Circumstances have changed, Jerry! As WSMV reported on Friday, McKay will not be twinning itself as once planned, but rather will be pulling up stakes in West Nashville and moving the entire operation to Bellevue, where there will be more room for electronics and electronics accessories — which I'm guessing provide a nicer padding to the bottom line than used books, even if the business is called McKay Used Books and all.
Nothing against Bellevue, but there are very few things that will get me to drive to there — in fact, I can't think of a single one at the moment. Shopping at McKay, though I have enjoyed doing that quite a bit, is not something I will start driving to Bellevue to do. So I guess I need to spend my remaining store credit before Feb. 27, and find another store that'll give me a couple bucks for the two copies I inexplicably own of My Life: The Autobiography of Mobb Deep's Prodigy. I guess it was nice knowing you, chain used bookseller. Say "hey" to the beaver for me.
Where: Bongo After Hours Theatre
When: Tonight at 7:30 p.m.
For better or worse, America’s understanding of stand-up comedy mostly comes from two places: late-night talk shows and reruns of Seinfeld. If you didn’t know any better, you might think all stand-up was an ad-nauseam barrage of setups and punchlines. Somehow, the idea that there are as many sub-genres of comedy as there are of music never quite made it into the collective consciousness — which may be why comics like Kyle Kinane are eschewing comedy clubs entirely in favor of music venues and coffeeshops.
On his debut album, Death of the Party, Kinane establishes himself as a surly, punk-rock version of storyteller comics like Patton Oswalt and Mike Birbiglia. His laments about his worthless college degree and that time he crashed a forklift may not be the rapid-fire joke-a-thon you might expect, but — as Nerdist, The AV Club and others agree — it’s the kind of hilarious perspective you need in your life.
We've included a few more of our favorite Kinane bits after the jump.
If you want an idea of how committed I am to this project, consider this: Three hours before the movie, my car was dead in Bellevue. Waylaid by a busted radiator in the ‘burbs, my No. 1 thought that wasn’t a monosyllabic swear word — so, let’s call it my No. 9 thought — was, "How in the hell am I going to get to The Belcourt tonight?”
Thanks to a tow truck, a ride from a tremendously kind stranger and a borrowed car, I managed to find myself safely in the warm, gooey embrace of H.P. Lovecraft’s Re-Animator with only seconds to spare.
So, I guess what I’m saying here is YOU’RE WELCOME.
But we're not here to talk about my automotive woes. We're here to talk about what may be the most (if not only) successful adaptation of a H.P. Lovecraft story to date.
Consider this your guide to the weekend's new movie offerings, with trailers for everything from Angelina Jolie's writing and directing debut In the Land of Blood and Honey (above, opening today at The Belcourt in Serbo-Croatian with subtitles) to the Bollywood spectacle Agneepath (now at the Hollywood 27).
Last night's opening at TSU for Justin Randolph Thompson's Rag Poppin' started early — around 3 p.m. — but the space was still packed when I got there more than an hour later. A campus security guard told me she'd already given about 20 people directions to the gallery — proof not only of the event's popularity, but of its appeal to people who may have been visiting the TSU galleries for the first time.
You could hear the gallery from down the hall — a mix of chatter and jazz that made it feel like a late-night gathering. The event was both a performance and an installation that incorporated jazz, sneaker culture and the shoe-shining trade. I had spoken to the artist about the performance earlier this week, so when I approached the man sitting by himself on a pedestal to introduce myself, I was assuming it was the artist. It wasn't — I had missed the performance, and the man sitting on the pedestal was almost all that remained. The artist, who kept busy talking with gallery-goers (at one point giving one of his quilted bows to a young child who was enamored with them), had asked the man to sit in the chair while he went through the motions of shining the man's shoes, but covered them in gold leaf instead. The remnants of the performance — scraps of gold leaf paper, flecks of gold on the platform, and the volunteer's newly lavish high-tops — remained on display.
The installation also consisted of quilted shoes strung up from the ceiling — a tribute, Thompson told me, to the urban ritual of stringing sneakers up on telephone wires. It reminded me of the way that punk rockers took the safety pin out of its utilitarian context, and turned it into something that was all their own. Through his treatment of sneakers as fine, almost old-fashioned objects, Thompson turns both sneaker culture and quilting on its head.
Thompson was born in New York, but has been splitting his time between the U.S. and Italy since 2001. He's on his way back to Italy, where he'll continue teaching and focusing on two upcoming solo exhibits. The installation will be on view at TSU through the end of February. See more photos from the opening after the jump.
This isn’t an examination of the shows you plan ahead for, like when you roped off that weekend for Season Four of The Wire. No, this is background TV, hangover TV, sick day TV, stormy weather TV — the kind that makes you feel guilty, but satisfied.
First up, HGTV’s House Hunters.
Alas, Nashville didn't get a crack at the recent theatrical revival of an ’80s oddity long overdue for another look: Andrzej Zulawski's 1981 Possession, boasting a whirling-dervish demonstration of pure id by leading lady Isabelle Adjani (along with icky special effects courtesy of E.T. creator Carlo Rambaldi). But the uncut version turns up fresh out of theaters late tonight at 1 a.m. on Turner Classic Movies' DVR godsend TCM Underground. Here's J. Hoberman on the occasion of its stand in December at New York's Film Forum:
The phrase "over the top" doesn't begin to characterize Polish director Andrzej Zulawski's 1981 Possession. Made with an international cast in still-divided Berlin, the movie starts as an unusually violent breakup film, takes an extremely yucky turn toward Repulsion-style psychological breakdown, escalates into the avant-garde splatterific body horror of the '70s (Eraserhead or The Brood), and ends in the realm of pulp metaphysics as in I Married a Monster From Outer Space.
Critics found Possession risible when, cut by some 40 minutes, it opened here for Halloween 1983. I confess I was one, terming it "a sort of arty Basket Case . . . difficult to recount with a straight face." But I never forgot it; Possession is not a movie you can easily scrape off the bottom of your shoe, particularly in the complete two-hour version that is having its belated local premiere this week.
The clip above ... well, words fail us, other than the word "yikes!" You go, Isabelle Adjani. In a masterstroke of programming, the movie's followed at 3:15 a.m. by another daredevil psychic freakout, Catherine Deneuve in Roman Polanski's unnerving Repulsion.
Arcade Museum at Game Galaxy Arcade
Where: Game Galaxy Arcade at Hickory Hollow Mall
When: Sat., Jan. 28
Perhaps you’ve heard about Game Galaxy — an ’80s arcade aficionado’s paradise located in the post-apocalyptic husk of a shopping center that was once the great Hickory Hollow Mall. Here, you’ll find no skee-ball or Whac-A-Mole, and there are no tickets to earn and exchange for pencil-toppers and slap bracelets. Those have all been eschewed to make room for more pinball machines, a nearly complete Pac-Man suite (original, Ms., Super and Jr.), and the greatest collection of classic cabinets and modern tournament fighters you’ll find in the region. You can also rent consoles by the hour, buy new and used home gaming gear, and enter regularly scheduled battles royal for cash prizes.
What’s that? You haven’t heard about all this? Well, don’t bother popping your eyes back into their sockets — because what we’re about to tell you will just launch them back out of your skull again. On the last Saturday of every month, Game Galaxy hosts an “Arcade Museum” — a barely advertised, almost cult-ritual gathering of gamers. For only $10, you’ll be granted access to their unmarked Lynchian black-box storage space — full of more classic arcade machines and pinball — ALL SET TO FREE-PLAY.
All day long, you can gorge yourself on all the Journey, Devil’s Hollow and Rollerball your retinas can handle. You’ll need to inquire about it at the main Game Galaxy space, as the event is unattended — and you’ll never find it on your own. Call 731-1500 for more information.
No matter how well-intentioned, a play that examines the past must stand first as drama and second as a history lesson. The Nashville Children's Theatre's first effort of 2012, The Watsons Go to Birmingham — 1963, succeeds as both. While presenting material of undeniable historic importance, this absorbing production delivers an incisive, satisfying and ultimately moving portrayal of an African-American family's emotional dynamics amid the turmoil — and tragedy — of the civil rights movement.
The Watsons are a blue-collar family of five living in Flint, Mich., in 1963. Dad works, Mom is steadfast and child-centered, and their three kids are in varying stages of youthful development. That includes the eldest, Byron (Shawn Whitsell), a confused teenager and a constant challenge to keep in line. By contrast, middle son Kenny (Jessica Kuende) excels in school, while the youngest, daughter Joetta (Nikkita Staggs), is a respectful kindergartner.
Initially, the Watsons' story touches upon the equality struggle of black Americans only when Kenny recites some pertinent lines from Langston Hughes. That changes radically, however, when the family makes the long trip to Birmingham, Ala., where they hope relatives can straighten Byron out.
Through timing and misfortune, the trip sets them on a collision course with one of the ugliest events of the era: the infamous bombing at Birmingham's 16th Street Baptist Church on Sept. 15, 1963, which killed four young girls and injured nearly two dozen others.
Remember a few weeks back when Kim Novak took out a trade ad to say she felt like she'd been raped by the use of Bernard Herrmann's "Scene d'Amour" from his Vertigo score in The Artist? (A simple call to the Ill-Used Allusion Cops would've sufficed.) IndieWire's Press Play blog just held a contest that invited participants to test the theory that you can add new meaning and emotion to any piece of film, from old commercials to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan — so long as it's "Vertigoed" with Herrmann's music.
Here's the winner of a special citation for "Chaos-as-Poetry," and it'll likely look more than familiar to several Nashvillians: it's a legendary scene from Harmony Korine's locally shot Gummo, given a soundtrack upgrade. The jarring incongruity of the rapturously emotional music and ... well, a dude dismantling a kitchen chair with his bare hands makes one shudder to imagine what crime analogy Novak might devise.
H/T: De Palma a la Mod.
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