TV on the Radio is a band that does not believe in the adage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." If they did, their follow up to 2006's "Return to Cookie Mountain" would be a good album with a few excellent songs. Instead they produced "Dear Science," their most cohesive, accessible, all-around best material to date.
On Sept. 10 Metallica's newest album, "Death Magnetic," was released, and its critical reception, moreover it's popular reception, could either be the death knell for the metal genre or a rebirth of the genre of popular rock.
Tufts grad Pete Shungu (‘03), aka Afro DZ ak, breaks out a solo trumpet Wednesday night during his album release party at Bill's Bar in Boston. Shungu's debut solo album, "Elevation," was released Tuesday and features socially conscious hip-hop with multi-instrumental jazz backing. To read more about the concert and to see an audio slideshow featuring more pictures like this one, visit the brand-new Arts blog, "The Scene."
Last Monday, the seventh season of "Dancing with the Stars" premiered on ABC. With a fresh new cast of celebrities and even some new additions amongst the professional dancers, "Stars" starts out on the right path toward a successful season, even as the format of the show sticks to its worn-out formula.
From the classic duel in "Romeo and Juliet" (1996) to the bloody landing at Omaha Beach in "Saving Private Ryan" (1998), to a slap across the cheek, to an all-out fisticuffs brawl, violent action graces the stages and screens of classic and popular storytelling entertainment.
Photographs of famous people are so common — whether taken by the paparazzi or for promotional reasons — that most of us never think about what kind of portrait is painted by the image. The famous have been immortalized time and again by the media, a trend that has stripped away any chance of the mystery, sacredness and drama of the flash or thoughtful exposure. Yousuf Karsh, one of the greatest portrait photographers of the 20th century, stands as a stark contrast to today's click-happy environment. Just this week, an exhibition of over 100 of his photographs opened at the Museum of Fine Arts Boston. "Karsh 100: A Biography in Images" marks the 100th anniversary of Karsh's birth and showcases some of his most famous works.
As a sea of boisterously intoxicated students filters into Tufts' football stadium on Saturday, you may find yourself wondering how you ended up on a hard metal seat screaming for bulky men in uniform. Football and beer aren't for everyone. If you're looking for an alternative to Homecoming on Saturday, look no further than the Berklee BeanTown Jazz Festival in Boston.
Afro DZ ak is more than your average MC, but that statement doesn't nearly do justice to his art. In truth, this artist isn't an MC, he's not a singer, he's not an arranger and he's not a trained trumpet player; he's a light in an otherwise dark and somber hip-hop world.
Well, the unimaginable has happened: "Heroes" got even worse. For those who have never had the pleasure of seeing NBC's silliest "X-Men" meets "The Young and the Restless" superhero drama, don't bother starting now.
Pete Shungu (LA '03) has, at the age of 27, achieved what few musicians have the time or patience to do: He has kept up with his passion for music and social activism, which began in college, and created an impressive work of art. Last night, he took the stage for the biggest show of his life. He'd performed for large crowds before, but rarely as the main act, and never had the stakes been so high. Shungu, a.k.a. Afro DZ ak, had just released his very first solo album, "Elevation," which had been several years in the making.
Despite what the ho-hum trailers and lack-luster display at the box office may have everyone thinking, "Ghost Town" is actually a wonderfully heart-warming comedy. The movie is not outrageously funny, nor overly sappy; it is simply what all films should strive to be — entertaining. Ricky Gervais's wry wit brings the bittersweet comedy "Ghost Town" to life. After starring in the British TV hits "The Office" and "Extras," producing hearty laughs as the supporting character Ferdy the Fence in "Stardust" (2007) and being the best part of Sunday night's Emmy Awards, Ricky Gervais now stars in his first American film. As he has done with most of his roles, Gervais is able to turn a truly unlikable and boorish character into a funny and loveable romantic lead. While Gervais definitely steals the show, the broad appeal of "Ghost Town" is aided by the bright performances of its supporting cast, including Greg Kinnear, Téa Leoni and the "Daily Show's" Aasif Mandvi. The severely anti-social Bertram Pincus (played by Gervais) goes out of his way to avoid engaging with his coworkers, knowing his neighbors, or talking to people in general. He lives his life as a detached ghost until a colonoscopy changes everything. During this routine medical procedure, Pincus' heart briefly stops for seven minutes. After waking up from his near death experience, Pincus becomes the eyes and ears to all the ghosts of Manhattan who wander in limbo between this life and the after-life. These ghosts are annoyingly pesky as they pursue Pincus with bizarre requests to be their liaison to the living. Most of them are desperately trying to tie off loose ends and clear up unfinished business. Pincus is not interested in associating with all of New York's ghosts. In fact, he does not care much for talking to living people either. As a dentist, he has the convenience of shutting his patients up by shoving cotton and cold instruments into their mouths. But these ghosts are not as easily silenced. The most persistent of these ghosts is Frank Herlihy (Kinnear). Herlihy promises Pincus that he will make all the ghosts disappear if Pincus agrees to prevent the re-marriage of his wife Gwen (Leoni) to Richard (Billy Campbell), a man he despises. Of course, Gwen just happens to live in Pincus's building. Awkwardness and hilarity ensue as Pincus is forced to come out of his anti-social shell in order to regain and restore his life of peaceful loneliness. In helping out the dead, however, Pincus slowly and predictably begins to come alive. In the end, Pincus's sour soul is thawed and reformed, producing an unexpected and charming romantic hero in the body of a rotund, snarky Brit. The film leaves Pincus with the valuable life lesson —that only the dead can truly teach — of how to live again. The film pays homage to the screwball comedies of old, though its effect is questionable, depending on whether today's audience really appreciates or even remembers that era of film. Director David Koepp and screenwriter John Kamps also liberally apply references from an array of cinematic ghosts and plotlines, including "It's A Wonderful Life" (1946) and "Ghost" (1990). These kinds of cinematic allusions make one smile, instead of cringing at the lack of originality. There is something fresh about this particular ghost film, which prevents it from becoming another bargain-bin item, like "Over Her Dead Body" (2008) and "Just Like Heaven" (2005). This is Koepp's first attempt at directing a comedy, which may explain some of the film's weaker moments. Nevertheless, the film shines with its great cast and heartwarming story. "Ghost Town" is surely not an award contender, but it is a fun and endearing film that, if anything, will bring Gervais more popularity stateside.
The image of a mother figure cradling her innocent child is commonly seen around the palaces, churches and museums of Florence, Italy. Another familiar image is the muscled form of a virile young man, simultaneously powerful and gentle in his naked beauty. "The Light in the Piazza," the Tony Award-winning musical by composer Adam Guettel (Best Score) and Tony-nominated book writer Craig Lucas, is set in 1950s Florence among the Madonnas and Davids of the Renaissance, each iconic image leaving its indelible imprint on the tale of parenthood and young love that shimmers in the glow of a golden afternoon. Based on the similarly titled novella by Elizabeth Spencer, "Piazza" tells the story of a mother, Margaret (played by Amelia Broome), on vacation in Tuscany with her daughter Clara (Erica Spyres). The serenity of the situation is broken when a local boy, Fabrizio (John Bambery), begins to passionately pursue his interest in Clara. The audience soon learns, through Margaret's aborted attempts to tell Fabrizio's family, that Clara experienced a debilitating injury as a child, which hindered certain aspects of her emotional development. Margaret is torn between her vain hope for a fuller recovery, her need to keep Clara dependent on her care and a real concern for Clara's ability to function as an adult. Beyond Clara and Fabrizio's narrative, the factor that makes "Piazza" so much more than a conventional love story musical is the tangible effect their romance has on those around them. In accepting her daughter's growing independence, Margaret is faced with the unpleasant prospect of her own marriage's disintegration, while Fabrizio's brother and his wife, Giuseppe and Franca (played by Christian Figueroa and Alison Eckert respectively), learn to see their own relationship struggles through a more optimistic lens. The is a sense of darkness in "Piazza," however, constantly hovering around the edges, evocative of the chiaroscuro "light-dark" paintings of the Renaissance. The darkness capitalizes on the fear that something inherently damaged within every human soul might somehow preclude the pursuit of happiness. This production, mounted by Speakeasy Stage Company at Boston Center for the Arts, attempts this brilliant and complex musical with mixed success. Director Scott Edmiston ("The Women", "Five by Tenn") and Musical Director José Delgado ("Johnny Guitar," "Caroline or Change") return "Piazza" to its original chamber musical form with just 12 actors and six musicians after it played with a larger company in the New York production. In the intimate space of the Roberts Studio Theatre, the ensemble of singers and instrumentalists on stage and behind it are able to adequately fill out the lush score, admirably succeeding in the very real challenge of performing Guettel's difficult music, notable for its irregular time signatures and unorthodox progressions. The show falters when it attempts to move beyond a simple presentation of the music. While attending to the intricacy of the score, several of the actors can only offer a single level to their supposedly multi-dimensional characters. As Fabrizio, Bambery gives a charming and poignant performance both when he speaks and in his simpler verses, but he abandons quality for quantity when his songs reach their climaxes. Eckert portrays Franca's jealousy and anger well, and sings beautifully, but fails to round out the character to make her sympathetic rather than simply snarky. Contrastingly, Spyres' turn as Clara strengthens as her character matures, from the emotionally simple-minded and sheltered child to the young woman coming into her own. Spyres' performance of the title song imbues Clara with shades of real emotional depth, injecting some of the complexity reflected in Guettel's material. The best performance of the night, however, belonged to Broome, who led the company as a sexy and saucy, but still extremely vulnerable Margaret. Through a series of asides and sung soliloquies, Broome revealed Margaret as the consummate mother, desperately clutching to the tenuous fantasy she constructed to cope with Clara's disability; the saddened wife, coming to terms with the failings in her marriage she didn't allow herself to see before; and the blooming woman, experiencing a liberation as she learns to let go. The technical production was somewhat uneven. Susan Zeeman Rogers' curious scenic design in the curtain-less Studio Theatre had some strange quirks when it tried to be innovative and some brilliantly successful pieces when it used traditional methods to enliven a simple set. Karen Perlow's lighting created a world of sunlight and shadows that evoked the story's struggle between the polished exterior and the reality underneath, while Charles Schoonmaker's costumes were beautifully constructed pieces of 1950s casual wealth. "The Light in the Piazza" is far from perfect, but its glaring mistakes are few and far between. With a production that will likely get stronger as it settles into its run, SpeakEasy continues to prove itself as a constant source of quality small theater in Boston.
Monday night's two-hour Heroes season premiere left me feeling like I had just had amazing — but unbelievably disgusting — sex. I loved every minute of it, but I knew each second that it was wrong, perverse and offensive to every major religion. Spoilers follow. 1. Alive is the New Dead. Now, I'm a comic fan. I know that "no body" means "no death" and that "body" means "50 percent chance of death." Monday's two episodes saw the return of Niki, who burned alive; Nathan, who was shot multiple times; Claire, who had her head cut off; and Linderman, the first season villain who had his brains ripped out. And for all we know, "Niki" could be A) a still-alive Jessica, Niki's long-lost sister, or B) an excuse for the writers not to get rid of Ali Larter because she's really pretty and needs a job and hey, I suppose she could inexplicably look like a former character! But are these non-resurrections really any more plausible? Oh, and let's forget that we have a cheerleader messiah running around whose blood can freaking bring everyone and anyone back to life. Last time I checked, that's not a superpower. Super powers don't transfer via blood. That's a really handy virus. 2. Screw the Time Stream. The first two seasons of Heroes had their fair share of time travel, but it at least was a bit more controlled, as in, the characters were kind of aware of the repercussions. This season, we have Hiro time traveling just to, erm, pass the time (and also very conveniently coming to the exact, perfect moment when EVERYTHING goes wrong), and Future Peter just going 100 percent flibberty-gibbet with everything and anything time travel. Essentially, FP showed all the care and respect to the time stream that a freshman would to a case of Natty Light. Of course, this did result in quite the hissy fit from Mama Petrelli that more or less resembled my mom yelling at eight-year-old me for not cleaning up my toys. 3. Sexy Mohinder! A frequent and very warranted complaint about Mohinder in the second season was that he was A) stupid and B) boring. Well, at least they got rid of B. Now we have Mad Scientist, Spider Mohinder: performing experiments on himself, ripping off women's clothing, jumping around shirtless and generally being all the types of badass he was not in the first two seasons! That is, until his skin started peeling off. Like I said, at least he's no longer boring. 4. More "WTF?" Moments Than You Can Shake a Blog At. From Nathan randomly finding God (and delivering a version of Bowie's "Heroes") to Parkman conveniently finding the right shaman at the right time to "Sylar … I am your fath-I mean mother," this show just was plot twist after plot twist. There was no exposition, no down time, no character development. Just a never-ending series of plot twists, each one upping the ante on implausibility. In short, the first season of Heroes was some fun, cool melodrama. This was followed by a ponderous second season. And now, we essentially have the ‘60s "Batman" show back with a vengeance and revamped for the 21st century (with a side of soap opera). Is it just the nature of the genre that something this fantastic and crazy cannot help but get increasingly more fantastic and crazy? Or was this just a way of trying to make us forget the horrible second season, only to have the show find balance again soon? I'm fine both ways. Either "Heroes" will get better again … or will soon beat "30 Rock" and "The Office" for the title of funniest show on NBC.
Prepare to be offended, ladies. Howard Deutch's new film, "My Best Friend's Girl," moves quickly to disturb and outrage its intended audience: the romantic comedy patron. Although some Dane Cook fans will be satisfied by his go-to character (the obnoxious frat boy), most will feel violated by the film's transparent objective to let Dane Cook act like himself and its blatant disregard for human decency.
The Barbara Krakow Gallery on Newbury Street is currently featuring a show of contemporary mid-to-late-level career artists that differs considerably from the normal fare on Newbury Street. The artists in "The Sum of Its Parts" use non-traditional materials and produce conceptually-based art that ranges from furniture, wall installations and relief prints, citing movements such as minimalism and post-modernism.
The relationship between dance-pop music and musical instruments has been undergoing a three-decade divorce. First it was the drum machines and synthesized strings of the disco era, then the keyboards of the '80s. By the teen-pop explosion of the late '90s computers had made pop stars' voices endlessly malleable and easily homogenized.
Most students who get off at the "Museum" stop on the Green Line head straight across the street to the Museum of Fine Arts (MFA). Yet, just a few blocks away lies the small, but worthwhile, Trustman Art Gallery at Simmons College.
Fans of Samuel L. Jackson, rejoice! He has a new film out, and it's indeed quite interesting — not great, but interesting. "Lakeview Terrace" is an average thriller with a few interesting ideas. Although it is an improvement over director Neil LaBute's last work, "The Wicker Man" (2006), it remains a mediocre film.
Allow me to introduce myself, as well as my column, by way of a discussion about an artistic medium very close to my heart: music.
Amanda Palmer, front woman of the Boston-based duo The Dresden Dolls, decided last year that it was time to go solo. Not to diminish her previous work, the world at large should be grateful for this decision. After much deliberation and studio time, she released her full length solo debut, "Who Killed Amanda Palmer?" on Sept. 8.
