Categories
Art Art Feature

Wild Abandon

You’ll find no provincialism, colloquial kitsch, or partisan bickering in the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art’s current exhibition, “Perspectives.” From its explosive beginning to its magnetic end, this regional art show, put together by globe-trotting juror/curator Michael Rooks, brainstorms possibilities.

Memphian Bo Rodda plops us right into the heart of -46m, 248m, -572, a computer-generated universe where thousands of viewpoints simultaneously explode toward and away from the viewer. There is no horizon line, no ground, no bumper-to-bumper traffic in this parallel world. Instead, swerving lines, printed on metallic paper in endless shades of gray, read like stainless-steel intergalactic freeways that have swallowed up every square inch of space.

Nashville artist Kit Reuther’s oils on canvas are as open-ended. In two of her strongest works, Blueline and Porcelancia, weeds scattered across crystalline cold landscapes become tours de force of painting and imagination. Dried pods morph into small urns, faded blue china, and hieroglyphs that wash into streams of ink excreted by squids and seaweeds floating in deep waters.

Memphian Jon Lee’s mixed-media paintings appear to reach a boiling point. Exotic animals materialize out of scraped and scumbled backgrounds, and venom drips from the mouth of a cobra. Acrylics and aerosols crash across his surfaces and drip over the edges of these 21st-century abstractions mixed with the raw energy and materials of graffiti.

Many of the works in “Perspectives” lie at the edge of art and consciousness. Memphian Terri Jones’ Stone’s Line is quirky, nostalgic, and so minimal you could miss it altogether. It’s worth finding for the associations it evokes, including the root-beer float you shared on your first date decades ago. Fifty-year-old paper straws thread together and disappear into the ceiling. As you move around Jones’ free-hanging strand of straws and memory, notice how it sways, creating shadows that ooze like colas onto gray carpet.

Patrick DeGuira’s Cannibal’s Makeover (detail)

Local artist Phillip Lewis’ installation, “Atmosphere,” both grounds us and arcs our point of view straight up. Droning sounds come from a speaker on the ceiling above a translucent blue rectangle that pulsates like an idle video monitor. Look up into Lewis’ ingenious mandala and acclimate to its sound. Your heart rate will slow to the beat of the visual pulse, and you’ll find yourself drawn some 300 yards above the museum where Lewis recorded winds with a parabolic mike.

Passionate, open-ended dialogue reaches a high point with Memphian Cedar Nordbye’s wall-filling installation that builds, explores, and destroys civilization. Two-by-fours inscribed with mind-bending mottoes climb up and over the top of a 10-foot partition. A cast of characters, including Billie Holiday, Abbie Hoffman, Franz Kafka, and Noam Chomsky, is exquisitely rendered in ink and acrylic on the surfaces of wooden beams that build both architecture and ideas. On the far right, 2×4’s tumble past cartoons of jet planes, replicas of the Empire State Building, and an image of a monk setting himself on fire.

A wry, informed mind is indispensable for deciphering Nashville artist Patrick DeGuira’s Cannibal’s Makeover, a small sooty room where shards of glass and human femurs are piled on the floor, hatchets are embedded in walls, human skulls are candleholders, a well-dressed man levitates just beyond reach, and almost everything (chairs, mirrors, bones, walls) is painted a dark gray. Humans feeding off humans will always be with us, DeGuira’s dark, deadpan installation seems to say. But ritual sacrifice is so passé. Imagine, instead, dark forces as heads of countries and corporations chew us up and spit us out, millions of us. Instead of devouring humans, one by one, in this high-tech world think global warfare, corporate takeover, and environmental devastation.

Memphis artist Niles Wallace works another kind of magic. He transforms hundreds of layers of shag carpet into two of the most moving works in the show. His cone-shaped Temple suggests many kinds of worship, including stupas, sweat lodges, and pyramids. Suspended a foot or so from the ground, his circular Portal suggests the hoops through which we must jump to reach subtler realms. You’ll find no ascetic, static perfection in Wallace’s heavenly visions. Instead, we get a comforting spirituality inflected with the frayed, shaggy, well-worn textures of life.

Murfreesboro artist Jacqueline Meeks explores our darker impulses with a series of ink drawings of a bejeweled, plumed aristocrat. Meeks’ metaphor for self-indulgence spinning out of control is political/social/psychological satire at its best. With her head covered by intricate petticoats and her elephantine bottom bared, an 18th-century French courtesan somersaults across the left wall of the gallery.

Above the entrance to “Perspectives,” William Rowe’s neon sign shouts “forget me” in ironic, electric-blue writing. Forget you? Forget this show which so beautifully reflects this mesmerizingly complex world? Not likely.

“Perspectives” at the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art through September 9th

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

See and Eat

Hanna Raskin is driven by a basic belief about people and their relationship with food.

“It’s amazing how many people watch TV shows or movies about food, but I think food is meant to be eaten,” says Raskin, a food writer and restaurant critic who has founded American Table Culinary Tours. “I also think if you’re going to eat it, you ought to see where it comes from.”

In fact, Raskin often sounds like the graduate student that she was until 2001, when she finished a master’s thesis on the relationship between Jews and Chinese food (more on that later). Here’s what she had to say about the mission of American Table Culinary Tours:

“The most important thing is to contextualize the food that we’re eating. Obviously, if you just want to eat a bunch of food, you can stay at home. We want to impart to people the important role food plays in American culture. It’s more than sustenance; you can use it as a prism through which to view so many issues facing our culture.”

If that doesn’t whet your appetite, consider Raskin’s first offering: a September 13th to 15th tour to the heart of barbecue culture in and around Memphis. The tour kicks off at the Center for Southern Folklore with a meal and a lecture by Lolis Eric Elie, a columnist for the New Orleans Times-Picayune and author of Smokestack Lightning: Adventures in the Heart of Barbecue Country. The next day includes a judging seminar at The Peabody, hosted by the Memphis Barbecue Association, then an eating tour with behind-the-scenes visits of local ‘cue spots. Day three is a tour of West Tennessee with Joe York, maker of the documentary Whole Hog. Through York’s local connections, the group will follow pitmasters as they buy their wood, meet local barbecue purveyors, and even witness the slaughtering of a pig. And eat a whole mess of barbecue, of course.

As may be obvious by now, this is not a gourmet foodie tour.

“We won’t be talking about which wine or champagne to pair with pig,” Raskin quipped. “We want to give people the chance to get out into the field and have the experiences that typically only the hosts of TV shows get to have. We want people to actually meet the people who are keeping these food traditions alive.”

The tour price of $595 per person includes all meals and activities but not lodging. (Group participants do get a break on the rates at The Peabody and the downtown Sleep Inn.) Raskin is also offering a discounted rate of $275 to anyone living within 100 miles of Memphis.

Two tours are set for 2008: one to Detroit in June, looking at the impact of immigrant workers on American food, and an October bourbon-focused tour of Kentucky.

Raskin is drawing on not only her academic and professional experience in writing about food — she’s the food editor and restaurant critic for the Mountain Xpress in Asheville, North Carolina — but also the connections she made during a year she spent as “field-trip maven” for the Southern Foodways Alliance. The Alliance gave her its blessing to start American Table and also granted her access to their oral-history library, which she’s using as a basis for her itineraries.

Raskin uses the word “foodways” often; she says it “encompasses everything pertaining to what ends up on your plate: fishing, farming, and all of the production, in addition to the preparation and how it’s served.”

She says the tours aren’t focused on what’s new and exciting: “For example, there’s a big trend for eating local and organic, and then there’s the Slow Food Movement. We’re less aspirational and more about authenticity.”

Now, about Jews and Chinese food. Raskin says she grew up in a Michigan family with no good cooks, so she was always interested in eating out. She also noticed that her Jewish family, and many of their Jewish friends, had a fondness for Chinese food. Years later, after getting a history degree at Oberlin College, she was a grad student at the State University of New York and decided to explore this for her thesis.

She says there are several theories for this “cherished Jewish tradition of eating Chinese food once a week,” most often on Sunday evenings. One, which she didn’t think too much of, is that since Chinese food is so chopped up, “you can’t tell that it’s not kosher.” Another theory is that Chinese restaurants tended to be open on Sunday evenings and didn’t discriminate against Jews because they didn’t make a distinction between Jews and other whites. Raskin’s favorite theory is that American Jewish culture basically adopted New York Jewish culture, and everyone in New York eats Chinese, especially the large Jewish community that once populated the Lower East Side, adjacent to Chinatown.

Whatever the reason, Raskin says nobody had ever bothered to ask why this was the case, much less written about it. And that’s just the kind of thing she hopes her food tours will impart to people — even to Memphians who are surrounded by barbecue culture.

For more information on American Table Culinary Tours, visit tabletours.org.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Killing Too Softly

If a movie looks like a Mamet, swims like a Mamet, and quacks like a Mamet, does that make it a David Mamet film? If You Kill Me is the example for consideration, the answer is “no.”

You Kill Me stars Ben Kingsley as Frank Falenczyk, a hit man who’s an alcoholic — or maybe he’s an alcoholic who’s a hit man; depends on what kind of day he’s having. Frank works for his family, a group of Polish gangsters in Buffalo who are battling for territory and power against other ethnic gangs, particularly an Irish one headed up by Edward O’Leary (Dennis Farina).

Asked to kill O’Leary, Frank instead sleeps one off in his car in the airport parking lot waiting for the mob boss to arrive. Faced with eliminating Frank for his failings — this wasn’t the first time something like this has happened — or giving him one more chance to get his life in order, family members Roman (Philip Baker Hall) and Stef (Marcus Thomas) opt for the latter, sending him to San Francisco to dry out.

In San Fran, Frank meets his handler, Dave (Bill Pullman), who gets him into an apartment, a job at a funeral home, and Alcoholics Anonymous. At A.A., Frank befriends Tom (Luke Wilson), who becomes his sponsor, and through work he meets Laurel (Téa Leoni), a love interest.

All the heavy lifting done, the movie finally gets down to the business of trying to establish what kind of movie it is. A black comedy? A character drama? A crime thriller? The answer it chooses is “yes” — which puts it square in the middle of Mamet country, right next door to Elmore Leonard land.

It apes the legends of the genre with mixed success. Some lines sparkle, seemingly ripped from Mamet’s greatest hits: “Even people you don’t like die” and “I didn’t know I was an alcoholic until recently. I’m from Buffalo.” And much of the humor is deeply perverse (jokes about necrophilia or how accepting A.A. members are) or clever and knowing (how the most powerful people in San Francisco are the real estate agents).

But You Kill Me has a case of the cutes. In a movie like this, it’s a deadly component. The score occasionally provides aggravating musical flourishes with the comic timing of a TV commercial, and the film’s sketch of Frank and Laurel’s relationship is too charmed to be charming.

What saves You Kill Me from itself are the actors. I suppose we have casting director Carol Lewis, who has assembled seemingly incongruent pieces for the ensemble, to thank for that. Kingsley is, as ever, eminently watchable. He affects a perfect, flat American accent, with the occasional Slavic-touched syllable of a man not too generationally removed from the old country.

Pullman is simply fantastic in a role that doesn’t account for much of the film’s runtime. Leoni is best when she gets to be bad, which is most of the time; when the script by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely has her character playing to type, she flounders. Wilson plays — imagine this — a nice guy. He seems to tap into his own experience to flesh Tom out. Hall and Farina make their all-too-brief scenes together resonate. Thomas, whom I’ve never seen before, has got the goods. He won’t sneak up on me again.

Director John Dahl (Red Rock West, The Last Seduction) does his own gritty bit to rescue the film, but You Kill Me is ultimately Mamet with a heart of gold. It drives you crazy with its flashes of preciousness when what you really want is more kicks in the head.

You Kill Me

Opens Friday, July 13th

Ridgeway Four

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

License is ill.

I don’t mind Robin Williams. In fact, I think he’s a fine actor when he is either bearded (Awakenings, Good Will Hunting) or animated (Aladdin, Robots). I even thought parts of his 2002 stand-up comedy special were funny. But why is it that whenever I make that argument, I feel like someone who claims they can’t be racist because they have two black friends? What prejudices against Williams’ large and largely unpalatable film career am I hiding here? What horrible memories associated with Williams’ well-flogged stable of comic characters — gospel preacher, falsetto minstrel, dirty-talking infant, Bay Area homosexual — am I repressing? It’s not like Williams is not solely to blame for the silent but deadly screen fart that is License To Wed. But since he’s onscreen so much, his performance is a good place to start.

In 2002’s creepy character study One Hour Photo, Williams played Sy Parrish, a genteel but deeply disturbed neighborhood presence whose attempts to force himself into the lives of a happy couple end disastrously. In License To Wed, Williams play Reverend Frank, a demented, invasive pastor whose marital-training crash course slowly destroys the relationship between newlyweds-to-be Ben (John Krasinski) and Sadie (Mandy Moore). Although Reverend Frank is supposed to be the linchpin of this wedding comedy, I kept comparing Frank to Sy. Know what? Frank’s far more terrifying.

The acting grotesqueries don’t stop there. Krasinski (The Office), in his first lead role, is comfortable on the big screen, but he decides midway through the film to abandon its premise and doubt its very existence. As Frank’s schemes spiral out of control, Krasinski reverts to standard Jim-isms (his character in The Office) — eye rolls, blank stares, etc. — in a desperate bid for some laughs. Moore, whose wide and constant smile threatens to snap her neck muscles and spring her head from her body, grins and grins and grins in a childlike attempt to wish the whole mess away. Some actors act with their voice, some with their body; here, Moore personifies a bitchy fiancée with her teeth.

People condemn comedies they don’t like as “mean-spirited” or “cruel” when all they really mean is “not funny.” Scores of great comedies are cruel to their hateful cores, but their cruelty is only invoked when there aren’t any laughs around to hide it. And License To Wed is completely laugh-free. There is one near-titter when Krasinski mentions the “creepy little chests” of the android twin robots he and Moore are given as part of their wedding course. The twins’ heads look like little, bald Robin Williamses.

License To Wed is indefensible.

License To Wed

Now playing

Multiple locations

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant

Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. I’ve been off to a place to rest in the country for a brief spell without much access to the news or Internet, which I can’t access right now to gain more information about this because my server is down temporarily (I never thought I would actually write those words), but I heard on the periphery that someone, somehow, changed the Seven Wonders of the World. How exactly did this happen? Who was in charge? How can the seven great wonders of the world be changed, thereby shattering my childhood fascination and now my childhood memory — not to mention giving me something else new to have to remember. It’s like changing the planets. I guess there are the man-made wonders and the natural wonders. At least I think that’s the case. It seems that I read that whoever was behind these shenanigans tried to add the Statue of Liberty, which drew some sneers because this voting deal or announcement or whatever it was took place outside the United States, which means, even though the statue was a gift from France, it is very “American” and not too many outsiders are overly fond of us right now. I think even some of the pyramids in Egypt were in danger of being taken off the list, which really pissed the Egyptians off. Oh, hold on just a minute. Okay. I just rifled through some newspapers and found an article on this. It seems the contest was instigated by a group called “New Seven Wonders of the World,” headed by someone from Switzerland named Bernard Weber. How did I not hear about this? And to make it even worse, the public made the decisions on the new wonders by voting via the Internet, with no way to keep people from voting more than once. It’s a little like American Idol. I don’t think the masses should be able to change the Seven Wonders of the World, because there’s no way to know if those who are voting are nuts or not. It’s just like the United States jury system, one of the most awful things ever to happen in the world of justice. They say if you are on trial and there’s a jury, it’s a group of your peers. Well, I doubt that. There can be wife-beaters, drunks, religious zealots, people who drive Hummers, racists, people who have “W The President” and “Support Our Troops” stickers on said gas-guzzling Hummers, people who eat at Perkins, people who let their children scream in restaurants, people who talk on their cell phones in the movie theater, and, well, the list goes on and on. These are not my peers and I would not want my fate in their lunatic hands if were I on trial for some reason and I do not think they should be voting to change the Seven Wonders of the World. I hope ol’ Bernard knows that this makes it possible for members of al-Qaeda and the Taliban to vote. What really should qualify as a New Wonder of the World is the U.S. president, who will now go down in history as flicking a giant booger at the face of every American when he thumbed his nose at decency yet again by commuting Scooter Libby’s sentence. It was obviously done to keep Libby from spilling the beans on Dick Cheney, who is yet another Wonder of the World, what with the heart attacks and lesbian daughter having a baby and shooting his friend and all. Oh, wait. They can’t be on the list of the Seven New Wonders of the World because these new wonders have to be man-made! And these two obviously were spit out of an evil machine on another planet and placed in their mothers’ wombs. But back to the real Seven New Wonders of the World: How on earth did the Sydney Opera House get on the finalist list? Uh, it’s a building that was designed by an architect and was built by construction workers, no? I mean, it’s cool and all, but a Wonder of the World? See? The great unwashed should not have been able to play a part in this. And I think my house should be on the list. You would too if you could see it, which you can’t because it is totally hidden from view by overgrown shrubs, hedges, and vines. But it is a wonder. I currently have a population of summer roaches that apparently have their own weight room and snack bar. My cats have managed to break several windows and remove the window screens so if they get into those particular rooms they can slither through the broken glass and escape all the way to the front porch. If you touch my refrigerator and stove at the same time you come close to being electrocuted. But because of the sheer and stunning beauty of the décor, I do believe it should have at least been a New Wonder contender. But then, I guess Machu Picchu probably did deserve more votes, even if those pesky Peruvians did cheat by voting more than once. I wonder if Ophelia Ford would be on the list if dead persons’ votes counted. Speaking of Wonders of the World.

Categories
Sports Sports Feature

Grizzlies Sign Darko

The Grizzlies have signed 7-footer Darko Milicic to address their need for a big man in the middle to complement Pau Gasol.

Chris Herrington has lots of thoughts on the deal at Beyond the Arc, the Flyer’s Grizblog.

Categories
Politics Politics Feature

Joe Frazier Lending Punch to Tinker Campaign?

It seems that Nikki Tinker, the Alabama import and Pinnacle Airlines attorney who plans a reprise of her 2006 congressional race, has picked up some hard-hitting support.

In a press release about her progress so far, Tinker, who formally filed last month for a rematch with 9th District incumbent Steve Cohen, claims to have raised “over $100,000” in that period of time.

And, rather modestly, she buries one of her most surprising sources of support: “Contributions have come in from
Whitehaven, Orange Mound, Frazier, Hickory Hill, Binghampton, Germantown,
Cordova, Midtown and Downtown….”

Frazier? Joe Frazier, the former heavyweight champ who came here last year for an exhibition with Mayor Willie Herenton? The man who once decisioned Muhammad Ali?

Wow! Clearly, Tinker’s hoping for an early knockout.

Oh, wait…did she mean Frayser? Never mind!

Categories
News

Oh Baby! Memphis Woman Uses Infant To Pull Robberies

Would you give this woman a ride? Well, what if she had a baby with her? A Grand Jury indicted 21-year-old Shani Butler yesterday for attempted murder and aggravated robbery in March 2007.

Allegedly, the woman used her infant child as bait to target victims in two separate armed robberies, one day apart. In the second, the victim was shot in the back.

On March 11th, a woman was approached in the parking lot of a Frayser drug store by another woman, allegedly Butler, who asked for a ride for herself and her baby. Once in the car, the passenger ordered the driver at gunpoint to hand over her purse.

The next day, another woman was approached in the same manner, only in the parking lot of an East Memphis drug store. After agreeing to give the mother and child a ride, the woman was told to drive to the nearest ATM. When the driver tried to escape, she was shot in the back. The police later arrested the woman driving the victim’s car.

Kids! They do the darndest things.

Categories
News

Dig It! Two Graves For Sale in Memphis. Dirt Cheap!

We knew you could buy just about anything on eBay, but we didn’t know you could actually purchase your final resting place.

A seller has recently listed two “side-by-side” burial plots in Memphis Memorial Park, and explains they are in the “Sunny Slope” section, which — until now, we presume — has been sold out. What’s especially impressive about this listing is that that the shipping costs are free!

But we can’t help but wonder: Why doesn’t the seller need them anymore? Does he know something we don’t? We smell a plot! (heh)

At any rate, the starting price is $3,000, and so far there are no bids. Better act fast! Delaying any longer would be a grave error.

Categories
News

Fight the “W”! Buy A Vowel.

We’re starting to see more of these around town — and we see that as a good thing. To get your very own “I” sticker, visit the Flyer’s online store.