The MC at Wednesday’s Vision Festival Lifetime Achievement performance for Kidd Jordan
introduced the guest of honor by means of analogy: “Basketball’s got
MJ. But we’ve got KJ!” Judging from what followed, it’s fair to say
that His Airness would be humbled by the comparison. If pro hoops were
more like Mr. Jordan’s tone, I might actually give a shit about the NBA
But let’s put a few things in perspective: Mr. Jordan, who is 73
and plays tenor like a baby trying to be born, headlined four of the
evening’s five sets, screamed to heaven half-a-dozen times, at one
point MacGyver-ed a sax valve out of a rubber band, and did it all in a
t-shirt and jeans. “This guy looks like my grandfather,” my buddy said
about twelve seconds before going whoa for the next two hours.
At this moment, 30 Rock-star and SNL alum Tina Fey is speaking at the Fieldston School’s graduation ceremonies. Fieldston, one of the city’s private, prestigious “Hill” high schools, counts a diverse menagerie of movers and shakers among its former students: everyone from the late photographer Diane Arbus, to the father of the atom bomb Robert [&hellip [ read more... ]
a libretto to Hollywood gold has traditionally served as a recipe for
camp disaster: see the recent undersea shambolics of Disney’s Broadway
resuscitation of The Little Mermaid or, even better, 1988’s legendarily botched and blood-soaked Carrie: The Musical.
But with the New York City Opera’s recent commission of another
book-to-blockbuster property, this tawdry trend may finally receive
it’s up-market renaissance: polish your boots, boys, for the 2013 stage
premiere of Brokeback Mountain.
Opera doesn’t really tap into the gay cultural stereotyping of its
musical theater kid-sister, which makes the choice of genre for this
landmark homosexuals-on-horses remake not only compelling in its
unorthodoxy, but ambitious in its bucking of commercial instinct.
Factor in the artistic pedigree of the piece’s composer, Pulitzer
Prize-winning, MacArthur Foundation Fellow Charles Wuorinen, and the
endeavor almost begins to seem capable of breaking bank on its
basically preposterous concept...
Vision Festival, the annual avant-jazz series now entering its 13th year, kicks off tonight at the Clemente Soto Velez Cultural Center in lower Manhattan with performances by renowned percussionist Hamid Drake, the Taylor Ho Bynum Sextet and master trumpeter Dave Douglas starting at 7pm. Continuing through Sunday the 15th, the festival will encompass spoken-word compositions, [&hellip [ read more... ]
Perhaps it’s fitting that the trailer for Choke, the upcoming film adaptation to be released in September based on pop-brutalist author Chuck Palahniuk’s 2001 novel of the same name, looks conspicuously like the newest Judd Apatow joint.
For all their aesthetic divergences—sexual violence vs. sexual anxiety,
sexual predation vs. sexual responsibility, etc.—the two bro-auteurs
essentially court opposite sides of the same, Jäger-gargling,
controller-hamming demographic. Palahniuk writes books for people who
don’t really like books, and Apatow makes chick flicks for the fellas.
In all likelihood, fans of this writer’s practiced nihilism will find themselves gagging on the Choke preview. The first thing we see is two dudes in a red-lit bar. It’s pure 40 Year Old Virgin-ity,
except there’s a woman in lingerie and everyone’s talking about cancer.
That jaunty guitar noodle that seems to find its way into every
funny/sad flick out there makes a repeat appearance, dropping out
portentously whenever the pretty, damaged girl unleashes a punch-line.
I’m not all that excited, but apparently this won a Special Jury Prize
at Sundance for Work by an Ensemble Cast, so really, all bets are off.
Despite this boost, the market leader in grand-guignol fiction, or, as
he probably prefers to be called, Shaulkner, has tipped precariously
into critical disrepute. Peep the New York Times epic rip of his latest novel, Snuff...