Magician Rob Lake kicks off Caesar’s Entertainment’s weekly $1 million giveaway with a magic trick of massive proportions. Bianca Phillips has more.
Month: March 2013
Money doesn’t grow on trees, but it can appear out of thin air. At least, when award-winning magician Rob Lake is in town.
Lake will be in Memphis on Friday night to make an armored vehicle appear out of nowhere in front of the FedExForum. It’s the kickoff for a promotion by Caesars Entertainment — parent company of Harrah’s Tunica, Horseshoe Casino, and Tunica Roadhouse — that will award one person with a $1 million prize every Saturday night beginning in April.
To enter the Millionaire Maker giveaway, one must be a Total Rewards player. But signing up for Caesar’s Total Reward program is free. Total Rewards members get discounts on dining and hotel rooms, as well as better seats for concerts at the casinos.
Sign-up for the first weekly giveaway begins this coming Monday, April 1st, and the first drawing will take place on Saturday, April 6th. The giveaways will happen every week in Tunica throughout the summer, and there is no set date for when the campaign will end. To enter, you must swipe your Total Rewards card in a kiosk inside one of the Caesars Entertainment casinos in Tunica each week.
“The million dollars has to make it to the casino somehow, so this armored truck is what delivers the million dollars. A millionaire appears out of thin air every week, so I’m making the delivery vessel appear out of thin air,” said Lake, who, in 2008 at age 25, became the youngest person to ever win the prestigious Merlin Award for stage magicians.
“The Merlin Award is the magic industry’s equivalent of the Oscar or Tony or Grammy. It’s the highest honor a magician can receive,” Lake said.
Lake says it’s the first time he’s made such a large vehicle appear in an open, outdoor setting.
“Normally, we’re in a theater, where we have the audience on one side. So we can control the elements, like the lighting and if there’s a draft or wind,” Lake said. “But here, we’ll be in the elements, in the daylight, with people literally all around us on all sides. It’s the most challenging and impossible of conditions to present the illusion, especially with such a large and heavy apparatus. It weighs about 50,000 pounds.”
The armored truck act will take place between 6:15 and 6:45 p.m. on Friday, March 29th in the outdoor entrance courtyard of the FedExForum. The event is free to the public.
Since being taken over by local media mogul Rachel Hurley, the talent booking at longstanding local watering hole The Poplar Lounge has noticeably become both more diverse and ambitious. The club has hosted a steady stream of regional and national touring acts on Hurley’s watch, and there’s been a greater frequency of all-local bills as well.
“For years I have been approached by musicians asking me to help them get gigs in Memphis,” says Hurley. “We are booking national touring acts and local acts with an established following. That can mean anyone from Glossary or Little Tybee to the Bluff City Backsliders or Hope Clayburn. We also have some great residencies like our Thursday night shows with Kait Lawson and Mark Edgar Stuart, or our Songwriter Sundays with Star & Micey. I book the shows, so the music definitely leans toward my tastes, but I’ve made my entire career from sharing my taste in music with people and turning them on to things.”
A prime example of Hurley’s new vision for the club can be found in tomorrow night’s (Friday, March 29) show featuring Austin, TX indie-rockers Quiet Company.
Educational “Free Agency” in Shelby County
John Branston writes about the new “free agency” for teachers, administrators, and students in Shelby County.
The Memphis Music Hall of Fame will be a category on today’s broadcast of the game show Jeopardy!, in the “Double Jeopardy” round.
The five answers will draw from the inaugural class of the Memphis Music Hall of Fame, which was announced last year and which includes both obvious names (Elvis Presley, B.B. King, Otis Redding) and less well-known contributors (Lucie Campbell, George Coleman, Jimmie Lunceford). I’m guessing the likes of W.T. McDaniel won’t figure but if the good folks at Jeopardy! don’t get an audio clue out of all of this material they’re not really trying.
Jeopardy! airs locally at 3:30 p.m. on channel 3.
It was reported by AP this week that a couple of our intrepid guardians of public morality in the Tennessee General Assembly had raised questions about some new sinks in the capitol building. A state senator and a state representative expressed concerns that utility sinks installed on bathroom floors were meant to allow Muslims to wash their feet before praying. We can’t have that, of course.
Turns out that the sinks were put on the floor to better allow custodians, presumably Christian, to rinse their mops and not, thankfully, evidence of Sharia Law creeping into our legislative bathrooms.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Unfortunately, these same bozos are now in charge of everything in Tennessee, including public education, where they are planning more mischief. Aided and abetted by private education and conservative “think tank” lobbyists, GOP legislators are pushing to expand a new voucher program proposed by Governor Bill Haslam.
Haslam’s bill would make 5,000 vouchers available to low-income children who attend low-performing public schools. The number would increase to 20,000 by 2016. Private schools could accept the voucher students but could not charge those students more than what the voucher pays. But this just gets the camel’s nose into the tent. (No Sharia pun intended.)
What these legislators and their lobbyist pals really want is to funnel massive amounts of tax-payer dollars into private education. They want to expand the voucher program by making subsidies for private school tuition available to families with much higher incomes. They want to allow private schools to charge students an additional 10 percent beyond what the voucher pays and allow parents of those students to pay the difference between the voucher amount and the school’s tuition.
This amounts to the public subsidizing people who want to send their kids to private schools, whether it’s Jim Bob’s Jesus Academy, Willie Herenton’s charter schools, or Hutchison.
It’s a huge financial boondoggle and probably unconstitutional. (Similar measures have been successfully challenged on constitutional grounds in other states.) But with a GOP “super-majority” that’s unchallengeable by the few remaining Democrats in Nashville, this latest version of privatizing our tax money and sending it to “nonprofit” organizations is probably headed for passage.
I just wonder how they will react when somebody decides to use a voucher to send their kid to Muhammad’s Sharia Prep.
Bruce VanWyngarden
brucev@memphisflyer.com
[slideshow-1]
The exploits and artifacts of Jerry “the King” Lawler—- wrestler, announcer, artist, well-known personality in Memphis and the world, and, let us not forget, once (two races for mayor) and possibly future political candidate —- are now accounted for and housed in a free museum.
On Saturday, the museum had a grand opening at Wynn Automobile, 1831 Getwell, Memphis, where the proprietors have afforded it a generous and well-appointed space of several rooms.
Lawler, host of Monday Night Raw, one of the most watched cable shows in the world, has a widespread fandom — a fact indicated by the signatures on a wall-sized Get Well card signed by admirers after the King had a heart attack last year (on air, while doing a show!)
He was at the museum on Saturday, signing autographs. His lifetime mementoes as well as exhibits chronicling the larger story of wrestling itself will be on display at the museum from 1:00p.m.-4:00p.m. daily.
Check out the slideshow above for a teaser featuring some of the exhibits at the museum — and some shots of Jerry the King as well.
The Midtown Opera Festival
In this week’s Flyer cover story, Chris Davis says the first-ever Midtown Opera Festival will offer quirky and provocative entertainment for all.
The Rant
I’ve never had the occasion to go to Jack Magoo’s Sports Bar and Grill and now I never will. Last week, bouncers at the
Broad Avenue bistro physically removed a customer from the bar because they believed he was intoxicated and creating a disturbance. The police responded to the scene to find an injured man on the sidewalk bleeding from a wound in the head. When the police became aware of the cane by the man’s side and his inability to speak, they suspected that this was more than just a drunk tossed out of a saloon.
In fact, the aggrieved customer was Brian Roper, 30-year veteran and retired captain of the Germantown Police Department, who suffered a debilitating stroke in 2007, which left him crippled on his right side and without speech. Roper offered a card to the officers explaining that he suffers from aphasia, a lasting side effect of stroke caused by damage to the part of the brain that controls speech. Roper declined to be taken to a hospital, so the officers took him home.
That might have been the end of it had not someone brought the matter to the attention of WMC-TV Channel 5, which reported the story in its March 25th nightly newscast, when reporter Jason Miles interviewed Roper in his Midtown apartment. My wife and I cried when we saw the report. You see, Brian Roper is a friend of mine.
I have spent half my life in bars and have known some bad-ass bouncers in that time. But I never saw any of them rough up a disabled customer. Negative posts on Facebook and other social media erupted, and Jack Magoo’s issued a statement on its Facebook page, stating, “A recent report by one individual on social media and subsequent local news reports of alleged aggressive behavior toward a disabled customer greatly disturbs us.”
The bruises to Roper’s arms, chest, and head, however, are not “alleged.” The owner said that he was tardy in responding to the matter because he was on sequestered jury duty without telephone accessibility, and his partner did not wish to respond to the news reports until they had time to confer. The owner announced the hiring of an “outside company to conduct interviews of the employees allegedly involved” and said that a statement would have been more forthcoming if not for the collection and examination of video surveillance. “It takes time to review all the video,” the explanation read, “but it is being looked at to ensure the truth is brought forth. And we seek the truth.” The rest of the online proclamation was boilerplate legalese.
According to police reports, Roper took a cab to the Three Angels Diner on Broad Avenue on the night in question to have dinner and watch the Memphis Tigers’ game. According to Roper, he had been served there before without incident. In a happy mood, Roper proceeded to Jack Magoo’s to celebrate the Tigers’ victory. When he got to the bar, according to Roper, his drink order was misunderstood, as were his fruitless protestations to the bartender. Assumed drunk, Roper was ordered to leave the bar. When Roper angrily responded by trying to communicate through his ever-present notepad, three employees allegedly forcibly removed him from the nightspot and threw him to the pavement outside. A follow-up report was made the next day, after Roper’s friend and “interpreter,” local musician Jim Spake, took him to the ER of Methodist North Hospital and called the police again to give a more detailed account of the incident, according to Roper. Officers Reinhardt and Norris took photos of the various scrapes and bruises on Roper’s body before he was moved to the Intensive Care Unit, due to a small brain bleed. He was released from the hospital Sunday morning.
I’ll admit my prejudice in being sympathetic to Brian Roper’s side of things. Our friendship dates back to the early 1990s, when Roper, Spake, and I were all volunteer programmers on WEVL-FM90 and members of the same pub quiz team, which we named “Chest Pains.” Roper’s specialties were sports, military history, and great books, but there wasn’t a single subject on which Brian did not possess some passing knowledge. He was a great wit and known to have a cocktail or three, although I never witnessed any aberrant behavior on his part. What made his stroke even sadder was that it deprived Brian of his ability to express himself. I was present in those early days of his recovery and saw his frustration over knowing what he wanted to say but being incapable of forming the words. Conversations with Brian became a guessing game akin to “you’re getting warmer.” To my shame, because it became uncomfortable for me, I allowed our friendship to slide. Spake, however, stood by his side through good times and bad and knows Brian so well that he can anticipate and “interpret” his speech patterns. Thus, Spake’s insistence that an additional police report was necessary. I spoke with Spake, and he was firm in his defense of Roper. We agreed that even if Brian were knocked-out loaded, that would have been no excuse for throwing him in the street, and even the smallest examination would have revealed his disability.
Where I work, if I ever put my hands on a customer, I would be gone within the hour. That’s because the owners emphasize customer service above all else, and this was made clear before I was employed. No business, bar or otherwise, allows their employees to physically eject a customer from the premises without the tacit approval of management. I was therefore not surprised that despite Jack Magoo’s insistence that the bar “maintains the highest ethical standard,” there was no expression of regret or attempt at apology in its online legal brief — only a promise of an internal investigation, then they’ll get back to us. This delay has created turmoil among those who care about Roper, and a Facebook discussion of a musicians’ boycott has already begun.
If I were advising the owners of Jack Magoo’s, I would tell them that if you wish to salvage the reputation of your establishment you should immediately issue a public apology, announce that the employees who evicted Roper have been terminated, and promise that nothing like this will ever occur again. Then I would quietly offer some restitution to Roper personally to compensate for his injuries and public embarrassment. Brian Roper deserves better, and if Jack Magoo’s doesn’t act properly and soon, he just might get it.
Randy Haspel writes the “Born-Again Hippies” blog, where a version of this column first appeared.
Beach-Blanket Bacchanalia
The “movie of the moment” during a wasteland of pre-summer cinema, Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers beckons viewers who, like the film’s four bored coed protagonists, long to see something different.
Spring Breakers is a stunt movie of the highest order, enabling a cast full of Disney and ABC Family types — Pretty Little Liars‘ Ashley Benson, High School Musical‘s Vanessa Hudgens, and pop princess Selena Gomez — to play hard against type, down-for-anything James Franco to don corn rows and a platinum grill, and longtime provocateur Korine (still best known for scripting Kids in the mid-’90s) to improbably land what’s essentially an art-house “girls gone wild” video into suburban multiplexes.
The film opens with a sun-kissed, color-drenched, spring-break blowout of beer and boobs — girls fellating Bomb Pops, guys pretending to “urinate” beer into the waiting mouths of young women, and other displays of drunken depravity. It basically makes every moment of “spring break” look like the back end of an R-rated “Harlem Shake” video. Is this a college kid’s dream, a parent’s nightmare, or a filmmaker’s voyeuristic fantasy?
Or maybe it’s the fantasy of Candy (Hudgens), Brit (Benson), Cotty (Rachel Korine, the filmmaker’s wife), and Faith (Gomez), who are stuck on a college campus where the sun apparently never shines, too broke to be Florida-bound with their classmates.
Unbeknownst to church-group attendee Faith, the other three hatch a plan to raise vacation funds using ski masks, hammers, and a squirt gun — “We robbed the chicken shack,” they explain afterward — and soon they’re headed south, where things get wetter and wilder, at least until they end up in court (in bikinis, natch), are bailed out by gangster/rapper Alien (Franco, the potential Big Bad Wolf of this fairy tale), and something more plot-driven and (even more) self-consciously ridiculous emerges.
Stylistically, much of the film plays like a hazy, over-extended montage — stretching to reach 94 minutes — evoking, alternately, frat-house cell-phone captures and fantastical rap videos but goosed even more toward the absurd. (Or maybe not. Maybe bros really do put raw turkeys on their heads at keggers. What do I know?)
The film’s setting is utterly contemporary, but as a work of art it reveals the 40-year-old Korine’s ’80s youth as much as the VHS worship of the prior Trash Humpers did. Here, Korine weaves the fun-in-the-sun sexploitation cheapies (Hardbodies, Spring Break) that dotted Reagan-era HBO with the scuzzy drugs-and-guns Florida action of the name-checked Scarface and the implied Miami Vice.
Like most of its subjects, this over-crafted exploitation flick is ripe, alluring, and self-consciously daring, but I wonder if it has much on the brain. Spring Breakers nods toward social criticism, skipping knowingly along the thin line that separates camp from cautionary tale.
But its perspective is hard to read, and the critical elements of the film seem mostly designed to assist viewers in rationalizing the film’s more pervy pleasures. Korine’s fevered depiction of spring-break depravity definitely carries a whiff of satire and disapproval. There’s a (David) Lynchian bent to the way Korine juxtaposes a voiceover of Faith reading an earnest letter home (“Hi Grandma. This is the most spiritual place I’ve ever been. Everyone’s so warm and friendly here”) with a beer-bong bacchanalia. But this strain of commentary doesn’t keep Korine’s camera — which locates copious crotch close-ups — from ogling. Here, arty and sardonic touches help make the leering feel justifiable.
I’m not sure what to make of this ostensibly Southern film’s strained, half-knowing take on African-Americans and their history. This (at first accidental?) motif starts early, when Candy and Brit sit in a lecture hall, learning about Emmett Till while day-dreaming of spring-break sex, and maybe it’s that subtle bit of info that made me hear the later repetition of the phrase “four little girls,” in reference to the film’s core foursome, in civil rights terms. (It’s the name of Spike Lee’s documentary about the Birmingham church bombing.) This friction becomes more direct in the film’s final act, when rapper Gucci Mane appears as a particularly stereotypical gangbanger and Gomez’s Faith decides to bounce after being brought to a pool hall in a black neighborhood. After all she’s been through, this is her bridge too far. (“We don’t know these people,” she explains, as if the beach full of mostly white date-rape threats she’d been partying with were all old pals.) It’s unclear whether Korine is commenting on racial discomfort or displaying it.
As for its daring, it’s predictable that the biggest star of the foursome, Gomez, plays the Good Girl, while the one with the least at stake (Rachel Korine) is the one whose body is subjected to the most graphic exposure.
Mostly, I just wish the filmmaking itself were as bracing as the lurid, lollipop subject matter — its nighttime bikini scooter rides, its ski-masked beach-bunny crime spree, its squirt-gun conflation of oral sex and suicide.
Korine is capable. His debut, Gummo, dug beyond its small-town grotesquerie surface into realms of real beauty and, at times, the VHS aesthetic of the underground provocation Trash Humpers is legitimately unnerving. Spring Breakers has its moments, especially in the tracking-shot depiction of the early robbery, seen from the perspective of a slow-rolling getaway car.
But, ultimately, Spring Breakers isn’t experimental or daring enough in terms of its filmmaking style. It becomes strangely tedious beyond displaying its pure exploitation elements. But it’s still an achievement for a filmmaker like Korine to corral stars this big, colorful, and unlikely for a film this disreputable and punkishly outré and get it exhibited so broadly. Heading into its second week here, it’s even added a theater.
Spring Breakers
Now playing
Multiple locations