Against the back wall of the Black Cat, I sat down with Josh Garza, the drummer from rock group The Secret Machines, just before his performance with the Blonde Redhead. Sipping on his triple shot of Bombay Sapphire, Garza set the tone for the intense show I was about to witness.
If, as the songs say, the scent of love is in the air, then the England studio at the Washington Ballet has been converted into a veritable perfumery. The fragrance of ardor comes in a variety of bouquets, among them the tang of infatuation, the musk of lust and the lingering trace of intoxicating, Dionysian desire.
A dreary, rainy evening opened with the blinding light of heaven in the form of a Dallas-turned-New York band known as the Secret Machines. Three shaggy-haired men reeking of early-'90s brashness took the stage in front of three spotlights that were pointed straight into their audience, causing many to avert their eyes.
On the seminal punk classic Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols, lead singer Johnny Rotten, in the Pistols' trademark virulent manner, offered his commentary on a woman's right to choose: "Body screaming fucking bloody mess/Not an animal/It's an abortion.
I would never advise somebody to skip the performance of a great dramatic text. However, I would recommend actually reading the text before attending a play as elliptical as "Waiting for Godot." Some elements of the Washington Shakespeare Company's new production of Samuel Beckett's tragedy are downright laughable, but many great questions are cleared up after seeing it performed on stage.
With surprising fleetness and depth, a budding student-run theater company has moored itself into the histrionic GW community. Having already produced works by such estimable talents as George C. Wolfe ("Colored Museum") and Tony Kushner ("Angels in America"), Majority Theatre Productions emphasizes the voices of minorities.
Alejandro Agresti, director and screenwriter of 'Valentin' (Miramax), has chosen some big shoes for his very small title character to fill. Seen through the eight-year-old, slightly-crossed eyes of Valentin (Rodrigo Noya), a precocious boy growing up in 1960s Argentina, Agresti's film is a touching tribute to innocence and honesty that emulates the highly acclaimed foreign film "Cinema Paradiso" in content and style.
Taken on its own, "Baadassssss!" (Sony Pictures Classics) has severely limited appeal. It's not that the film is artsy or inaccessible or requires deep background information beforehand; actually, the opposite is true. The film's long, muddled narrative, a blow-by-blow account of the making of "Sweet Sweetback's Baadassssss! Song," lacks focus and loses its audience halfway through.
Every high school has them. They are overly Mystic-tanned in the dead of winter and wear tight clothes that expose their thongs and excess skin. They have superiority complexes. They are the A-list chick clique, high school royalty. In "Mean Girls," the new teen comedy from Paramount, they're known as "the Plastics.
Where: All over D.C. (and even a trip to Northern Virginia) Carded: "Your hair's a different color." Cover: Nada because I'm cheap Dress: My favorite pair of jeans, a black T-shirt and heels Specials: Requested shout-outs There is a time when all good things must come to an end.
Vol. 106
An Independent Student Newspaper
Serving The George Washington University Community Since 1904
