twi-ny recommended events

HONK NYC! FESTIVAL

THE 2014 HONK NYC! FESTIVAL
Multiple locations
October 13-18, free – $12
www.honknyc.com

We hate honking. No, we don’t just hate it, we loathe it, watching idiot drivers pounding away on their horns in the midst of heavy traffic that won’t be going anywhere for a while. But we love the HONK NYC! Festival, six days of global brass and street bands playing in Manhattan and Brooklyn, indoors and outdoors. The Eighth Annual Convergence of Brass & Percussion Ensemble Musicians from the U.S. and Europe begins on October 13 at 5:30 pm with the Hungry March Band having a blast for free in One Penn Plaza; on Tuesday, Radio Kaizman will do the same, followed by the Chaotic Noise Marching Corps on Wednesday. Also on Wednesday, the Frank London Klezmer Brass All-Stars, PitchBlak Brass Band, Raya Brass Band, Les Muses Tanguent, and Pakava It’ will be at Littlefield ($10-$12, 8:00) for the festival’s opening night dance party. On Thursday, WFMU’s Monty Hall in Jersey City will host Radio Kaizman, Chaotic Noise, Environmental Encroachment, Pakava It’, and Himalayas featuring Kenny Wollesen in an evening of music, activism, and spectacle ($10, 8:00). The Friday-night gala brings together Spanglish Fly, the Hungry March Band, the Underground Horns, Batala NYC, Chaotic Noise, Kenny Wollesen’s Wollesonic Lab’s Sonic Massage, and Radio Kaizman at the Gowanus Ballroom ($10-$15, 9:00), combining with Gowanus Open Studios with art installations as well. On Saturday, the East Village Cavalcade of Pomp takes over Tompkins Square Park with the Human Jukebox Brass Band, Chaotic Noise, Les Muses Tanguent, Environmental Encroachment, and Pakava It’ (free, 3:00), followed by Les Muses Tanguent at Barbes (free, 8:00) and the grand finale, “A Brasstastic Blowout!,” at a secret location Saturday night at 9:00, with many of the aforementioned groups as well as the Lucky Chops Brass Band and Bombrasstico. The organizers are currently just short of their Kickstarter goal, so check out the above video and help out with a few bucks if you can.

PULP FICTION FILM FEAST

Nitehawk Cinema’s Film Feast screenings of PULP FICTION will offer tasty delights for movie gourmands

Nitehawk Cinema’s Film Feast screenings of PULP FICTION will offer tasty delights for movie gourmands hungry for some serious shit

PULP FICTION (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)
Nitehawk Cinema
136 Metropolitan Ave. between Berry St. & Wythe Ave.
Tuesday, October 14, and Wednesday, October 15, $75, 7:20
718-384-3980
www.nitehawkcinema.com

Dinner and a movie — two things that go together like, well, Abbott and Costello, Batman and Robin, yin and yang, Bogie and Bacall, politics and corruption, football and head injuries. However, among the films that might not especially elicit thoughts of a fancy meal is Quentin Tarantino’s Oscar-nominated 1994 masterpiece, Pulp Fiction, a violent bloodbath that involves brains being blasted all over the inside of a car, a Mexican stand-off in a huge coffee shop, blasphemy, and serious discussions about foot massages and the Big Mac. (“Hamburgers: the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast,” Jules points out.) On October 14 & 15, Nitehawk Cinema will be hosting its latest Film Feast, two evenings of Pulp Fiction screenings paired with a gourmet meal with dishes that evoke scenes from the all-star flick, which features John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Amanda Plummer, Ving Rhames, Eric Stoltz, Rosanna Arquette, Christopher Walken, and Bruce Willis, mostly as you have never seen them before. The twentieth-anniversary screenings will begin with the “One Minute They’re Having a Denver Omelette,” consisting of pancetta, peppadew peppers, Cabot clothbound cheddar, chives, and toasted sourdough, paired with a Honey Bunny cocktail (juniper-and-hop-infused Absolut, pear and thyme honey syrup, fresh lemon, and Prosecco). Next up is “This Is a Tasty Burger!,” with grilled pineapple, jack cheese, chipotle aioli, and shoestring fries, accompanied by a Tasty Beverage (Absolut Citron and homespun cherry limeade), followed by “Jack Rabbit Slims” (coke-and-vanilla-marinated skirt steak and a Fox Force Five Herb salad) with a $5 Shake (whiskey-barrel-aged Absolut and dark chocolate milkshake). The food and drink keep coming with “Papa Tomato, Mama Tomato, Baby Tomato” (beefsteak tomato, goat cheese, sundried tomato stuffing, and green tomato catchup) and a Comfortable Silence, and then dessert: “Toaster Pastry” (cinnamon-and-sugar-dusted puff pastry and maple royale icing), Potbelly Punch (fresh SoCal fruit punch with Absolut Mandarin), “This Some Serious Gourmet Shit” (coffee panna cotta and white chocolate foam), and Some Serious Gourmet Shit (bacon-infused Absolut, house-made maple Irish Cream, and espresso). Fortunately, the chefs have skipped other obvious choices. “Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’d never know ’cause I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfucker,” Jules says. “Pigs sleep and root in shit. That’s a filthy animal. I ain’t eatin’ nothing that ain’t got sense enough to disregard its own feces.” Vincent replies, “How about a dog? Dog eats its own feces,” to which Jules responds, “I don’t eat dog either.” Don’t be scared off by talk like that or if the website says both nights are already sold out; we have it on good authority that more spaces will open up on Monday. Bon appetit!

JEFF KOONS: A RETROSPECTIVE

Jeff Koons, “Moon (Light Pink),” mirror-polished stainless steel with transparent color coating, 1995-2000, and “Play-Doh,” polychromed aluminum, 1994-2014 (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Jeff Koons, “Moon (Light Pink),” mirror-polished stainless steel with transparent color coating, 1995-2000, and “Play-Doh,” polychromed aluminum, 1994-2014 (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Whitney Museum of American Art
945 Madison Ave. at 75th St.
Through Sunday, October 19, $16-$20 (pay-what-you-wish Fridays, 6:00 – 9:00)
212-570-3600
www.whitney.org

Perhaps no other living contemporary artist elicits such a vast range of emotions and responses at the mere mention of his name than Jeff Koons. For three dozen years, Koons has been giving the people what they want while confounding and angering his many, many critics. “From the beginning, Jeff Koons provoked superlatives. Mere adjectives seemed insufficient to describe the jolt of his art — and soon him,” curator Scott Rothkopf writes in his essay “No Limits” in the catalog for the museumwide exhibition “Jeff Koons: A Retrospective,” which runs through October 19 at the Whitney. “As far as art and artists are concerned, shock, fame, expense, controversy, subversiveness, and ambition are certainly not accepted unanimously as virtues. Finally, it must be said that not one of these claims . . . could be verified as true.” From a purely aesthetic point of view, Koons’s vast oeuvre, primarily works in series that often involve the readymade, is colorful and engaging, inviting and personable, even as it induces even the least jaded individual to wonder, “But is it art?” Accepting it as art without question, I found myself, as I walked through the retrospective, transported back to my childhood, happily besieged by recollections popping into my head that I hadn’t thought about for years. “Unlike many artists, for whom a conventional American hometown was a place to escape, Koons continues to draw on his boyhood home of York, Pennsylvania, as a primary source of inspiration,” writes Jeffrey Deitch in his catalog essay, “York to New York,” adding, “The city has remained central to his life as an artist, and he returns there almost every weekend. Koons retains an extraordinary ability to access his early childhood memories and build on them in creating his art. He can recall childhood visions and the emotions that accompanied them as if they are happening in the present. He claims even to remember being in his crib. Koons is able to experience these images not just as fleeting memories but as deep aesthetic structures that can be channeled into artistic form.”

Jeff Koons’s Hoover installations are part of “The New” series from the 1980s (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Jeff Koons’s Hoover installations are part of “The New” series from the 1980s (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

For me, winding my way through the nearly 150 paintings, sculptures, and installations was an immensely pleasurable journey into my own past. Koons’s vacuum-cleaner pieces, such as “New Hoover Convertibles Green, Blue, New Hoover Convertibles Green, Blue Doubledecker,” from his 1980s series “The New,” had me back in the den, trying to hear my favorite Saturday-morning cartoons as my mother vacuumed the house, while the lithograph-on-cotton billboard “New Rooomy Toyota Family Camry” reminded me of when my father came home with a new Dodge Charger. Koons’s “One Ball,” “Two Ball,” “Three Ball” works featuring basketballs suspended in water tanks, from the “Equilibrium” series, reminded me of when we realized that my father had put up our backyard basketball hoop too high, at more than ten feet. The “Luxury and Degradation” series of oils consists of reproductions of booze ads, along with a stainless-steel ice bucket and “Travel Bar,” that sent me back to memories of my friends and I raiding my parents’ liquor cabinet when they were away. Polychromed wood and porcelain figures from the “Banality” series — Koons’s series titles are another important part of his own self-evaluation, intentions, and art-historical references — had me thinking of the tchotchkes my mother collected and displayed in the living room. And “Made in Heaven,” comprising revealing paintings and sculptures of Koons having sex with Hungarian-born Italian porn star and politician Illona Staller — shortly thereafter they were married, had a son, and then divorced — sent me back to the day I found my father’s hidden stash of Playboy magazines and Swedish blue movies.

Jeff Koons’s “Banality” series offers different views of domesticity and life as kitsch (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Jeff Koons’s “Banality” series offers different views of domesticity and life as kitsch (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Of course, Koons’s recurring use of animals and toys, including stainless-steel balloon dogs, a bronze Hulk, an inflatable bunny, a granite gorilla and Popeye, an oil painting of a slice of birthday cake, and an adorable (if crucifixion-like) polyethylene cat on a clothesline, evoke more universal childhood memories. In addition, many of his works involve mirrors and mirror-polished stainless steel, from the enormous balloon dogs to crystal-glass depictions of the heads of a giraffe, a kangaroo, a walrus, and other animals, as well as the lovely “Hanging Heart (Violet/Gold)”; children and adults flock to see their reflections in these pieces and take pictures of themselves in them, as if they are part of the exhibition, at least for a moment, creating new (digital) memories. However, despite their seemingly overt simplicity, much of Koons’s output took years to fabricate, as new machination procedures had to be developed in order for them to come into existence. Wall text highlights fascinating details about Koons’s construction techniques, adding a level of depth to works that are often ridiculed as simplistic and, well, banal. The centerpiece of the show, and perhaps the single piece that is most representative of Koons’s mind-set, is “Play-Doh” (1994-2014), a large-scale polychromed-aluminum rendition of multiple blobs of different-colored Play-Doh reaching ten feet high and nine feet wide. “‘Play-Doh’ is a deceptively simple sculpture,” Rothkopf explains on the audio guide. “I say ‘deceptive’ because it’s one of the most technically challenging objects in the entire exhibition and one that Koons has been working on for twenty years and completed, in fact, just in June. The idea for this work originally came about out of a mound of Play-Doh that his son, Ludwig, made. Koons talks about his interest in this object being the freedom that the child had to express himself.” That essentially sums up where Koons is coming from, a place inside himself, and each of us, that we all can relate to, the freedom that childhood offers. Eventually, we grow up and move on to other things, saying goodbye to childhood, which is a shame, as this retrospective — which in its own way is helping us all say farewell to Marcel Breuer’s familiar building (the Koons show is the last in the Upper East Side space, as the Whitney moves next year to a new home in the Meatpacking District, designed by Renzo Piano) — is a love letter to the glories of being a kid and retaining at least some of that innocence. The Whitney will celebrate the end of the exhibit and the closing of the building with a marathon viewing for the final weekend, remaining open from 11:00 am on Saturday, October 18, through 11:00 pm on Sunday, October 19. Koons will be at the museum on Saturday night at 9:00 to sign copies of the exhibition catalog, while Rothkopf will participate in a Q&A Saturday at midnight.

YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU

(photo by Joan Marcus)

Daily life at the Sycamore house is always an adventure, filled with madness and mayhem (photo by Joan Marcus)

Longacre Theatre
220 West 48th St. between Broadway & Eighth Ave.
Tuesday – Sunday (and some Mondays) through January 4, $37 – $152
www.youcanttakeitwithyoubroadway.com

Earlier this year, Lincoln Center presented the world premiere of Act One, James Lapine’s engaging Broadway adaptation of Moss Hart’s 1959 memoir detailing his beginnings in theater, focusing on his first collaboration with writer-director George S. Kaufman. One of the many fruits of that partnership is now back on the Great White Way, a rousing revival of the Pulitzer Prize-winning You Can’t Take It with You. Set in Depression-era New York City, the three-act madcap farce follows the trials and tribulations of the eccentric Sycamore family, led by patriarch and grandfather Martin Vanderhof (James Earl Jones), who has enjoyed the simple pleasures of life ever since he suddenly walked out on his job more than three decades earlier and now lives contentedly, refusing to pay income tax and raising snakes. His daughter, Penny Sycamore (Kristine Nielsen), a quirky, perpetually pleasant would-be playwright and painter, is married to Paul Sycamore (Mark Linn-Baker), a goofy, unemployed tinkerer who spends most of his time in the basement inventing different kinds of fireworks with the oddball Mr. DePinna (Patrick Kerr) and playing with his Erector set. Penny and Paul’s younger daughter, Essie Carmichael (Annaleigh Ashford), is a wannabe dancer in endless motion, pirouetting her way through the day in tutus and making candies that her amateur printer husband, Ed Carmichael (Will Brill), goes out and sells when he’s not playing Beethoven on the xylophone for her to dance to. Essie’s ballet teacher, Boris Kolenkhov (Reg Rogers), is a blustery Russian émigré obsessed with Stalin and the revolution. Despite having little money — the Sycamores regularly eat corn flakes for dinner — the family has a well-treated maid, Rheba (Crystal Dickinson), who really runs things around the house; Rheba is dating Donald (Marc Damon Johnson), who hangs around doing odd jobs. Finally, there’s older daughter Alice Sycamore (Rose Byrne), a prim and proper young lady who is desperate to have a normal life despite her crazy, mixed-up family. (Think Marilyn in The Munsters, for example.) Alice is in love with Tony Kirby (Fran Kranz), her very wealthy boss at the Wall Street firm started by his mogul father (Byron Jennings), who raises extremely expensive orchids in his spare time. When the two families are brought together to celebrate Alice and Tony’s engagement, mayhem erupts, jeopardizing the lovebirds’ future.

Things dont go quite as planned when the Kirbys and the Sycamores get together (photo by Joan Marcus)

Things don’t go quite as planned when the Kirbys and the Sycamores get together (photo by Joan Marcus)

You Can’t Take It with You, which was first produced on Broadway in 1936 and turned into an Oscar-winning film in 1938 by Frank Capra (with Jean Arthur, Lionel Barrymore, James Stewart, Eddie Anderson, Ann Miller, and others), is a lovable romp about 1930s New York City, a fun and fanciful riff on the very serious growing gap between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have-nots. David Rockwell’s living-room set is breathtaking, every nook and cranny occupied by paintings, photographs, masks, sculptures, trinkets, tchotchkes, toys, and other, often loony, paraphernalia. Director Scott Ellis (The Mystery of Edwin Drood, Harvey) keeps it all moving at a wickedly funny pace, a nonstop barrage of wacky high jinks, rapid-fire non sequiturs and double entendres, and over-the-top physical comedy, while never letting the audience forget that these are very hard times indeed for families such as the Sycamores, who live in the shadow of such tycoons as Mr. Kirby and his stuffy, genteel wife (Johanna Day.) The cast is superb, led by the humble Jones (who actually makes mention of the “dark side,” eliciting titters from Star Wars fans in the audience), the always welcome Nielsen (Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, The Killer), the ever-dapper and pristine Jennings (Ten Chimneys, Arcadia), and theater doyenne Elizabeth Ashley as the hash-slinging Grand Duchess Olga Katrina. Some of the physical comedy does grow stale, particularly Brill’s (Tribes, Not Fade Away) twisting mannerisms, Ashford’s (Kinky Boots, Masters of Sex) never-ending spins and twirls, and an unnecessary appearance by Julie Halston (The Tribute Artist) as a drunk actress, but those excesses can be forgiven amid all the boisterous merriment to be had in a play that combines an obviously old-fashioned sensibility with some social, political, and economic observations that are still relevant today, more than seventy-five years after its debut.

THE POETRY OF BASKETBALL WITH WALT “CLYDE” FRAZIER

Walt Frazier will discuss poetry and hoops in City Lore fundraiser

Walt Frazier will discuss poetry and hoops in City Lore fundraiser

City Lore Gallery
56 East First St. between First & Second Aves.
Thursday, October 16, $40, 7:00
212-529-1955
www.citylore.org

“I began announcing nine years after I ended my playing career, and I had to catch up with some new terminology,” New York Knicks basketball legend Walt “Clyde” Frazier wrote in the afterword to the 2010 edition of his 1974 book, Rockin’ Steady: A Guide to Basketball & Cool. “‘Dishing’ was passing off. So in time I would add ‘swishing.’ ‘Dishing and swishing’ became one of my trademark calls. Then came ‘wheeling and dealing,’ and ‘believing and achieving.’ The blackboard was now generally called ‘the glass,’ and so when there was an exceptional rebound pulled down, it was ‘splendor on the glass.’” The Hall of Famer, who practiced saying such words as ubiquitous, tenacious, and mesmerizing in the mirror after seeing them used in articles on arts and entertainment, will be at City Lore on October 16 for the special program “The Poetry of Basketball,” a fundraiser for the organization whose mission is to “document, present, and advocate for New York City’s grassroots cultures to ensure their living legacy in stories and histories, places and traditions.” The Atlanta-born Frazier, one of the all-time-stylish New Yorkers and captain of the Knicks’ 1970 and 1973 championship teams, also uses such phrases as “hustling and bustling,” “bounding and astounding,” “posting and toasting,” “shaking and baking,” and “hacking and whacking,” is as cool and smooth away from the arena as he is in it, and opinionated as well, so get ready for plenty of “moving and grooving,” “stopping and popping,” “dancing and prancing,” and maybe even some “draining and paining.”

HALLOWEEN IN NYC: A NITE TO DISMEMBER 2014

MIDNITE SCREENINGS / ONE NITE ONLY
Nitehawk Cinema
136 Metropolitan Ave. between Berry St. & Wythe Ave.
Friday, October 31, $50, 12 midnight
718-384-3980
www.nitehawkcinema.com

Last year Williamsburg’s Nitehawk Cinema celebrated Halloween with the inaugural Nite to Dismember, an all-night horror-movie marathon that included An American Werewolf in London, Burn Witch Burn, Fright Night, The Burning, and Dawn of the Dead. For the second annual event, which begins at midnight on Halloween, Nitehawk will be honoring the sequel with an all-night marathon of horror sequels. The frightful fun begins with a 35mm screening of Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead II, which is really more of a parody remake, followed by digital projections of James Whale’s The Bride of Frankenstein, Steve Miner’s Friday the 13th: Part 2, Terence Fisher’s Dracula: Prince of Darkness (with Christopher Lee and dubbed Scream Queen Barbara Shelley), and Dan O’Bannon’s The Return of the Living Dead, with the Pathmark man himself, James (Poltergeist) Karen. In addition, there will be horror shorts, trivia, giveaways, and a costume contest, all hosted by Fangoria’s Sam Zimerman and Nitehawk’s Kris King, eighteen and over only, please. This is likely to sell out well in advance, so don’t wait to get tickets for this sequel-filled sequel. (Keep on watching twi-ny as we highlight other crazy, weird, funny, scary, bizarre, wacky, eclectic, and downright stupid things to do for Halloween this year.)

THIS IS OUR YOUTH

(photo by Brigitte Lacombe)

Dennis (Kieran Culkin) and Warren (Michael Cera) have some fast thinking to do in THIS IS OUR YOUTH (photo by Brigitte Lacombe)

Cort Theatre
138 West 48th St. between Sixth & Seventh Aves.
Thursday – Tuesday through January 4, $35 – $135
www.thisisouryouthbroadway.com
www.shubert.nyc/theatres/cort

After seeing the Broadway debut of Kenneth Lonergan’s 1996 black comedy, This Is Our Youth, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, thankful that this was not my youth — although it could have been, since I’m the same age as two of the three characters and grew up in New York as well at the exact same time. It’s a lot funnier watching the antics onstage than having actually lived that life. It’s March 1982, and nineteen-year-old Warren Straub (Michael Cera) has arrived at the Upper West Side pad of his friend and drug dealer, twenty-one-year-old Dennis Ziegler (Kieran Culkin), with a suitcase stuffed with valuable collectible toys and records and fifteen grand in cash he stole from his abusive father. Dennis and Warren have an intense love-hate relationship, as the supposedly cool and calm dealer constantly insults his always nervous, twitchy buddy, who appears to suffer from ADHD and often thrusts his hands into his pockets to keep them from doing something strange as he tramps around the stage. “What kind of life do you lead?” Dennis says early on. “You live with your father — a psycho. . . . Nobody can stand to have you around because you’re such an annoying loudmouthed little creep, and now you’re like some kind of fugitive from justice? What is gonna happen to you, man?” Warren, who has a unique philosophical view of the world, replies, “What’s gonna happen to anybody? Who cares?” Dennis’s never-seen girlfriend, Valerie, and her friend, the fashionable Jessica Goldman (current It Girl Tavi Gevinson), are on their way over, so Dennis and Warren come up with a plan to lavish some of the stolen money — which Dennis insists Warren return to his father — on the two women, then make it back by reselling some coke. But nothing seems to go quite right for these two luckless losers.

Tavi Gevinson has style to boot in Broadway debut (photo by Brigitte Lacombe)

Tavi Gevinson has style to boot in Broadway debut (photo by Brigitte Lacombe)

Originally produced by the New Group in 1996 with Josh Hamilton as Dennis, Mark Ruffalo as Warren, and Missy Yager as Jessica (later versions have featured such young stars as Matt Damon, Jake Gyllenhaal, Hayden Christensen, Freddie Prinze Jr., Anna Paquin, Summer Phoenix, Heather Burns, and Alison Lohman), This Is Our Youth is a searing comic portrait of three college-age kids trying to find their place in a not-so-warm-and-cozy world. Culkin (subUrbia, Lonergan’s The Starry Messenger) plays the sleazy but lovable Dennis with broad strokes, channeling Robert Downey Jr. from Less Than Zero; in fact, This Is Our Youth is sort of an extremely stripped-down, more low rent East Coast version of the 1987 film based on Bret Easton Ellis’s bestselling novel, with smart, razor-sharp, free-wheeling dialogue from Lonergan (The Waverly Gallery, You Can Count on Me). Gevinson, the teen powerhouse behind Rookie magazine, starts off a bit mannered before settling into her character, an FIT student who is (wisely) suspicious of Warren and is the only one of the three who actually cares about her family. But Cera steals the show in a bravura performance as the unpredictable Warren, imbuing him with a fidgety apprehension and a tense, jittery anxiety that is mesmerizing. He’s so wound up, it’s nearly impossible for anyone to have a conversation with him. “So how you doing, Jessica?” he asks when she shows up at Dennis’s apartment. “You’re looking very automated tonight,” to which Jessica replies, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Anna D. Shapiro (Domesticated, August: Osage County) directs this Steppenwolf production with a controlled recklessness where anything can happen on Todd Rosenthal’s (Of Mice and Men, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?) spectacular set, a walk-up studio surrounded by an apartment complex so realistic you’ll wonder why you’ve never noticed it in the Theater District before. Letting out another sigh of relief, I can again confirm that I am intensely glad to have experienced This Is Our Youth as an onstage drama instead of ever having to live this crazy kind of life myself.