Month: January 2008

Bringing Down Baby

Post author By Chris Davis
Post date January 10, 2008

As part of its edgy and exciting POTS at the Works series, Playhouse on the Square has dusted off And Baby Makes Seven, a delightfully dark and seldom-produced slice of juvenilia by Paula Vogel, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of How I Learned To Drive. Vogel’s black comedy follows a trio of New Yorkers dealing with an unusual problem. In order to experience the joys of parenthood, Ruth and Anna, a lesbian couple, and Peter, the gay father of their unborn child, must kill Orphan, Cecil, and Henri, three adorable but imaginary children who are dominating their lives.

From its first performance in 1984, frustrated critics have misdescribed Vogel’s hilariously theatrical play as a half-baked comedy about gay parenting and (maybe) psychosis. In this case, however, the joke is actually on the critics. Overtly borrowing plot points and dialogue from a hodgepodge of literary and cinematic sources, including Shakespeare, Peter Pan, and The Exorcist, And Baby Makes Seven is actually a far less controversial meditation on “killing your babies” — a scary-sounding metaphor used by authors and directors to describe the often painful process of eliminating precious, personal flourishes from their work in order to improve and advance the narrative. It’s a laugh-laden creative-writing lesson that’s sure to provoke discussion and furrow the brows of more literal-minded observers.

Kyle Hatley, whose previous work includes Romeo and Juliet at Germantown Community Theatre and Seascape at Theatre Memphis’ Next Stage, directs a trio of Memphis’ finest young actors — Erin McGhee, Sheana Tobey, and Greg Pragel — in this funny, confounding, and occasionally touching production.

“And Baby Makes Seven” at TheatreWorks through January 27th. For show times and ticket information, go to playhouseonthesquare.org.

Music Music Features

Back to the Future

Post author By Chris Herrington
Post date January 10, 2008

American indie rock is a three-decade-old style whose development, for better or worse, has followed a pretty straight path. The first-generation indie-rockers, in the 1980s, were a diverse, grungy lot. From California’s Minutemen to Arizona’s Meat Puppets to Minnesota’s Replacements, these were “garage bands” as a fact of life rather than as a genre — the wily, working-class outgrowth of local punk scenes.

By the 1990s, indie went to college, bands such as Pavement, Superchunk, and Archers of Loaf building on their ’80s forebears but formed in or around college campuses and drawing much of their audience from the culture of college radio. As befits the change, these bands tended to be cleaner-cut and more pleased with their own cleverness than the Reagan-era road warriors who birthed the scene.

But indie rock in the current decade makes the ’90s variety look salt-of-the-earth by comparison. Indie rock circa 2007 is, if anything, post-collegiate — more rarefied, more insular, more alienated — even as many of the musicians themselves lead lives of comfort that a young D. Boon (Minutemen) or Paul Westerberg (Replacements) wouldn’t have recognized.

It’s odd and refreshing, then, that Athens, Georgia’s the Whigs, one of the most buzzed-about young indie-rock bands around, feel like such a throwback. Rising out of the University of Georgia a couple of years ago and touring this month in support of their soon-to-be released second album, Mission Control, this straightforward three-piece is reminiscent of the transition from first- to second-wave indie rock in the early ’90s. They evoke the grounded pleasures of bands such as the Replacements or Archers of Loaf (or even Nirvana) without quite sounding like any of them. This is beery, catchy rock music from an unpretentious T-shirt-and-jeans crew that might make you feel as if you’ve been transported to a 1993 basement party.

Speaking by phone from Athens on the day his band was set to begin their first tour in support of Mission Control, singer-guitarist Parker Gispert, who grew up in the small town of Roswell, Georgia, says that he targeted the venerable Athens music scene when making his college decision.

“I guess the last thing a lot of local kids want to do is go to the big state school where everyone goes,” Gispert says. “But I wanted to play music, so I looked at the music scenes of towns I could be spending the next four years in, and Athens made the most sense.”

Athens may be most famous for launching the B-52s and R.E.M. a quarter-century ago, but, in recent years, the town’s music scene has been better known for the psychedelic indie rock of the Elephant 6 collective or the rootsy jam-band sound of Widespread Panic.

“When I was in high school, all the Elephant 6 bands like Olivia Tremor Control and Elf Power and Neutral Milk Hotel were favorite bands of mine,” Gispert says. “So, that’s definitely why I came here.”

In Athens, Gispert hooked up with drummer Julian Dorio, a friend from high school, and started writing songs, though the rock sound they crafted owed less to Elephant 6 than another Athens band, the Glands.

“The Glands have always been the local band we identified with the most and took the most from,” Gispert says, noting that Glands bassist Craig McQuiston contributed to Mission Control.

After about six months of working on songs together, Gispert and Dorio met guitarist Hank Sullivant, a Memphian in Athens for school, and, with Sullivant moving to bass, the Whigs were born.

“Julian and I had been playing and had some songs,” Gispert says. “When Hank came along, he was a guitar player, but we knew we didn’t want someone who was a traditional bass player. I’m a real strummy guitar player, and it ended up that a lot of the melodies were carried on the bass. That was something that we were all into. We realized we could have a full sound. We didn’t want to have the traditional lead guitar player throwing in melody lines. It was kind of a cooler thing to have the bass carrying a lot of those and the guitar just holding down some jangle. I think after playing together a month or so we all realized that a three-piece is what we were all into.”

From there, the Whigs dove into the Athens club scene. Eventually, hard touring built a following, and the band’s self-produced, initially self-released debut, Give ‘Em All a Big Fat Lip, became an unlikely subterranean hit. In April 2006, Rolling Stone proclaimed that the trio was possibly “the best unsigned band in America.”

In the journey from that rush of initial attention to the January 22nd release of Mission Control, the band’s first album recorded for a label (ATO Records) and in a real studio (Hollywood’s Sunset Sound Studio), Sullivant left the band and recorded a solo album under the moniker Koroma. He is currently touring with former high school bandmate Andrew VanWyngarden (son of Flyer editor Bruce VanWyngarden) in another alt-rock buzz band, the MGMT.

Despite losing one-third of the band, Gispert says that he and Dorio didn’t let Sullivant’s departure change the band’s sound.

“When Hank left [replaced on bass and backup vocals by Tim Deaux], we had been playing together for three and a half years, so we kind of had down what the band was and how we wanted to do it. The people who stepped in and helped us with the new record were all fans of the band and understood how the band worked,” Gispert says.

Listening is believing on Mission Control. Dorio’s drums are as much a lead instrument as anything, as witnessed by the explosive tom rolls that propel the opening “Like a Vibration” or the way he both drives and twists the rave-up “Need You Need You.” Meanwhile, Gispert provides a hooky set of smart, relatable songs.

The end result evokes the best of no-frills indie-rock past, though Gispert so far lacks the verbal gift of the Replacements’ Westerberg or the vocal gift of the Archers’ Eric Bachman (much less Kurt Cobain). Of course, the same could be said for former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl, whose band the Foo Fighters will showcase a similar sound as headliners at FedExForum later this month — proof that simple, pleasurable post-punk rock still has a pretty high ceiling.

Food & Wine Food & Drink

How aromas get into wine

Post author By Taylor Eason
Post date January 10, 2008

I kill a tree every year. Despite my environmental inclinations, I buy a real Christmas tree to celebrate the holiday. I just can’t get excited about a fake one with no pine smell. I suppose a fir-scented candle might impart some realness to the plastic-and-metal imposter, but my psyche would invariably suffer.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a freakishly perceptive sense of smell. I loathed onions growing up and could smell them sautéing a block away. I’d come galloping into the kitchen, bitching about the bulbous offender, and insist that Mom cease her noxious cooking. But my once-troublesome nose serves me well as a wine writer as I thrust it into wide-mouthed glasses, breathe deeply, and wax philosophic.

Oddly fragrant smells flood from my childhood memories, like cat pee, soft leather couch, and even caramelized onions. But you don’t need an overly sensitive schnoz to analyze aromas. You can start your own memory-driven smell vocabulary — be it bong water, sweaty socks, or overcooked asparagus — or innovate using the conventional catalog of wine descriptors as your springboard.

Traditionally, aromatics originate from three places: the grape variety, the place where it was grown, and the oak with which it comes into contact. Hidden in the grape skins are the fruitiness, tannins, and color needed to coax character into the sweet juice. Aromas such as black cherry and spearmint in Cabernet Sauvignon, raspberry and blueberry in Pinot Noir, and grapefruit or peaches in Sauvignon Blanc all emerge from this soft, succulent casing.

You can also sniff ripe red cherry instead of black cherry in Merlot and earthy black pepper in Syrahs, Zinfandel, and Cabernet Franc. But move the Syrah vine to Australia (where it magically gets renamed Shiraz), and a new slew of indigenous scents emerge, like eucalyptus and bright minerality. Or who can forget the funky, wet-earth smell reminiscent of dog crap in wines from South Africa? This difference stems from terroir.

Originating from French, the untranslatable word terroir (tair-WAHR) encompasses all the natural factors involved in grape growing — sun, rain, altitude, and soil characteristics. Soil variation derives from millennia of climatic changes, volcanic activity, and limestone settlements that seep flavor into the vine’s roots growing through the layers of sediment. The other factors — sun, rain, and altitude — contribute ripeness and character, depending on location. This concept of terroir is why the French parceled their land into quality-designated plots, or appellations, realizing that fruit from one vineyard bears a personality different from the grapes grown 50 yards away. In the United States, we call these plots American Viticultural Areas, or AVAs.

Other aromas are introduced with a natural yet manipulated instrument. Oak, used during the fermenting process as well as for aging, is a tool winemakers spend careers perfecting. Those vanilla, butterscotch, and caramel flavors in your Chardonnay? French or Hungarian oak. American oak, used almost exclusively for red wines since it can kick the shit out of white, imparts dill, scotch, and tobacco flavors.

But it’s important to note that not every nose or mouth will smell or taste the same thing. I’m particularly sensitive to certain aromas — green pepper, pine, wet slate, black cherries, black pepper, vanilla, and, yes, cat pee — because my memory relates to them, but each person carries their own smell baggage. Using standards but also noticing what you whiff in a wine, you can develop your own descriptive vocabulary — even if it’s sautéed onions in butter.

Recommended Wine

Lockwood 2005 Merlot Monterey (California) — The smell alone will attract wine lovers from miles around, like a tomcat to a desirous female. Elegant, soft, and sexy with jammy raspberries, blueberries, and mellow tannins. $12

Film Features Film/TV

Missing

Post author By Addison Engelking
Post date January 10, 2008

J.A. Bayona’s The Orphanage begins in tranquility. Things are going well for Laura (Belen Ruda). She, her doctor husband Carlos (Fernando Cayo), and her adorable, imaginative adopted son Simon (Roger Princep) have moved into the orphanage where she spent her childhood. One day, Laura lets Simon explore a cave on the beach, but she soon catches him in a hushed conversation with an imaginary friend. He’s just lonely, says Carlos. Kids do this kind of thing all the time. Then he utters three sentences that should never be uttered in a film set at a children’s home that’s about as cozy and inviting as the Overlook Hotel: “Everything will work out. We’ll have a good home. I’m glad we’re here together.”

Just like that, the trapdoor opens. Simon mysteriously disappears on the day of the orphanage’s reopening. Laura’s marriage and sanity are slowly worn down by the grief she feels over their loss. The ominous creaks and shadowy presences in the house grow stronger. And Laura delves into her own past as she renews her sorrowful quest for her son.

Early ads for The Orphanage have declared it “this year’s Pan’s Labyrinth,” and it’s easy to see why these comparisons have been made. Both films are grim fairy tales that involve strained relationships between parents and children, and both plots rely on strong, gutsy female leads who move freely between the “real world” and the mysterious, threatening underworld of things that go bump in the night. Both movies also get away with denouements that are as quietly devastating as they are emotionally and thematically resonant.

However, Guillermo Del Toro, the director of Pan’s Labyrinth (and producer of The Orphanage), has now established himself as a big-time artist; Bayona is merely a clever entertainer. But he’ll get there, and it’s not like there’s a huge surplus of talented filmmakers roaming the streets. Bayona is a tasteful cinematic shoplifter whose allusions to Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Avventura and Otto Preminger’s 1965 missing-child psychodrama Bunny Lake Is Missing create an atmosphere of indefinable dread, and he’s enough of a prankster to insert two cutaways to a full moon in a cloudy night sky that belong in a Universal Studios monster picture from the 1930s. Niftiest of all, Bayona pulls off a tricky and moving Sixth Sense-style reversal in his final act. But The Orphanage is less baroque, less nuanced, and less politically engaged than Del Toro’s best work.

These observations are not meant to diminish Bayona’s storytelling skills or his graceful camerawork — although I do wish that horror filmmakers would abandon the sea-green lighting scheme that makes every character look like they’ve been floating around in a seldom-cleaned aquarium. In a film filled with long, tense sequences that cannily exploit offscreen space and offscreen sound, The Orphanage‘s most impressive scene is also its most technically complex. When Laura and Carlos bring in a medium (Geraldine Chaplin) to help them unravel the orphanage’s mysteries, most of the action is filtered through the four screens of cheap security cameras, whose points of view Bayona juggles effortlessly as he ratchets up the tension. That kind of gusto bodes well for a young filmmaker as comfortable with sudden shocks as he is with actors and locations.

The Orphange

Opening Friday, January 11th

Multiple locations

Film Features Film/TV

Tim Burton’s bloody Broadway fails as a musical.

Post author By Chris Herrington
Post date January 10, 2008

I’ll confess that I know little of the cult-favorite Stephen Sondheim musical on which Sweeney Todd, the latest collaboration between director Tim Burton and star Johnny Depp, is based. There’s enough grim wit and conceptual novelty here to believe that Sweeney Todd is great Broadway, but, regardless, Burton hasn’t fashioned this material into much of a movie, and the biggest problem seems to be the insistence on following the success of Chicago, Dreamgirls, and Hairspray and sticking to the material’s musical roots.

The vocals during Sweeney Todd‘s musical numbers, particularly those of corpse-bride female lead Helena Bonham Carter — who sings quickly in a weak but not uninteresting voice — are drowned out by the music itself, making it hard to catch the words. These scenes are further hurt by the general lack of wit in Burton’s direction of the musical numbers, which feel dutiful. Rather than rocketing the story into a more intense or nuttier or more magical dimension, the music in this Sweeney Todd just gets in the way of the story.

The tale concerns a London barber, Benjamin Barker (Depp), who is sent to prison on false charges by evil Judge Turpin (Alan Rickman), who wants to get his claws on Barker’s beautiful young wife and infant daughter. Barker returns to London 15 years later using the name Sweeney Todd to seek revenge, partnering with grizzly pie-maker Ms. Lovett (Bonham Carter), whose meat-stuffed pastries are dependant on the stray-cat population around her Fleet Street shop.

Todd and Lovett’s shared misanthropy manifests itself in a symbiotic relationship: He channels his rage into slitting throats at his upstairs barber shop; she uses his victims to spruce up her pies, which suddenly become quite popular.

The implication is that people eat each other every day — why should Todd or Lovett fight that natural fact? I’m not sure if the Broadway version was sincere about its misanthropy or nihilism, but Burton doesn’t make much of this subtext.

The story and setting are interesting, and the casting is sound, but, once again, Burton proves to be less a filmmaker than an art director. Likewise, Depp plays another of the dark, damaged, non-verbal men Burton has cast him as before, a more malevolent descendant of Edward Scissorhands and Willy Wonka.

The film’s finest moment comes with a fantasy sequence envisioned by Lovett in which the two ghouls leave dark, dank London for a sunny vacation by the sea. What’s particularly funny here is that, even in Lovett’s fantasy world, Todd is dour and reluctant. At the altar in Lovett’s imaginary wedding, she can’t see Todd saying “I do.” He nods brusquely at the minister instead.

This bright sequence is a visual vacation for the audience as well. Stuck back in dreary London town, Burton’s Grand Guignol isn’t quite as interesting. Blood gushes when Sweeney Todd draws his blade. It doesn’t feel real and isn’t meant to. Instead, these bright-red geysers are a candy-colored design element meant to stand out against the drab backgrounds of brown, gray, and white. But, rather than creepy pop art, Burton’s bloodletting quickly morphs into a dull, repetitive spray. Like the movie itself, it’s an idea mostly devoid of feeling or effect.

Sweeney Todd

Now playing

Multiple locations

Opinion The Last Word

The Rant

Post author By Tim Sampson
Post date January 10, 2008

CREDIT: Eric Isselee | dreamstime.com

This is going to be so typically about politics at a time when you probably would rather read about the mating habits of a porcupine (come to think of it, that would be kind of interesting) and I’m sorry about that. I have been sorta kinda keeping up with the primaries, which is tiresome enough. But every single potential presidential candidate is using the same catchword: “change.” They all say that if they are elected they are going to “change” the way the United States government works and, thereby, they are going to profoundly change the lives of the everyday United States citizen. There are slogans and theme songs and promises and tag lines and logos and same-old, same-old pitches to get our precious votes. And the poll-watching freaks are all letting us know who is eating in which diner on the campaign trail and what they are ordering — so they can appear to be regular folks — and what the diner owners have to say about each candidate. I don’t know about you, but I am certain that I am going to base my vote for the next presidential candidate on which kind of breakfast — or pie — he or she decides to order and wolf down while talking to the “common people” of Iowa, who have such an incredible range of intelligence that they have the first say-so about who is going to lead us for the next four years. Have you actually seen some of the stuff they eat in the name of trying to get elected? I happened upon a little television spot the other day, in which the owner of the eatery was cooking something akin to pancakes topped with ground beef, canned tomato sauce, canned corn, Fritos, and God only knows what else. His vote was contingent on not only if the candidate would eat this, but also how many orders he or she would eat while spending the day there, meeting with other people ordering the same dish and answering questions about how and if we are going to end the war in Iraq. “How’s that ground-beef breakfast? When we gonna kill all them ragheads?” I mean, why Iowa? Who the hell is actually from Iowa and willing to admit it? Call me a snob if you must, but I just don’t get it. Barring that South Carolina beauty pageant contestant who thought Africa was a country, how many of you even know the exact geographic location of Iowa? How many of you know anyone from Iowa, not to mention anyone who actually lives there now, intentionally? And in what other state could a politician actually go after the “home schooling” vote? Are you kidding? Have you ever met a home-schooling parent? Some of them are just fine. The other 99 percent are teaching their kids the virtue of white supremacy and how to stay away from anyone who doesn’t own an arsenal of guns to be used for protection when the Rapture occurs. Yes, Mike Huckabee, we hope you get this vote, you big Baptist rock-and-roll preacher star! Does anyone else notice the similarity between Huckabee and that little nellie midget, Leslie Jordan, who had some great appearances on Will & Grace as “Beverly”? Beverly might be a little more butch, but nonetheless, they are like two Southern drag queens in the same hostile dressing room. I think they have each lived in a trailer at one time or another. We know Huck and his wife did for a while when their Arkansas governor’s mansion was being renovated a few years ago. And you just have to love them for that. But I would wager to say that there was probably a goose/duck motif going in the kitchen wall-paper border and possibly a Taters ‘N Stuff bin lurking somewhere on the temporary premises, so there is ample reason to fear them. It was, however, a triple-wide, so they didn’t have to suffer too much. But back to Iowa. How did this tradition start and who started it? Why is there a caucus there that helps shape the election? Why do people there get to vote first? And why do the pundits put so much emphasis on the importance of the candidates who get the most votes in that state? I suppose I should remember this from history class or I could look it up, but I just don’t have time and I’m sure it would just frustrate me — like the entire stupid notion of an Electoral College. I will, however, take a closer look at Iowa and see if there are any cities there. I know for certain that there are many, many little towns and that each one of them has one diner per resident with special dishes that the candidates eat while campaigning. And I’m sure there are plenty of people who are home-schooling their children in trailers. I hope it doesn’t stunt their growth and make them Baptist guitarists.

News

“Black” Day at The Commercial Appeal

Post author By John Branston
Post date January 10, 2008

It’s a dark day over at The Commercial Appeal. Guild members are wearing black today to commemorate the fifth anniversary of the newspaper not giving its employees raises.

Employees say it’s been a bleak five years, especially in contrast to what editor Chris Peck calls “monetizing” the content. In October, the paper began finding sponsors for certain columns and stories. More recently, a gray Gateway Tire ad has found a home on the agate type stats page in the sports section.

“We wanted to find a way to show our solidarity as a group of employees and this is a very visual way to do that,” said Dakarai Aarons, one of the guild’s three vice presidents. “We are in mourning.”

Aarons added that, as health care costs have increased for employees but salaries haven’t, employees are actually losing money by staying at the CA.

Read more about the CA‘s monetizing, here.

More about the guild’s recent struggles here.

News

Kyle Proposes Legislation to Replace Ophelia Ford

Post author By Chris Davis
Post date January 10, 2008

In response to the extended absences of Memphis’ controversial state senator Ophelia Ford, fellow Memphis senator Jim Kyle has introduced legislation that would allow Ford to step aside and appoint a temporary replacement.

Kyle, who has not spoken with Senator Ford, and who doesn’t know if she will cooperate, has repeatedly stressed the difficult situation she has created for Tennessee Democrats at a time when the Senate is divided 16-16 with one D-leaning independent.

“Senator Ford isn’t the first legislator to be absent for a long period of time,” Kyle told the Flyer. “We have had other vacancies, and this is something we need to address.”

Kyle’s bill is based on a similar measure adopted by the Idaho state legislature.

“If [Senator Ford] refuses to cooperate a member of the Senate has to propose a resolution to have her replaced involuntarily,” Kyle says.

There has been no official response from Ford. A call placed to the number listed on Ford’s official legislative website as “District Address” yielded the following response: “This isn’t her office, it’s the funeral home — we can’t tell you how to get in touch with anybody.”

The person who answered the phone at Ford’s Nashville address claimed to be a temp who was just “cleaning up.”

“I don’t think anybody even knows I’m here,” she said.

Previously Ford’s absences and her erratic behavior in committee meetings have been attributed to illness and anemia.

— Chris Davis

News

Michael Hooks Jr. Pleads Guilty in Federal Court

Post author By John Branston
Post date January 10, 2008

Former school board member Michael Hooks Jr. pleaded guilty Thursday in federal court to taking slightly less than $3,000 in illegal payments from Shelby County Juvenile Court.

Hooks, 32, who was once described as “the hip-hop” school board member in a Memphis Flyer story, entered a change of plea before U.S. District Judge Daniel Breen.

“We almost went to trial on this, but Michael wanted to get his life back on track and move on,” said his attorney, Glen Reid Jr., in an interview with the Flyer. “He is a very smart guy with a lot of good education and a chance to become a prominent citizen again.”

Reid said that, contrary to some news reports and a press release issued by the Department of Justice in Memphis, the case was not part of Tennessee Waltz.

“This had nothing to do with his service as a public official and nothing whatsoever to do with Tennessee Waltz,” said Reid, a former federal prosecutor.

A press release issued by United States Attorney David Kustoff, however, stated that “Mr. Hooks was indicted in this matter on June 20, 2006, as part of Operation Tennessee Waltz.”

Under sentencing guidelines, Hooks could get probation and no prison time or up to six months imprisonment. His sentencing date is April 9th.

“We’re hopeful that Judge Breen will consider alternative sentencing,” Reid said.

According to Reid, Hooks was caught up in a scheme concocted by his father, former Shelby County Commissioner Michael Hooks Sr., and former Juvenile Court Clerk and former commissioner Shep Wilbun. They were going to get Hooks Jr. a job at Juvenile Court, but he already had a job and, in essence, said “no thanks.” So they cooked up another deal involving consultant Tim Willis, and Willis gave legitimate and illegitimate work to Hooks Jr.

“His daddy was trying to help him the old Memphis way and that got him in trouble,” said Reid.

Prosecutor Tim DiScenza said in court that, for unspecified reasons, it was “politically impossible” to bring Hooks aboard in a full-time job at Juvenile Court.

Willis got $60,000 for consulting business which he distributed to Hooks Jr. and others. Reid said Hooks Jr. admitted getting one illegal payment of $1,500 and other cash payments of $200 or $300. Willis later became a key undercover informant in the Tennessee Waltz investigation, but the events involving Hooks Jr. took place approximately three years before that.

Michael Hooks Sr., pleaded guilty to Tennessee Waltz charges of taking $24,000 while in office and is serving a prison sentence.

Reid said Hooks Jr., made no agreement to cooperate in other investigations and “has no information about anybody else whatsoever.”

Kustoff said in his press release, “The investigation and prosecution of public corruption in the Western District of Tennessee remains a top priority of the FBI and the United States Attorneys Office.”