subbing out Shaddy with the Wolves up 4 and 8:42 to play. I figured it was simply a chance for McCants to catch his breath, but Wittman left him on the sidelines until the score was tied and there were just two minutes left. Finally reinserted, McCants zipped a nice pass to Ryan Gomes halfway between the basket and the foul line, forcing Golden State to foul. Gomes made both free throws for Minnesota’s final points of the afternoon, and the difference in the game.

    With McCants demonstrating improvement in key facets of his game–the ability to avoid foul trouble and to foster ball movement–it is
    a mystery why Wittman played the least of any of his starters. Once again, McCants was a team-best plus +15 in 31:39 of play. What that means is that the Wolves have scored 30 more points than their opponents in the 66:44 that McCants has been on the court the past two games, and been absolutely waxed by their opponents, outscored by 32, in the 29:16 he has sat on the bench. While this is a more dramatic outcome than has occurred for most of the season, the fact remains that, relative to their other starters, the Wolves have benefited most by the minutes for McCants pretty much the entire year.

    2. The Mystery of Small Ball

    It is good to see that Wittman and company are belatedly recognizing that the Jefferson-Smith frontcourt pairing is usually not an effective tandem. After playing Big Al and the Rhino together for 6:46 of the first 13:15 of the Denver game–and going minus -9 during their stint–the coach shelved the combo the rest of the game and today’s Golden State tilt besides. It probably seems churlish to mention it in the wake of the competitive loss to Denver and the feel-good win this afternoon, but the next puzzler in the allotment of minutes is the brain trust’s strangely stubborn desire to play Al Jefferson at center.

    According to the 82games.com website, Jefferson is a more accurate shooter at his natural position of power forward than he is at center. He also rebounds better, commits fewer turnovers and fewer fouls per 48 minutes, and has almost exactly the same ratio of blocks and assists. And he dominates opposing power forwards much more than his edge on opposing centers. Not surprisingly then, the Wolves are outscored by an average of 16 points per 48 minutes when Jefferson plays center, compared to being outscored by just 1.8 points per 48 when Jefferson is at power forward.

    If statistics don’t phase you, let’s talk philosophy. What is it that Wolves fans most want to see happen this season? I’d venture that the most popular answer and top priority would involve the ability to evaluate the young talent in challenging game settings as often as possible so determinations can be made on who should be culled, who should be re-signed, and who is or isn’t able to make progress against NBA competition. In other words, this year, the key is to accumulate solid, realistic knowledge on the NBA readiness of the boatload of young players dominating the roster.

    Chris Richard seems to be exactly the sort of player Minnesota would want to toss under the microscope this season. Yeah, he’s just a second round draft pick, but the Wolves aren’t exactly overflowing with quality options among the natural centers on their roster–Michael Doleac and Mark Madsen. It is not like Richard’s ceiling is going to get appreciably higher with patience: He’s already older than four players on the team–Jefferson, Telfair, Gerald Green and his college teammate Corey Brewer–and having stayed in college for three years and two national championships under Billy Donovan at Florida, his overall grasp of the game is precocious, relative to his scant NBA minutes. Indeed, Richard’s greatest flaw thus far–a total lack of offense–would seem best remedied by the boost in confidence some steady NBA minutes would provide, especially if the coaches urged him to look for his shot more often.

    Put it this way: If you are letting Richard languish on the bench *this* year, it is a fairly loud signal he doesn’t fit into the Wolves’ future plans, given the paucity of alternatives.

    But there are at least two other good reasons for putting Richard in the pivot. First, the person you displace from the starting lineup is Jaric, the one player who has been thoroughly vetted by the franchise in terms of his strengths and weaknesses. Is there really that much difference between Marko’s performance this season and what we’ve seen the previousj two years? It is difficult to imagine him changing his idiosyncratic spots this late in his career. Second, sliding Richard in for Jaric in the starting lineup enables no fewer than three Timberwolves currently playing out of position in the small-ball lineup to move back to the place they are most comfortable. Not only would Jefferson go from center to power forward, but Ryan Gomes would become a small forward instead of a power forward, and Rashad McCants would go to the backcourt as an off-guard, where he belongs.

    For those who argue that small ball is the trend of the future, or the best utilization of the Wolves’ current talent, I point to the fast break statistics. Minnesota currently yields more FB points than any team int he league, and ranks 28th, out of 30 teams, in generating FB points of their own. So just because they’re small doesn’t mean they thrive in transition,

    3. Last Thought

    Ryan Gomes takes what the defenses give him, and Golden State gave him a lot this afternoon: Gomes racked up a career high, incredibly efficient, 35 points to go with 11 rebounds, shooting 11-15 FG and getting to the line 12 times while missing the free throw just once. During the telecast, Wolves color commentator Jim Petersen said that over the past six weeks Gomes has been Minnesota’s second-best player. Okay, sure, but for the last month, since December 21, he’s been the best player, period, on the team: Nearly as valuable as Al Jefferson in terms of offensive flow and synergy, and better on defense.

     

  • Of Castles and Kings

    ART

    Drawing Attention

    Bringing
    drawing to a whole new depth, Joyce Lyon and Alexis Kuhr open their
    exhibit, Recent Drawings, at the Nash today. Each artist
    is a master at graphite drawing and has her own sophisticated style
    to offer. Lyon uses dramatic shadows and fine details to tell
    the story of the structure and decay of gardens surrounding the medieval
    town of Otricoli in Umbria. Kuhr, on the other hand, focuses on
    the geometric forms that give shape to our world. Recent Drawings
    coincides with the opening of another exhibit entitled The Practice
    of Drawing
    , a collection of more than sixty pieces from the Weisman’s
    permanent collection. If you’re worried that you will only see
    tired old exhibits from the Weisman, fear not. Many pieces are
    fresh off the canvas and making their debut at the Nash today. If you love the simplicity and poignancy of drawing, you don’t want
    to miss this exhibit. Please note: while the exhibit opens today, the official reception will be this Friday from 6 to 8:30 p.m. —Kate Leibfried

    11 a.m. – 4 p.m., Katherine E. Nash Gallery, 405 21st Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-624-6518.

    MUSIC
    A Long Way from Hello

    Soon to be 60, Todd Rundgren has been recording for the past four decades, and oddly enough, he never seems to do the same thing twice. After recording a couple of albums with psychodelic pop rockers The Nazz — with whom he first recorded his iconic "Hello It’s Me" — Rundgren set out on his own in 1970. Starting out with soul-soaked ’60s power pop, he quickly ventured into other arenas: hard rock, jazz fusion, experimental music, you name it. In the ’80s, he did what any smart (albeit confused) musician would do and explored new wave. And in the ’90s, well… welcome to the digital age. The man was way before his time. In the ’90s, he released two interactive albums. What does this mean exactly? The first one, No World Order, contained song clips for the listener to put together for a custom-tailored song experience. Interesting. And the second, The Individualist, brought video into the mix. Don’t think he stopped at rock, either. This was the ’90s, after all; he brought in elements of hip hop, techno, and electronic music, as well. It’s the 21st century now. What is Rundgren up to? See for yourself. Whatever it is, it’s bound to be worthwhile.

    7:30 p.m., Pantages Theatre, 710 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-339-7007; $33.


    An Uncrowned
    King

    When I first stumbled upon Bernie King at a local dive bar, I was stunned that such a great and captivating musician could remain so buried in our midst. What was this guy doing at a poorly-attended open mic night in a dingy bar? We should be singing his praises o’er the rooftops of the world. Yawp! Yawp! What can I say? He moved me. I’m guessing it was something more than his big beautiful hands, though I must say I simply couldn’t take my eyes off them. King is old-school greatness, the blood and guts of Americana music. Don’t let him pass you by.

    9 p.m., Uptown Bar and Cafe, 3018 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-823-4719.

     

  • Old School Name, Brand New Sound

    When talent and friendship meet on stage, magic is

    bound to happen. And indeed it did. Old School Freight Train left their audience spellbound as they strummed and drummed their way through an energetic and soulful seventy-five minute set at the Cedar last week. For me, the time flew by much too fast. OSFT kept me smiling and tapping my toes through their last measure. Their beaming smiles and playful commentaries, proof that the five band members were truly enjoying themselves, propelled the audience into a good time as well.

    Old School Freight Train’s music is deeply felt and skillfully performed, but what kind of music do they actually play? "That’s a good question," said guitarist and lead vocalist Jesse Harper. "I don’t want to say that we’re folk rock. We’re kind of Radiohead meets all things that are good."

    For OSFT "all things that are good" include a mix of folk, jazz, soul, pop, bluegrass, Latin, and Celtic music. They have even been known to modify the occasional disco tune into a more acoustic number. They are not bound by a particular style or genre of music and see themselves growing and changing as they continue to play. One major change that the band already underwent was the addition of percussionist Nick Falk six months ago. "It’s been great for the band," said bassist Darrell Muller. "It seems like the music has more of a backbone now."

    Old School Freight Train has been going strong for seven years, and most of their success is attributed to the fact that they are self-proclaimed best friends. "You see other bands," said fiddler Nate Leath, "and they don’t even sit at the same table during dinner. We’re not like that at all." It’s a good thing too. The band members, Jesse Harper, Darrell Muller, Nate Leath, Pete Frostic, and Nick Falk, spend hours on the road together while touring all over the country. "It’s always an adventure," says Harper. "The best part of our job is meeting new people."

    It was certainly an adventure just getting to the Cedar. The band’s van spun out of control while driving from Chicago to Minneapolis, and they had to wait two hours while a tow truck came to get them out of the ditch. The band, however, seemed unperturbed as they played their upbeat melodies with heart and soul.

    It is a shame that more people did not brave the cold to see this spectacular band. Their music was so rich and textured that it had an almost tangible quality. The combination of guitar, drums, fiddle, mandolin, and upright bass was exquisite and seemed effortless. It was the type of captivating music that cannot be produced by talent alone, but by feeling completely comfortable with the other musicians standing on stage with you. Everyone in the band has their own life and their own job, but they all agree that the band comes first. It is something very special in each of their lives, and that kind of commitment to music is obvious when they take the stage.

    It is hard for me to sing anything but praises for OSFT, especially when they think so highly of our fair state. "We love Minnesota," said Nate Leath. "Everyone is so friendly and welcoming here. We always have a great time." Unfortunately, the band is still not very well known in this area, but hopefully that will change as more people discover their rich sound.

    The band, however, does have one major problem: its name. They are ready for a change, they say, but cannot decide on a new name. While driving to Minneapolis they were discussing different ideas for band names when their van careened into the ditch. "I think it was an omen," said Jesse playfully. "Yeah," chimed in Nate, "the death of our van was like the death of our band’s name. We need to find a new one." The task is potentially up to you, readers. Go to OSFT’s website, listen to their music, and send them your suggestions. Maybe their new name will hail from the state "that hasn’t always been easy to get to, but has always been worth it."

    *A special acknowledgment should go to Orange Mighty Trio, the band that opened for OSFT while they were making their way to the Cedar. Orange Mighty Trio had an excellent performance and did a commendable job helping out in a bind.

  • What Makes a Man Start Fires?

    The word ‘brain,’ you know, never once occurs in the ancient scriptures of the world. You will not find it in the Bible –the reins, the heart, and so forth were what men felt with.

    …Every man who thinks for himself and feels vividly finds he lives in a world of his own, apart, and believes one day he will come across, either in a book or in a person, the Priest who shall make it all clear to him.

    Algernon Blackwood, The Centaur

    "Open your heart to the one who’s dreaming of you…."

    In this particular dream, which I did not have but carried nonetheless into the cold, gray morning, worrying it like an ache that was lodged at the very bottom of my throat, I was knocking, knocking, knocking, pounding on a door that no one would answer, until at last I turned away, inconsolable, and curled up in my metal saucer in the snow.

    And that was when I decided it was a dream, because to accept it as an episode from reality was more than I could bear.

    A dream is such a tricky thing, particularly when you reach a point where you can longer distinguish with any certainty a dream from reality. But dreams? The lingering, enduring productions of hope and imagination that have been hard-wired in who we are, often as not seeded by the various forms of enchantment we absorbed as children? Jesus, then you’re getting into even more slippery territory. Big, sometimes destructive stuff, often crazy and maddeningly elusive. It’s hard to pin a dream to the wall and look at it every day and say, "Right there –that’s where this rubber-legged walk on the highwire is leading. That’s where you’ll find me somewhere down the road, happy as a fucking clam and exactly where God intended me to be."

    Some people, I suppose, are fortunate enough to have their dreams play out that way, and able, somehow, to separate the clear singular from the gauzy plural very early on. They put on their blinders and just start grinding along toward the dream on the wall.

    Such people –determined bastards– kill me, really they do. From time to time you’ll meet someone who can actually manage to say with some conviction, "This is what I’ve always wanted. This is exactly where I belong."

    You can take this with a grain or salt or whatever, but I tend not to believe such people. I think they’re hiding something. Most of us, I feel sure, are stuck with just this hazy constellation of images that constitutes our true dreams, many of which as we get older we spend a good deal of time hiding from. And then, occasionally, in some moment of happiness or serenity, we’ll manage to catch a pure, intoxicating glimpse of something concrete and just beautiful enough to keep us lurching along through the clanging days.

    This seeking

    O friend

    is a stupendous task,

    a raging fire

    it is.

    Jump in

    if you wish

    to be baked

    but if you are

    merely curious

    this fire

    would destroy you.

    Kabir Das

     

    Lord, grant me the strength and agility of those who build sentences

    long and expansive as a spreading oak tree, like a great valley; may they

    contain worlds, shadows of worlds, and worlds of dreams.

    Zbigniew Herbert, from "Breviary"

  • What Is This Thing Called Cheese?

    OK, I know what cheese is. And I also know — because I researched it once — why it exists.

    In nomadic societies, back when people had to carry their food on their backs as they moved from place to place, and spoilage was a huge and potentially life-threatening issue, particularly in the heat, tribes discovered they could "preserve" their goat, cow, yak, or sheep’s milk by putting it in a burlap sack, throwing it over their shoulders, and walking briskly. Agitation and warm, re-circulated air caused the milk to separate into curds (cheese) and whey. The latter, they would drink immediately. The former, however, would last them through the winter, providing protein, calcium, and fat. This makes sense to me.

    Modern cheese-eating, however, does not. I happen to live with two voracious cheese eaters: men who love triple-cream bries and smoked goudas but will also go through entire blocks of sharp cheddar, Swiss, and monterey jack. Pizzas, enchiladas, quesadillas. Everything the world is hungry for seems to be smothered in cheese.

    From a health standpoint, however, cheese has done an about-face. Whereas once it saved lives by providing sustenance during times of snow cover or drought, now it does little by my estimation than add things to our diets that few Americans genuinely need.

    I rarely eat cheese. I would never choose it as an appetizer or a dessert. One exception: when it will improve my wine. Then I’m all over it.

    I’ve done wine tastings with chocolate, with biscuits, and with fruit. Nothing — and I do mean nothing — brings out the unique flavors of wine better than a perfectly paired cheese. The right blue with a robust Bordeaux. Manchego alternated with a spicy Rioja. Chevre to accompany a dry Sauvignon Blanc.

    This is nearly universal among the serious wine drinkers I know. Jack Farrell, owner of Haskell’s and a staunch Catholic, once told me, "If you have a glass of vintage port and a little bit of Stilton cheese, that’s when you know God’s in heaven and all is right with the world.”

    He also told me that in 38 years of business, his only regret is that he didn’t grow the cheese shop, a tiny mousehole of a store behind the downtown Minneapolis Haskell’s on 9th Avenue.

    Indeed, the cheese business has been very good to other wine sellers, including Surdyk’s and Buon Giorno, as well as grocers that sell wine, beer, and other spirits, such as Byerly’s and Lunds.

    Now, France 44 is getting back into the game. They closed their cafe in December, co-owner David Anderson says, because while the lunch business was booming, evenings were dead. "We needed both to survive," he explains. Right now, workers are renovating the south side of the store, removing the deli cases and putting up more shelves so that come March, the liquor and wine business can expand.

    But the front third of the space will be devoted to cheese — and only cheese. "It’s the only food we’ll carry from now on," Anderson says. "But we’ll go deeper, carrying a much greater selection than we ever have before."

    This is good news for the people of Morningside, that pocket where Minneapolis, St. Louis Park, and Edina meet. It’s a little known fact, but they’re nomads, you know. Occasionally, they’ve been to travel as far as St. Paul or Brooklyn Park. And you need sustenance for something like that: Curds in burlap and maybe a yak to ride, in case you get tired along the way.

  • States' Rights When It Comes to Flagpoles

    I’ve been thinking a bit about Mike Huckabee. Of course, I’ve mostly been thinking about what a disaster for the country it would be to follow the idiot currently in the White House with another. But you’ve got to admit Huckabee would be funny.

    For example, let’s consider his performance on the Confederate flag in South Carolina issue. First, he obviously considers whether South Carolina wants to erect a racist lightning rod over its capitol a states rights issue. I couldn’t agree with him more. But, if South Carolina can have its states rights issues, what’s Huckabee’s problem with, say, Massachusetts permitting gay marriage or California having stricter air quality standards for cars?

    And then there’s that whole remark he made about the flag poles. In case you missed it, here it is: "If somebody came to Arkansas and told us what to do with our flag, we’d tell them what to do with the pole. That’s what we’d do."

    I’m going to take a wild guess as to what Baptist preacher Mike was talking about and say "shove the pole up their ass." Do you think? (Do Baptist preachers really talk like that?)

    Ok, but somebody’s going to have to explain to me why Mike’s so all fired anxious for some people who might be visiting Arkansas to shove a pole up their ass and he’s so dead set against people who happen to live in Massachusetts doing the same thing.

  • Apologies, Promises, and News

    Sorry I’ve been slow to update, but I wanted to send alert of this upcoming fashion show LATER THIS WEEK (Thursday) that’s titled,
    appropriately, Avoid The Grey. The show is being produced by Cliché, a fabulous
    Lyn-Lake area boutique. The intent, even more appropriately, is to inject some color
    into our beige-um-gray winter palettes, and also to tease us with the promise
    of adorable spring fashions, which we in Minnesota never quite get to enjoy the
    way inhabitants of other towns do, since our springs are so belated and, uh,
    SHORT.

     

    Featured fashions are mostly local: Kjurek Couture, Amanda
    Christine Designs
    , Red Show Clothing Co., Laura Fulk, Belle, and more. I
    promise to post some snaps by Friday afternoon.

     

    Also, note that I’m judging this coolio apparel-design
    contest
    from MNfashion, West Photo, and mnartists.org.

  • Doing Lines: When Actors Fail to Recall

    Peer Gynt: It’s a fairly good Guthrie production, in my
    humble view–although it would’ve been smart, even merciful, of the director,
    had he condensed the meandering fourth and fifth acts. But what I’m more
    interested in discussing here is the review penned by Star Tribune critic Rohan
    Preston, in which he derides lead actor Mark Rylance for not knowing his lines.
    Is that fair, do you suppose?

    Preston did something
    similar in November ’06 when reviewing The Rivals at the Jungle Theater. It
    seemed Claudia Wilkens, who played Mrs. Malaprop, hadn’t memorized her lines in
    time for opening night; in fact, she hadn’t yet mastered them when I saw the
    show two or three nights later. From an audience perspective, this proved a
    problem: How to know where the malapropisms stopped and the fumbled
    lines began? But still, I was surprised by the chitchat in the theater
    community following Preston’s critique: Had he
    hit Wilkens below the belt, people wondered. Is it fair to criticize an actor
    for not knowing his or her lines, since a critical review is traditionally more
    concerned with the substance of the play?

    Methinks it’s fair to criticize actors when their flubbed
    lines impede upon the theater-going experience. But then again, I’m an audience-centrist.
    I write from an audience perspective; I write to the audience, as if they might
    one day care to see the show. And misfired lines do a lot to hurt our
    experience. In fact, we feel ripped-off when artists
    aren’t ready to present the work we’ve shelled for! At last night’s showing,
    Rylance was still flubbing a few of his lines, but it wasn’t enough to interfere
    with my experience. As a matter of fact, by then, he had done a fine job
    inhabiting the character. He used a mumbled, sort of messy speech pattern that, I felt,
    brilliantly captured the inner workings of this troubled, cloudy-thinking youth.

  • Honor Martin Luther King, Jr.

    MUSIC
    Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis

    Ever since Wynton Marsalis seized the reins of the JLCO
    in the early ’90s, both the orchestra and the organization have been
    hallmarks of supreme scholarship and top-notch quality control in the
    effort to enshrine jazz as America’s classical music. The only danger
    was that Marsalis would smother his project with love, favoring
    hermetically sealed technique over goosebumps. But the theme chosen for
    JLCO’s twelfth tour—Duke Ellington’s
    love songs—banishes those worries. From “Sophisticated Lady” to “Satin
    Doll,” to “In a Sentimental Mood” and “I Got It Bad and That Ain’t
    Good,” the repertoire should set the stodgiest stick-in-the-mud all
    atwitter. And with a stellar fifteen-piece band—the trumpet section
    alone includes Ryan Kisor, Marcus Printup, Sean Jones,
    and Marsalis—channeling some of Duke’s most heartfelt compositions, the
    gig shapes up as an ideal Valentine’s date, albeit three weeks and
    three days early. —Britt Robson

    7:30 p.m., Orchestra Hall, 1111 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis; 612-371-5656; $35-$77.

    Also tonight, 24-year-old hottie Sophie Milman steams up the Dakota with her sultry chanteuse stylings.

    FILM
    Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth

    It may not be one of Orson Welles‘ best films — not even close — but what The Lady from Shanghai lacks in brilliance, it makes up for in Rita Hayworth glamour shots. The woman is fabulous; what can I say? Though she caused quite a stir when she chopped off her trademark red hair and went blonde for this film, she’s definitely at her finest; and she tops it off with one of her famous musical numbers. Serving up a twisted murder mystery aboard a yacht, this film noir classic is best known for a shoot-out in a house of mirrors.

    7:30 p.m., Parkway Theater, 4814 Chicago Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-3030; $5.

    SPORTS
    Is Figure Skating Really a Sport?

    The 2008 U.S. Figure Skating Championships started yesterday, kicking off an entire week of graceful athleticism on ice. Get out from behind that television and watch some of the country’s best skaters compete live.

    Xcel Energy Center, 175 W Kellogg Blvd., St. Paul; 651-989-5151.

  • Weekend Hot Dish Surprise

    Okay, this is the day to check and see what’s left in the
    fridge and needs to get served up before it spoils, and it looks like we have
    enough left-overs to make up a meal: a half-cooked review of the new Strip Club
    in Saint Paul, news of an upcoming beer dinner at North Coast in Wayzata, and a
    Mardi Gras dinner at Barbette.

    Carol and I stopped in Wednesday night at the
    Strip Club, the night after it opened to the public, and had a delightful dinner. Then Thursday, as I was half-way
    through digesting the experience for this blog, I discovered that my esteemed
    colleague Cristina Cordova had scooped me. It’s too early for anybody to write
    a full-fledged review of the place, but Cristina covered all the basics very nicely, and
    sampled a lot more dishes than we did.
    So check out her post for more details, but here are a few random thoughts:

    I knew enough not to expect naked ladies, but I
    did expect to find a big menu of steaks, plus baked potato sour cream, etc.,
    just like the downtown places, only maybe a little cheaper, because it’s a
    neighborhood joint (in Saint Paul’s Dayton’s Bluff, across from the Metro State
    campus.)

    Turns out chef J.D. Fratzke, (late of Muffuletta) and the
    owners (from the Town Talk Diner in Minneapolis) have created
    something much more interesting. There are a couple of steaks on the menu, and
    a few gourmet items like foie gras, (locally produced at Au Bon Canard in
    Caledonia, MN), and escargot. But basically, Fratzke, who grew up in Winona,
    pays homage here to the kind of plain cooking that doesn’t usually make it onto
    restaurant menus: deviled eggs, beans on toast, even a Braunschweiger sandwich.

    There are a couple of trendier entrees on the list, like a
    bone-in duck breast with wild rice polenta, roasted mushrooms and port wine
    glace ($19), and seared ahi tuna with root vegetables, French olives and
    preserved lemon ($22). But Fratzke’s inclination is towards heartier, earthier fare:
    Swedish meatballs with mashed potatoes and a black truffle gravy, ($14); a pork shank for two with mashed potatoes,
    Brussel sprouts, apples and roasted garlic jus.

    We enjoyed everything we sampled – especially the grilled
    Caesar salad the ahi tuna, and the lean but flavorful ball tip steak (all their beef
    is grass-fed, from Thousand Hills near Cannon Falls.) The big challenge with very lean grass-fed beef is to compensate for the lack of juicy marbling, and Fratzke met the challenge beautifully, pairing the flavorful meat with savory white beans and grilled onions. I suspect that the best
    time to sample Fratzke’s culinary artistry will be late summer, when fresh
    local produce is at its peak, but I expect to return long before then.

    The Strip Club, 378 Maria Ave Saint Paul, MN 55106 651-793-6247.

    I have been a long-time fan of chef Ryan Aberle’s cooking at
    North Coast in Wayzata, but I never felt that the casual atmosphere – and the
    13 flat-screen TVs in the adjacent bar – quite fit the cuisine. But that’s
    about change. "We are closing to the public on the night of January 19 and
    reopening on January 23," reports Aberle. This will complete the first phase of
    the remodel… allowing us for the first time clear definition of where the
    dining room ends and the bar begins. The new bar (to be completed by
    Valentine’s Day) will retain a single plasma TV and it will barely be visible
    from the main dining room."

    Aberle, a beer connoisseur, has put together what might be
    the ultimate beer lover’s dinner – a 15-course extravaganza on Saturday, Feb. 2, featuring just
    about every brew Sam Adams makes. Courses range from a sweet potato pancake with Morbier, duck
    leg confit, burnt orange syrup, accompanied by Boston Ale, to pan-seared
    Minnesota foie gras, port lacquer, and wild mushroom risotto served with Black
    Lager, and a course of Pho with shaved prime rib, rice noodles, cilantro
    and a glass of Winter Lager. Cost is $80, plus tax and tip.

    North Coast Restaurant, 294 Grove Lane E., Wayzata, 952-475-4960.

     

    Barbette’s Mardi Gras menu, served February 4-5, should be
    pretty authentic: Barbette’s
    new chef, Sarah Master, went to culinary school in New Orleans, and studied
    under Susan Spicer at Bayona in the French Quarter. The menu sounds terrific,
    especially for the price ($32): baked oysters Laveau, followed by a choice of crab cakes or
    sausage gumbo. The main course options are chicken etouffee, blackened catfish
    with macque choux and collards, or fried mirliton (chayote), collards and
    spoonbread. For dessert, your choice of king cake, pecan pie or bananas Foster.

    Barbette, 1600 W. Lake St., Minneapolis, 612-827-5710.