Ruminations, Haunts, and Errors

Last night we took in the Mercury Theater production of Urinetown. I had heard good things about it but apparently wasn’t looking in the right places, as I was expecting a bit more social commentary and not the farcical sendup of Broadway, film noir, and pop culture that it actually turned out to be; Liz pointed out that I should have gotten a clue from the playbill, which clearly showed the first important song to be entitled “It’s a Privilege to Pee”. Okay, they got in a few barbs about corporate monopolies and conservation, but those were of course beside the point, merely cursory justifications for the real business of putting on a couple hours of quality entertainment. How can you not like a dystopic vision told in the spirit of Spamalot and “What’s Opera, Doc?” The performances were good, although given the material overacting would have been difficult to spot. Kudos to the costume and lighting designers for an impressive look to the show.

A few days ago we realized that, with the move now two weeks away and plans to be downstate next weekend, this was our final weekend to enjoy this part of Lakeview as residents rather than visitors. As such we tried to play it up. Friday night: cocktails, lazy decision-making for dinner, a leisurely stroll to Twist, detour to Redmond’s to await a table, paged back to Twist (mmm, sangria and bacon-wrapped dates!), another leisurely stroll to Julius Meinl for coffee and cake, topped off with a short, impromptou dance party in the living room. Saturday: aroused too early by weed-whackers, read the news over coffee, off for some errands, back home for some downtime, spruced up for dinner at Menagerie, then a stroll up Southport to the theater. We had hoped to finish it off with coffee and a tasty treat at Cafe Avanti, but it was inexplicably closed (at 11pm on a Saturday in a yuppie neighborhood??) All in all it was like probably a couple hundred Lakeview weekends we have enjoyed over the last several years.

As we strolled down Southport–bands playing in Cullen’s and Blue Bayou, partiers enjoying and wandering between various other nightspots, Liz pausing to browse a couple of shop windows–I mused that I if I will miss anything about leaving Lakeview it will be the situation more than the place. Sure, I could tick off a number of spots that we really enjoy, yet we’re moving on with no regrets in that regard since we’ve taken advantage of any place of significance within walking distance or a short El ride on multiple occasions. Besides, as much as traffic and zoning differences can make Norwood Park seem like a faraway place, it’s still the same city–and without a doubt we will come back here from time to time to take in shows and to dine at various restaurants. No, what I think I’ll miss most is simply the proximity: the ability to procrastinate dinner decisions until 7:30 and still have multiple realistic choices only minutes away, the ability to enjoy a nationally know theatric or sporting event yet be back enjoying a beer on my couch in minutes without ever stepping in a vehicle.

A friend once said that he felt the true entry to adulthood was the need to buy a lawnmower. We’ve reached that point now as new homeowners, but I think perhaps a different change we’re facing is more significant: the need to start planning out our entertainment activities a few hours or days in advance.

A visit from Liz’s brother Chris provided a good excuse to finally get reservations for Green Zebra, which we’d talked about since it opened a few months back. It’s connection (via ownership) to Spring was immediate, from the design of the menus–both in terms of graphic design and food content–to the diagonal layout of most tables to the recessed wall illumination. The selections certainly spanned a broad range of cuisine styles, and having to hunt for the few non-vegetarian dishes on the menu was a bit novel. In place of Spring’s signature sushi starter, GZ brought out a tasty dollop of bean soup in a two-ounce shotglass. The portions were adequate but didn’t exactly provide a hearty meal; no matter, it’s a destination for snazzy presentations and unusual (exotic?) flavor combinations…all topped off with yummy desserts (mmm, persimmon cake!) and a full French-press pot of coffee. It’s location–amid some run-down storefronts–makes it a cab-in, cab-out spot for its intended yuppie clientele, so I’m not sure why it’s still so hard to get a reservation.

As the taxi glided down Ashland on a snowy evening, it occurred to me that Chicagoans owe the late Michael Bliandic a great favor. His ignonimous mishandling of the 1979 snowstorm that cost him the primary to Jane Byrne is now the stuff of political legend, yet the repurcussions have essentially guaranteed ever after that only the most massive blizzard will stymie the Streets & San fleet (and even that only for a day or two–ask Bobby Rush). Swirling flakes might temporarily blind pedestrians, but the main roads are completely passable. One wonders if that would be so had one ill-timed storm not brought down the protege of the Machine.

Anyway, the taxi was necessary to get over to the Theatre Building for a performance of The Santaland Diaries. For the most part the actor did a wonderful job with the material and the audience; however, I did feel that he spent a little too much of the show intoning as if he were reading for the radio, which is unnecessary when there are costumes, props, and gestures that can be used (and perhaps to better effect). The show itself is classic David Sedaris wit, and this commentary on being a Macy’s elf resonates with two special groups of Americans: those who have worked in a department store at Christmastime and those who may have been in a department store at Christmastime. Too bad they didn’t find a way to work a Marshall Field’s-Macy’s swipe into it, but perhaps that’s just a bit of (bitter) local chauvinism on my part.

Rather than just patronize local restaurants and relax, this weekend we actually took advantage of a bit more urban culture…

• March of the Penguins. Friday night we sauntered over to the Music Box to enjoy the twinkly star lights, live organist, and (most importantly from Liz’s perspective) watch this movie that was completely filled with penguins big and small, sleek and fuzzy. Fascinating stuff, both in how the filmmakers braved a year in Antarctica to obtain such amazing up-close footage and, especially, in the arduous lifecycle of these birds. That penguins survive into the next generation at all is quite astounding…good thing human procreation doesn’t require four-month fasts while standing in frigid blizzard conditions with a meager few hours of light per day! A small part of me wondered what was gained by having this film on the big screen rather than on PBS or DVD, but I suppose I feel better handing over $18.50 to support projects like this–which have the potential to raise awareness–than in support of the latest crappy Hollywood spectacular cash-maker.
• The Pain and the Itch. Saturday we went down a few stops–feeling slightly overdressed in comparison with the late-afternoon Red Line crowd–had dinner at Vinci and then took in this play at the Steppenwolf Theater. Black comedy is an apt description of this one, the dialogue is most definitely funny but the situations lead to the sorts of laughs done in lieu of cringing or crying. The story elements, and particularly the overserious psychobabble of the young parents at the center, certainly provoke some thoughts about the fine line that often stands between earnest attempts at being progressive in domestic social interactions (like child rearing and dealing with the help) and simply replacing one type of dysfunctional family dynamic with another–especially when people aren’t honest with themselves. As to be expected from Steppenwolf, the performances were very good as was the set design, complete with a backyard porch and falling snow. Perhaps best though was the writing: the dialogue was natural and witty, while the plot elements came out in small, well-timed nuggets that whacked the story along at key points and never resorted to surprises to neatly explain away something; I can recall only three major out-of-left-field items: one came with plenty of time left for it to be properly explained, another late in the second half served mainly to draw a new connection among the characters, and the final one at the end served to put a tragicomic exclamation on the play.

Went over to see/hear Cowboy Mouth at Taste of Randolph, again on short notice as they seem to pop up in town once or twice a year. Entertaining, as always. In many ways they’re just another straightforward rock band–not that there’s anything wrong with that especially when all the band members are talented and they play tightly together.

But their live shows are something else…I have yet to see another lead man–who’s the drummer to boot!–work a crowd quite like Fred LeBlanc does.

We saw RotS last night, and I think this is the best one of the six movies, hands down. Like the other five the dialogue is still mostly crap—Lucas’s ability to make conversations between would-be lovers seem strained and wooden is almost impressive in a car-wreck sort of way–but I think the actors rose above it better than they did in Eps I and II, and they weren’t hamstrung by as many forehead-slappingly inane lines that plagued the first two. However, what really sets this one apart in my view is the tight storyline. Where Phantom Menace careened wildly from one thing to the next with just a weak connection between Big Scenes, RotS moved quickly but smoothly from one event to the next. Where Attack of the Clones struggled to set up storylines, each event in RotS seemed to evolve naturally from the last. Finally, what sets it above the previous high-water mark, Empire Strikes Back, is that the story has broader scope, more subplots, and a greater range between the triumphs and tragedies–especially for Anakin Skywalker.

The connections and echoes of events in the later movies are also numerous, and they provide a richer context. Some are ironic: Anakin Skywalker wielding a blue light saber to battle a Sith who uses a red one. Some are prophetic: Palpatine turning in his seat near a huge window in a tower to watch his current apprentice, and intended future one, battle with light sabers. Yet most importantly the movie gives new perspective on Darth Vader, both in how tenuously he holds onto life after ceasing to ‘really’ be Anakin Skywalker (which helps explain why losing a hand in Return of the Jedi could be instrumental in his death) and in how he yet clings to some humanity; to see the big meanie who was so threatening when I was a child cry out in rage and pain over the death of someone was certainly novel.

A lot of people have been quick to savage the previous two episodes; I’ll concede that the bad acting of IV-VI is usually preferable to the stiff acting of I and II since it’s at least more earnest, but I think a lot of the disappointment simply resulted from viewing some movies from an adult perspective and comparing them with movies loved as a child–when we couldn’t as easily see the flaws. Yet I think that tendency to belittle might obscure what an amazing job Lucas (or at least his design team) did in smoothly evolving elements–from Naboo fashions to clone-trooper armor to Alderaanian spacecraft design–through episodes I-III into forms that match up with the more familiar ones in episodes IV-VI.

Since a little before its release there has been some hubbub about political overtones in the story, but like racial slurs in Phantom Menace and Zen on mountaintops I think it was a matter of people bringing their own views into the theater and projecting them onto the screen. Really, I was looking for political needling, and all I could find were two lines:

Padme: So this is how liberty dies? With thunderous applause?
…
Anakin: If you are not with me, you are my enemy.

Tonight we ventured out to Spring, a place we consider one of the gems of the Chicago restaurant scene. The place definitely stands out for its adventurous menu (with a number of clearly marked vegetarian options), good wine list, and upscale but not outrageous prices (definitely not a place to go every weekend). However, it doesn’t feel too pretentious, which is probably due mostly to the staff but is also helped by the somewhat incongruous patches of enamel-painted brick wall (think elementary school) and the slight whiff of seediness that remains in its surrounding Bucktown environs.

This was our second visit, and while we were both happy with the wine (a nice Piedmnot barbera d’alba) and the dessert–sour cream ice cream goes well with chocolate cake and candied beets!–perhaps our expectations for the entrees had been set too high from our first visit, as everything was very good but wasn’t a wow moment. Yet we noticed how the little touches really made it a good experience overall: lighting behind false half-walls that make the whole room seem to glow, confirming that Liz was vegetarian to ensure her receipt of an appropriate version of the appertif sushi, hot towels and shots of chile-laced hot chocolate to finish the evening.

Tonight we ventured over to the Mercury Theater for the current production of The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Abridged). Like Spamalot last week, this show was entertaining just from its pure silliness and the enthusiasm of the cast. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen another show that works in references to not only Star Wars but also Reservoir Dogs and Daffy Duck as Robin Hood, let alone do Hamlet backwards in 60 seconds. Beyond the broad farce, I think what makes this show really work is not only the satirical skewering of overwrought literary/psychological/sociolgical analyses of Shakespeare’s plays (think of all the crap we wrote in papers during high school and/or college :) but also that every once in a while the performers simply play a scene or soliloqy straight.

Last night we sampled the fare at Improv Kitchen, a club that opened on Clark St. several months back. Their concept is a little different than other improv spots: the performers are in a different room and interact with the audience via video screens and cameras at each table. This allows for some more personalized interaction (e.g., during one sketch they talked with each table to get some information to set up a game show, complete with buzzers and prizes), but more importantly allows them to include some A/V effects in the show–think Drew Carey’s Green Screen show on the WB. The performers started off a bit slow and didn’t quite have the same quality I’ve seen at other spots like Improv Olympic, but it was a Tuesday night (maybe not their ‘A’ crew), there were only three performers, and the crowd consisted of only about 8 people so the number of ideas from which they could develop sketches was quite small; perhaps a weekend night with a bigger crowd will produce a better, more consistent show.

Oh, and the ‘kitchen’ part is literal: they have a full menu and structure the show around it, complete with breaks for eating. While we enjoyed it (if nothing else, how often do we go out for that on a Tuesday night?), I’m sure we’ll get a much better experience next time if we go with several more people prepared for dinner.

Take the basic plot, scenes, gags, and dialogue from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, add several references and jokes from Monty Python’s Flying Circus and other Python (Monty) films, throw in some new and suitably bizarre plot forays, then toss it all in a blender and stir. What do you get? Spamalot, which opened this week at the Shubert Theater for its initial pre-Broadway run.

In interviews leading up to the show’s opening, Eric Idle made clear that this wasn’t just the movie on stage but was a distinct show that was ‘lovingly ripped off’ from the movie. Indeed, while the major characters, themes, and important scenes were included, often these were rearranged in new ways, yet the show spent almost as much time with new gags and in spoofing–maybe skewering is a better word–Broadway shows in general. I found the show a bit uneven, and actually found myself sometimes slightly bored whenever it stuck too closely to the movie (exacerbated by the mildly annoying sense that many in the audience were merely waiting for the Big Scenes to appear so they could recite along). It was definitely at its best when taking familiar scenes in new and silly directions (example: mashing the llama/mariachi portion of the opening credits, Gallahad’s offhand comment ‘I think you’re gay’ during his rescue of Lancelot from Zoot’s castle, and the swamp wedding massacre into a huge multicolored production number), exploring new material, or (especially) lampooning the formulas and culture of Broadway shows.

Apart from a few technical glitches at times with the sound (some static or too much foot noise from the dancers), the performances were good. None of Tim Curry, David Hyde Pierce, or Hank Azaria particularly stood out, but all were in fine voice and seemed to enjoy the material. Considering that this was only the show’s third day, I’m sure there’s still some tweaks and adjustments in store by the writers and performers that can even out and improve the show. This one probably won’t ever be a blockbuster phenomenon–it will appeal most to Python’s already rapid cult following–but all in all I though it was quite funny and entertaining, so it should do just fine.