The Murderous Muppet
Attended by a rather sexy air of intrigue, the hit French film Brotherhood of the Wolf (Le Pacte des Loups) arrives upon our shores, and, refreshingly, it’s left up to us to figure out just what the hell it is. Monster movie? Costume drama? Martial-arts extravaganza? To say the least, it’s the most ambitious import…
Kelly Hogan, with Jay Bennett
Atlanta transplant Kelly Hogan says she digs living in Chicago now, because she can see “crazy-looking, freewheeling senior citizens” in sneakers, walking the streets without fear of molestation. She says it gives her a hopeful feeling for the future. On a similar note, listening to Hogan’s voice offers us a hopeful feeling for the future…
Sam I Slam
Sean Penn began 2001 by directing one of the year’s most deeply felt films, The Pledge, in which a frazzled, disconnected Jack Nicholson played a retired cop obsessed with solving the rape and murder of a young girl. He ended it by acting in one of the year’s most woefully manipulative and oppressively pandering offerings:…
Alicia Keys
Diva happens. Inevitably, Alicia Keys will soon transform into a TV-smashin’, hotel-trashin’, Bobby Brown-datin’, hairdresser-beratin’ whirlwind of diva-like excess and looniness. She’ll make crappy records, too. But right now, it’s Alicia’s world; we’re just playin’ “Chopsticks” in it. Mixing streetwise hip-hop with classical piano soul was a great idea on someone’s part, and Keys pounds,…
Count Down
There is nothing terribly wrong with Kevin Reynolds’s The Count of Monte Cristo, which the Internet Movie Database lists as the 18th remake of Alexandre Dumas’s tale of innocence betrayed and avenged. It is neither a drag nor a gas; it neither betrays its source material nor adheres too slavishly to the densely penned novel.…
Nine Inch Nails
When he steps onstage, Trent Reznor trades the scalpel for the machete. In the studio, Reznor is obsessed with minutiae, compulsively fashioning and refashioning epic works of longing and despair with a surgeon’s precision. Live, however, Reznor takes all the self-directed rage that drives his work, broadens its target, and comes out swinging. The audience…
The Winter of Our Discontent
Back in the good old days — say, 1997 — winter crackled with excitement for Indians fans. The sting of postseason defeat cooled with the air. Wahoo jackets piled up under Christmas trees. Travel agents booked passage to spring training. Tuesday nighters against the Angels sold out six months in advance. Baseball was the city’s…
Bad Religion
Bad Religion has written the same song for 20 years. Do not attempt to dispute this. Rather, appreciate that you still listen to that song. Four chords in 4/4 time, buzzsaw guitars, double-time drum action, poly-sci brainiac lyrics. Punk rock for Punk Planet subscribers. This can get old, and it has. But even as we’ve…
Beer Today, Gone Tomorrow
If Andrew Craze had to choose, he would probably say it was the guy in Buffalo. That’s who made him realize how good he had it. It was 1998, and Craze, who founded the Western Reserve Brewing Company with partner Gavin Smith three years earlier, was in the City of Good Neighbors to judge a…
Various Artists
Local compilations are kind of like 15-packs of Keystone: Perhaps the quality is lacking, but you still get more bang for the buck. That’s certainly the case with Rocked and Loaded, which boasts a whopping 26 tracks. Put out by the folks who run the Northeast Ohio punk/rockabilly fanzine Rock and Roll Purgatory, the disc…
Thin Skin Alert!
It’s not uncommon for government officials to cut off contact with the media. Those engaged in what is euphemistically called “public service” tend to have egos so large, they come equipped with their own restroom facilities. Speak ill of them, and they’ll refuse to talk. It’s the dainty government version of trying to kick your…
Matthew Shipp
The industrial and the idyllic collide with beautiful force on pianist Matthew Shipp’s latest exploration. The third of Shipp’s Blue Series releases for Thirsty Ear, this is the least orthodox, least horn-inflected, and most abstract: Daniel Carter plays saxophone and flute on a few tracks, but isn’t a key figure on an album that aims…
Mother’s Little Helper
The social workers put their heads together. Today’s million-dollar question: Why won’t Tammy get her butt in gear? She wants her kids back, but hasn’t made a move beyond moanin’ and groanin’. Whether she’s clinically depressed or just spectacularly lazy, one thing’s for sure: Tammy (not her real name) has a whole roomful of people…
Bart: Man of Opportunity
Pulling more Wolstein over our eyes: I recently read the article “Menace II Suburbia” [December 6] and was very disappointed in the tone and the fact that I was not asked to discuss and answer questions about Mr. Wolstein. I have been an employee of Bart’s for the past 14 years and believe that he…
Two by Two
As long as there are theaters with tight budgets, actors with lavish egos, and playwrights who relish the challenge of compressing the universe into a couple of grains of sand, two-character plays will remain a cottage industry. Two theaters — one east, the other west — are now using this economical form of playmaking to…
TV or Not TV?
Talk long enough with any television exec over 55, and sooner or later he’ll get around to mentioning the La Brea Tar Pits, that enormous shimmering stinkhole in Los Angeles where the liquefied remains of some 660 species of organisms still burble. These old-timers, with skin light brown and pockets pale green, see themselves as…
Chewing the Scenery
One minute, our server is at our side, pouring wine and making small talk. The next, she’s standing before the black baby grand, eyes bright with excitement. From her perch on the small circular stage, she pauses to take in the view. The softly lit dining room of Star at Playhouse Square, awash in a…
Da Funk Is Sunk
Say ta-ta to former Executive Chef Brandt Evans’s flamboyant “Asian-Ozark Funk Cuisine” at Kosta’s (2179 West 11th Street, 216-622-0011). And welcome the “New-American Underground” stylings of recently appointed Executive Chef Bob Elliot. Evans, whose tongue-in-cheek productions once included a giant blue-frosted oval cupcake modeled after a Viagra capsule, left the restaurant abruptly in mid-December. But…
Lone Star Shining
Jon Dee Graham’s résumé in Texas music over the past quarter-century is almost as wide as the state itself. He’s fronted seminal punk bands, lent his accomplished guitar playing to artists as diverse as Michelle Shocked and John Doe, and, as a member of the True Believers, helped define alternative country. But it wasn’t until…
Skiing Is Believing
Considering the mild winter we’ve had so far, the thought of throwing on a parka, strapping on some planks, and joining the throng of outdoor enthusiasts competing in this year’s Nordic Flurry Cross-Country Ski Race actually sounds like just the thing to remind us that it is indeed winter around here. The annual competition takes…
Surfin’ Cleveland
Ever since the Internet opened the floodgates for quick, widespread dispersal of music and news, it’s been all too easy to drown in the tidal wave of dodgy downloads and crappy band sites that immediately followed. In an attempt to toss a life preserver to ‘Net-surfing local music fans, Soundbites has braved these rough waters…
Descent of a Woman
The irony isn’t lost on Michael Flohr. The director of the Ukrainian dance-theater piece Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors is of Nordic heritage. He also happens to be married to the woman, Nadia Tarnawsky (of Ukrainian descent, naturally), who wrote the work. In other words, his people once invaded the very folks and culture he’s…
Gonzalo Rubalcaba
Gonzalo Rubalcaba stands out as part of a new wave of Cuban musicians who don’t hew to tradition to justify their popularity. Don’t expect anything resembling the Buena Vista Social Club when this exceptional pianist plays Night Town; though Rubalcaba has a command of Cuban “son” and the more courtly, archaic “danzon,” he reshapes them…
Moth-Eaten
Just in time to take our tired minds off the twin terrors of Osama and Enron comes The Mothman Prophecies, an enjoyable if utterly stupid upscale entry in the old Amityville Horror genre — that is, a horror film allegedly based on spooky and inexplicable real-life events. The fashionable sheen is provided mostly by the…
Creed
For four years now, Creed has bullied airwaves with its incessant, God-fearing grunge ballads. But who’s complaining? Millions obsess over these slobbering rock clods every day; hordes of fans fawn over the band’s ill blend of grungy hooks, Zeppelin riffs, and queasy Christian lyrics. They figure Creed’s just too complex to be dismissed as doppelgängers…
