I'll admit it: I once found myself in a fancy art-talk conversation about Nick Cave, not realizing that everyone else was talking about Nick Cave the artist, and I was talking about Nick Cave the musician. (At least I didn't start dropping Nick Cage references though, right? "How'd you like that Con-Air, Mr. Gagosian?")
But one look at the work Chicago-based artist, dancer and performer Cave has under his belt (sometimes literally), and I transferred all of my love and admiration for one Nick Cave right on over to the other. Sure, I still enjoy "The Mercy Seat" as much as the next guy, but artist Nick Cave has serious chops: His Soundsuits are some of the most original — and most exciting — art pieces around. New York Times critic Roberta Smith has this to say about Cave's work: "Whether Nick Cave's efforts qualify as fashion, body art or sculpture, and almost regardless of what you ultimately think of them, they fall squarely under the heading of Must Be Seen to Be Believed."
Cave will be in Nashville to give a lecture at Lipscomb on April 2, and I haven't been this excited about a visiting artist since Trenton Doyle Hancock spoke at Vanderbilt last month. (Here's a warning: University campuses are notoriously difficult to navigate for the uninitiated. If you're anything like me, give yourself plenty of time to get lost, ask for directions, find parking, and then get lost again.) If you're familiar with Cave's work, you'll likely already have this event on your calendar. And if you're not, there's lots of time to research his work and become a Cave convert as well. I've tried to make it easy for you by including a bunch of his Soundsuits after the jump. I'm trying to save you the embarrassment of questioning why The Death of Bunny Munro deserves its own art talk.
If you've got a great collection and want to show it off, fill out their online application by March 31 — that's this Saturday. (The caveat that all collections must be family-friendly makes me wonder what kinds of stuff they've had to deal with in the past.) And if you're a stuff-voyeur like me, mark your calendars for May 19 when the public exhibition takes place.
There are a number of reasons why Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley Jr. and Jason Baldwin — the young men popularly known as the West Memphis Three — are now free after spending 16 years in prison for a triple homicide they likely did not commit: Eddie Vedder, Peter Jackson, Johnny Depp, uh ... Zao. But before the WM3 became a cause célèbre in the most literal sense, it was Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky’s Paradise Lost documentary series that captured America’s attention.
Over the past 15 years, Berlinger and Sinofsky have tirelessly chronicled the case, culminating in the final part of their trilogy, which was hastily recut late last year when the three were suddenly released from prison. The Academy Award-nominated documentary screens for free at Belmont’s Bunch Library, with Jason Baldwin in attendance. In addition to presenting the film, Baldwin will speak to students earlier in the day, at 10 a.m. in Belmont’s Massey Boardroom.
Day Four of NFW was by far the most anticipated due to the appearance of a little label called Versace. We switched venues from Marathon Music Works to The Parthenon at Centennial Park, which would have been lovely had the weather cooperated. Mother Nature was clearly unconcerned about the perils of wearing five-inch heels in mud.
Nashville's Shea Steele, who stole the show from headliner Christian Siriano at the inaugural NFW, started the evening with her lauded White Rabbit line. Now, props to the NFW organizers for doing the show in one of Nashville's (and ancient Greece's) most instantly recognizable venues, but it unless you scored one of the coveted seats, it was really hard to see. I guess it pays to not be fashionably late sometimes.
Anyway, back to White Rabbit. Steele, proprietoress of everyone's favorite vintage/indie designer store, Local Honey, showed yet another impressive collection of clothing and accessories (her jewelry = amazing).
My favorite bit of casting, though, is Sam Palladio as “Gunnar Scott.” Why is it my favorite? Because of the four other credits the actor has to his name, one is “Joe Strummer” and one is just “Rockabilly.” They hired an actor with this particular look for a reason, so if "Gunnar Scott" doesn’t live in East Nashville and collect barnstars, I will consider the show an abject failure.
Thursday night's NFW schedule promised an "interactive fashion event." I wasn't really sure what that meant, but was game for the experience as long as we mortals didn't have to intermingle with any amazon underweight models. Remember when Miranda dated a "modelizer" on Sex and the City? We learned that models were allowed to roam freely throughout the streets of NYC, resulting in magnified inferiority complexes among the rest of the population. The horror.
Well, we intermingled with the models last night, and it wasn't that scary. This superbly executed installation show allowed each of the seven local designers to create a vignette, showcasing a handful of looks from their recent collections. The designers were present and willing to explain their concept and inspiration, which is something you just don't get when you're watching a show from the side of a runway. Attendees were encouraged to walk among each installation, lending an intimate feel and giving the sartorially curious a close look at each collection.
Major kudos for the NFW team for thinking this one up.
Nashville's Truly Alvarenga's Pink Elephants collection was the first installation upon entry, and the steampunk-prom dresses were nicely complemented by the Gothic Ferngully decor.
After premiering at the South by Southwest film festival earlier this month, Steve Taylor’s adaptation of Donald Miller’s best seller Blue Like Jazz has continued to receive the type of enthusiastic support that got the film made in the first place. From what we’ve heard, that’s because the film, which was largely shot in Nashville and recently acquired by Roadside Attractions — it opens April 13 — eschews the conventions of most Christian-themed movies. Primarily: an uninspired narrative and shoddy filmmaking, coated heavily with didacticism and good intentions.
But now, as Taylor and the film enter the final leg of a 30-city bus tour, they’re coming under fire from the purveyors of some of the most well known faith-based fare (including those aligned with October Baby, the pro-life feature opening this weekend in local theaters). In a blog post, Taylor explains the situation and responds. Evident in the post, and his long history with art and Christianity, is Taylor’s refreshing belief that the two are not mutually exclusive.
His retort is simultaneously gracious, in the face of self-declared enemies, and incisive in its analysis and rejection of what has long plagued the faithful in the creative realm. If that’s any indication of what to expect from Blue Like Jazz, then we’re anticipating it all the more. An excerpt:
L'argent, screening 7 p.m. Sunday at The Belcourt, is not the movie you’d expect from an 81-year-old director — nor possibly even from its maker, Robert Bresson, who ended his career with this diamond-hard appraisal of trickle-down corruption. In his 1983 adaptation of Tolstoy’s novella “The Forged Coupon,” evil is an inscrutable, inescapable fact of existence that snowballs from petty mischief to outright atrocity, and money is literally the root of it, as a counterfeit bank note destroys the life of a working stiff (Christian Patey).
The affectless performances only underscore the brutal simplicity of each shot, each turn of the screw. It’s easy, after all, to feel sympathy for people who encourage it. By removing mitigating (or clouding) traits such as charisma and likability, Bresson depicts the characters’ actions in concrete cause-and-effect terms whose moral repercussions seem doubly severe.
As much of a draw as the movie is the talk beforehand at 5:45 p.m. in Belmont United Methodist Church by Chuck Stephens, the Nashville-based critic and Watkins film instructor who can safely claim to being the only person with a cut on the soundtrack of John Waters’ Desperate Living and a supporting role in a Wisit Sasanatieng joint (2004’s Citizen Dog; we have photographic evidence). He's a contributing editor at Film Comment, a columnist for Cinema Scope, and the author of numerous essays for Criterion's deluxe DVD editions. (Apart from Criterion, I treasure his liner notes on the Boogie Nights special edition.)
He rarely does speaking engagements here in town, so this one shouldn’t be missed. He also agreed to answer a few questions about the film in advance of Sunday's talk, a treat for Nashville cinephiles.
Joshua Marston's first feature, 2004's Maria Full of Grace, was an extraordinarily tense, angry and empathetic portrait of a Colombian teen turned drug mule in an attempt to secure a better life for her unborn child. Marston's new film, The Forgiveness of Blood, marks yet another departure for the California-born director: a drama about two Albanian families locked in a blood feud that demands eye-for-an-eye vengeance, according to centuries-old codes that govern even contemporary teenagers with iPhones. It opens tonight for a week's run at The Belcourt.
It's a comedy, it's a musical, and it's opening tonight for its first local production through April 15 at Street Theatre Company, who just finished a sellout run of The Who's Tommy. Curious about the logistics of putting on a puppet musical for adults — we repeat, FOR ADULTS — we asked Brian Hull, who helped design the puppets and train the actors operating them, to discuss some of the challenges of a production that requires full puppet nudity.