Willy Russel's Blood Brothers at the Whitefire Theater

This is a review by guest critic, Jeremy Lake.

Willy Russell’s BLOOD BROTHERS, continues to live on despite the 25 year span from its London debut. Bryan Rasmussen, directs this version of the Olivier Award-winning and Tony-nominated musical, at the Whitefire Theater in Sherman Oaks.

Rasmussen, successfully integrates a complicated testimony of the battle between British social hierarchies while using a talented, multi-ethnic cast of Los Angelenos . It’s an eerie correlation between the economic clash in the play to our country’s current financial crisis with this American cast.

This is the story of a struggling lower class mother, Mrs. Johnstone (Pamela Taylor) who burdened by financial strains gives up her newborn twin boys, Mickey and Eddie, to her barren upper class employer, Mrs. Lyons (Judy Norton). The twins, played by Eduardo Enrikez and Ryan Nealy, are raised in separate social classes despite growing up in the same neigborhood but through fate, become best of friends. Over the years, their bond is tested by economic stresses and the rivalry over the love of a woman named Linda (Sita Young).

The era of the play is noticeable in dialogue and musical style. However, it’s a bit like drinking a fine wine with new grapes from an old vine. One must note its history to appreciate the flavor.

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For fathers who fool themselves, violence is the only truth.

Deano’s crime-free life comes with a frustrating price: A wife who doesn’t excite him and a son whose softness is embarrassing. What’s an ex-heavy to do? With ill-health advancing, our patriarch is forced to take stock of his swapped life sooner than he thinks when the elder son bursts onto the scene with some demons of his own.

There is perhaps no relationship more complex and combustible than that between father and son.

It’s a life bond based on honor and tradition, as much as it’s steeped in envy and competition. But let’s not diminish the ‘dames.’ This is a domesticated gangster yarn where women quietly take control by falling apart at the calculated time.

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“Arpsnarpflarpbarpgarpnarpdarpmarp means, ‘I love you.’” If you’re an alien in Jonas Oppenheim’s debut musical Earth Sucks.

This latest stage play, from the award winning playwright, is a fun trip back to teenage love and an adventure with people from “a galaxy far, far away”.

“The story was inspired by The Carpenter’s song ‘Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft’ and David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust concert”, said Oppenheim, during an interview after Sunday night’s show.

A large cast, of over a dozen characters, are squeezed onto the cozy Art|Works theatre stage. Echo Bell, played by Emily Stern, is an all American teenage girl. She’s tired of her loser boyfriend, sick of home life and thinks everything on Earth basically sucks. With her head in the stars, she’s visited by a runaway rock band from space, the Citizens of Earth.

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As I stepped into the classy El Rey Theatre once more this week, I couldn’t help but think of how different it would be from my Balkan Beat Box experience. Upon arrival for a DeVotchKa show, I was anticipating looking at a different type of crowd. However, I found similarities more than differences. For The El Rey, the volume of concert goers never seems to dwindle. No matter what night it is, if it’s a good show, especially one so highly expected to be as DeVotchKa, the crowd will spill past the bar.

Gaining most of their mainstream popularity from scoring the film, Little Miss Sunshine, DeVotchKa had finally been able to reach the masses with their unique take on American punk and folk roots. This four piece band, however, goes far beyond what’s expected of a rock band. Exhibiting their credibility, all multi-instrumentalists flourish together as they weave in and out of Greek, Mariachi, and Slavic notes. I wondered, will Los Angeles embrace them tonight as much as world music lovers or those so called sophiticated hipsters? I was about to find out.

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Greetings, kids! Tonight’s recap is a special one… not because of 90210 in particular, but because I have to go in for a spot of surgery tomorrow and am watching and writing my recap baked out of my gourd on Xanax. Consider this an artistic experiment, like Brinda Warsh with her “Laverne” thingie at the Peach Pit, yeah?

Onward!

Why are they still showing “previously’s” from the first episode? Like we need Human Sleeping Pill Harry “Dadcipal” Wilson gushing about palm trees again?

And wheee, right outa the gate with a whole bunch of Drunk Grandma Quips! The drama coach has been called away “indefinitely” and Dadcipal has got to find another one. Annie freaks over breakfast; they can’t cancel the class musical! And Drunk Grandma, who’s acting (and dressed) like something out of The Birdcage, announces “Fine. I’ll do it!” Everyone hems and haws, but (Drunk Grandma Quip #1): “Sweetheart, when the theater is in pain, I come to mend the wound!” Then she yammers about director’s advice (DGQ #2): “If you’re not breathing from your ass and reaching to the skies, the back row won’t hear you!” Aunt Becky sporfles coffee. And then (DGQ #3): “I slept with him!”

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After a crazy, spontaneous, glorious trip to New York City during the this year’s Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, I can wholeheartedly inform you that L.A. has seen nothing that compares to the hustle and bustle harbored in the most beautiful tents pitched on the right coast.

Although my heart will always be here in the City of Angels, New York Fashion Week is one of the few things that I will admit takes the cake from our beloved city. One of the most impressive shows of the momentous week came from the edgy Miss Sixty team. From her beginnings in Italy all the way to NY, Miss Sixty boasted edgy, innovative patterns as well as a rousing approach to layering fabrics at this year’s fashion week.

For example, this tan jacket paired with vividly colored shorts bring elements to the table that are rarely seen successfully meshing with one another. Miss Sixty was also one of the few shows that played with color, seeing as much of the week’s events were dominated by classic black sophistication. Much to the dismay of some critics, Miss Sixty dares to walk the fine line in recycled fashion that only the brave can pull off without looking 90’s tacky. That’s right, you better keep an eye out for more work from this amazing label before you throw away your old high school Clueless-inspired threads!

• U·to·pi·a: any visionary system of political or social perfection.

• ni·hil·ism: total and absolute destructiveness, esp. toward the world at large and including oneself [...].

Gotcha. Considering we were to be in the company of active members of a Utopian Nihilist movement, I figured it best to come armed with sufficient vocabulary. In celebration of the release of poet Milo Martin’s book, “Poems for the Utopian Nihilist”, an eclectic group of writers representing a vast expanse of the literary world took to the floor of Skylight Books, bringing equal parts light and darkness to all in attendance.

Martin opened up the evening with “Velocity” - the first poem in his collection - showcasing talent in molding strange beauty from figurative gutter debris, and therefore laying a suitable foundation for the readings to follow. Unfortunately, Chris Tannahill was unable to show, so at his suggestion Martin read his “Zero Gravity Fire, or the Slaughterhouse Waltz”, referred to as “the finest death poem of the 21st century”. Short story writer Mary Otis read a story from the opening pages of “Yes Yes Cherries” entitled “Unstruck”, a childhood interpretation of the adult world in which regret is referred to as “the useless emotion”, and where “‘fix me’ always led to marriage”.

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The term “concept album” has always brought with it promises of twenty-minute epics, mind-boggling signature shifts, and countless solos from every member of the band. To see the idea carried out a little differently, look no further than On the Eve of Absolute Get Down, the debut album from Player/Kommander. Not a single song breaks the four-minute mark; instead, its ambition lies in a broad range of musical influences brought in to accent this otherwise straightforward rock album. Over the course of the thirteen songs, broken up into four rather indistinguishable “phases,” frontman James Hall tries everything from a Bee Gees croon to a raspy shout, and the results are equally scattered across the board. As a group, P/K moves from the mellow ballad “All Night Wednesday” to the sludge rock of “Way Faux El Diablo,” but the best cuts come when they find a happy medium. Tracks like “White-Out of the Mind” and “Easy When It’s On” are catchy and upbeat, the latter riding a boogie rock sensibility and full-bodied riffing from guitarists Jim Troglen and John Fuller. “Be This Way” sounds a little too much like Kings Of Leon to earn originality points, but it opens the album in style and ends before it grows tired.

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After listening to a great CD by a new artist, one’s initial reaction is a desire to see them live and hear the songs he/she has come to love.  For music enthusiast, few things are more exciting than seeing a “new favorite band” play live for the first time.  There is the anticipation before the show, “what will they play?” “I wonder what the drummer looks like?” “Who’s opening for them/Who are they opening for?” “Will they sound as good as they do on CD?”  And the questions go on and on, so much so that when the band finally hits the stage all the buildup and expectation is either quickly met with satisfaction or, in the worst of cases, utter disappointment.

LA.CityZine recently reviewed Verona Grove’s debut CD, “The story Thought Over” (read the review) giving it praise for being different from the other power pop bands out there.  Power pop groups like Homegrown, Plain White T’s, Vampire Weekend, Secondhand Serenade, Mayday Parade, and on and on and on and on and on all sound like “that band:” the vocals are ridiculously identical in each group, the tempo doesn’t change much and the subject is California, girls and superficially broken hearts (maybe she broke up with you because you’re as unoriginal as your music?).

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LA’s own Greek Theater is one of the most unique outdoor venues where you can go see a show. It’s also been named best outdoor small theater in the U.S. Seating just over 5000 people, it offers an intimate setting and state of the art jumbo screens for all you who forget to bring your binoculars. Located just Northeast of Hollywood in Griffith Park it’s easy to get to and quite inexpensive if you don’t mind taking Metro.

This past Friday night the Greek played host to one of Americas last remaining singing Icons. Starting out some 60 years ago He had the stage name Joe Barry, this of course didn’t suit Bob Hope who liked what he saw in the young up and comer. With his real name Anthony Dominik Bennedetto, a little to long for the marque, Hope shortened it to the name the so many fans around the world have come to know as Tony Bennett. The rest is History.

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I know that I tend to review some pretty random films and urge you to watch all of them, but honestly I would call video rental spots near your house to make sure that they had this particular movie stocked for you. Out of everything I would suggest you watching or wearing, please heed this advice. I would give you my number so you could call me, at which point I would put the phone to the television so you could hear the dialogue of this movie.

 The 2006 masterpiece, Blood Diamond, is arguably the most compelling film of our time. Set during the Sierra Leone Civil War, the movie depicts the horrifying realities (such as the brutal amputation of limbs to stop people from voting) that are symptomatic of conflicts in war-torn Africa diamond mining. As Leonardo DiCaprio’s character, Danny Archer, so eloquently states, “In America it’s bling-bling, but out here it’s bling-bang.” I had little prior knowledge about conflict diamonds before watching Blood Diamond and I was able to learn so much from this film. DiCaprio’s performance in the film is breathtaking and enough to make me move him up to the greatest actor of our time status in my book. Now, go see it!

Derek Jarman (1942-1994) was for almost his entire career the enfant terrible of British cinema: his homoerotic feature debut Sebastiane (1976), a retelling of the saint’s story in Latin no less; his punk “celebration” of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee (1977); and his high-camp adaptation of The Tempest (1979) had all raised serious eyebrows; elsewhere, however, they were a cause for celebration that here was a hope for the moribund British film industry, defiantly homosexual, defiantly artistic, and defiantly personal.

Jarman’s films were the antithesis of most British cinema, never mind the product from Hollywood, but there were those who feared his first venture into establishment-funded film-making (courtesy of the British Film Institute) would result in a sell-out costume drama. They needn’t have worried: Caravaggio is no conventional biopic but rather a meditation on the artist and his life, the conflicts therein, and the parallels to be found with the modern world and with Jarman himself as an artist.

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