Theaters and galleries: shows to see now

Recent reviews of current productions and exhibitions

FINAL CHANCE

Holy Crap!
Jesus Christ, the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus walk into a bar. (Please don’t stop me if you’ve heard this one; trust me, you haven’t.) Ever since his dad abdicated heaven for a lengthy sabbatical, the son of God (Joe Swanberg) has turned into a sloppy stoner, spending his days hawking “Holy Crap!”–branded pop-culture detritus like “Jesus Jeans." His drinking buddy, the Easter Bunny (David Lee), chomps cheap cigars and terrorizes autograph-seeing admirers by distributing eggs extracted from his sweaty underwear. And so it goes in the debut script from Dustin Burton, Taylor Bulloch and Lucas Koester. (Final show 8 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 21, at the Parliament House, 410 N. Orange Blossom Trail; $10; www.wanzie.com) Full review by Seth Kubersky

Jekyll & Hyde
To its credit, GOAT has managed to cram the expansive creation into its less-than-cavernous Cherry Street space with a cast of 30 well-costumed performers who sing acceptably and move comfortably in the small acting area. But the seams show – awkward transitions on the stage, the lighting set too dark for the audience to see properly and way-too-loud vocals  (thanks to mic'd actors performing only 10 feet away from the audience). (through Nov. 28 at Greater Orlando Actors Theatre, 669 Cherry St., Winter Park; $18; 407-872-8451; www.goatgroup.com)
Full review by Al Krulick.


CONTINUING

Andy Warhol: Personalities
This tiny exhibition of Polaroids used as figure studies for Andy Warhol’s register-ringing assembly line of society portraits is valuable as a window into the fastidious methods of a man who (disingenuously) presented his work as a casual toss-off. (through Jan. 3 at Cornell Fine Arts Museum, Rollins College, 1000 Holt Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-646-2526; www.rollins.edu/cfam)
Full review by Jessica Bryce Young.

André Kertész: On Reading
The images taken by photojournalist André Kertész – one of the most influential photographers of the century – capture a timeless depiction of book lust, from a sunbathing reader on a New York rooftop to a Venetian gondolier drowsing under the arch of a bridge. The collection of more than 100 prints has been simply installed to allow total focus on the black-and-white photos, made between 1915 and 1970. (through Jan. 3 at Cornell Fine Arts Museum, Rollins College, 1000 Holt Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-646-2526; www.rollins.edu/cfam)
Fall Guide preview by Jessica Bryce Young

Granted!
The biographies of the 18 artists in the group exhibition – all recipients of an United Arts of Central Florida grant – confirms that these artists are indeed the "arts intelligentsia," with heavy representation by local professors, MFAs and members of the professional gallery and museum scene. The resulting show is fine, if somewhat safe in its scope. The artists include: Elizabeth St. Hilaire Nelson, Jolie Spelman, Cathy Hempel, Craig Richards, Doug Rhodehamel, Donne Bitner, Fatima Lotfi Rice and Hye Shin. (through Jan. 9 at Crealdé School of Art, 600 St. Andrews Blvd., Winter Park; donations; 407-671-1886; www.crealde.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas

The Japan Craze and Western Art 1880-1920
Dragonflies, fish, and other animals were seen anew by American artists through Japanese culture, and joining in the fun was Louis Comfort Tiffany. Indeed, Tiffany lamps flank the tea table set with an exquisite porcelain tea service in the detailed vignette. Also, Tiffany rival John La Farge’s stained-glass Gothic cathedral window is added for depth, as are historic photos of Japan. (continuing at the Charles Hosmer Morse Museum of American Art, 445 N. Park Ave., Winter Park; $3; 407-645-5311; www.morsemuseum.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas.

Linda Schäpper: Central Florida Folk Art Painter of Historic and Sacred Scenes  Linda Schäpper’s visual approach to the west Winter Park community has yielded a rich story line; the individuals, their hardships and involvement with their churches connect on human and spiritual levels to the viewer, reminding us that the sacred is everywhere. (through Dec. 19 at Hannibal Square Heritage Center, 642 W. New England Ave., Winter Park; donations; 407-539-2680; www.hannibalsquareheritagecenter.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas.

Salt Water Taffy
At first the exhibition appears to be all fun and visual games. Barbie-pink vintage cars seem poised over inviting surf in Tammy Rejimbal's pastels, and stormy clouds are boldly decorative bands in Lesley Giles' oils. Edges curl gently upward in boat-shaped vessels by ceramist Robert LaWarre, the varied textures of their quiltlike surfaces begging for the visitor's touch. But the show is serious while still lively and accessible, and at the same time it's a satisfying look at current Florida art. (through Dec. 18 at Atlantic Center for the Arts at Harris House, 214 S. Riverside Drive, New Smyrna Beach; free; 386-423-1753; www.atlanticcenterforthearts.org)
Full review by Laura Stewart

Theater review: "Crimes of the Heart"

Crying in their cake: The lovely Magrath sisters

(from left, Jennifer Bonner, Meggin Weaver, Britni Leslie)



















Crimes of the Heart
8 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday, through Nov. 29
Garden Theatre, 160 W. Plant St., Winter Garden
407-877-4736
www.gardentheatre.org
$22  

Even producer Beth Marshall said in her video promotion that this show is for chicks but that guys will get something out of it too. True enough. Crimes of the Heart is a dark comedy that’s caught up in the familial bond of three sisters – and the men who shaped their lives and whose lives have been shaped by the women.

Beth Henley skillfully structures the laughs into her famous 1981 Pulitzer Prize-winning script; her story of domestic absurdities is sold to the audience by the believability of the Mississippi characters – the Magrath sisters and their friends and family. Their emotions are real enough to relate to, even when the antics veer into soap opera.

There’s the eldest, neurotic sister Lenny (Meggin Weaver); the middle, wild-child Meg (Jennifer Bonner); and the sweet Babe (Britni Leslie). No. 1 still lives at home, taking care of ominous Old Granddaddy, who raised the girls after their mother departed from their lives early on. Life has ridden No. 2 a bit harder; she’s got singing talent and that tickles the old guy, but her rambling ways have taken her nowhere and she hides it. No. 3 is successful by societal measures with her attorney husband – until the upheaval. After which, the sisters are reunited and wounds, old and new, are exposed.

It is a credit to director Aradhana Tiwari that she allows the subtext to come through without camping up the production – except for Marshall, that is, who gets to goose the action as a rude cousin who reminds us what we hate about being judged by our families. Otherwise Tiwari puts the pressure on the three leading ladies to deliver the entertainment.

As Babe, Leslie nails the essential character mix of being normal and not. She looks right, talks right, but something in her life has gone horribly wrong. And her acceptance of her consequences doesn’t make us feel any better. Her attorney (Jason Horne) also grabs the stage upon his entry, at once a cartoonish Barney Fife and a do-right shy guy. Their scenes together are delightfully awkward.

Meg throws her fabulous red tresses around as she chain-smokes (not inhaling) and makes sassy moves, especially on an old beau (William Hagaman) who can’t resist her charms, never mind the tragic past. But Bonner only shows us a hint of her shame and vulnerability, as her Meg plows on recklessly.

Weaver warms up to the neurotic ways of elder sister Lenny, and the audience watches a spine grow by story’s end. But here’s where subtlety becomes a devil – too much nuttiness and we won’t feel Lenny’s quiet strength; too small a presence and she fades into the wallpaper of the homey kitchen set (designed by Tom Mangieri). Weaver’s performance wandered the spectrum.

The sister bond is a relationship that’s as distinct as the individuals, but you see a common endurance in this trio. In the end, all the mess is elevated to the mysteries of unconditional love and living in the moment – even when it’s as silly as making a wish on the candles of a freshly baked birthday cake.

Pooptacular commercial for Central Florida Zoo

Steaming fresh footage from the team of Rhett & Link at I Love Local Commercials.

Uh-oh, more D.A.D. mess: Jim Faherty moves out of CityArts Factory

We've got calls out to Jim Faherty, the oldest tenant of the CityArts Factory, and to Monte Olinger, the chairman of the board of Downtown Arts District Inc., to track down the full story, but here's what we've heard.

Jim Faherty and Steve Jones of Church Street Concepts & Events LLC., who operate out of Pound Gallery in the CityArts Factory, moved out at the end of October over financial disputes. Pound is still being operated by CAF, but the departure is yet another breakdown in the D.A.D. enterprise explained in the recent story "Dear old D.A.D."

It also begs the answer to an unanswered question: Why has the nightclub business been operating in the public art facility in the first place? It had previously been explained to me that Faherty owned Pound Gallery, but then why didn't he take that with him?

A reminder: Taxpayer money to the tune of $36,000 per month is spent to rent the CityArts Factory building on Orange Avenue.

First Shot: If six is nein

So tonight’s the big night when we learn if AMC’s remake of The Prisoner had any particular purpose, or if the entire undertaking will amount to no more than spinning the wheels of the penny-farthing.

 

Actually, said conveyance is one of the many now-iconic elements of the original that haven’t made it into this “re-imagining,” and the copious differences seem to be at the heart of the overwhelmingly negative notices the miniseries has received. Why, the faithful want to know, is Number Six now a gasping, petrified naif instead of a coolly controlled smart-ass? What’s with making Number Two an aristocratic pillar of the community, rather than the temporary servant of revolving-door bureaucracy? And since when did any Number Two have a family – much less a conflicted gay son with bangs forever encroaching on his doe eyes? (After Night One, a friend pointed out one obvious reason: That’s how you get Ian McKellen to sign on.)

 

In almost all of these miniature controversies, I find myself opposite the conventional wisdom: I think the show has changed not too much but too little. I’m mostly down with the alterations that have been made and the trappings that have been added. Sure, this Number Six is far less resourceful and charismatic than his predecessor. But if the character – who in each case resigns from a mysterious intelligence job, only to find himself trapped in a deceptively idyllic resort gulag – is meant to be the ultimate tourist, why shouldn’t he be whiny, bewildered and perpetually pining for the way things were at home? Remember, he’s now an American tourist. We act that way when we’re more than 17.5 miles from a Sonic.

 

Meanwhile, the wholesale additions largely slay me. I love the idea that all anyone eats in the Village is wraps, just because it’s so venomously arbitrary. You get the distinct impression writer/executive producer Bill Gallagher had one too many pieces of pita shoved in his face, and made it his personal mission to demonize those little bastards once and for all. And last night’s subplot about the supposed environmental benefits of pig ownership came from way out in left field and then showed the major cojones to stay there. (“Keep a pig for stability” could be Kate Gosselin’s answer to “I Want You Back.”)

 

Yet somehow, the entire affair still seems faintly ordinary, sometimes even verging on the dull -- and I think that’s because the program’s essential underpinnings have become old hat. After four decades, and a steady diet of Truman Shows, Matrixes and the like, the entire concept of a depersonalized hero in a conformist nightmare world just doesn’t seem all that novel or engaging. I was intrigued by initial reports that this new series was to be a comment on our current “culture of the self”; deep in my anarchic heart, I hoped its producers had seen fit to reverse the entire philosophical thrust of the property and turn it into some sort of existentialism-is-for-assholes sermon. In the era of the public option, there’s something to be said about it taking a village to correct the despotism of the holdout. So far, though, what we’ve been getting is the usual guy-against-the-system jeremiad. At least nobody’s called Number Six a maverick.

 

Tonight’s concluding two hours, though, are what really have me worried. According to some of the advance reviews – MILD SPOILER ALERT! – there is indeed a concrete resolution to the mysteries the show has been unspooling hour by hour (and about which AMC has been trying harder than hell to drum up online discussion – now there’s some enforced populism Number Two would approve of).

 

Most of the pan notices have complained that the windup is too pat, but I’m concerned that there’s going to be any attempt at narrative satisfaction at all. That’s one change from the original I’d find it hard to get behind. The 1967 series capped 16 weeks of teasing with an infinitely more confounding, elliptical hour that inspired howls of frustration and outrage. Creator/star Patrick McGoohan was even forced to leave the British Isles, to escape the wrath of viewers who were enraged that a program that had all along been urging them to ask questions had refused to give them real answers.

 

If this Prisoner goes for the a-ha! moment, it’s safe to say its cachet will automatically be lowered. I can see, however, why nobody involved would want to risk another oblique fade-out. Look at the recent analogues: Fans of Lost were for a while gravely concerned that that program would never resolve its multitude of hanging threads; as executive producer Carlton Cuse pointed out, when people are worried about Iraq, you have to let them know your TV show has an exit strategy. The current zeitgeist is even more surfeited with uncertainty: We’re not sure if we want a way out of Afghanistan, or just an assurance that, after eight years, we’ve finally devised a workable way in. That’s not the sort of context that’s going to embolden a TV network to deny its audience a soothing denouement -- even if the resulting tea parties would be kinda fun to watch.

First Shot: Waiting for the other boot to drop

Some people never get enough of a good thing. And others just never get enough of anything.

 

For instance, did you know there’s a crew of diehards out there who feel that life is cheating them because they’ve never gotten to see every frame of footage Bryan Singer shot for Superman Returns? Land o’ goshen, as Pa Kent might say!

 

While others search for more respectable Holy Grails of filmmaking – like, say, the supposedly lost Lon Chaney thriller London After Midnight that’s now and then purported to exist somewhere in a moldy South American basement – this bunch just have to know how SR would have played out had it been assembled according to Singer’s unalloyed “vision.”

 

Specifically, they’re interested in learning for themselves how the flow of the movie would have been affected by the reinstatement of Brandon Routh’s allegedly somber, all-but-wordless “return to Krypton,” and how that fascinating preamble might have informed and contrasted with the somber, all-but-wordless 154 minutes that did make it into the movie’s theatrical version.

 

(Author’s note: OK, I’ll confess. If you sweet-talk your search engine just right, you might -- might -- be able to find a review of the film I once wrote, in which I basically crawled into its lap and handed up four stars for it to suck on like a Charms Blow-Pop. What can I say? The Year of Our Lord 2006 was a long time ago, and there’s nothing like looped viewings on FX to help you see flaws you missed the first time around – like stultifying boredom. And besides, if you’re familiar enough with my oeuvre to have called hypocrisy back in paragraph three, it says far worse things about you than it does about me.)

 

Anyway, this completist campaign to get Superman Returns: The Vein-Opening Cut released on Blu-ray, DVD and/or View-Master has a neat little website, where an entire list of “support sites” lends weight to the idea that there’s a public groundswell of interest in its agenda. And there are some bigwigs represented in there, including Rotten Tomatoes and IGN -- along with the expected gaggle of domains whose logos just happen to consist of three-dimensional block letters that slant upwards and are rendered in red or blue. It’s a grassroots thing.

 

The idea, presumably, is for industry movers and shakers to tumble across the site and be spurred into action by the obvious passion behind its careful enumeration of the “missing” sequences -- as well as its copious misspellings of simple words, and language so grammatically tortured it appears to have been composed in Swahili, then manually entered into a translation engine by Brainiac after a few Foster’s oil cans. But if the passions of the semi-literate touch your heart, and you can’t afford to shell out for Palin’s memoir, do as the Krypton crew implores you: “Enter in our site and leave your support by signing our signs book!”

 

My sign involved a finger.

Ends: Brian Feldman might die

Yeah, our resident performance artist is doing one of those things again. This time, it's called:

Pedestrian, or Walking: Impossible

The basic premise involves how dangerous our roads have been rated (as if you didn't know). Brian Feldman is going to walk across the 12 most dangerous intersections in Orlando and Kissimmee. Not entirely sure where those are, but you can probably find out at his website.

Sure to be a thrill a minute.

Images from O-Town: Florida Fallen Heroes Quilt Project

Florida Fallen Heroes Quilt Project
Through Dec. 6 at Orange County Regional History Center
65 E. Central Blvd., Orlando, FL 32801
407-836-8500
thehistorycenter.org

Sent today from Jen at the History Center:
     Help support the Florida Fallen Heroes Quilt Project and get $2 off admission to the History Center.
     Quilt squares are needed to help create more memory quilts honoring Florida's fallen heroes. Bring a completed quilt square to the History Center and receive $2 off admission. Offer good through December 6.
     Quilt squares must me 9.5 inches in size, with a patriotic or military design, and enough space to write the name of a soldier.
     For more information on the Florida Fallen Heroes Quilt Project, call (321) 269-2613 or visit the website.

In theaters and galleries: shows to see

Recent reviews of current productions and exhibitions

FINAL CHANCE

My Camera Speaks for Me:
Photography by Douglas Nesbitt
Uncompromising reality has led photographer Douglas J. Nesbitt into nearly every aspect of contemporary photography, from advertising to portraiture to documentation to fine art. When he manipulates certain images, the result creates a completely new narrative. Nesbitt’s recent work, including photos from around Orlando, shows us our own context in a fresh way and brings us other contexts for contemplation and insight. (through Nov. 15 at Albin Polasek Museum, 633 Osceola Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-647-6294; www.polasek.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas.

CONTINUING

Andy Warhol: Personalities
This tiny exhibition of Polaroids used as figure studies for Andy Warhol’s register-ringing assembly line of society portraits is valuable as a window into the fastidious methods of a man who (disingenuously) presented his work as a casual toss-off. (through Jan. 3 at Cornell Fine Arts Museum, Rollins College, 1000 Holt Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-646-2526; www.rollins.edu/cfam)
Full review by Jessica Bryce Young.

André Kertész: On Reading
The images taken by photojournalist André Kertész – one of the most influential photographers of the century – capture a timeless depiction of book lust, from a sunbathing reader on a New York rooftop to a Venetian gondolier drowsing under the arch of a bridge. The collection of more than 100 prints has been simply installed to allow total focus on the black-and-white photos, made between 1915 and 1970. (through Jan. 3 at Cornell Fine Arts Museum, Rollins College, 1000 Holt Ave., Winter Park; $5; 407-646-2526; www.rollins.edu/cfam)
Fall Guide preview by Jessica Bryce Young

Granted!
The biographies of the 18 artists in the group exhibition – all recipients of an United Arts of Central Florida grant – confirms that these artists are indeed the "arts intelligentsia," with heavy representation by local professors, MFAs and members of the professional gallery and museum scene. The resulting show is fine, if somewhat safe in its scope. The artists include: Elizabeth St. Hilaire Nelson, Jolie Spelman, Cathy Hempel, Craig Richards, Doug Rhodehamel, Donne Bitner, Fatima Lotfi Rice and Hye Shin. (through Jan. 9 at Crealdé School of Art, 600 St. Andrews Blvd., Winter Park; donations; 407-671-1886; www.crealde.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas

The Japan Craze and Western Art 1880-1920
Dragonflies, fish, and other animals were seen anew by American artists through Japanese culture, and joining in the fun was Louis Comfort Tiffany. Indeed, Tiffany lamps flank the tea table set with an exquisite porcelain tea service in the detailed vignette. Also, Tiffany rival John La Farge’s stained-glass Gothic cathedral window is added for depth, as are historic photos of Japan. (through Aug. 8 at the Charles Hosmer Morse Museum of American Art, 445 N. Park Ave., Winter Park; $3; 407-645-5311; www.morsemuseum.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas.

Jekyll & Hyde
To its credit, GOAT has managed to cram the expansive creation into its less-than-cavernous Cherry Street space with a cast of 30 well-costumed performers who sing acceptably and move comfortably in the small acting area. But the seams show – awkward transitions on the stage, the lighting set too dark for the audience to see properly and way-too-loud vocals  (thanks to mic'd actors performing only 10 feet away from the audience). (through Nov. 28 at Greater Orlando Actors Theatre, 669 Cherry St., Winter Park; $18; 407-872-8451; www.goatgroup.com)
Full review by Al Krulick.

Linda Schäpper: Central Florida Folk Art Painter of Historic and Sacred Scenes  Linda Schäpper’s visual approach to the west Winter Park community has yielded a rich story line; the individuals, their hardships and involvement with their churches connect on human and spiritual levels to the viewer, reminding us that the sacred is everywhere. (through Dec. 19 at Hannibal Square Heritage Center, 642 W. New England Ave., Winter Park; donations; 407-539-2680; www.hannibalsquareheritagecenter.org)
Full review by Rex Thomas.

Salt Water Taffy
At first the exhibition appears to be all fun and visual games. Barbie-pink vintage cars seem poised over inviting surf in Tammy Rejimbal's pastels, and stormy clouds are boldly decorative bands in Lesley Giles' oils. Edges curl gently upward in boat-shaped vessels by ceramist Robert LaWarre, the varied textures of their quiltlike surfaces begging for the visitor's touch. But the show is serious while still lively and accessible, and at the same time it's a satisfying look at current Florida art. (through Dec. 18 at Atlantic Center for the Arts at Harris House, 214 S. Riverside Drive, New Smyrna Beach; free; 386-423-1753; www.atlanticcenterforthearts.org)
Full review by Laura Stewart

First Shot: This foo-foo will not heal

It’s been a long five days since last I blogged here, and I know you’ve probably gotten a little concerned. Maybe you’ve even heard some troubling rumors, of the kind that tend to fly around in this age of constant communication and hard-tweeting gossip-mongering. But I’m here to put your mind at ease and reassure you that everything’s fine.

 

I am not – I repeat, not -- leaving Aerosmith.

 

Meanwhile, somebody else isn’t doing so fine: comedy writer David Lloyd, who passed away Wednesday. This is one of those obits that’s going to be relegated to four or five phonemes in the next Entertainment Weekly -- unless a crew member on the Twilight movies dies in the interim and eats up the entire page. But kudos to The Wrap for enumerating the great man’s accomplishments, which reached their apotheosis in a half-hour of TV that instantly became one of the few sitcom episodes a vast swath of America knew by name:

 

“Chuckles Bites the Dust.”

 

Yes, Lloyd was responsible for the beyond-classic Mary Tyler Moore Show segment in which the absurd accidental death of a TV clown becomes the springboard to an exploration of inappropriate laughter – and an unforgettable conclusion that there’s no such thing. Many years later, Seth McFarlane would work like a bastard to disprove that very same thesis. But in the ’70s at least, the sight of Mary Richards collapsing into hysterics at Chuckles’ funeral was one of two televisual images that were seared onto the corneas of every comedy lover (the other, of course, being the grand tableau of Carol Burnett’s Scarlett O’Hara descending the staircase of Tara with a curtain rod protruding from her shoulders).

 

A generation later, Seinfeld entries like “The Contest” mounted a serious challenge for the title Greatest Sitcom Episode Ever -- but the only reason the competition exists in the first place is that “Chuckles” invented it. And therefore, it will always be the winner. Look at it this way: At one point in time, ABBA had outsold the Beatles, but will they or any group ever be able to lay claim to being “better”?

 

Fellow comedy writer Ken Levine, who studied at Lloyd’s feet, has also posted a nice piece on him. And in addition to the usual, expected stuff about Lloyd being a walking gag machine with a God-given talent, I’m struck by how self-reliant Levine says he was, a fully functioning auteur even within a collaborative field like TV comedy:

 

Normally when a writer turns in a first draft the staff rewrites it to a varying degree. Not David’s. You sent his right down to the stage. When you see a David Lloyd writing credit on THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW, THE BOB NEWHART SHOW, THE TONY RANDALL SHOW, THE ASSOCIATES, RHODA, PHYLLIS, CHEERS, TAXI, FRASIER, LOU GRANT, BEST OF THE WEST, AMEN, or WINGS you are seeing his original work.

 

“You sent his right down to the stage.” Now that’s competence. That’s accountability. That’s rising to the responsibility of what your job can and should entail. And it’s a nice reminder for us all to have in this day and age, when a “writing” assignment is simply something you get to put your name on if somebody throws a big enough check at you.

 

(Five days ’til Sarah Palin’s book. Where does that woman find the time?)

 

 

 

 

Images from O-Town: Maidens and Monsters

Opening Nov. 24 at Polasek Museum

Just got word from Todd Deery, board member for the Polasek Museum (and a former OW writer), about the coming of Maidens and Monsters: the Art of Science Fiction, Adventure and Fantasy.

This is one of those Orlando-centric specialties, and the artwork is from the private collection of local attorney Stephen D. Korshak.

Deery says, "The collection has never been shown before and is world-class and very renowned in art circles. It's also one of the Polasek's biggest exhibitions yet and it's going to be really fun."


















Top: Ed Emsh, cover of Science Fiction Stories, 1955

Bottom left: Virgil Finlay, "Face in the Abyss," cover of Famous Fantastic Mysteries, 1940

Bottom right: Margaret Brundage, "Altar of Melek Taos," cover of Weird Tales, 1932