The Rake Magazine

Tag: Bryant Lake Bowl

  • Reefer Madness

    I was patiently standing in the ticket line at the Fringe Festival. Then the middle aged man right in front of me abruptly took off his pants. When he began to twist and turn and fidget with his belt, I nervously stepped back. Personally, I didn’t think that when I signed up to cover the Fringe Fest it meant I would be within tickling distance of another man’s ball sack. The throng of theatre goers at the Bryant Lake Bowl hardly even noticed the disrobing right in front of them. I guess this was just normal Fringey behavior. I took a long hearty gulp off my beer. Then I realized that the man was only taking the lower half of his pants off. He was wearing those camping pants that can convert into shorts with a quick flick of a zipper.

    "Oh, that’s much better," the man said, refreshed. He folded the calf parts of his pants and tucked them into a large backpack that was slung over his shoulder. The man was a theater nomad. He purchased an Ultimate Pass Ticket and was travelling across the Twin Cities attending as many shows as possible.

    "I’ve been to forty shows this week," he boasted to me. "I’ve attended three today!" I took another pull of my beer because I had nothing to say to the guy about the Fringe Festival. The brain trust at The Rake chose me to review some shows during the city-wide acting festival. I think they like me because I’m a bit rough around the edges. I’m the kind of guy who enjoys hockey fights. It’s not exactly Shakespeare.

    As we waited in line, the man lectured me extensively on the nuances of the different venues in the Festival. He gushed about this Fringe superstar named Alexis and how she has once again taken the Festival by storm. Then the man killed our pleasant conversation by asking me what my interests were in the highly regarded performing arts festival.

    "Ugh, I chose the Bryant Lake Bowl Theater because it sold beer," I said rather bluntly. "The BBQ pork sandwiches are awesome, too."

    His face turned bitter. He ruffled his limbs like a pissed off peacock. When theater patrons talk about their appreciation for stage acting, pork sandwiches usually aren’t a factor. By the time we got to the box office, the show had sold out. Without a single hesitation, the Fringe Fest Freak whipped out a map and a showtime schedule. He moved quickly through the bustling restaurant/bar/bowling alley/theatre and was out the door towards the next gig. I had no idea what to do. So in the sake of good journalism, I put down my pen and notebook and went bowling.

    The next night, I attended Reefer Madness: The Musical. The pretentious theatre crowd from the night before was gone. The bar was now filled with an alternative class of theater folks: stoners, rockers, and dipshits. Needless to say, I fit right in.

    As I waited at the bar for my sister Becky, this Genghis Khan looking mofo thumbed through a well worn novel next to me. Then a dude with a spiky pink mohawk and a "Punisher" T-shirt saddled up next to him. They fist bumped, got their tickets, and went into the theatre. In a nutshell, that was the true beauty of the Fringe Festival. It was an awesome collection of local and national talent that had been brought down to the street level for everyone to enjoy.

    When a rolly polly man with a giant white beard waltzed in to the Bryant Lake Bowl, I knew it would be a good night. With his rosy red cheeks and Hawaiian shirt, he looked like Santa on vacation. He heartily back slapped several patrons and they all moved into the theater. My sister and I took our seats in the back.

    The musical remake of the infamous anti-marijuana movie was being put on by a local Twin Cities youth acting company. There was a funky house band kicking out jams on the wing of the stage. Although the play was about the evils of smoking weed, the majority of the patrons were thoroughly stoned. Everywhere I looked people was munching on heaping plates of nachos. Midway through the play, people started letting out cat calls. They playfully hooted and hollered at all the righteous anti-drug rhetoric in the script. When an actor sang the line, "We will bring down jazz musicians and immigrants!" the place bristled with good humored outrage.

    The play ended with classic Fringe flair: President Roosevelt performed a death row pardon on a young dope fiend and girls danced in bikinis.We left the quaint theater and headed back to the bar. A long line had formed for the next dramatic performance. Obscure hip hop music bumped out of the Bryant Lake Bowl sound system and washed over the patrons anxiously waiting for the box office to open. My sister and I had no idea what was showing next, but that didn’t matter at all. We ordered two more beers and got right back in line. Who knew theater could be so much fun?

  • Fake Out Fest

    Fake Sonny has that deer in the headlights look. The right side of his mustache is slowly slipping down to rest on his bottom lip, looking like a venomous breed of wooly caterpillar. It doesn’t take long for audience members to notice. They erupt in gut-breaking cackles at poor fake Sonny’s expense. This mockery is not undeserved, being that he did break rule number one of fake mustache wearing-make sure fake mustache is properly affixed.

    This is fake Sonny’s worst nightmare. But his recovery is quick. Ever the intrepid impersonator, he changes lyric "the beat goes on" to "the moustache stays on" and bravely attempts to play off the snafu. Only seconds later, in a moment of failure, fake Sonny slips his mustache into the palm closed around fake Cher’s spindly fingers.

    "I thought that was real, Sonny," fake Cher says, noting her partner’s suddenly naked upper lip region.

    "I wish," fake Sonny chides.

    "The things you don’t know about your own husband."

    Tonight Bryant Lake Bowl is celebrating everyone’s inner cheese ball with a night of double takes, cringes and unbridled guffaws as members of local impersonation troupe, Party Crashers, take the stage.

    The music begins with a solo routine highlighting Cher’s 80s hits. Decked out in a $5 wig, fake Cher rips off her miniscule black dress after the first song to reveal lingerie as scandalous as a 2 a.m. drag queen at Gay 90s. She looks much more pleasant after a costume change into the long white dress reminiscent of Cher’s earlier fashions. Following a rousing and authentic rendition of "Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves," Sonny again joins the stage with freshly spirit-gummed facial hair for "I Got You Babe." Amid fanfare, he quietly slinks behind the curtain, perhaps to retire the fuzz forever.

    The star of tonight’s show, though, is Terry Schulz, the Elvis Presley of the Twin Cities. Schulz is appropriately large for the latter day Elvis look. And his disco ball shaking pipes could rival the King’s own, were he still around for a croon-off. Schulz doesn’t need a microphone –he needs a muffler for fear of shorting out audience members’ hearing aids.

    With his rabid leg pumping, snarled lip and sweeping arm movements, Schulz accurately conjures his idol. Those in need of glasses could easily reminisce about being in a sold-out stadium with the real deal, instead of Bryant Lake Bowl’s small, sit-down theater, while looking upon Schulz’ bell bottom, black jumpsuit bedazzled with red and gold rhinestones. His fingers are weighed down by enormous gold rings and a massive cross is entangled in Schulz’ snarled black forest of Elvisian chest hair.

    Schulz, like the majority of Elvis impersonators, chooses to recreate the last shining moments of Elvis’ career. Strangely, impersonators choose to celebrate the era when Elvis was past his prime. Even though The Beatles never had an opportunity to pass their prime, their impersonators favor the early years, wearing mop-top wigs and Cuban heeled boots, even when they sing numbers from The White Album. The reason Schulz and his peers dress up in chintzy gear is because, by this time in Elvis’ career, he was, in a way, an impersonation of himself. Missing were the shaking hips, tight pants and sex appeal after the Army and the army of barbiturates that warped his persona. It was like looking at the revolutionary icon in a discotheque’s fun house mirror. Impersonating this era feels like kicking a man when he’s down. When Elvis emerges from his cryogenically frozen hideaway one day, will he laugh at these bastardizations or hang his head?

    In the height of his act, Schulz doesn’t seem to concern himself with these philosophical quandaries. He simply has fun. The crowd is eating it up.

    "This goes out to the girls right here," Schulz says, pointing a kingly finger at three elderly women before launching into "Love Me Tender." Crowd interaction is the focus of Schulz’ routine. Throughout the night, he tosses red scarves into the audience and bends down to hang leis around ladies’ necks, dripping sweat onto their unsuspecting forearms as he does so.

    During "(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear," he throws small, stuffed bears into the audience. A few songs later, a woman in the front row hands her bear to Schulz, making dabbing motions at her face. Shulz fills her request, wiping his drenched brow with the bear’s fur. The woman clutches it for the rest of the set, imagining it is a gift from the real thing.

  • Dinner and a Show? – Valentines Dining

    Do you have any favorites places that offer live
    entertainment — preferably cheap or free — along with food? I am starting to compile a list, and so far I have:

    Bluegrass and old-time music at Dulono’s Pizza
    Occasional concerts at Kramarczuk’s (like the Tamburitze
    Orchestra)

    Karaoke at Pancho Villa

    Jazz and more, weekends at Café Maude

    Rhonda Laurie and her trio, Wednesdays at Cave Vin

    Friday night jazz at Crave in Edina

    Speaking of cheap dates, the Valentine’s Day, here are a
    couple of options that won’t break the bank:

    From Valentine’s Day through Sunday, February 17, Joe’s Garage is offering "Valentine for the common
    man (and woman)" : platters for two that range from wild rice meatloaf or
    buttermilk fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy (both $20) to walleye
    or barbecued ribs for $25, or a grilled beef sirloin with sundried tomato
    butter, sauteed mushrooms and fries for $30. And you can add a bottle of Red
    Truck Red or White Truck White for $15.

    Bryant Lake Bowl, famous for its
    Monday night Cheap Date Night dinners for two that includes two entrees, a bottle of wine or
    a couple of beers, and a game of bowling for $28, is going (slightly) upscale for
    Valentines Day with a Not so Cheap Date Night: they are adding soup or salad, and raising the price to $38. And if you want to make it a really memorable evening, you can enjoy your dinner in the adjacent BLB theater, where Joseph Scrimshaw will be performing an all-new version of his interactive romantic comedy, Adventures in Mating. Shows are at 7 and 10 p.m., and the doors open an hour earlier – tickets are $12, or $10 with a Fringe Festival button.