From the Ledge

It was cold, icy, and grey last weekend in Chicago and I could have just curled up indoors and watched “Project Runaway” over and over again (plus it was the first weekend right after the 30-xxx birthday, which was cause enough for a solitary meditation on one’s inevitable need for Botox injections and tummy tucks all in itself).  However, between Edward Albee, taiko drumming, and a Sunday dinner club dinner (not to mention the incomprehensible, and frankly alarming, sight of Philip Seymour Hoffman’s bare derriere on film), there was absolutely no reason to stay home and stew.

On Friday night, right before dinner with BFFs Debra and Camela, I hopped over to the Art Institute of Chicago to attend a conversation with Edward Albee, moderated by the highly-esteemed former Chicago Tribune theatre critic, Richard Christiansen, which was part of the Art Institute’s American Perspectives series of lectures.  As an ardent theatre lover, the opportunity to see one of the greatest living playwrights of the English language in the flesh was too good to pass up.  Well, it was also an opportunity that the GTHs (Goodman Theatre Hags, or these aggressive, outspoken women of a certain age who always turn up inevitably in almost all of the theatre events and performances at the Goodman, Chicago Shakespeare, Court, and Steppenwolf) could not afford to pass up.  As I averted my eyes from making eye-contact with them (with the number of times we’ve literally bumped into each other at the theatres, I’m surprised they haven’t invited me to play canasta!), I couldn’t help but notice that despite the fact that Fullerton Hall was jampacked, there weren’t a lot of people my age attending the event (yep, the ratio of artificial hips to real hips was pretty high).  It was unfortunate, because it was thrilling to hear Albee speak, even if most of the conversation was gossipy (some nuggets:  Albee thought that the Kathleen Turner-Bill Irwin pairing for the revival of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf”, recently seen in Chicago, was the best one that he’s had for the play; Albee battled with Donald Sutherland on the stage version of Nabokov’s “Lolita”) rather than an explanation of his artistic philosophies and influences.

On Saturday night, my good buddy Joel, the lovely Kristen, and I went over to AV-Aerie, a performance space in the Kinzie Industrial Corridor, which had these stunning picture windows showcasing the Chicago skyline.  We went to see Tatsu Aoki, highly-regarded Chicago jazz musician, and his Miyumi Project, a band he put together to explore the fusion between Asian and Western musical instruments and techniques.  The space was very unique and it was quite an adventure to look for it amongst the desolate wasteland of warehouses converted to offices which characterized that stretch of Fulton Market.  We also had a great conversation with the AV-Aerie’s Grand Poobah, the very nice Marshall, who articulately explained his concept of performance space and open resource center, while unfortunately wearing a (gasp) hemp fiber jacket with (double gasp, bordering on fainting because of the ghastliness of it all) a humungous boutonniere!!!!.  Since I needed to recover from the boutonniere incident, I inadvertently gulped down a bottle of PBR, as in, yes, Pabst Blue Ribbon (the only beer the space was selling)…fashion disasters unfortunately make me do unthinkable things! Before Tatsu and the Miyumi Project came on though, we had to endure a bunch of short films from the School of the Art Institute (including a bizarre animated short about a dodo bird getting its head blown off), a band called Roommate, and very drunken carousing (leave it to that PBR!) from a bunch of young, geeky-chic, hipsters who looked like they would quote Heidegger at the slightest provocation (and if one thought drunken frat jocks were bad, drunken Heidegger geeks were so much worse!).  The crowd was actually very, uhmmm, interesting, looking like a throwback to the pretentious intellectualism that characterized Wicker Park when I first moved to Chicago in 1997.  Aoki’s and the Miyumi Project’s performance was worth waiting for, although I must admit that I would have preferred the taiko drumming alone, rather than having it mixed up with saxophones and a viola.  I thought the concept was very different and admirable, and getting the instruments to work together in 15 minute musical pieces was a complex undertaking, but the combination was a little too jarring for my taste.  I loved the fact though that the group has made taiko drumming, a very important Japanese, hey Asian, musical tradition, accessible to Chicagoans.

I managed to catch Sidney Lumet’s Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead on Sunday afternoon.  It’s a riveting, well-made movie, and I think people would enjoy it a lot, once they got over the fact that Philip Seymour Hoffmann is buck naked in the first scene.  I love PSH; I think his Oscar for Capote is one of the more well-deserved in recent years; I admire his dedication to new work as co-Artistic Director of the Labyrinth Theatre Company in New York; and I believe he is just one heck of a great actor.   But does anyone (certainly not me) need to see his Mystic Tan-deprived and Buttmaster-challenged ass, miles and miles of it, in a gratuitous sex scene?  Anyway, he gives a powerful, very complex performance as a drug-crazed real estate manager who manipulates his weak brother (Ethan Hawke in a great performance that matches Hoffman’s in layering and strong emotional moments) into robbing their parent’s jewelry store, resulting in tragedy for everyone.  Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is a solid film, but not provocative or groundbreaking as say, I’m Not There, and should be seen primarily for these memorable performances.

The weekend ended on a high note, attending another Sunday Dinner Club dinner with blogging mentor and best-straight-guy-friend-in-Chicago Tom.  For my detailed description of a Sunday Dinner Club dinner, read this earlier blog post. This dinner was held at Christine and Jason’s apartment in Logan Square, and as always, the food was impeccably prepared and sourced, the dinner conversations were fascinating, and the whole candle-lit experience memorable (not to mention, we brought a really good bottle of  Sangiovese).  Although all the dishes were exceptional, my particular favorite (and the one thing I’m still salivating for today) was Josh’s melt-in-your mouth homemade lasagna with a veal, beef, and pork Bolognese sauce and proscuitto from La Quercia (a fabulous Iowa-based small producer who makes proscuitto using authentic Italian methods, and which is featured in this month’s Saveur magazine).  Sharing great food and conviviality with a group of interesting people was the best antidote to any Chicago winter blues.

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