Alegría!

live and in the Tacoma Dome!

My love for Cirque is everlasting and undying, but honestly I feel as though I idealized this show. Perhaps because it was the first show which I had any memento of, perhaps because I was so young when I first saw it, perhaps because I have grown up listening to its music, perhaps because it was and is and will always be ingrained in my mind in a way little else can be.

Alright. So I idealize it. Isn't that the nature of adoration?

For the sake of a bit of history, Alegría was seen for the first time in 1994, performed a decade after the birth of Cirque du Soleil itself. Alegría was proceeded by: La Magie Continue, We Reinvent the Circus, Nouvelle Expérience, Fascination, Saltimbanco, and Mystère. Of these, only Saltimbanco and Mystère are still performed. Even in the face of such previous and enduring excellence, this 1994 newcomer stands up for itself.

Alegría professes itself to be "a baroque ode to the energy, grace and power of youth," and I can believe it. The show speaks to lineage, the old and the new, and the dichotomies of black and white, secure power and endangering risk. And frankly, overall, it's a sensory wonder.

I think what stayed with me the longest, besides the music, was the appearance of the characters. I never forgot the White Lady, as I remember her, or The White Singer as she is called in the official literature.

And she was not the only one; I recalled fragments of the costumes and characters from when I first saw them, and that in and of itself attests to the sheer beauty of this production. I remember parts of Alegría more vividly than I recall my childhood trips to Disney parks. But enough reminiscing.

Alegría in the Tacoma Dome was wonderful. I was a little sad they didn't fit the Big Top, or, if you prefer to be all fancy, the Grand Chapiteau, inside the Dome, but who am I to split hairs? The stage, lighting, MUSIC [especially the music] were spot on. There's just a quality that Alegría's music has which makes it both chilling and enthralling. I've never been able to escape it. Alongside the costumes, the music is my favorite part.

I think these factors are what redeemed the second viewing of this show for me. Since, quite naturally I would argue, nothing can ever live up to the idealized Alegría of my childhood and my dreams, in a way it had to be redeemed. Some of the acts were not quite so impressive to me the second time around, especially when stood up next to the far more recent KOOZÄ! (2007), which some of you might recall I saw last summer. But my discomfort was not in that I wasn't quite impressed or enthralled "enough" - but instead that KOOZÄ! seemed to loom in and even usurp Alegría's place in my heart. But not to fear - the Coup of the Circuses never took place. After all, Alegría had seniority and the fact that I debated at all attests to how well it has withstood the test of time.

Both of these shows have wonderful messages, which is always an important aspect of my appreciation of productions such as these. To me, KOOZÄ! is a call to embrace what some might call childishness, to be sensitive to mysticism and the unknown and to strike out in the world unafraid of inventing that world as one goes along; Alegría on the other hand is a testament to that youth, a celebration of things new and fresh while still embracing what has been. I realize now that I love both these shows so much because they walk hand in hand.

But as all of you know, I can go on about the things I care for the most for days, and none of you want that.
For those of you who are so inclined, seek out Alegría. It has the best clowning I have ever seen, some of the best music and costumes, and, as a bonus, one of my favorite acts of all time: the Flying Man.

I will leave you, then, with this:
Alegria
I see a spark of life shining
Alegria
I hear a young minstrel sing
Alegria
Beautiful roaring scream
Of joy and sorrow,
So extreme
There is a love in me raging
Alegria
A joyous,
Magical feeling...


Also! Credit must be given where it is due! I made use of this lovely timeline posted by a fellow blogger! Thank you ever so much for your marvelous compilation of Cirque materials!

The Dimes

live and in concert at Portland's Muddy Boot Festival!

I had wanted to see The Dimes desperately for over a year, and finally I was given the opportunity! Based in the Vancouver-Portland (Washington-Oregon) area, The Dimes have a flair for history and a good ear for indie pop/folk fusion. Last May they were recognized on NPR when their track Save Me, Clara was made song of the day. If it strikes your fancy you can read the honorary blurb by Barbara Mitchell, The Dimes: A Gentle Plea To An Angel Of Mercy.

The band is composed of Johnny Clay, Pierre Kaiser, Ryan Johnston, Jake Rahner, Kelly Masigat, Tucker Jackson and potentially several others, as they are quite happily prone to including family members and guest stars for various performance purposes. They are self-proclaimed college-campus-playing veterans, and have since moved on to higher prospects including the Crystal Ballroom [my personal favorite venue in all of Portland].

I think one of my favorite parts about the music they make is how very historical the lyrics are. For sake of example, Save Me, Clara is about Clara Barton, a nurse who tended the wounded during the Civil War and who later went on to found the American Red Cross. However, even though this is the case, the references made by the songs do not in any way make them inaccessible: you don't need to know that Clara is Clara Barton to enjoy the song. On their facebook page, the members of the band credit their song ideas to some 1930s era newspapers they found under the kitchen floorboards of a Victorian house they're renovating. (May I take a moment to say, how flippin' cool is that?!) But beyond having excellent lyrics, their sound is wonderfully balanced. I have a soft spot for their multi-harmony vocals, epitomized in their track Emmie Devine. And still beyond that, their sound translates from recording to live and in person very gracefully indeed. Hearing Emmie Devine live nearly reduced me to tears in the very best sense.

So if you haven't heard their work yet, Go Forth, blog readers, and be victorious!

Visit The Dimes on...
Their Homepage
Facebook
Myspace
Twitter

PS - This review is EXCEEDINGLY LATE. I APOLOGIZE. College decided to happen, so I'm really quite behind with this whole reviewing business. I will catch up as soon as I may (despite the fact that the holidays are well on their way)!

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

Kick-Ass

Kick-Ass, which recently hit the DVD release, is the perfect descriptor for itself. It was KICK. ASS. Bold, double underlined, and in red. For good measure.

It had everything a gritty urban adventure needed, from the cocaine dealers to the tattooed gang bangers, and everything a superhero movie needed, from deep dark comic book pasts to big guns. Especially the big guns.

But in the end, there were a few things that really surprised me. First was the casting. What a star-stud. Mark Strong as Frank D’Amico was brilliant. After his recent appearance in Sherlock Holmes as Lord Blackwood, I am not at all surprised that film makers are chomping at the bit to see more of him. I realize in both movies he had some kind of distinguishing physical feature on his face to make him stand out: Lord Blackwood had his off-kilter tooth (dare I say snaggletooth?) and Frank had a very unique pseudo-circular scar a little above the bridge of his forehead on the left side. It’s little things like that just make my day. Then of course there was Nicholas Cage. I’ve never thought that he was badass before. Honestly, I’ve never been a big Cage fan. Even in National Treasure (which I do have a bit of a guilty pleasure for) I thought he was mediocre at best. But this…I dunno. There was a kind of charm to his performance of vigilantism in this film. And then there’s Kick-Ass. Aaron Johnson was wonderful. With his talent I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of him, [especially with those cheekbones, not gonna lie,] but the shocking thing is how much we may have seen of him already. I personally did not recognize the transition between The Thief Lord’s Prosper and Kick-Ass’ Dave Lizewski. In singing his praises as Dave/Kick-Ass, his voice-crack was hilarious, and his momentary imitation gay voice was priceless. I laughed so hard because I honestly believed it. Oh gracious me. But my absolute favorite, for writing, for design, for physicality, for performance, was definitely Chloe Moretz’s Hit Girl. She was so darling when not in costume, and she was definitely the most badass in costume. I mean, what more could you ask for? Purple hair, classic Robin mask, combat boots, tartan skirt, more weapons than can even be imagined, and a mouth like a sailor. She was GREAT. Quite a performance for a girl of 13, too. Can’t wait to see her again.

One aspect of this film which caught me off guard with its quality was the soundtrack. I’m out to find it, it was so good. [Note: this is a huge compliment. I usually only go after the instrumental soundtracks. Like Clint Mansell’s score for The Fountain. It’s scrumptious.] There were so many times that my dad and I reacted with “Oh, I know this song!!” that it added a new level to the whole experience. The best by far was when they broke out a remix of the beginning of 3 Doors Down’s Kryptonite and led it right into Joan Jett’s Bad Reputation. Seriously. It’s like chocolate milk and kahlua: it just works.

The visuals of this film I could rant about for days. The strobe-light fight scene was definitely one of the best. The use of sight-through-news broadcast, or youtube video, or security camera, or teddy-cam, all of it was great. The direct references to comic books were also great when it’s a film about super heroes outside of the comic books, as well. That little visual self-reference was satisfied-nod-worthy.
But all in all? Basically? This thing was a hit, and it shocked me. It’s not that I doubted its ability to rock the house, I just never expected it to become my new favorite film.

Well. Since I enjoyed that so much, I guess it’s time to finally go and watch Kill Bill Vol. II.

In the words of my new favorite superhero, show’s over, motherf*****s.

Links
IMDb
Trailer

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

Shutter Island

May I open this one with a great big SPOILER ALERT.
Then again, I think you're all pretty aware that I'm liberal with the details on this blog, so I don't know why I was compelled to do so. Moving on.

For a true beginning to this review, I'm going to lay it out there plain and simple: I expected a lot more from this film. I love Leonardo DiCaprio - I believe he's very talented - and I'm also a huge fan of Emily Mortimer. However, this movie definitely left something to be desired in multiple courts.

The Plot is my main concern. In fact, I think I may be experiencing the same kind of disenchantment with Shutter Island as many other people of my acquaintance experienced with Avatar: in the end, it did exactly what I expected it to, and so it was a let-down. I mean really. When the major plot twist, that the gung-ho main character is actually insane, gets predicted by someone in the room within the first half hour of the film, there's something rotten in the state of Denmark, and in this case it rank of someone failing miserably at trying to pull a Tyler Durden. I would rather have watched a hackneyed and predictable story about a bad-guy insane-asylum-gone-experimental-medical-facility post-World War II featuring a detective with post-traumatic stress disorder which, naturally, he then uses to solve the case and escape; the blind leading the blind, the traumatized spiraling into the insane in order to understand the insane and thereby gleaning a glimmer of truth to cling to. I would have adored that, run-on sentence and all. Eaten it up. But of course that's not how things seem to work right now. The only redeeming quality of the plot was the very end, the very conscious decision of Teddy/Andrew to commit mental suicide and be ice-pick lobotomized: "to die a good man" rather than "to live as a monster."

The other main aspect that I was disappointed with, honestly, was the score. It kills me to say so, as movie music is one of my favorite things in life, but there it is. Upon looking into it further, it kills me even more to see that the score wasn't original: it was hand-selected tracks from various classical sources! Oh Hollywood Gods, why do you do these things? [Give me a moment to compose myself.] I must give credit where credit is due: I desired the 'silence is more terrifying than sound' effect, and they gave it to me in spades (once I waited a while for it). However, my complaint, in light of the aforementioned discovery, is with the use of certain tracks. Every once in a while a piece would be chosen that just screamed that the film was trying too hard to be suspenseful and thereby ruined the entire setup. During the sequence wherein Teddy and Chuck are being driven to the compound on Shutter Island to work on their missing persons case, the music was so repetitive and over the top I actually laughed and said "I can'e even take this seriously right now." That same track happened at least twice more, and it totally pulled me out of the film. It became a parody of itself, and I cannot see how that could have been the intent for the piece. It did the song no credit, and it did the visual film no credit, either.

Because, dear readers, if you've even made it this far, I hate to bag on this film. I really do, and not least because the cinematography was brilliant. Stunning, even. The contrast in lighting between the waking hours on Shutter Island and Teddy's dreams of his home and wife were excellent. The stark lighting and bleached-out effect for every flash of lightning during the migraine scene was gorgeous, an almost poetic representation of the characteristic photosensitivity, as was the transition with every flash between that waking world and the dream world, witnessed only by brightness and the presence or absence of Teddy's five o'clock shadow and subtle beard. The devastatingly still sequences of Teddy's flashbacks to the war and the concentration camps were exquisitely horrifying, and beautiful because they were so. But by far my favorite shot caused a reference I can only hope was intentional: Teddy's wife, during one of his dreams, is pictured standing at the window with her back to him. At this point in the film it is an accepted idea that she was killed when their apartment was set ablaze by an arsonist. In this shot where she lingers at the window, her back is cut away so to speak, to reveal that she is hollow and made of a charcoaled log with still-glowing lines of ember. In several traditions, Faery or Elfin women, as well as some dryads, are described as beautiful women having holes in their backs which reveal that they are hollow and made of wood. The use of this image in Shutter Island was not only well done, it was striking, worked gloriously in the context of the story as well as in that of the nightmare, and ultimately demonstrated Teddy's idealistic view of his wife: as a beautiful, even supernatural creature beyond the bounds of humanity and thereby beyond the bounds of mortality. It reflected his inability to let her go using mythological connotation with a twist of logic. It was brilliant.

And to touch on the performance itself, there was not a single actor who I found lacking in skill or conviction. I continue to be impressed with both Leonardo DiCaprio and Emily Mortimer. I was also very impressed by Ben Kingsley and Mark Ruffalo. There was no lack of talent or fervor in the cast, and I commend them for making the most of that which they were given. It was only that which they were given that I had quips with.

So, in short, overall I was disappointed. I feel that this had potential to be much more than what it was, especially with the visual brilliance displayed throughout the film. But, I think now that I have detained you for long enough.