Category: So Little Time

The supposedly big news is that Cris Kirkwood is back from drugaddiction and a stint in jail. But the exciting part is that older broCurt Kirkwood—the alpha talent responsible for both the blistering,psychedelic guitar explosions and the sardonic, semi-sage lyrics thatare the Pups’ signature one-two punch—has responded to the siblingreunion by spooling forth Rise to Your Knees. While perhaps not as crystalline or cow-punked as vintage classics like Meat Puppets IIfrom the ’80s, it’s a strong Meat Puppets collection from the samelineage, which augurs well for the trio (a new drummer is on board) asthey prove that contemporaries of The Replacements and The Minutemencan still raise and daze a ruckus in 2007.

8 p.m., Varsity Theater, 1308 Fourth St. SE, Minneapolis; 612-604-0222; $15.

“So these are the famous Beatles,” says one of the manyBritish stiff-upper-lip types in Help!, their second go-round with director RichardLester. This ’65 effort concerns the Fab Four on the run from pug-faced LeoMcKern, who is a kind of Indian spiritual leader with a Cockney accent, eagerto get Ringo’s holy mood ring. Watching Help! makes one marvel at thecomplexity that was the Beatles—here they’re fresh-faced youngsters eagerto tell an incomprehensible joke, race through the London streets, and sing asong. But in just four years they’d become bearded, justifiably frustrated andangry with themselves and the world, and still creating the incredible popsongs that would move the world.

In Sam Fuller‘s 1953 paean to the New York City underworld,pickpocket Skip McCoy (the great Richard Widmark) accidentally nabs the wrongwallet-one containing microfilm that the Commies are hungry to get theirmitts on. Soon the cops, the feds, and the Reds are all out to get Skip and histreasure. In Pickup on South Street, the director drags us by the scruff of theneck, hauling us into the netherworld of dripping docks, stifling tenements,and the cramped offices of the underpaid and often brutal cops. But he alsoshows a remarkable empathy for the plight of his characters. Usually a brute,Fuller seems to have found his muse in character actress Thelma Ritter thistime around. Pay close attention to her character’s death scene. As hercharacter, Moe, faces her killer hiding in the shadows, she does not tremble orcry for help; rather, she shrugs off the irony of this cruel world as shereaches for a weary and spectacular grace. A masterpiece.

Parkway Theater, 4814 ChicagoAve. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-3030.

Seventeen years in the making, Lake of Fire, the epic abortion documentary by Tony Kaye (best known for American History X),has finally arrived. Mercifully shot in silvery 35mm black and white(thus making its horribly graphic imagery that much less disturbing), Lake of Fireeschews narration to rely on 152 minutes of talking heads, protests,and, of course, actual abortions. Kaye has been unflagging in hisinsistence that the film does not fall on either side of the debate,and that he seeks only to give us images and information necessary tohelp the viewer see both sides of the issue. Oddly enough, the filmdoesn’t move entirely into the present day—some viewers have alreadycomplained that the movie barely addresses RU-486 (the abortion pill) which has radically changed the face of the debate.

Bell Auditorium, 10 Church St. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-627-4430.

Between the Coens’ new shoot-’em-up and American Gangster, this year’s Oscar contenders will probably be slam-bang pieces of entertainment. In Gangster, Denzel Washington plays African-American mob boss Frank Lucas,who ruled ’70s Harlem by making his product—heroin—better and cheaperthan his rivals’, while simultaneously becoming one of the city’s greatcivic leaders. Opposing him is one Russell Crowe,an “outcast cop,” who is equally possessed of a solid moral ethicamongst a corrupt force. These two men will meet, bullets will fly, andall the while we’ll be treated to some awesome ’70s imagery, greatmusic, and two of the sexiest leading men to go head to head in a moviesince Heat.

Art meets life in this informal, party-like performance replete with food and drink from the Cedar-Riverside area’s Tam-Tam’s African Restaurant, and a locally produced soundtrack of African music. But the main attraction is Congolese choreographer Faustin Linyekula and his troupe of dancers and actors,who move within a shifting installation of fluorescent light fixtures,electrical chords, and other detritus to communicate, with movement andspeech, stories both personal and political. The catch: Some of thesetales are true, some lies—Linyekula’s reflection on the collectiveamnesia that tends to plague citizens of a corrupt, turbulentnation—and it’s the audience’s job to discern the difference. Presentedby the Walker Art Center.

8 p.m., Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-375-7600; $25.

Minneapolis takes on shades of Paris for a week this fall, courtesy of Ballet of the Dolls.The company has been working its inventive and often wacky brand ofdance theater for twenty-one years now, most recently with a take onthe outer-space sex odyssey Barbarella. Artistic director andformer Parisian Myron Johnson choreographed this latest show as aseries of vignettes set to music both classic and funky—think along thelines of Erik Satie remixes. In true cabaret form, patrons are invitedto hiss, boo, and imbibe freely during the performance—and no twoperformances will be alike.

Ritz Theater, 345 Thirteenth Ave. N.E., Minneapolis; 612-436-1129; $15-$25.

Along with Sarah Ruhl (see here), Minneapolis is also conducting alove affair with Irish playwrights. There was Martin McDonagh’s The Pillowman at Frank Theatre in September and Brian Friel’s tragic The Home Place,currently on stage at the Guthrie; now the Jungle Theater adds to thebleak themes put forth by Irishmen with Conor McPherson’s Shining City. Billed as a “ghost story for the holidays,” it’s certainly no Christmas Carol.John is a widower who seeks therapy when he starts seeing his wife’sghost everywhere. But his own past, and that of his troubled therapist,prove to be more haunting. Uplifting? Maybe not. But arresting?Probably so. What’s more, the play is directed by local favorite JoelSass, who also quietly assumed the title of associate artistic directorat the Jungle this past year. Rumor has it he’s being groomed tosucceed founding artistic director Bain Boehlke.

Jungle Theater, 2951 Lyndale Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-7063; $24-$46.

You heard it here first, folks: Sarah Ruhl is the hottest contemporary playwright in the country right now, andher work is particularly popular in Minneapolis. While Ruhl’s The Clean House continues at Mixed Blood (through November 18), 3 Sticks, a gem of a troupe, takes on Ruhl’s remarkable Melancholy Play. (There’s more on the horizon, including Ten Thousand Things’ production of Ruhl’s Eurydicein February.) This contemporary farce concerns Ruhl’s distinctionbetween depression and melancholy—the latter, she postures, can be abeautiful, even healthy, thing—but that’s not to say this is heavymaterial. After all, one character is so melancholic she turns into analmond. And the almond, as Ruhl writes in her notes for the play, isshaped the very same as the amygdala, the part of the human brain that processes emotion.

7 p.m., Bryant Lake Bowl Theater, 810 W. Lake St., Minneapolis; 612-825-8949; $12-$15.