Categories
Art Art Feature

Water Rising

In L Ross Gallery’s exhibition, “Sculpture,” artworks range from the
comic to the sublime. Helen Phillips’ raku-fired ducks are both.
Dressed in long, brown pontiff’s robes with collars of seaweed draped
around the base of their slim necks, they appear to glide across the
surface of ponds, graceful and magisterial, in a series of works titled
Contemplating a World Gone Mad.

In her haunting homage to global warming, Water Rising, Nancy
White sculpts a woman’s torso out of clay and plants it on the ocean
floor. Waterbirds seek shelter in the seaweed growing from the woman’s
wrinkled shoulders. Her mouth, attempting to suck oxygen from the sea,
reminds us that all creatures, including humankind, are woven into the
web of life. What we do to the earth, we do to ourselves.

In Eli Gold’s Peacekeeper, a work loaded with geopolitical
implications, a nuclear-warhead hangs in a glass skyscraper beneath a
human hand tied with golden threads to what the artist describes as an
altar to “fear and greed.”

At L Ross Gallery through November 30th

At Marshall Arts, “Ties That Bind” includes works by four artists
whose lives are bound together by friendship and a love for the
expressive possibilities of line.

The sinuous lines and untouched passages of watercolor paper in Mel
Spillman’s minimal but evocative portraits suggest the svelte figures,
milky-white complexions, and bright lights of celebrity. No matter how
matte the makeup or bright the lights, Spillman captures the soul
inside the persona. In the 63-by-42-inch pencil-and-paper portrait
What’s In?, the lower part of the face of the leggy youngster
who became the world’s first supermodel is nearly washed out. In
striking contrast, Twiggy’s large, dark eyes dilate and stare at us
like a deer caught in our headlights.

Roger Allan Cleaves’ dystopian societies are inhabited by hybrids
(part-human, part-heavy metal) with overdeveloped biceps and buttocks.
Penises are projectiles; lovemaking looks lethal. Both the male and the
female of the species obsessively cut, rape, and kill each other and
anything else that moves. The mayhem is mesmerizing and unsettling. The
titles of Cleaves’ ink drawings (As Time Goes By, History
Repeats Itself
) suggest that these homicidal hybrids could be us
— could be the next stage of evolution for a species increasingly
adept at genocide, collateral damage, and global warfare.

In some of the most evocative works in the show, Lindsay Palmore
turns the bittersweet and the saccharine into meditations on emotion
and time by pouring black washes across floral motifs, art deco
baubles, and doilies collaged onto the surface of paintings titled
You know my heart — it beats for you and To be sure
these days continue
.

Every inch of Bobby Spillman’s paintings are filled with roaring
rivers, bird houses, tree limbs, and telephone poles swept up by
tornadic winds. Spillman’s quick mind and rapid-fire imagination
generate conversations as energized as his paintings. At the center of
the largest painting in the show, Gimme Shelter, you’ll find the
artist’s alter ego as a Bambi look-alike leaping nimbly over and around
flying objects, its fur ruffled by the wind, its huge eyes wide-open
— not with fear but wonder.

At Marshall Arts through November 29th

In “Elemental” at Perry Nicole Fine Art, Martha Kelly so accurately
observes atmosphere, light, and texture, we both see and feel
Morning Shadows snaking their way through grass thick with dew
and lime-green in the early light. Kelly’s depiction of rarified light
in Vespers takes us to the edge of effable as gold fades to
white at the top of the canvas.

Also at Perry Nicole, Chuck Johnson fills his “Recent Paintings”
with microbes, amoebas, sunspots, phantasms, and botanical drawings
so flawlessly rendered that the artist convinces us his exotic
landscapes could be real. Johnson paints each canvas with encaustic and
china markers, then covers the surface with a second landscape, leaving
only traces of the first. He repeats this process, creating worlds
within worlds that appear to be vast distances apart. 

Johnson’s ability to make two-dimensional surfaces look fathoms deep
and the magic he weaves into his worlds are particularly memorable. He
paints nature in all its infinite variety, endlessly recreating
itself.

At Perry Nicole Fine Art through November 28th

Categories
Special Sections

Don McMinn

Don McMinn fronted Rum Boogie Café’s first house band when it
opened in 1985, a time when Beale Street was undergoing major
redevelopment. “Within a year, it was the hottest spot around,” McMinn
says. He played Rum Boogie for nine years, at one point bringing his
sons, Rome and Doug, into the band. “I watched them turn into pretty
good musicians,” he says. “Papa” Don McMinn & Nightrain still
record and tour today, playing Memphis music, a mix of Stax-era R&B
and Delta boogie blues. He’s named the “Pale Prince of Beale” on his
honorary brass note on Beale’s Walk of Fame.

Categories
Book Features Books

Satanic Verses

At the age of 16, writer Edmund White discovered the writings of
another teenager, the 19th-century French poet Arthur Rimbaud.

It was a match made not in heaven but in hell — Rimbaud, the
enfant terrible and author of the groundbreaking prose-poem
Une Saison en Enfer; White, in 1956 living a hell of his own as
a gay, self-loathing boarding-school student in the Midwest but with
some major ideas already in mind: run away to New York, get published,
and fall in love — preferably with an older man to take care of
him.

Rimbaud would have recognized the game plan, as White explains in
Rimbaud: The Double Life of a Rebel, a handy, brief biography
published by Atlas & Co. in its continuing series of “Eminent
Lives.”

But New York wasn’t Rimbaud’s destination at the age of 15. It was
Paris, where he hoped to publish his poetry and live free — free
from the middle-class expectations of his mother in a village in
northeast France and free to live the visionary life of a poet/seer,
which in Rimbaud’s case meant a disordering of the senses thanks to
beaucoup boozing. So, goodbye to bourgeois prudishness, and
hello to whatever the deranged senses might detect and perceive. The
poet/seer’s job: to write it down.

What others detected and perceived in the young Rimbaud, despite his
obvious genius, was another matter, and a healthy head of lice wasn’t
the worst of it. “A vile, vicious, disgusting, smutty little schoolboy”
is how one observer described Rimbaud at the time, but try telling that
to the poet Paul Verlaine, who was 10 years older than Rimbaud and
crazy about the kid and his work.

More than crazy. According to White, Verlaine, no slouch himself in
the history of poetry, was a “brutal husband,” “impious wretch,”
“homicidal alcoholic,” “slacker,” and “drama queen.” Case in point, in
the drama department: the time a drunken Verlaine smashed the bottles
holding the fetuses of his mother’s two miscarriages — fetuses
she displayed in her home and fetuses Verlaine proceeded to dismember.
Why? Because Verlaine’s mother refused to fork over any more money.

Little wonder, then, that by the time Rimbaud got to town, Verlaine,
impressed by the youngster’s radical way with words and ga-ga over his
brilliant blue eyes, was, according to White, “up for anything,” which,
in 19th-century Paris and then London, meant “the lurid but exciting
depths of bohemian depravity.” Another match made in hell? Yes, but
there’s always the other side to a story, and leave it to Rimbaud to
put it not so poetically:

“He can satisfy himself on me as much as he likes,” Rimbaud said of
Verlaine. “But he wants me to practice on him! Not on your life! He’s
far too filthy. And he’s got horrible skin.”

And a trigger finger. After Verlaine shot Rimbaud in the wrist,
police in Brussels got wind of the rumors surrounding the nature of
their relationship, so officials gave Verlaine the going-over he
apparently couldn’t get from Rimbaud. Not so poetically put, White
writes that, thanks to Belgian police work, “we know more about the
condition of [Verlaine’s] penis and anus than we do about the intimate
anatomy of any other major poet of the past.”

As for the master of obscurity himself, Rimbaud, there’s still the
abiding mystery: how to account for the fact that this “father of
modern poetry” — who went from being a Romantic, to a classicist,
a Symbolist, and a Surrealist (avant la lettre), who went from
scandal to scandal as a thug and troublemaker — by the age of 21
abandoned the literary world altogether.

Failing to be recognized for his poetry, Rimbaud turned to traveling
— to Germany and Italy, to Indonesia and Cyprus — and to a
series of unsuccessful moneymaking schemes. He then traveled to
Ethiopia and became a coffee-seller and gunrunner. He died from cancer
in Marseille in 1891, age 37.

As White writes in his fast-moving overview: “[Rimbaud] looked back
on his years of creativity (from age fifteen to nineteen) as shameful,
a time of drunkenness, a period of homosexual scandal, of arrogance and
rebellion that led to nothing.”

Not so. Ask, to name a few, Marcel Proust, Jean Cocteau, Antonin
Artaud, Jean-Paul Sartre, Pablo Neruda, Mario Vargos Llosa, Milan
Kundera, Jack Kerouac, Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison, Patti Smith — and
Edmund White.

Categories
Cover Feature News

Rebuilding Millionaires Row

Nearly 150 people, mostly clad in black suits and dresses, are
gathered on the lawn of the Woodruff-Fontaine House on a chilly All
Saints' Day evening. They’ve come to pay their respects to Memphis
and Shelby County Film and Television commissioner Linn Sitler, who’s
lying in a casket in front of the century-old mansion.

Of course, Sitler isn’t actually dead. She’s just pretending. And as
her friends — U of M dean Richard Ranta, filmmaker Mike McCarthy,
and NARAS head Jon Hornyak — deliver faux eulogies, they’re also
raising funds to breathe new life into the Victorian Village
neighborhood.

The “Night at the Village” fund-raiser, which also featured a
requiem choral evensong at St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral on Poplar and
a bagpipe procession down Orleans Avenue, raised $3,400 for the
Victorian Village Community Development Corporation (CDC).

That money, along with a combination of public and private funds,
will go toward the CDC’s plan to revive what was once the city’s most
upscale neighborhood. At the turn of the century, Italianate Victorian
and Second Empire mansions lined Adams Avenue, but the city’s “urban
renewal” project of the 1960s razed most of those structures. Now only
a handful of historic homes are left in Victorian Village, and the CDC
plans to use them as a springboard for new development.

“Between the Victorian Village’s boundaries — Danny Thomas,
Poplar, Manassas, and Madison — there are 25 structures on the
National Historic Register. This is the only concentration of historic
architecture from that century in the city,” says Scott Blake, the
executive director of the CDC and a longtime resident of the
neighborhood. “The way to support those historic assets is to build a
residential neighborhood around them.”

Since the village falls in the Center City Commission’s central
business improvement district, the agency commissioned a redevelopment
study by Looney Ricks Kiss Architects in 2004. The resulting plan calls
for single and multi-family housing built in a style to complement the
existing Victorian-era structures. It also suggests improvements to the
two city parks in the area, sprucing up existing apartments and
businesses, and connecting the museum houses with a green boulevard for
walking tourists.

Though the plan was developed four years ago, it is finally gaining
momentum, with the first few homes now built along Jefferson. The city
also hopes to reopen the Mallory-Neely and Magevney museum houses, and
millions of dollars in improvements to the adjacent medical district
are well underway.

“We want places for the doctors and staff of the medical district to
live in the area, and we’re looking for housing that runs the price
spectrum,” says Beth Flanagan, director of the Memphis Medical Center.
“Victorian Village will be such a gem for the Medical Center.”

Millionaires Row

In 1845, a pair of brothers from New Jersey traveled to Memphis to
expand their carriage-building business. Though one brother returned to
the Garden State, Amos Woodruff decided to stay put. He became head of
the Memphis City Council, and president of two banks and owned a
railroad company, a hotel company, an insurance company, a cotton
business, and a lumber firm.

By 1870, Woodruff’s rise to prominence had earned him the money to
build a magnificent house at 680 Adams Avenue, which was then
considered the outskirts of the city.

“He told his wife if she’d come down from New Jersey to live in
Memphis, he’d build her a really nice house,” says historian Jeanne
Crawford, a docent at the Woodruff-Fontaine House. “From looking at tax
records, we’ve determined that it cost him $40,000 to build this house.
You couldn’t build a garage for that now.”

Woodruff’s home, now open for daily tours as the Woodruff-Fontaine
House, became one of many ornate mansions along Adams, known as
Millionaires Row. Wealthy cotton merchants and the city’s most elite
families lived in the neighborhood.

“Their entertainment was very neighbor-oriented. They played bridge
with one another and poker. And when they had a bash, it was a
real bash,” Crawford says. “I’m sure it was a charming time for
those with money.”

But as the city grew, many of the families eventually migrated east
to newer neighborhoods such as Central Gardens. By the 1950s, many of
the mansions sat empty. Others had been converted into tenement
housing.

“It was kind of seamy. There were lots of winos living in these
houses, and my house was in shambles,” says Eldridge Wright, the
neighborhood’s longest surviving resident, who lives in a grand 1880
home across from the Mallory-Neely House. “It was not a very attractive
neighborhood back then. But to me, even the houses that were
dilapidated had great charm.”

Wright moved into the neighborhood in 1955, first occupying a brick
carriage house that once sat behind his family’s Victorian home on
Jefferson. The main home was razed by the city in the mid-’60s, when
Jefferson was widened. Its destruction was part of a massive urban
renewal project that demolished most of the Victorian homes in the
area.

Wright moved to his house on Adams shortly after his family’s main
home was razed. But he wasn’t about to stand back and watch the city
destroy the entire neighborhood.

“We formed a group to try and save some of the homes. They had plans
to demolish the Fontaine House and Mallory-Neely House, and we were
able to stop that,” says Wright, who is lovingly referred to the “Mayor
of Victorian Village” by current residents. “At the time, I’d rather
have been drawn and quartered than give a speech in front of the City
Council, but I knew that I had to make a point to save these
places.

“I appealed to Mayor Henry Loeb that this place could be such a nice
tourist attraction if Memphis would save these homes. That idea
appealed to him, and I think it was on that basis that we were finally
able to preserve a few of them,” Wright says.

Thanks to Wright’s efforts, a few remnants of the lavish Victorian
era in Memphis remain. The Woodruff-Fontaine House, now under city
ownership but leased by the Association for the Preservation of
Tennessee Antiquities (APTA), is now the only home open to the
public.

The other city-owned museums — the Mallory-Neely House at 652
Adams and the Magevny House at 198 Adams — were open for tours
until 2005 when they were temporarily closed due to city budget
cuts.

Operated under the city-funded Pink Palace Museum system, the homes
originally were slated to reopen this year. But Pink Palace officials
still are working on a funding plan, which should be complete by the
end of the city’s fiscal year.

The James Lee House, an 1848 mansion next door to the
Woodruff-Fontaine House, sits empty, its dark and gloomy windows
reflecting Orleans and Adams avenues. Though it’s managed by the APTA,
the nonprofit preservation group doesn’t have the funds to renovate and
open it for tours.

“We’re in the middle of a proposition for the CCC to put [the James
Lee House] out for public bid for renovation and restoration,” Blake
says. “A private entity, whether it’s one of the hospitals wishing to
use it as office space or just someone who would like to open a bed and
breakfast, would actually purchase the house and do the restoration
according to strict standards.”

Across from the Woodruff-Fontaine House, restaurateur Karen
Carrier’s successful Mollie Fontaine Lounge operates in an 1886 home
that was built as a wedding gift for Mollie Fontaine Taylor, whose
family occupied the Woodruff-Fontaine House after the Woodruffs moved
out.

The lively tapas lounge at 679 Adams was Carrier’s first home in
Memphis after relocating here from New York in 1985. She still runs her
catering business, Another Roadside Attraction, in the carriage house
behind Mollie’s. Carrier first converted the home into Cielo, a
white-tablecloth French restaurant, in 1996, when she moved her family
to East Memphis. Cielo got a hip, new facelift last year when it became
Mollie’s.

“At Mollie’s you can take in the ornate architecture,” Carrier says.
“You don’t have a tour guide telling you where to go. You can sit down,
look around, and really take it all in.”

Some of the other historic structures, like the Lowenstein Mansion
and the Pillow-McIntyre House, are privately owned and used as
residences or law firms. But thanks to the urban renewal era, the
neighborhood also is peppered with unattractive apartment complexes,
warehouses, and industrial buildings from the 1960s.

Rising from the Ashes

Jocelyn and James Henderson consider themselves pioneers. The
couple, an attorney and Memphis policeman, respectively, relocated from
Harbor Town to a new town home on Jefferson in June.

“We can shape the Victorian Village neighborhood,” says Jocelyn,
seated at a breakfast nook in her modern kitchen. “We can mold it into
a safe neighborhood where my son Jordan can play outside.”

The Hendersons’ home is one of three new town houses adjacent to
Blake’s two historic homes — built in 1863 and 1867 — at
the corner of Jefferson and Orleans. Blake, who runs a company that
provides design resources for museum exhibitions and the performing
arts, designed the new houses.

The single-family homes, built in a style that complements the
nearby Victorian architecture, are models for the future in-fill
housing called for in the Victorian Village redevelopment plan. But
Blake says there’s room in the neighborhood for multi-family housing as
well.

“It’d be great if families came in and tried to build Victorian
mansions, but that’s not likely,” Blake says. “But someone could build
a six-unit condominium that looks like a Victorian mansion. You could
even do mansion-style office buildings, especially considering how
close we are to the Medical Center.”

As for Jocelyn Henderson, she loves being able to walk downtown from
her home, and some days, when she’s scheduled to work at the Shelby
County Juvenile Court, she can walk across the street to the courthouse
on Adams. But she says a few things are missing from the neighborhood
— namely, a small grocery store, a coffeehouse, and a bigger
selection of restaurants.

The Victorian Village redevelopment plan calls for more mom-and-pop
retail shops, restaurants, and other amenities. Currently, ICB’s
Discount Store is the village’s only retail market, and there are just
a few neighborhood restaurants, like Neely’s Barbecue and Mollie
Fontaine Lounge.

When Carrier lived in the neighborhood in the mid-1980s, she
remembers the area being a tourist hotspot, since all three museum
homes were open to the public.

“There were so many tourists, they would tour the museums and then
come knock on my door, thinking my house was open to the public too,”
Carrier says.

After the city closed two of the museums, the tourist crowds faded.
But with plans to reopen the Mallory-Neely and Magevney homes, there’s
talk of building a green boulevard or park that would connect the
museum houses on Adams to Jefferson.

“To make the neighborhood walkable, you have to have cross streets
and not just the long blocks that we now have running east to west,”
Blake says. “We need to make some short streets that run north and
south, and we’d like to do them with a green median.”

Not much can be done with unattractive existing structures, like the
Shelby County maintenance facilities, the Crime Victims Center, and the
Memphis Fire Department maintenance facilities.

“If those were to become available for reuse at some point, we’d
have to look at which ones would be worth keeping and which ones could
have something else built in their place,” says Steve Auterman, the
master plan’s designer from Looney Ricks Kiss.

Auterman says the group is working with owners of some of the dated
apartment buildings in the neighborhood, like the 312-unit Edison
high-rise on Jefferson.

“They may decide to improve the structure that’s already there or
take part of it down and replace it with more desirable apartments,”
Auterman says.

Pest Control

There are two parks in Victorian Village — Morris Park on
Poplar and Victorian Village Park on Adams. Victorian Village Park is a
mostly empty green space dotted with a few park benches, which
typically double as beds for the homeless. Morris Park’s only draw is a
public basketball court, but most residents are afraid to use it.

“Morris Park is a little scary,” Blake says. “There’s drug dealing
and prostitution in the park, and it’s not welcoming to the
community.”

The city parks department is working with the Victorian Village CDC
on a plan for enhancing the parks and making them safer.

“But to deal with the park, you have to deal with the area around
it,” Blake says. “Every building that faces Morris Park, like the
Memphis Housing Authority offices and Collins Chapel, needs to develop
a program where there’s 24-hour observation in the park. We may even
build some townhouse apartments that look over it. When you have a
presence like that, it sends the roaches scuttling.”

Homeless people from the nearby Union Mission on Poplar often find
their way into the village, creating the perception that the area is
unsafe. Though violent crime isn’t typically a problem, burglaries
persist.

Since the Hendersons moved in this summer, they’ve had two car
break-ins.

“James was parking his car on Jefferson, and three weeks ago,
someone busted out his windows,” Jocelyn says. “They also tried to
break into my mom’s car, which was parked on Jefferson, a couple days
later.”

A check of Memphis Police crime statistics from the past 30 days
reveals 21 thefts from vehicles in a half-mile radius of Adams and
Orleans. There were seven residential burglaries and two business
burglaries reported during that same time.

But Carrier says the break-ins along Adams Avenue have dropped since
she hired security for Mollie’s.

“When I had Cielo, there was a big crime problem. People would be
all dressed up and they’d walk to their cars and their windows would be
smashed,” Carrier says. “But from day one at Mollie’s, we’ve had
security from the time we open until we close at 3 a.m. We haven’t had
any more trouble.”

Blake says most of the vagrants likely enter from the village’s
northern border along Poplar Avenue. The plan calls for some
much-needed sprucing up in that area with high-density rental and condo
units built in a style similar to the apartment buildings from the
1920s across from Overton Park in Midtown.

“Right now, that area is homeless shelters and trashy pawn shops and
the back side of Juvenile Court. So you need a good imagination to
picture what it might look like,” Blake says. “Poplar is our front door
to downtown, and right now, it’s like Whack-a-Mole with all the people
hanging out in the street.”

Though it may be hard to control the homeless population, the
county’s planning to build a 30,000-square-foot forensic center along
Poplar in the Juvenile Court parking lot. Because of the nature of the
operation, the building will require security and that may curb some of
the crime.

There’s no set timeline for the Victorian Village redevelopment
plan, and funding will come from a variety of sources. Victorian
Village recently was selected as a Preserve America Community through a
White House initiative that recognizes communities that are using their
historic assets for economic development and community revitalization.
The designation makes Victorian Village eligible for certain federal
grants.

New commercial businesses and multi-family rental developments may
also be eligible for PILOT tax freezes through the CCC.

For now, Blake is happy to see a few new residents and increased
enthusiasm in the neighborhood.

“Part of our mission is to raise awareness, and it’s great to see
people taking an interest,” Blake says. “For so long, this place was
just languished and forgotten.”

Categories
Editorial Opinion

It’s Up to Bass Pro

Few issues have divided sentiment on the Memphis City Council and
the Shelby County Commission more than that of the proposed leasing of
the Pyramid to Bass Pro Shop. In general, officials of the city, which
shares ownership rights to the building with the county and owns

outright the surrounding property, tend to see Bass Pro as the only
extant suitor for the facility, which city and county taxpayers are
still paying for and which continues to soak up stout maintenance costs
even while standing idle. The building’s potential uses are strictly
limited by a contract with the NBA’s Grizzlies that grants first dibs
to the FedExForum for all athletic and entertainment activities.

The prime movers for the turnover of the dormant facility to the
giant outdoors-oriented chain have always been city-side, with Robert
Lipscomb, a longtime ally of Mayor Willie Herenton and the head of the
city’s arena reuse committee, leading the charge. Even on the
commission, where several proposed agreements relating to Bass Pro
(including the sale of the county’s ownership share to the city) were
consistently blocked until this week, the main proponent for an
understanding favorable to the chain has consistently and vociferously
been Sidney Chism, another Herenton intimate.

Shelby County mayor A C Wharton has, however, also been on board for
an agreement with Bass Pro. The main county opposition has come from a
de facto caucus of commissioners who transcend the normal partisan
dividing lines. The opponents of a deal have nursed, together or
singly, a variety of objections — that a city landmark should not
be assigned to what some have called a glorified “bait shop”; that Bass
Pro has offered insufficient financial safeguards and vague development
proposals; and — something that has been spoken to only obliquely
in discussions on the commission — that the deal does not pass
“the smell test,” that somehow the “fix was in” on arrangements with
Bass Pro.

As it happened, the two commissioners who uttered those last two
caveats were on the prevailing side of the 9-3 commission vote Monday
that finally authorized Bass Pro to pursue a development deal with the
city and county. And that’s as good a sign as any that progress (if
that’s the right word) has been made more out of fatigue and
exasperation over the years of wrangling than because of anybody’s
belief that anything is likely to come to fruition. Indeed,
commissioners on both sides of Monday’s vote were predicting afterward
that a combination of a bad economy and Bass Pro’s foot-dragging
attitude made consummation of a completed development unlikely.

In any case, it’s now up to Bass Pro — which is obligated to a
$35,000 monthly rental during the next year (and very little else)
— to put up or shut up. Its critics have accused the chain of
dilatory tactics in negotiations with other cities and with floating
sham proposals for the sake of brand advertising. There is an easy way
to counter that contention now that official resistance on the part of
local government is no more. All the chain has to do, having been
granted a year for “feasibility” studies, is put something real on the
table. If, 12 months from now, Bass Pro hasn’t done so, that should be
the end of it, and the city and county will just have to start over in
looking for a tenant.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

She’s a Rainbow

Because it’s an enjoyable way to make a living — and because
freelance film criticism can’t quite pay the bills — I teach high
school. So while I was watching Mike Leigh’s new film,
Happy-Go-Lucky, about 30-year-old primary-school teacher Pauline
“Poppy” Cross (Sally Hawkins) and her life’s little ups and downs, I
kept thinking about a girl in one of my classes. Although I like her a
great deal, I’ll bet she’s a huge nuisance to insecure, bitter,
draconian instructors. For one thing, she likes to talk; once she
talked 35 times during a 65-minute class period. Seventy percent of the
time, she offered relevant commentary; the other 30 percent, she said
more or less whatever was on her mind: a joke, a personal anecdote, a
story that stressed her irrational fear of “John McCain’s short arms.”
But she always brings great intelligence, wit, curiosity, and energy to
my classroom, and I try never to say or do anything to dampen her
joyful spirits. She’ll need them to face the “real world” soon
enough.

Well, what if my student could resist adult despair and maintain her
high hopes? What might her life be like? What might life in general be
like? Through his look at Poppy and her friends, Mike Leigh’s film
provides some answers. In doing so, he has made the year’s best
film.

Happy-Go-Lucky is organized as a series of informal
assessments that test Poppy’s cheery, fully engaged approach to life.
The possibility of a potentially explosive clash of worldviews is most
explicit in the scenes between Poppy and Scott (a superb Eddie Marsan),
her terse, alienated driving instructor. Poppy and Scott’s encounters
are funny and fraught with peril because the contrasts in their
characters are almost too great: Scott is an unsmiling authoritarian
with a head full of apocalyptic incunabula, while Poppy’s absurdist
viewpoint is expressed through constant wordplay and unconscious
flirtation. But the film isn’t all conflict and clash. Her flat-mate
Zoe (Alexis Zegerman, perfect) deals with Poppy best by indulging her
eccentricities and providing some emotional grounding.

Leigh’s approach to filmmaking is as radical as his film’s treatment
of human happiness. Happy-Go-Lucky’s numerous pleasures come
from a nuanced, character-driven realist aesthetic that ignores
goal-oriented plots and story arcs. Partially due to his intensely
collaborative working methods, most of his films ultimately focus on
characters trying to co-exist. As Ray Carney and Leonard Quart say in
their book Embracing the World, “Leigh’s figures are placed in
situations in which their ways of feeling and thinking are compared.
… You see, feel, and understand life in one way; I see, feel, and
understand it in another.”

Thus, several scenes work on multiple emotional levels. The scene
between Poppy, social worker Tim (Samuel Roukin), and a sullen little
bully is a marvel of text and subtext. It’s tender because of the
respectful and cautious way the adults draw information from the kid,
but it’s also incongruently romantic because of the way Poppy and Tim
look at each other over the kid’s bowed head. There are other
precious moments in Happy-Go-Lucky, too; the sad tilt of Poppy’s
head as she sighs “Scott” near the end of the film; the closing of a
yellow door as Poppy and Tim kiss; the scene on the lake as Poppy and
Zoe sit in a rowboat and wonder when they will reach adulthood,
punctuated nicely by Zoe’s deadpan, “Are we there yet?” As the camera
cranes up and back, the broad and generous scope of this little film is
discreetly revealed. The result is breathtaking.

Happy-Go-Lucky

Opening Friday, November 21st

Ridgeway Four

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Life and theater merge in ambitious, oddball film.

Since making his film debut as the oddball brain behind Being
John Malkovich
roughly a decade ago, screenwriter Charlie Kaufman
has established himself as one of the movie medium’s singular and most
brilliant creative forces.

His films — he also wrote Adaptation, Eternal
Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
, and Confessions of a Dangerous
Mind
— may be a genre unto themselves, but they aren’t
without precedence: There’s a bit of Woody Allen in his flustered,
neurotic protagonists. There’s some David Lynch in his
through-the-looking-glass surrealism. And the tendency to fictionalize
real lives has long been a postmodern practice.

All of these elements are in place for Synecdoche, New York,
Kaufman’s directorial debut, which feels like his most personal film
despite having made himself the lead character in
Adaptation.

Synecdoche, New York follows the format familiar from
Kaufman’s other scripts, in which initially realistic situations
unravel and at some point drop through a rabbit hole into outright
meta-ness and surrealism. The film stars Philip Seymour Hoffman as
regional theater director Caden Cotard, who is married, unhappily, to
artist Adele (Catherine Keener), with whom he shares a shabby two-story
house in Schenectady and a 4-year-old daughter, Olive.

As the film opens, Caden is staging an ambitious production of
Death of a Salesman while Adele is finishing up a set of
paintings for a show in Berlin. His wife’s departure — with
Olive, without him, and, to his surprise, for good — and a bit of
accidental head trauma throw the movie for a loop, speeding up time and
tearing at the fabric of the real.

Desperate and adrift, Caden gets a MacArthur “genius” grant and
decides to use the opportunity to stage a grand, autobiographical
theater piece about the mundane and tragic nature of the human
condition. He hires an actor to play him and has his new wife (Michelle
Williams) play herself on a life-size New York City set forever under
construction in a limitlessly huge warehouse. He hires actors and
writes them individual notes each day to inform their improvisations,
stuff like: “You were raped last night” and “You keep biting your
tongue.”

Reality and fiction — life and theater — begin to merge,
and the piece is never finished, of course — at least not
until death. It’s about the process of creation as the final product, a
process that replicates and begins to replace real life.

There are some tough, touching elements here, most of them involving
Caden’s estrangement from his daughter. But the unrelenting grimness
ultimately feels more maudlin and self-absorbed than perceptive.

Truthfully, I’ve never enjoyed Kaufman’s clever, anxious comedies as
much as I’m supposed to — with the sole exception of
Adaptation, which I do think is the best film anyone’s made
about the writing process — and so it is with Synecdoche,
New York
. The film is ambitious, personal, accomplished, and quite
daring. And I kept waiting for it to end.

Synecdoche, New York

Opening Friday, November 21st

Ridgeway Four

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas takes us back to Germany at
the outset of World War II. Its protagonist is Bruno (Asa Butterfield),
an 8-year-old boy who’s smart, brave, and adventurous but mostly
confused by what’s going on in the world and at home. His father (David
Thewlis), a high-ranking SS officer, has taken a promotion that
relocates the family away from Berlin, to the countryside.

Bruno’s bored in his new setting, especially because his mother
(Vera Farmiga) forbids him from exploring the woods behind the home.
Bruno can see a strange sort of farm through the trees, where the
farmers wear striped pajamas. Bruno’s emotions are a swarm of
conflicts, and what truths he’s told by his parents, tutor, and sister
don’t align with what he’s seeing with his own eyes. That the lies come
from his own father and that his mother is increasingly upset compound
his predicament.

Opens Friday, November 21st,

Ridgeway Four

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

Any Way You Slice It

What makes pizza taste so good? Is it the crust, the sauce, the
toppings? It’s all of these things — and sometimes it’s none of
them. But pizza just tastes better in a place with a good vibe or funky
atmosphere.

Don’t take my word for it — go see for yourself.

A Slice of … Egypt

New York Pizza & Sub is located to the right of the Lowe’s
parking lot on Perkins near Summer in a small, nondescript building
with a few picnic tables out front. Inside, the tiny dining area is
sparsely furnished with patio furniture, a large TV, and a stereo.

Salah, the owner and sole employee of New York Pizza & Sub, can
be found in the kitchen. His lively personality more than makes up for
the lack of décor. A native of Egypt, Salah has been making
pizzas for 18 years, the first seven of which were in New York.

Walking into New York Pizza & Sub can be a bit disorienting. It
feels more like a friend’s house — a friend who really likes to
talk and makes great pizza.

And what about the pizza? Expect the standard New York style: thin
and chewy with a nice crusty handle, light tomato sauce, gooey cheese,
and sold by the slice.

New York Pizza & Sub, 4523 Summer (761-7771)

Nautical

The Cove is the perfect place to enjoy an old-fashioned cocktail,
suck down a few oysters, watch a movie you’ve never heard of, and smoke
’em if you got ’em. The nautical interior that once filled Anderton’s
definitely sets the Cove apart from other late-night bars. It’s cozy,
cool, and full of surprises.

In addition to oysters and other light fare, the Cove has a small
selection of pizzas on the menu. The most notable is Jim’s Ultimate
Oyster Pizza. Yes, oyster pizza. The crisp crust is
topped with a spinach Rockefeller sauce, marinated artichokes, goat
cheese, bacon, and half a dozen freshly shucked oysters. Like the bar
itself, this pizza offers a new twist on an old favorite. Best of all,
you can enjoy your pizza with a shot of absinthe or a can of Pabst Blue
Ribbon.

The Cove, 2559 Broad (730-0719)

Elvis-style

Broadway Pizza has two dining rooms, a jukebox, a few big TVs, a Ms.
Pac-Man, a racing-car game, a stuffed-animal-grabber game, a ’70s-style
candy vending machine, and a couple hundred pictures of Elvis. Minus
the flat-screen TVs, it feels like 1977 inside. (I consider this a
plus.)

The menu offers many pizzas with unique toppings for people
interested in taking a walk on the wild side (e.g., the chili and taco
pizzas) as well as the standard fare for those who like to keep things
simple. Whether you go crazy or play it safe, you can rest assured that
each pizza is going to taste pretty damn good, arrive cut in squares,
and be accompanied by a bowl of pepperoncinis and green olives.

Broadway Pizza, 2581 Broad (454-7930)

R.I.P. (Rest in Pizza)

Top Five Pizza Places that Will Be Forever Missed

5) Chicago Pizza Factory — Remember when the Chicago Pizza
Factory was a bustling restaurant and not a sad, empty building?

4) Shakey’s — The perfect place to celebrate after a soccer
game. I can still hear the sound of my cleats on the floor as I run to
the front to grab a pizza.

3) Pierotti’s — The standard meeting place for my philosophy
class study group. I always scored the last piece of the group’s
communal pie. My friend swears there were Gummi Bears on the
buffet.

2) Squash Blossom — I could never convince my mom that pizza
was actually healthy, but the Squash Blossom kitchen crew changed all
that.

1) Pat’s — Getting buzzed in, wondering if Mrs. Pat was asleep
or dead, giant hunks of meat toppings, roaches, a pool table, beer,
open all night … how did this place ever go out of business?

Categories
Food & Drink Food Reviews

The Buy & Buy

On weekday evenings, the corner of South Main and Vance is quiet
except for the rattle of trolley cars rolling by. But all that changes
when you push open the front door to Frank’s South Main Market &
Deli
.

First off, manager Mark Stukenborg samples with gusto a bag
of barbecue pita chips. “Try one,” he urges. “They’re great.” Shoppers
are chatting it up (“Where are the eggs?” a woman asks), and, in the
deli, Stukenborg’s son, Thomas, finishes a catering order for the
neighborhood association’s monthly meeting. “It’s a little crazy around
here,” he says, scooping up a mound of Green Goddess broccoli cole
slaw. “You want a taste?”

Since its grand opening October 30th, Frank’s is quickly filling a
niche for downtown residents who have been clamoring for a grocery
store in the city’s historic arts district. Already, the store offers
almost 4,000 items, ranging from Kitchen Basic soup stock to Paul
Newman’s treats for dogs. The cooler is fully stocked, as well, with
San Pellegrino, Jones Sodas, Sioux City Sarsaparilla, and dozens of
imported beers.

Don’t be fooled, however, by the cold drinks. “We are not a
convenience store,” says Lance Lester, who opened the market
with Beale Street club owner Bud Chittom. “We are a grocery
store that is convenient.”

The market’s inventive assortment of homemade salads, sandwiches,
and wraps reiterates Lester’s claim. The I.B.M. — that stands for
Italian Business Man — serves up pepperoni, Genoa salami,
Cappicola ham, provolone, and cappoatina dressing, a mix of eggplant,
capers, and peppers. “The recipe for cappoatina came from a friend,”
Lester says. “People like it so much, they eat it as a side.”

The House Special Italian Dip is pot roast with roasted peppers,
provolone, and au jus on a bun. The House Smoked Turkey Cobb combines
turkey, mixed greens, aged cheddar, bacon crumbles, and caramelized red
onion. “We smoke our turkey and ham in the basement,” Lester says.
“Smoking gives the meat a nice flavor, especially when it’s served
hot.”

Insulated and reusable grocery bags keep food warm or cold for
delivery to homes and businesses by the market’s three-wheel bicycle,
which is parked in front of the store when not in use. Catered orders
also are delivered with similar finesse: They arrive by way of the
market’s 1951 Ford pickup, painted a very bright shade of blue.

Frank’s South Main Market & Deli,

327 S. Main (523-0101)

If you are at loose ends since the seasonal produce markets closed,
then listen up: A few local farmers have set up a D.I.Y. Farmers
Market
to sell organic produce on Saturday mornings in
Cooper-Young.

The impromptu gathering takes place from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. in front
of First Congregational Church. Participants change from week to week,
but a handful of growers hope to sell produce until the end of
December.

“Last year, I kept selling until the temperature dropped to 17
degrees,” says Tim Smith, who on a recent Saturday had a lush selection
of kale, arugula, Swiss chard, turnip greens, and tender lettuce.
D.I.Y. Farmers Market, Saturdays from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., 1000 S.
Cooper

Don’t be surprised if a Boy Scout knocks on your door Saturday
asking for food. Even more important: Give him a donation.

Thousands of Scouts will be canvassing the Mid-South on November
22nd, trying to collect 50,000 pounds of nonperishable food for the
Food Bank. The drive, called “Scouting for Food,” is the most
important community service project for the regional Chickasaw
Council.

“We want to show the boys how important it is to give back to the
community,” says Michael Donnell, the project’s chairman.

To facilitate the council’s ambitious goal, food collection barrels
have been set up at two Schnucks locations, on Farmington in Germantown
and on Truse Parkway in East Memphis, and at MHC Ford (1721 Transport)
and Truck Parts Specialists (757 East Brooks) in Whitehaven.

Scouts also will be at the Germantown Schnucks Saturday morning. “We
can accept any type of nonperishable,” Donnell says, “including things
like pasta, cereal, and soup.”