One Night for One Drop with Cirque du Soleil

As it turns out, Cirque du Soleil's founder, Guy Laiberté, is also the founder of a non-profit organization called One Drop, the manifesto of which is "to ensure that water is accessible to all, today and forever." In honor of World Water Day (March 22nd, 2013), Cirque du Soleil put together a one-night show where all proceeds go to One Drop. But, seeing as how not very many people can get to Vegas to see an exclusive one-shot at the O stage in the Bellagio, they also built a website, One Night for One Drop, where potential viewers can access the content for a minimum donation of five dollars. Unluckily for any of you who are just finding out about this, I procrastinated and waited until the last night that content is available (oops!).

The show itself was spectacular. As I mentioned, it borrowed the stage of O in the Bellagio, which is one of the best shows I've had the honor of attending. It was an appropriate choice, as O is a water-based production, and they utilized it in some of the more spectacular ways that O does: namely, synchronized swimmers and extreme high-dive. In addition there were dancers of all sorts, two of the best solo aerialists I've ever seen, and several guest appearances, including Jackie Evancho singing Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge over Troubled Water" (alongside a familiar face from O!), David Garibaldi, a spoken word performance by In-Q, and an original quartet by Danny Elfman entitled "Fragility."

Overall the music was stunning. The performances were stunning; one of my favorites featured a swimmer in a mermaid tail and a contortion artist who was "born" out of a seedpod-like structure, like the mythic/folkloric barnacle goose.

The cast incorporated a grand total of two hundred and thirty seven Cirque du Soleil artists and guest performers from twenty countries and ranging from ages two to eighty. The cause is important and deserves to create the ripple effect Guy Laiberté described, what those of us who live on the internet might call signalboosting. However, there was one thing that threw me off guard about this show, and it was some of the costumes.

There were several acts which seemed to serve as a reminder that not everyone in the world is blessed with plumbing, or with access to any clean water (or with the financial flexibility to acquire tickets to a nice, plush seat in the Bellagio, or internet access at home, for that matter). That is all well and good, but the performers in these acts were marked as participating in a non-western culture in one way or another.

The first of these was a dance number which was clearly supposed to represent Indian women searching for water: they were clothed in garments reminiscent of Saris and carried pots, exiting the stage with them full and on their heads.

The modifications to the Sari-like costume (because they were definitely costumes) have arguable, functional purposes. The masks that the performers wore do not. They serve a unifying purpose, yes, in much the same way that an ancient Greek chorus was meant to be a mode of storytelling, not individuals with personalities, and the same way that members of a chorus line are dressed identically. But in the context of the message "these people are less fortunate than you," covering the faces, arguably the most expressive part of the human body, and replacing them with identical caricatures came off as oppressive to me as a viewer. It seemed to emphasize the otherness involved in the situation in a negative way, which was perhaps worsened by the inherent voyeurism in the act of watching a production.

There was a very similar feeling to the 'African' act, where the performers were dressed almost exclusively in animal print. The act, strangely, contained a sort of fashion-show runway walk, which also seemed preoccupied with emphasizing (and in this case exoticizing and sexualizing) the otherness of the people involved. 

There was also a 'South American' act, which featured dancing reminiscent of flamenco and Capoiera, a Brazillain martial art, and women dressed in Carnivale attire (lots of feathers).

This is not to say that all of the choices, or even most of them, were bad - that would be impossible - but several of them gave me pause. One that didn't was an act in which all of the performers were clearly supposed to be penguins and, regardless of phenotype or gender, they were all dressed in black and white vintage punk (items like a bowler hat, vest and tie, spats, and leather tailcoat appeared beside hoodies, striped and skintight dresses, and boots).

The moments that gave me pause were not the dominant strain of the show, and I recognize that One Night for One Drop has made a project of trying to incorporate the global community; these performances were meant to be a celebration of culture. As it was, the execution sometimes felt like parody, not homage. I wonder what the designers had in mind, but I wonder more what people of these cultures would have to say about the show's representation of them. 

Steamcon II: Weird Weird West

What an event! And now it's so long ago that I am having trouble remembering every breathless, gushing ounce of praise I was going to level at the internet in Steamcon's favor...

The über highlights!

1. It was the best dressed convention I have ever attended. I have shamelessly 'jacked that sentiment from a good friend of mine who was also in attendance. She's a fashion designer, if that adds the gravid tone I am looking for when I say (write?) so. IT WAS SO WELL DRESSED.

2. It included a badass expo hall full of delicious things to buy. None of which I had money for, but I hovered over things a LOT. Alright, that's a lie. I did buy some home-concocted tea from the wonderful B. Fuller's Mortar & Pestle, based locally in Burien, WA. Mmm, gotta love that home brew.

3. There were many booths for many things, like the bands performing that night, as well as the beloved Dr. Steel.

4. There was an art gallery entirely for Steampunk art and it was also a silent auction! More hovering ensued.

5. One of the panels was Steampunk Ghost Hunting, a tag team between the League of S.T.E.A.M. (who also make a huge cameo in Panic! At the Disco's new single, Ballad of Mona Lisa, available on the excellent album Vices & Virtues) and a....legitimate....Steampunk....Ghosthunting team which I can't recall the name of because I am a DESPICABLE human being!!

6. It included Outlaw Night, which, as I have previously reviewed, featured my personal favorite Steamy band, ABNEY PARK!! HUZZAH!!! Airship pirates, Victorian wenches, and Long Islands were had by all. (except me, I was driving. duh :P)

Now for round two this coming October - Steamcon III: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea!!

Paris is Burning

I must ask for your forgiveness, world at large! I am presenting my reviews out of order. Fie and for shame!

Paris is Burning is a documentary I encountered through my English 227 class. Directed by Jennie Livingston and released in 1990, it chronicles the lives of New York's underclass of the late 1980s, namely the attendees of 'Balls' - events some of us might argue could be called Drag Shows. The film has received twelve very well-deserved awards, and is considered one of Miramax Films' earliest successes.

I think my favorite part of this documentary is that it presents the viewer with vocabulary - words like House, Reading, Shade, Voguing, and Mopping - and educates the viewer not only through explanations offered by the Ball-goers, but through demonstration. My second favorite part is that it represents so totally and unabashedly a slice of life which is so often swept under the carpet, and not just in the sense that it deals with people who have sexual, gender, or image identities which are counter to what is considered socially "normative." It also has a lot of statements to make about oppression based on other forms of identity, especially race. The quote that honestly stuck with me the most throughout the whole film speaks to all of the above. The shot, I recall, was of a young man standing on the sidewalk in the pseudo-night of New York city, and he said: "I remember my dad - he'd say you have three strikes against you in this world. Every black man has two - that they are black and they are male. But you're a black and you're a male and you're gay.... If you're gonna do this, you're gonna have to be stronger than you ever imagined." Something in those words, for me, epitomized the struggles prevalent in the whole film. Not even in the specifics of it, just in that simple phrase, "You're gonna have to be stronger than you ever imagined."

It's a wonderful piece of work. I would love to own it, to see it again, to talk to scores of people about it and get their thoughts. It made me want to go to New York and see what I can, two decades later, and sort through the city for traces of that culture.

Interested? Check it out!
IMDb
Wiki

The Clockwork Man

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I have purchased and played a computer game. Get your shocked and potentially appalled reactions out now.

The Clockwork Man, courtesy of Total Eclipse games, is what is called a “Hidden Object” or “Seek and Find” game. Basically, you are presented with a room full of objects. Usually entirely spontaneous objects. You are also presented with a list for every room of things you are to find amongst the mess presented you. You click on each object to collect it, and then you move on. In some cases there are other puzzles, like solving a combination box, fixing a boiler, using multiple items to patch a pipe, things like that. In short, gameplay is very basic.

I will own that I have never played a “seek and find” game before, and that it came off as rather childish to me in the realm of gameplay. I finished the entire adventure in a single sitting. Perhaps I am just used to things like The Legend of Zelda, but I honestly hoped the game would be longer. I even could have dealt with the endless screens of “find these random things even when it doesn’t make much sense to” if only the story kept going. My hopes were raised about mid-game with the advent of the puzzle-box. The idea was that every line of tiles you were presented had a kind of “key” – and you had to transform the symbols not to match, but to match with a rotation or change made to it presented in a single static tile. That may have been a terrible description on what the puzzle calls for as far as nonsensicality, but it was the first – and last – puzzle that actually had me going. I was excited after that, anticipating other more difficult puzzles, but the rest were simply not up to snuff. I also held out for the bonus “free play” option, hoping that there would be puzzles to be had there, as well, that something would be different. Instead what I found was more cluttered rooms and lists. To be fair I haven’t yet re-played the adventure, which, according to a message at the end of the first play through, is entirely different. I would hope that means the puzzles as well, but what with how the game played out, I doubt it.

On another note, what was up to snuff was the design. The characters, while expressively and proportionally appearing straight out of an online fashion doll generator, had great concepts. I liked the costumes especially. It was the backgrounds and objects themselves where the artistry showed. Even amongst the clutter the gameplay called for, the rooms and backgrounds were beautifully rendered. My other favorite part art-wise was the cut scenes. They had an old charcoal-on-teastained-parchment look, and the characters looked more natural.

The writing itself was passing fair, but, sadly, the voice acting completely destroyed its potential nuances and intricacies. The largest complaint I had was that the text presented in the dialog boxes didn’t match the audio, but only for one single character. As for the rest, they matched, but half the accents attempted were grating. The main character’s British drifted in and out of badness and the only French character, well...he wasn’t quite French. However, while the voice acting left something to be desired, I enjoyed the plot itself. While simple and short, Miranda Calomy and her eccentric yet well-known inventor Grandfather were endearing. The concept for The Clockwork Man himself was excellent – he was arguably the prettiest part of the game – and the use of the Mayan temple buried in the jungle added some nice spice to it. I had hoped the game would continue after the jungle adventure with the concept put forth in the prologue, of Miranda attending University, but alas, the story ended there. Or did it?

The Clockwork Man already has a sequel, which can be purchased via download here, or, you know, snail mail for half price here. It appears to be a straight-up sequel, but judging by the video, the interface and puzzle-play have both improved, the backgrounds are less insanely cluttered, AND (WHAAT?) the characters look to have improved design-wise! [Hooray for ladies in trousers!] The voices appear to be the same. Damn.

However, my dearest ladies and gentlemen, the point remains thus: even though I complained about this game up and down the town, I simply could not stop playing it. For a glorious three (maybe four) hours, it consumed my life. I only wish the gloriousness had lasted longer.

The Clockwork Man: The Hidden World, Here I Come!

Steam on.

Links
Official Clockwork Man Website

The Dead Weather

in the Crystal Ballroom and very, very live.

I have never been to a show so intense. Because of it, I was not only squished, pseudo-levitated and bathed in the sweat of me and my four closest compatriots [meaning the people boxing me in], I gained a huge [TALENT] amount of respect for the artists in this band. I knew I loved Jack White. Everybody who knows who Jack White is - which should be everyone ever, but there's no accounting for taste - should at least appreciate the undeniable music in his soul. I mean, that music must come pouring out of him somehow: to have been in The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, and the Dead Weather all within a fairly short amount of time (not to mention various underground Detroit bands before getting his claim to fame with The White Stripes) is awe-striking at least. Add that to his stage presence and you get an international superstar [all Green Day and Moulin Rouge! references aside, I'm serious]. Couple all that with the intensity of Alison Mosshart and things get explosive.

Mosshart's sound for her second band, The Kills (Dead Weather being #3), is alternative and, in some cases, playful. For all those curious, see Tape Song. In The Dead Weather.... I think the best possible word I could choose here is gnarly. She was a grunge cigarette zombie queen in the body of an indie fashion model. I can't conjure anything more evocative than that, abstract though it is, so there you have it. Her badassery knew no bounds. She was aloof to the desperate cries and raucous sing-along of the crowd who reached for her as though their lives depended on it, teased them even, and gladly received an unlit cigarette from a devoted fan or two who knew she didn't give shit about the no smoking rules onstage. In short, she rocks. Hard.

The thing that was definitely the most insane and amazing about the show was the investment and passion pumped into every single note. They were larger than life and they knew it, and since they knew it, they weren't about to put on a poor show. And there's evidence to say that they love their crowds and devoted fans as much as the fans love to show it: at a New York show full of big wigs Jack White reputedly shouted "F*** you, you hip motherf***ers!" Go, Jack, Go!
Overall: one of the best shows. Ever. It'll be hard to top that one.

Opening band: Harlem.
What I remember the best from this set is honestly the bassist, sporting a Mickey Mouse-emblazoned baseball-cut 3/4 sleeve tee and rosary made of what I can only assume was pale green and frosty white jade. Well, that and the ability of the band to switch it up and change instruments mid-set. That at the least was worthy of a nod. Sadly, with the sound quality they received they seemed basic indie pop at best. However, their enthusiasm and energy level were certainly promising, and I would be more than willing to give them a second listen.
You can pay Harlem a visit at Shockhound, and on MySpace.

Fashion Report:

The Band
Jack White. Black, long-sleeved tee; tight black jeans; white shoes with a slight heel (soles: black) and buckle closure.
Alison Mosshart. White on black silkscreen tee; 3/4 sleeve leopard-print sweater with button closure; black skinny pants (not denim, a la Tripp); gold ankle boots; silver industrial bracelet; dainty silver chain with silver disk pendant; black nail polish.
Dean Fertita. Short-sleeved v-neck tee, thin horizontal black and white striped; black jeans; black shoes (presumably boots).
Jack Lawrence. Black from head to foot; button-down shirt; jeans; shoes; coke-bottle glasses.

The Crowd
Was completely inconsistent, in retrospect. I saw stylin' hippie-skirts and halter tops in with sleek designer skinny jeans and leather pumps. My personal favorite was a guy in a muscle shirt, pinstriped button-down, and last but not least a huge pair of headphones worn around his neck. But hey. It was a typical motley Portland crowd, and it certainly says something about the sheer number of people The Dead Weather is able to reach.

Links
Official Site
Myspace
Facebook
Shockhound
Wiki

Adam Lambert

Live and in concert: the following being a recollection of one hell of a night.

I have never seen the Crystal Ballroom so packed. Then again, I suppose that's a given, being the show sold out within twenty minutes of the tickets being available for purchase, but still: for those of you who know what I mean, the line was like K-Con. For those of you who don't, I mean that it went all the way around the block.

Absolute truth be told, rather like when I saw Muse, I didn't consider Adam Lambert among my favorite artists, though I certainly respected his voice from the get-go. Also like with Muse, my standpoint is now rather different. Even with how painfully loud the music was, Adam's voice more than held out. He clearly takes immaculately good care of it: there was no sign of wear and tear as is typically inevitable while on a tour circuit. Rather, it was spot-on. Thus my respect grew. Couple that with the dance beats of half his songs and you have an irresistible mix. And even beyond that, it was the energy with which he performed, the energy with which the dancers moved, and the sheer passion for their art that every single performer displayed. That is what made this a glorious show.

I will have to admit, my night was pretty much made when he performed his rendition of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire. But then of course it only got better when his cover of Tears for Fears' Mad World as well as his own Strut and Fever made the setlist. Perhaps the best piece he performed - his intended last before his encore - was If I Had You, not for its pop hooks, but for the fact that he made a point to say before he began "This is what this tour means to me." Gotta love an artist with that much honesty and that much passion, no matter the manner in which he climbs the charts.

For the gossip column: Tommy Joe Ratliff, on bass for the Glam Nation Tour, was absent the night I attended. Lambert brought it to the special attention of the crowd, asking for good wishes for him, as "a family emergency" called him urgently home. There has been speculation that Ratliff's father fell victim to a stroke, but the tabloids rage on and time will tell.

To give credit where it is justly due:
the two opening artists, Allison Iraheta and Orianthi, were pretty tight. I have to say that I respect Iraheta's fabulously pink/purple fadeout hair and her energy, Orianthi's voice [it was noted by a friend I made at the concert that she sounded hoarse, but I thought it added a nice growl-flavor to her vocals. oh well], and the energy and talent of Orianthi's bassist (who I sadly cannot find the name of).

Alert to all readers! The following is a new segment I've decided to add to my music reviews. Being I am now employed by a company which deals with both music and clothes, and especially how they work together, I have decided to use my powers of observation toward that end. So, without further ado,

Fashion Report:
The Band.
Adam Lambert. Had a variety of costumes a la David Bowie's Thin White Duke routine, though he didn't quite have one outfit for every song. The following are not complete outfits, but rather elements of various ensembles.
Coat and tails (black) with a white or off-white fur collar; tall, sparkly, red top-hat with a black silk hat-band, black brooch, and two long, thin, black feathers angled and drooping toward the back on one side; p/leather pants; to the floor black coat, presumably either [Tripp fabric] or p/leather; makeup galore; black vest-like muscle shirt, fiddle back (these seams were accentuated by ridges of dark neon-blue fabric, perhaps bias tape on a fold), emblazoned with a calligraphic letter A; long-sleeved button-down black or charcoal grey shirt, silver scrollwork embroidered at the top of each sleeve near where each was set in at the shoulder as well as between the shoulder blades; black cane headed with a silver skull (featured especially in the song Strut).
Dancers' ensembles and other things of import. Honestly I was far enough away from the stage to be unable to absorb the majority of the other fashions onstage. However, I was able to note that the dancers were sporting garments that were either made by the fabulous Skingraft or else they were made to look like them. I recall especially the use of something similar to shoulder-holsters: it made me recall this Skingraft bridle harness.
Allison Iraheta. Black corset, sweetheart neckline; black skinny jeans. [apologies for the brevity: I couldn't see much of her and almost nothing of Orianthi excepting her fabulous hair.]

The Crowd.
There was a predominant sense of glam-rock on the legendary floating floor. If glitter really is the herpes of everything, the Crystal Ballroom will never be the same. It was everywhere. Anything that sparkled, glinted, or shined could be seen, from temporary body art and makeup to sequined butterfly-cut vests to stretch-glitter you-name-it. The sparkle was the key. But there was no lack of skinny-jeans or corset-clad fans, either. There was more than a hint of clubwear, laces, mesh, and lace. I especially recall a black empire-waisted coat, long-sleeved, with a standing collar and lace-up back.

IN SHORT, readers, it was a night full of glitter and good fun.

Links
Wiki article for the Glam Nation Tour
Adam Lambert:
Official Site
Facebook
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Allison Iraheta
Official Site
Facebook
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Orianthi
Official Site
Facebook
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki