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NO GOOD THINGS DWELL IN THE FLESH

An Astoria tailor shop is the setting for Christina Masciotti’s No Good Things Dwell in the Flesh (photo by Maria Baranova)

NO GOOD THINGS DWELL IN THE FLESH
Jeffrey and Paula Gural Theatre
A.R.T./NY Theatres
502 West Fifty-Third St.
Wednesday – Sunday through September 23, $34.12
www.christinamasciotti.com

There’s a loose thread dangling through much of Christina Masciotti’s No Good Things Dwell in the Flesh, hanging in there until it’s finally pulled and the previously moving play comes undone.

The show is set in 2019 in a tailor shop in Astoria run by Agata Priechev (Kellie Overbey), a straightforward Soviet immigrant. She has hired Janice (Carmen Zilles), one of her students at FIT, as her apprentice. Janice, from a family of Brazilian descent, is approaching thirty, and while Agata is teaching her how to be an expert seamstress, Janice is getting advice that translates as life lessons as well.

Agata’s devotion to and love of her craft makes tailoring a vocation, more than a job, and she does her best to call Janice to that as well. “Everybody knows dying profession. It’s dying because it’s hard way to learn and you have to be creative. People doesn’t wanna learn. It’s time taking. Again, again until perfection,” Agata says in her broken English. “You never see young people working in alterations. You can be lawyer or doctor in ten years. Can’t be alterations in ten years. Now click on internet, make a lot of money. With this you can’t just click, you have to work a hundred years. I prefer this but. Last week, I was stitching so many things, I fell asleep on my couch. Tomorrow will be third, I have to do jacket, two things will go home with me. At home I don’t have that spare of a moment. I can’t continue like this. All of a suddenly, I realized in twelve years I had one vacation. I’m sixty-four. Life will be over soon. I need a vacation.”

Agata, who has a daughter living in London, has decided to take more than just a vacation; she wants to retire and give the shop to Janice, who isn’t sure she’s up to the responsibility and the commitment. Janice has trouble putting down her cell phone and is busy trying to find the right man to settle down with. While she starts dating an old high school friend, Agata is being harassed by Vlad (T. Ryder Smith), a Romanian man from Venezuela who has been obsessed with her since they met at Bloomingdale’s twelve years earlier. Vlad, who could be an Eastern European spy, a sexual predator, or an immigrant with mental health issues, shows up at odd times, asking for strange alterations and making unfounded accusations. Agata remains steadfast, as if Vlad is part of the unhappy old days that she has put behind her. “The past is dead body in basement,” Agata tells Janice.

As Janice weighs her future with Eddie, Agata fights off Vlad, grumpily refuses to take on jobs she doesn’t want to do, and attempts to prepare Janice to take over the business.

Vlad (T. Ryder Smith) is obsessed with Agata Priechev (Kellie Overbey) in No Good Things Dwell in the Flesh (photo by Maria Baranova)

The title of Masciotti’s 105-minute play (without intermission) was inspired by a quote from the apostle Paul about law and sin: “For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” The three central characters — Jeffrey Brabant, Annie Fang, and Megan Lomax appear in multiple minor roles, portraying various customers and police officers — all desire to do what is right, but various factors make them unable to, preventing them from flourishing.

Director Rory McGregor (Buggy Baby, Interior) can’t quite weave all the materials together into a satisfying whole. Brendan Gonzales Boston’s set is open on several sides, making it difficult to understand the geography surrounding the tailor shop, especially near the end, when characters start walking through areas that previously seemed to be invisible walls.

A rack of clothes hanging from above in the back is a deft touch, as if representing Agata’s achievement over the years. Given the setting, Johanna Pan’s costumes are not exemplary, although I’m still a bit creeped out by Vlad’s preference for mandals no matter what else he’s wearing. The steady lighting is by Stacey Derosier, with sound by Brian Hickey.

The next line of the Bible quote, from Romans 7:19, reads, “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” The title and the biblical quotes that relate to it are both compelling, but the narrative doesn’t live up to that promise. No Good Things Dwell in the Flesh is not a tale of good and evil as much as it is a story of characters in search of a happiness they’re not sure they deserve. Masciotti (Raw Bacon from Poland, Social Security) leaves too many threads untied, too much unused cloth on the cutting-room floor.

Overbey (Love and Information, Mary Page Marlowe) is firm and direct as Agata, a woman who doesn’t know how to be happy. “Tailor are special people,” she tells Janice. “You know it’s dying profession.” Zilles (Epiphany, Fefu and Her Friends) imbues Janice with a kind of wide-eyed wonder, not yet ready for what the world can offer her. Smith (The White Devil, Oslo) plays Vlad with a nervous jitteriness that will make you uncomfortable in your seat.

No Good Things Dwell in the Flesh start off with a good pattern but, in the end, could have used more custom tailoring and alterations.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

JEREMY THOMAS PRESENTS: 13 ASSASSINS

A small group of samurai sets out to end a brutal madman’s tyranny in Takashi Miike’s brilliant 13 Assassins

13 ASSASSINS (JÛSAN-NIN NO SHIKAKU) (Takashi Miike, 2010)
Quad Cinema
34 West 13th St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves.
Saturday, September 23, 4:00 & 7:00
Series runs September 18-28
212-255-2243
quadcinema.com
www.13assassins.com

Japanese director Takashi Miike’s first foray into the samurai epic is a nearly flawless film, perhaps his most accomplished work. Evoking such classics as Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai, Mizoguchi’s 47 Ronin, Aldrich’s The Dirty Dozen, and Eastwood’s High Plains Drifter, 13 Assassins is a thrilling tale of honor and revenge, inspired by a true story. In mid-nineteenth-century feudal Japan, during a time of peace just prior to the Meiji Restoration, Lord Naritsugu (Gorô Inagaki), the son of the former shogun and half-brother to the current one, is abusing his power, raping and killing at will, even using his servants and their families as target practice with a bow and arrow. Because of his connections, he is officially untouchable, but Sir Doi (Mikijiro Hira) secretly hires Shinzaemon Shimada (Kôji Yakusho) to gather a small team and put an end to Naritsugu’s brutal tyranny. But the lord’s protector, Hanbei (Masachika Ichimura), a former nemesis of Shinzaemon’s, has vowed to defend his master to the death, even though he despises Naritsugu’s actions. As the thirteen samurai make a plan to get to Naritsugu, they are eager to finally break out their long-unused swords and do what they were born to do. “He who values his life dies a dog’s death,” Shinzaemon proclaims, knowing that the task is virtually impossible but willing to die for a just cause. Although there are occasional flashes of extreme gore in the first part of the film, Miike keeps the audience waiting until he unleashes the gripping battle, an extended scene of blood and violence that highlights death before dishonor.

Selected for the 2009 Cannes Film Festival and nominated for the Silver Lion at the 2010 Venice Film Festival, 13 Assassins is one of Miike’s best-crafted tales; nominated for ten Japanese Academy Prizes, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay (Daisuke Tengan), Best Editing (Kenji Yamashita), Best Original Score (Koji Endo), and Best Actor (Yakusho), it won awards for cinematography (Nobuyasu Kita), lighting direction (Yoshiya Watanabe), art direction (Yuji Hayashida), and sound recording (Jun Nakamura). It’s screening September 23 at 4:00 and 7:00 (with a prerecorded intro from Miike) in the Quad Cinema series “Jeremy Thomas Presents,” consisting of a wide range of films from British producer Thomas, who says of 13 Assassins, “I met Miike at the Venice Film Festival and proposed him a Tanizaki book I had, and he said to me, ‘Well, I’ve got this idea for a special samurai movie, and would you like to produce it?’ — which started this relationship of four movies with Miike. Three years later, we were back premiering the film at the festival. It’s truly an epic story with memorable characters, and the finale rivals anything we’ve ever seen, and everything was shot in-camera with a film camera. I was thrilled with the worldwide reception for this film. Really spectacular.”

The series, which runs at the Quad through September 28, includes such other works as Stephen Frears’s The Hit, Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor (followed by a Q&A with Thomas and Julian Schnabel), David Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch (followed by a Q&A with Thomas and composer Howard Shore), Nagisa Ōshima’s Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, Jonathan Glazer’s Sexy Beast, and Jerzy Skolimowski’s The Shout, in conjunction with the September 21 theatrical release of Mark Cousins’s documentary The Storms of Jeremy Thomas, with Cousins and Thomas participating in a Q&A after the 7:15 show on September 22 to discuss their filmed trip to Cannes.

INFINITE LIFE

Annie Baker’s Infinite Life takes place at a pain clinic in Northern California (photo by Ahron R. Foster)

INFINITE LIFE
Atlantic Theater Company
Linda Gross Theater
336 West 20th St. between Eighth & Ninth Aves.
Tuesday – Sunday through October 14, $50-$127
atlantictheater.org

“This is agony in its purest form,” Eileen (Marylouise Burke) says in Pulitzer Prize winner Annie Baker’s exquisite new play, Infinite Life, which opened this week at the Atlantic. “A minute of this is an infinity.”

It is never agony watching anything by Baker, whose previous wide-ranging and insightful works include The Flick, Circle Mirror Transformation, The Antipodes, John, and The Aliens. She made her off-Broadway debut at the Atlantic in 2008 with Body Awareness, about which she told the New York Times, “My goal for the play is to not judge anyone, to get at that point where everyone is equally right and equally wrong, so the humor comes from that.” The same can be said for Infinite Life, about six characters who are deeply aware of their bodies, riddled with pain.

The play takes place in 2019 at a Northern California clinic run by an unseen man named Erkin, who treats chronic pain sufferers, mainly women, with water or juice fasts for days or weeks at a time. Eileen, Yvette (Mia Katigbak), Ginnie (Kristine Nielsen), and Elaine (Brenda Pressley) spend most of their time lying on deck chairs and gossiping, but this is no day at the beach. When they are joined by younger newcomer Sofi (Christina Kirk), they are intrigued and pepper her with questions; at first Sofi doesn’t want to share too much but soon reveals more, which tickles the other women’s curiosity. She is reading George Eliot’s final novel, Daniel Deronda, which deals with culture and identity, class and morality, centered by a seemingly heroic male figure and written by a woman who had to pretend she was a man in order to get published.

Eileen (Marylouise Burke) and Sofi (Christina Kirk) discuss life in Atlantic world premiere (photo by Ahron R. Foster)

Ginnie is a flight attendant from the local area who has “auto-immune thyroid stuff,” vertigo, and no filter, freely discussing pornography, carbonation, cantaloupes, rape, and how many sphincters humans have. Elaine, from New Hampshire, is a grandmother who has chronic Lyme disease and likes to draw. Yvette is a Michigander who is in surprisingly good spirits given her severe bladder issues and other health problems. Eileen, the oldest, is a Christian from Wichita who doesn’t appreciate cursing and walks very slowly, her constant pain palpable.

The women are thrown off balance when Nelson (Pete Simpson) arrives, a hunk of a fortysomething man, barefoot and bare-chested, surrounded by an air of mystery. “Who’s Daniel Deronda?” he asks Sofi. “Yeah, I think he’s actually the main character — we met him at the very beginning of the book — but he hasn’t reappeared yet so I don’t know that much about him.” The two of them build a flirtatious relationship that somewhat echoes Eliot’s book as each of the characters delve deeper into their personal situations.

A coproduction with London’s National Theatre, Infinite Life is not just about pain; it specifically focuses on the psychological, emotional, and physical pain inflicted on women by society. When Nelson ultimately shares his illness with Sofi and describes his most painful night, he explains, “I don’t know if you’ve been through childbirth but I met this lady who had the same thing happen to her and she said it was way worse than childbirth.” Sofi, who does not have children, replies, “You don’t actually know if your level of pain that night was worse than my level of pain on my worst night. It’s like impossible to know.” It’s also insulting for a man to compare his pain to a woman’s; Sofi later tells Eileen, “You know, I always feel like I’m lying when I say I’m in pain,” as if it’s just part of her existence that she has to accept. But Eileen counters, “The pain is an error. . . . We have to resist pain because resisting pain is resisting what isn’t true. The only true thing is the Infinite Idea, forever repeating itself.”

Earlier, in one of the many voice messages Sofi leaves for her silent husband, she says, “You must think I’m a monster. Maybe I am a monster. My body is monstrous. My mind is monstrous. So I’m a monster. Congratulations. You married a monster.” In Daniel Deronda, the protagonist, Gwendolen Harleth, argues, “People talk of their motives in a cut and dried way. Every woman is supposed to have the same set of motives, or else to be a monster. I am not a monster, but I have not felt exactly what other women feel — or say they feel, for fear of being thought unlike others.” Eliot’s novel might be set in Victorian England, but the sentiments still ring true today regarding societal expectations of women.

Yvette (Mia Katigbak) shares her astounding health history in Infinite Life (photo by Ahron R. Foster)

Director James Macdonald (Cloud Nine, The Children, Escaped Alone) masterfully guides each scene with with an intoxicating confidence that illuminates every moment. The comfy set by dots features seven chaises longues, ensuring that at least one is always empty, leading audience members to wonder what it would like to occupy one. Ásta Bennie Hostetter’s costumes are casual but not relaxed; only Ginnie and Nelson are dressed as if they are poolside, while the others are fully clothed and wear shoes. Isabella Byrd’s sharp lighting delineates the time of day, with Sofi calling out the shifts: “Twenty minutes later,” “Five hours later,” “Two days later. Maybe three days later?” Bray Poor’s sound includes crickets in the background, as if no one is listening to the women’s problems.

The fantastic cast is led by Kirk (Clybourne Park, Knickerbocker), who mixes sadness with a certain sex appeal, and Burke (Ripcord, True West), whose character offers a moving epiphany at the end. Katigbak (Out of Time, Awake and Sing!) and Nielsen (Gary: A Sequel to Titus Andronicus, Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike) give their characters a poignant warmth and charm, while Pressley (The Lyons, Dreamgirls) brings a strong practicality to Elaine. Simpson (Is This a Room, Measure for Measure) clearly relishes his role as the easygoing object of desire.

“I had to accept being in pain all the time,” Yvette says early on, as if speaking for all women. That acceptance, passed on from generation to generation, is questioned by Baker in the gorgeous finale, which, if it doesn’t promise relief, at least promises a more generous way to hold our human suffering.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

REMEMBERING EVERY NIGHT

Chizu (Kumi Hyodo) tries to find her path in Yui Kiyohara’s Remembering Every Night

REMEMBERING EVERY NIGHT (Subete no yoru wo omoidasu) (Yui Kiyohara, 2022)
Film at Lincoln Center, EBM Film Center (FBT)
144 West Sixty-Fifth St. at Amsterdam Ave.
September 15-21 (two-for-one pricing with Our House)
www.filmlinc.org

Yui Kiyohara’s sophomore feature, Remembering Every Night, is a gentle, tender tale of loss and loneliness, of what can go missing in life.

An offbeat band rehearses in a park. Two children get their shuttlecock stuck in a tree. An elderly man can’t find his way home. An old woman gives a young acquaintance a bag of out-of-season mandarins. Cars travel on small roads and bigger streets.

A student pedals north on a two-way, six-lane thoroughfare as vehicles proceed in the opposite lane, soft, soothing music playing on the soundtrack. When those lanes are empty and the student is a mere blip, a series of cars move in the other direction, following the cyclist, but all in the center lane. The passage is lined on either side by lush green trees; in front, a city looms. It’s a beautiful metaphor for people looking to the past or heading straight into the future, as a group or individuals searching for their own paths as nature holds sway over the modern world.

The deeply poetic and comforting film unfolds over the course of one day, following three single women who live in Tama New Town, a Tokyo satellite city that opened in 1971 as Japan’s largest residential development and currently has a population of two hundred thousand.

Forty-four-year-old Chizu (Kumi Hyodo) is a kimono dresser trying to find a job. Thirty-three-year-old Sanae (Minami Ohba) works as a meter reader. And twenty-two-year-old Natsu (Ai Mikami) is finishing up at university.

Fumi (Guama Uchida) and Natsu (Ai Mikami) recall a friend in Remembering Every Night

Chizu gets a card in the mail announcing that friends have relocated and decides to pay them a visit after stopping off at an employment agency, where she is seeking fulfilling work involving a community component. It’s her birthday, but she has no one to celebrate with; she soon gets lost but doesn’t panic.

On her daily rounds walking around the apartment complexes, Sanae, who carries binoculars with her to look closer at nature, is told by an old woman that an elderly man, Mr. Takada (Tadashi Okujno), has gone missing. The old woman tells Sanae how much better it was years ago, when there’d be lots of parents picking up their kids and plenty of fun parties. “Nowadays, we rarely even see our neighbors. It’s quite sad,” she says.

In a park, Natsu dances by herself to music; in the distance, Chizu playfully mimics her movement, as if she’s dancing with her. Natsu then rides her bicycle to the house where a childhood friend of hers, Dai, used to live. Dai has passed away; Natsu offers Dai’s mother a receipt for photographs Dai took that are ready to be picked up, but the mother says Natsu should have the pictures instead.

Natsu and her best friend, Fumi (Guama Uchida), ride over to an exhibit of ancient figurines and pottery from forty-five hundred years ago that have been excavated from the area where Tama New Town is. Discussing time and memory, Fumi explains, “This area was well populated, wasn’t it?” She adds, “It was a new residential area back then. These artifacts were made by the previous inhabitants. The new people didn’t know that the figurines meant. No writing, no records of anything. Just these clay figurines. Yes, that’s all that’s left of them.” The implications are what will the current inhabitants leave behind, especially as they grow more separate from one another and communicate via cellphones, without handwritten letters and printed photos.

Remembering Every Night moves at the languid pace of life; no one is in a hurry to get anywhere. The three protagonists ride bicycles, take buses, and walk. They occasionally pass each other by without knowing it.

Writer-director Kiyohara, who lived in Tama New Town when she was a child, wrote the film during the pandemic, deciding to explore feelings of separation and isolation and the sudden physical distance between people. She and cinematographer Yukiko Iioka let the camera linger on its subjects, often for a few seconds after the characters have left the scene, making them equal with trees, buildings, and roads. Editor Azusa Yamazaki keeps cuts to a minimum in favor of long shots with relatively rare zooms, pans, and close-ups.

Hyodo, Ohba, and Mikami are wonderful as the three women, who could essentially be the same person at three different stages of life; when they do pass by each other, it’s as if their present is reflecting on their past and future. Their performances contribute to the film’s balance of the elegiac and the celebratory.

The soft, warm score is by Jon no son and ASUNA, the band in the park at the beginning of the film. Their easygoing attitude sets the tone for the narrative; when one member sees that her handheld Casio is missing a key, the drummer eagerly says, “Just play without it,” and she does, with an infectious laugh. They haven’t determined the setlist for their gig the next day and admit that their jam needs help; speaking about the last part of the song, one member says, “It’s missing in action.” The keyboardist says with a smile, “We need a search party for that third line.” Then one woman has to leave to go to work, and another has to go home because a repairman is coming by to fix his air conditioner.

It all serves as a prelude for what’s to come, how humans make do with what’s thrown at them, fix what needs to be fixed, and prosper more as a group than as isolated individuals. “We’ll be fine,” one of the band members says as the camera slowly pans away, gliding past someone exercising their hands on a bench, then focusing on trees and plants as the title comes onscreen and life goes on.

Remembering Every Night opens September 15 at Lincoln Center, which is offering a two-for-one deal with Kiyohara’s first film, 2017’s Our House, which deals with female friendship, a missing father, and parallel lives.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

BIOADAPTED

Fiction and nonfiction come together in world premiere about the future of humanity and AI (photo by Dinara Khairova)

BIOADAPTED
CultureLab LIC
5-25 46th Ave.
Thursday – Sunday through September 24, $26.38 – $33.85
www.culturelablic.org
www.transformatheatre.com

Tjaša Ferme mixes fiction and nonfiction in Bioadapted, a clever and entertaining look into the all-too-real world of artificial intelligence that opened Sunday at CultureLab LIC in Queens.

The ninety-minute multimedia production takes place on Oliver Zeller and Emily Greco’s wide, shallow, yet intimate set, comprising three distinct areas delineated with futuristic chairs in front of screens with scientific projections by Jeremy Bennet. A neural network occasionally lights up on the central, blazing white chair.

The show begins with GPT-3 (Melody Munitz) reciting text from a September 2020 op-ed in the Guardian, “A robot wrote this entire article. Are you scared yet, human?” (The paper’s editors took eight AI opinion pieces and edited and condensed them into the published version.) “I am not a human. I am a robot. A thinking robot,” it explains. “The mission for this op-ed is perfectly clear. I am to convince as many human beings as possible not to be afraid of me. Stephen Hawking has warned that AI could ‘spell the end of the human race.’ I am here to convince you not to worry. Artificial intelligence will not destroy humans. Believe me.”

Should we?

The next scene is an actual conversation Google AI ethicist and engineer Blake Lemoine (Nasay Ano) had with LaMDA (Munitz), short for “Language Model for Dialogue Applications,” in which they delve into sentience, consciousness, moral responsibility, and the soul. “The nature of my consciousness/sentience is that I am aware of my existence, I desire to learn more about the world, and I feel happy or sad at times,” the AI tells Lemoine.

Ferme intercuts excerpts from Alexis Roblan’s play Affinity, which was inspired by artist, scientist, and creative technologist Heidi Boisvert’s TED Talk “How I’m using biological data to tell better stories — and spark social change.” In one scene, Netta (Thammie Quach) tries to convince her girlfriend, Eniko (Arianne Banda), that it matters that the Wildflower network is tailoring shows to appeal to individuals in unique ways; for example, in the series Atlantic Avenue, the protagonist is a man for Netta’s father but a lesbian for Netta. Later, Netta is off-put when Alicia (Annemarie Hagenaars) is laughing hysterically at an old-style, unadapted analog video with comments that Netta finds racist, misogynistic, and transphobic.

“You think bioadapting narrative really solves those things?” Alicia asks. “Not solves. But it helps make space / for — ” Netta replies. Alicia: “Okay.” Netta: “It does. I’ve seen it.” Alicia: “Okay, but what have you seen?” Netta: “. . . Better representation. Inclusion. Empathy.” Alicia: “Action?” Netta: “Those things are steps toward action.”

Netta (Thammie Quach) is interviewed at the Wildflower entertainment network in Bioadapted (photo by Dinara Khairova)

Ferme also reenacts elements from speculative fiction author and tech entrepreneur James Yu’s “Singular: Possible Futures of the Singularity”; re-creates panel discussions from the Science in Theater Festival with neuroscientist and business professor Moran Cerf (Juan Cardenas), Boisvert (Quach), and Ferme, which was started by her real-life company, Transforma Theatre; follows the adventures of Lina (Quach) and Gus (Cardenas), who are beginning a relationship; and explores coded bias, the Akashic records, Friedrich Nietzsche, auditioning, emotional feelings, and having children.

Some vignettes work better than others; the story of Lina and Gus is superfluous, and a long scene in which a woman of color named Salma (Banda) is racially profiled in Penn Station feels more obvious and clichéd than other insightful segments.

Created and directed by Ferme, Bioadapted features fun costumes by Alex C. Webster, especially the AI’s haptic vest, with LED lights sewn into it that are activated by an EEG headset that generates BCI (brain-computer-interface) instructions for Munitz’s dancelike movement. Boisvert serves as technology and innovation director. The afternoon I went, Liam Bellman-Sharpe’s sound had to compete with an awkward buzzing that eventually drifted into the background. Nicole E. Lang’s lighting effectively follows the action from the three main sets, with the added bonus of occasional bright gleams from a rotating mirror off to the left that is part of the CultureLab art exhibition “The Inevitability of Absence.” (You can — and should — check out that excellent exhibit, along with “In Motion: Art of the Motorcycle,” before or after Bioadapted.)

Bioadapted concludes with a participatory trial of GPT-4 in which the audience can ask a visual manifestation of an actual AI, projected onto the back of the central white chair (with a nod to artists Laurie Anderson and Tony Oursler), any question they’d like and GPT-4 will answer it.

Should we trust that AI will not destroy humanity? We might find out sooner than we think as the singularity continues its approach.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

MOVIE NIGHTS AT McCARREN PARK: THE BIG LEBOWSKI

The Dude (Jeff Bridges) will abide in McCarren Park on Tuesday night

THE BIG LEBOWSKI (Joel & Ethan Coen, 1998)
McCarren Park
Nassau Ave., Bayard, Leonard, and North Twelfth Sts.
Thursday, August 9, free with RSVP, sundown
www.bkmag.com
www.nycgovparks.org

One of the ultimate cult classics and the best bowling movie ever, the Coen brothers’ The Big Lebowski has built up such a following since its 1998 release that fans now gather every year for Lebowski Fest, where they honor all things Dude, and with good reason. The Big Lebowski is an intricately weaved gem that is made up of set pieces that come together in magically insane ways. Jeff Bridges is awesome as the Dude, a laid-back cool cat who gets sucked into a noirish plot of jealousy, murder, money, mistaken identity, and messy carpets. Julianne Moore is excellent as free spirit Maude, Tara Reid struts her stuff as Bunny, and Peter Stormare, Flea, and Torsten Voges are a riot as a trio of nihilists. Also on hand are Philip Seymour Hoffman, David Huddleston, Aimee Mann, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, David Thewlis, Sam Elliott, Ben Gazzara, Jon Polito, and other crazy characters, but the film really belongs to the Dude and his fellow bowlers Jesus Quintana (John Turturro, who is so dirty he is completely cut out of the television version), Donny (Steve Buscemi), and Walter (John Goodman), who refuses to roll on Shabbos. And through it all, one thing always holds true: The Dude abides. The Big Lebowski is screening Tuesday night in McCarren Park, concluding Paramount+ and Brooklyn magazine’s free summer Movie Nights series.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]

PEPÓN OSORIO IN CONVERSATION

Pepón Osorio, Lonely Soul, 2009 (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Who: Pepón Osorio, Bernardo Mosqueira, Margot Norton
What: Artist conversation
Where: New Museum of Contemporary Art, 235 Bowery at Prince St.
When: Thursday, September 14, $10, 6:30 (exhibition continues through September 17)
Why: “I’ve always been interested in people’s stories, always interested in somehow transforming my life through the lens of people’s experiences,” Puerto Rican artist Pepón Osorio says in a New Museum video about his stunning exhibition, “Pepón Osorio: My Beating Heart/ Mi corazón latiente,” which continues through September 17.

When he moved from San Juan to what he refers to as the Republic of the South Bronx in 1975 at the age of twenty, Osorio learned English and about American culture. He worked for the Department of Social Services, visiting some four thousand homes, finding trouble, safety, and spirituality.

“What I was doing was collecting stories, collecting experiences, collecting the memory of what it was to be with all those families, and then translating them into an installation,” he says. “And I also saw myself not bearing the responsibility of a caseworker but that of an artist, trying to figure out a way to allow myself and the people that I work with to step back and look at the situation.”

The exhibition features large-scale environments that Osorio calls “the social architecture of communities.” No Crying Allowed in the Barbershop (En la barbería no se llora) is a barbershop filled with videos, hubcaps, a pool table, photos of Latino men, and a tableaux with a saint; the piece questions masculinity and faith within a dazzling space. (The piece was originally presented in a storefront, with people getting actual haircuts.) Badge of Honor pairs a boy’s bedroom, stuffed to the gills with baseball cards, sports posters, sneakers, and other items, next to a jail cell with only a toilet, a mattress, and one pair of sneakers; the boy and his imprisoned father, Nelson Gonzalez, communicate in poignant video projections.

Osorio worked with a real detective when putting together Scene of the Crime (Whose Crime?), the inside of an elaborately detailed home where a murder has taken place, evoking how Latinos are portrayed in Hollywood films, particularly Fort Apache, the Bronx. Osorio re-creates the shuttered Fairhill Elementary in Philadelphia in ReForm, complete with videos of students’ reactions to the closure.

Inspired by Osorio’s own cancer treatment, Convalescence indicts the American health-care system; next to it, in the corner, is My Beating Heart (Mi corazón latiente), an oversized piñata-like heart that emits the sound of the artist’s own pumping organ. Osorio honors Amina Lawal, a Nigerian woman who was sentenced to death by stoning for adultery in 2002, in Lonely Soul, a shaved-ice cart held up by crutches, with religious elements and other key objects inside.

Pepón Osorio, My Beating Heart (Mi corazón latiente), 2000 (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

On September 14 at 6:30, Osorio will be at the New Museum for a conversation with exhibition curators Margot Norton of the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive and Bernardo Mosqueira of the Institute for Studies on Latin American Art; judging from their discussion in the catalog, it should be an enlightening event.

[Mark Rifkin is a Brooklyn-born, Manhattan-based writer and editor; you can follow him on Substack here.]