1. HOW I SERVED MY COUNTRY by Jane Fonda 2. MY BEAUTY SECRETS by Janet Reno 3. HOW TO BUILD YOUR OWN AIRPLANE by John Denver 4. MY SUPER...
Oct 23, 2014
The Gem City Concert Band will be performing at the Blasco Library. The concert is free to the public. Sunday November 2, 2014 2:00...
Tony Award Winner for Best Play – Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike – debuts at the Erie Playhouse
Oct 23, 2014
The “hugely entertaining” play –Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike – lights up the Erie Playhouse stage with laughter Nov. 7-23....Read More
Arts & Culture News
NEW YORK (Reuters) - A dinner party in an elegant New York apartment goes terribly wrong in "Disgraced," the Pulitzer Prize-winning play about ambition, race, religion and identity that opened on Broadway.
NEW YORK (Reuters) - "Leaving Time," the newest novel by Jodi Picoult, shot straight to the top of the best-seller list on Thursday, nudging "Deadline" by John Sandford from the No. 1 spot into third place.
LONDON (Reuters) - The man who runs London's Tate Modern - an art gallery in a former power station that looms over the River Thames - was named on Thursday the most powerful figure in the world of contemporary art.
LONDON (Reuters) - Italian conductor Riccardo Chailly knows that Milan's legendary La Scala opera house, where he takes over as principal conductor in January, is a political and cultural pressure cooker. So he's going to give the public what it wants: Italian opera.
SINGAPORE (Reuters) - With a little help from her rivals, Serena Williams secured a place in the last four of the WTA Finals on Friday and clinched the year-end number one ranking for the fourth time in her illustrious career.
MADRID (Reuters) - Andy Murray collected more points to aid his World Tour finals qualification bid when he fought back from a set down to beat Kevin Anderson 6-7(3) 6-4 6-4 in the quarter-finals of the Valencia Open on Friday.
SINGAPORE (Reuters) - Serena Williams clinched the year-end world number one ranking for the fourth time without hitting a ball on Friday after Maria Sharapova, the only woman with any chance of overtaking her, was eliminated from the WTA Finals.
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - In a bleak, treeless landscape high in the southern Peruvian Andes, bands of intrepid Ice Age people hunkered down in rudimentary dwellings and withstood frigid weather, thin air and other hardships.
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - They lived on a remote dot of land in the middle of the Pacific, 2,300 miles (3,700 km) west of South America and 1,100 miles (1,770 km) from the closest island, erecting huge stone figures that still stare enigmatically from the hillsides.
LONDON (Reuters) - As researchers from Africa to China to America race to develop vaccines and treatments to fight Ebola, health experts are grappling with the economics of a disease that until this year had been off the drug industry's radar.
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - In July 1965, two gigantic fossilized dinosaur arms replete with menacing claws were unearthed in the remote southern Gobi desert of Mongolia. Measuring 8 feet (2.4 meters), they were the longest arms of any known bipedal creature in Earth's history.
Who would be a cop during the Easy Rider era? All the hippies hate him, but diminutive highway patrolman John Wintergreen (Robert Blake) just wants to do a good job. James William Guercio’s cult hit straddles the fine line between straight-up procedural thriller and comedic character study as surely as ‘Big’ John rides his Electra Glide motorbike. It looks and feels like typical drive-in fare with its chases and slo-mo violence, but this is an altogether richer, stranger film. Subversively shooting in John Ford’s Monument Valley, Guercio pokes fun at Dirty Harry-style cops as Wintergreen transforms into one of Hollywood’s unlikeliest cult heroes.
There are some films that don’t just stimulate your eyes and ears. Take Fury, David Ayer’s grim, grimy but utterly gripping movie, set in April 1945 at the fag-end of WW2. You can feel the mud squelching in your toes. You can taste the blood in your mouth. And, boy, can you smell the stench of rotting corpses, burning flesh and unwashed men. This is a film that puts its boot on the back of your neck, and pushes you face-down into the shit and the scum of wartime conflict. A former member of the US Navy, Ayer has always seasoned his scripts with real-life grit. Corrupt-cop dramas Training Day and Dark Blue and last year’s vérité-style LAPD drama End Of Watch, which he also directed, all boast a lived-in authenticity. Same goes for Fury, a film that captures the ragged, desperate hysteria at the end of WW2 – not to mention the “fanatical resistance” faced by the Allies as the troops push for victory across a war-torn Germany. The vehicle, as it were, for Ayer’s film is a battle-scarred Sherman tank – nicknamed ‘Fury’. In charge of this beast is a US Army Sergeant named ‘Wardaddy’ (Brad Pitt), a veteran who has already fought his way through North Africa. From the moment he knifes a Nazi in the eye, you realize why he’s survived this far; he immediately recalls Robert Duvall’s Lt. Kilgore in Apocalypse Now – the sort who knows he’s not going to get so much as a scratch out there. Forget that Nazi-scalping, swastika-carving Lt. Aldo Raine Pitt played in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. With an attitude as severe as his sides-shaved haircut, the star’s never been so brutal. Ayer reinforces this from the outset, in a shocking scene where the tank’s rookie recruit Norman Ellison (Logan Lerman) is given a baptism by fire(arms), when he’s handed a pistol and told by the Sarge to “put a big fat hole” in the back of a captured German, who otherwise would’ve done the same to him. Never having killed before, Norman, a former pencil-pusher who has been thrown into the maelstrom, refuses to bloody his hands, only for Pitt’s character to practically force him to pull the trigger. Such is the sheer gale-force of this it’ll leave you trembling almost as much as Norman (finely acted by Noah star Lerman). But in the words of Wardaddy, “Ideals are peaceful, history is violent” – a phrase that haunts Fury as the blood and guts of war spill out onto the screen. Much of this is left for Norman to witness; it’s his gradual transition from innocence to experience that powers the film, acting as our way into the conflict, and Ayer doesn’t spare him (or us). One sequence sees a soldier set on fire right in front of Norman; rather than burn, the luckless grunt takes a gun and shoots himself in the head – the sort of sight that will scar a man for life. Yet it would be easy for Ayer to simply slather this story with violence and flag-waving patriotism – something he carefully avoids. As much as Wardaddy is a fighter, he’s not a monster. Witness the crucial scene where he shows kindness to two German girls he and Norman encounter (even if Ayer shamefully squeezes in a blatant shirt-off scene for Pitt, as he washes up in time for eggs and tea). Certainly, there’s humanity under the bravado – even as ‘Bible’ (Shia LaBeouf), ‘Gordo’ (Ayer’s End Of Watch star Michael Peña) and Travis (Jon Bernthal), their fellow operators in the tank, show their baser instincts. Really, Fury recalls Wolfgang Petersen’s Das Boot: like that submarine classic, it shows how being in such a confined wartime space can generate both camaraderie and claustrophobia. The film rolls along at a thundering pace, danger hangs in the air like the shrouds of mist that DP Roman Vasyanov beautifully captures. Credit also the work of production designer Andrew Menzies, evocatively recreating wartime Germany in the English countryside of Oxfordshire and Hertfordshire. In a way, there isn’t much more to Fury – stripped of subplots and intrigue, it offers a grunt’s-eye view of the war, with Pitt only occasionally stopping off to talk tactics with Jason Isaacs’ captain. Detractors may claim that, emotionally, Ayer never really brings out the heavy artillery, but there’s enough here for audiences to get thoroughly involved with these spit’n’sawdust characters. Like Norman, Ayer straps us into the front seat and doesn’t let up until the last shell is fired of the final act – a breathless all-guns-blazing sequence that gives Pitt one of the most heroic moments he’s ever played on film. In the end, though, it’s Lerman who leaves the most lasting impression. It’s his film, really, and he grabs his chance with both hands. The result is highly memorable.
Great horror films are always about something other than what they purport to be. Golden-age classics such as The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, for example, reenacted the traumas of Vietnam; while Japanese ghost story Ringu resonated with millennial techno-fear. Based on her 2006 short, Monster, Australian writer/director Jennifer Kent’s feature debut is both a terrific spook story and a moving ode to mourning. The fact Kent keeps both elements so elegantly aloft is just one of the film’s many surprises – most of them rather more unpleasant. Widowed mum Amelia (Essie Davis) lives alone with her troubled son, Samuel (Noah Wiseman), who’s young enough to believe in magic – and monsters. One night he picks a bedtime story she’s never read him before, Mister Babadook, a beautifully designed pop-up book decked out in doomy blacks about a creature who comes to visit then can’t – or won’t – be moved: “If it’s in a word or in a look, you can’t get rid of a Babadook,” the tome warns. Amelia swiftly puts it away. With Samuel expelled from school and Amelia alienated from everyone except co-worker Daniel Henshall, the pair become increasingly isolated. And you can probably guess the identity of Samuel’s invisible new playmate. Scared, scarred and scary, Davis and Wiseman both give extraordinary performances. A mess of maternal contradictions, Amelia is a weary, frazzled presence, her outlook skewed by sleep deprivation, shattered patience and aching loneliness. Samuel knows she loves him, and that she doesn’t always like him; the possibility of more loss and rejection looming over them like a malevolent presence. Adding to the poisonous atmosphere is the threat of the Babadook itself, an amorphous nightmare conjured from shadows and dressed in the cast-off clothes of Amelia’s late husband. It would be a mistake to give too much away about the eponymous beastie, mainly because we’re still terrified of it. But you know a filmmaker’s doing their job when even the title sounds scary – hell, looks scary. Expect a series of decreasing sequels explaining its origins – and avoid them. This isn’t about introducing a new franchise, it’s a film about fear. Fear of being alone, of death, of not being loved, of being weird, of the encroaching darkness – all legitimate parts of being alive. The Babadook could be a symbol for any unwelcome intruder – jealousy, grief, depression – that creeps in unbidden and can’t be exorcised. And that’s just one of the reasons the film is so devastating.
Between Satyricon and Roma, Fellini made this rather more modest curio for Italian TV, a mix of narrative, documentary and mockumentary that explores his childhood obsession – part joy, plenty fear – with circus clowns. It begins with a recreated memory of the Big Top coming to town, and ends with painted jesters coming out of retirement to stage an outlandish funeral for one of their fallen brethren. In between, Fellini and crew investigate the great European clowns of yore, and film themselves doing it. By turns magical and ponderous, this minor work spotlights the life-is-a-circus theme glimpsed in many of his other films.
In David Cronenberg’s recent Maps To The Stars, Mia Wasikowska arrives in Hollywood, where glittering surfaces play host to seething desires. In 1975’s Shivers, a young couple arrive at Canada’s luxury Starliner Towers, where an aphrodisiacal parasite will unleash orgiastic outbreaks of lust. Re-watched 40 years after it outraged moral guardians (and his landlady), Cronenberg’s film breakthrough reminds us what a singular slug-trail of sex, suggestion and psychoanalytic subversion he has left behind him. It’s almost as if he had his route to auteur fame mapped out, so clear is his imprint. Of course, it isn’t that simple. Interviews on decent archival extras (no new DC input, alas) suggest Cronenberg almost didn’t even get to direct his own script: the production company pencilled Jonathan Demme in. When Cronenberg did begin directing, he was winging it so much he worried he wasn’t cut out for film. But Cronenberg’s control and vision resonate. The opening sales pitch for the Ballard-ian apartment-block setting is a droll masterstroke of scene-setting and tone-pitching: it lays out the land and the sting of this satire on repression. Once we’re inside, Cronenberg’s boundary-blurring sensibility kicks in. The sense of outward paranoia while hell erupts inside is set by the contrast between the door-man armed to defend against invaders and scenes of a doctor murdering someone inside. Said Dr Hobbes invented a sex parasite to cure society’s rationality; now he wants to kill it. He fails, it spreads, and residents become lusty zombies in an ingenious psychosexual inversion of attack-from-outside narratives (‘They Came From Within’ was an alt-title). Elsewhere, there are bathroom violations, muddy hygiene and infection divisions, while Cronenberg assiduously rejects good/evil binaries. The slug, he’d say, is just doing its job. Seen from its eyes, critic Jason Anderson joshes on the extras, “It’s actually quite a nice story.” But Cronenberg isn’t afraid to max the nasty. If “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom”, as one on-screen poster declares, then Cronenberg’s wisdom inspires his slugs’ work. Taboos are uproariously bust: equal-ops sex is rampant, the gore generous. Add Joe Blasco’s gooey FX work and it’s easy to see why Shivers inspired genre fans and French cineastes alike. It isn’t perfect: the acting (mostly amateur, Barbara Steele aside) and sound mix lurch and wobble erratically. But it was an intelli-punk declaration of intent for Cronenberg’s cinema of sexual symbiosis and visceral smarts, where mind/body and art/horror sensibilities shared fluids. As the parasite is spread city-wide in a cavalcade of cars, you half expect to see a bespectacled, softly spoken, fiercely articulate Canadian behind the wheel: ready to spread his seed across cinema.
Heaven, LondonWolf Alices success lies in uniting their multifarious styles with pop melodies and earworm choruses
Its a homecoming gig for indie buzzband Wolf Alice and emotions are running high. We never thought we would play to this many people, says bassist Theo Ellis to the rapturous crowd. Youre going to make Ellie cry.
Ellie Rowsell and lead guitarist Jeff Oddie met in 2010. An apprenticeship of open-mic nights, after-school clubs and apathetic audiences followed, during which Wolf Alice morphed from an acoustic duo to an electric four-piece whose delicate folk was given a grunge-pop makeover. Two feted EPs later, this is the bands last show before they record their debut album.Continue reading...
Its playlist-friendly trap sound is mildly panic-inducing, like taking speed and then being told you have to go on live TVContinue reading...
City Halls, GlasgowConductor Donald Runnicles take on Bergs complex opera was compelling, beautiful and powerfully claustrophobic
There was a poignancy to the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestras Wozzeck before it even began. This performance came the day after Donald Runnicles announced he will be standing down as the orchestras chief conductor in 2016, a post in which he has done great things. No other company would present Alban Bergs formidably complex masterpiece in Scotland these days. With a mediocre La Cenerentola currently playing up the road at the Theatre Royal, theres fat chance of it coming from Scottish Opera.
If the evening began poignantly, it ended, as a powerful performance of Bergs opera must, in utter devastation. Kenneth Richardsons semi-staging had the singers acting on a sliver of stage with a handful of props and costumes. Some displayed more charisma than others, but generally their gestures were compelling enough. In a drama so absorbed in relationships and psychological breakdowns, the fewer stage gubbins the better.Continue reading...
Young Vic, LondonIvan Blackstock strikes gold with his mix of hip-hop and jazz choreography, but the underpinning story is weak
During the 1920s and early 30s jazz had all the ubiquity and urban cool of contemporary hip-hop: it made international stars of certain artists and money for a lucky few. It also operated within a white-dominated industry that was far more likely to exploit than nurture its black talent.
All these connections are explored in A Harlem Dream, a hip-hop dance production by Ivan Blackstock. Set in 1932, it tells the story of a jazz double act, Sal and Mo, as they work their way up from Mississippi to the night clubs of Harlem. Once there, ambitious Sal is seduced by the dollars and charisma of evil white impresario Mr Deville. Mo, the innocent unworldly genius, finds no place for himself and fades into silence, leaving Sal with riches but no soul.Continue reading...
Barbican, LondonAs always with Haitink, the orchestral textures were scrupulously balanced
One of the essential arts of Bruckner conducting is to know when to take a breath and when to press on while avoiding wilfulness in either direction. This is a crucial requirement in the deeply troubled C minor Eighth Symphony, which is very long and constructed out of multiple paragraphs.
Experience suggests that this flexible art comes with age and long familiarity. It is an art that Bernard Haitink now possesses more than any other living conductor. It was magnificently present throughout this performance of the Eighth, in the now customary Nowak edition, with the London Symphony Orchestra. It was quite simply a privilege to hear such Brucknerian mastery at work.Continue reading...
Top 5 at a Glance1. THE CONFESSION, by John Grisham2. WORTH DYING FOR, by Lee Child3. AMERICAN ASSASSIN, by Vince Flynn4. THE GIRL WHO KICKED THE HORNET’S NEST, by Stieg Larsson5. SIDE JOBS, by Jim Butcher
Top 5 at a Glance1. LIFE, by Keith Richards with James Fox2. BROKE, by Glenn Beck and Kevin Balfe3. EARTH (THE BOOK), by Jon Stewart and others4. THE LAST BOY, by Jane Leavy5. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MARK TWAIN, VOL. 1, by Mark Twain
Top 5 at a Glance1. THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, by Stieg Larsson2. THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE, by Stieg Larsson3. THE FINKLER QUESTION, by Howard Jacobson4. LITTLE BEE, by Chris Cleave5. CUTTING FOR STONE, by Abraham Verghese
Top 5 at a Glance1. THE LOST SYMBOL, by Dan Brown2. THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO, by Stieg Larsson3. THE RECKLESS BRIDE, by Stephanie Laurens4. THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE, by Stieg Larsson5. 61 HOURS, by Lee Child
Top 5 at a Glance1. EAT, PRAY, LOVE, by Elizabeth Gilbert2. INSIDE OF A DOG, by Alexandra Horowitz3. STONES INTO SCHOOLS, by Greg Mortenson4. THE GLASS CASTLE, by Jeannette Walls5. THREE CUPS OF TEA, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
Sep 03, 2014
Aug 28, 2014
The Melting Pot
Internationally Acclaimed Book of the True Story of Two Holocaust Survivors is Now Available in French
Jul 30, 2014
Author and Holocaust survivor Leon Malmed kept a secret for more than 60 years – a secret he has unveiled in his moving book,...
Jul 30, 2014
Members of the Ontario Provincial Police, Child Sexual Exploitation Unit in Ontario, Canada launch a sexting alternative app for teens...
Jul 24, 2014
Nimaxy presents a new radio app for the most enjoyable music experience. Nimaxy studio has the pleasure of announcing the release of the...
Oct 23, 2014
By Julie Caldwell In this, the second edition of our tales from Erie’s dark side, we will visit a few more of our local creepy...
Oct 23, 2014
Want To Know Where The Best Bands Are Playing And Where The Hottest Shows Are In...
Oct 09, 2014
Oct 09, 2014
Oct 03, 2014