I give and give for you kids. While you’re off listening to your crazy rock and roll or whatever it is you do, I’m spending 3 1/2 hours with the Nature Theater of Oklahoma in the name of Art. That’s right: I’m hauling it down to some venue on Eastlake for On the Boards’ opening night of No Dice, in which performance artists create some kind of madcap spectacle out of transcribed phone conversations after making sandwiches for the audience. I’m not sure I want performance artists preparing me food; I’m too accustomed to seeing them roll around naked in it. That said, I left the last On the Boards marathon—Elevator Repair Service’s six-hour Gatz —knowing I’d seen one of the best productions of 2007. This game is all about chance, my friends.
M. Ward will be packing ‘em in at the Showbox on Friday. But I’ll probably be catching a one-man show in SPF:3 Apply Liberally, Theatre Off Jackson’s annual solo performance fest that kicked off on Monday and continues through March 21. I’m hopeful about James Judd’s 7 Sins solo because he has a background with the Groundlings in L.A.—the improv troupe that spawned almost every actor who picks up a paycheck for being funny—and because his press release promises his childhood reminiscence is 75 minutes and only wants to make you laugh. Why more people don’t think laughter is a high enough aim is beyond me.
Saturday at the Symphony I’ll watch Tasmin Little conduct both Vivaldi’s enduring The Four Seasons and tango king Astor Piazzolla’s Las Cuatro estaciones Porteñas (which references Vivaldi). She’s also performing Paul Patterson’s Polish folk music-inspired piece for solo violin, Lusławice Variations. I’ve never heard Seasons played live; I’m one of those bourgeois boobs who first heard Vivaldi when a few of his concertos—no, I won’t say concerti—were featured on the Kramer vs. Kramer soundtrack. (Whereas the rest of you, I’m sure, were fed classical music along with your mother’s milk.)
Call me selfish, but after the performance art, one-man show, and Polish folk music, I feel I’m allowed to buy a Cherry Coke and sink right into a big Hollywood bath like Watchmen. According to my fellow senior editor, Matthew Halverson, who’s good with the pop stuff (and sports), the movie should provide Kirkland native Jeffrey Dean Morgan with a breakout role. I just want comic book kung fu, explosions, and absolutely no demands on my frontal lobe.
Don’t let my weary flippancy fool you: I love Art—but we have an open relationship.