PUBLIC ENEMIES
With a low-key yet intensely charismatic Johnny Depp as its lead, you could describe Michael Mann's Public Enemies as the story behind the criminal activity of the infamous, Depression-era bank robber John Dillinger. But that's not entirely accurate. The film is also about the nascent, frequently misguided authority of the FBI, personified here by a stalwart agent (a somber, less-throaty-than-usual Christian Bale) and showboating chief J. Edgar Hoover (a spectacular Billy Crudup). It's also about early media saturation in our country, and the public's complicity in turning villains into heroes, and the labyrinthine hierarchies among American gangsters, and - as embodied by a dazzlingly desirable and powerful Marion Cotillard - the ever-unpredictable nature of love. And, more than anything, it's about the exquisite craftsmanship of Michael Mann, whose Public Enemies doesn't look or sound quite like any other crime movie you've seen, and whose technical virtuosity might make Public Enemies impossible to forget.
The Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse's current family musical, Pinkalicious, is as lightweight and sweet as cotton candy, and about as nourishing; it gives you a friendly sugar rush and all but evaporates on contact. Yet hidden within the show's pleasant, amiable presentation are moments of delightfully loopy comic invention, and throwaway bits so surprising and bubbly and odd that the production lingers in your head far longer than you'd expect it to. It's cotton candy, all right, but it's cotton candy filled with Pop Rocks.
"Literally thousands of people have come through this building to perform on our stage," says Craig Michaels, past president of the Playcrafters Barn Theatre's board of directors. "But without demeaning or belittling any of the work that's been done here over the years, I was finding that I didn't feel the entire community was properly represented within our building, both on our stage and behind the scenes."
Within the first minute of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, it'll be pretty apparent that the movie wasn't exactly designed for (or by) Mensa members, as a title card shows the military time in China to be 22:14 hours, and the sun is still up. It'll quickly be even more apparent, when the prelude's autobot narrator mispronounces "refuge." But heaven knows we're not expecting braininess from a Michael Bay-directed action sequel based on a line of Hasbro action figures; if the effects are sufficiently awesome and there's a good joke now and again -- which pretty much sums up Bay's original, 2007 Transformers -- nearly any other irritant could be easily forgiven.
South Pacific comes to us with an intimidating load of pedigreed baggage: Pulitzer Prizes, Tony Awards, Rodgers & Hammerstein. And if you add its dramatic World War II setting, its themes of interracial romance and prejudice, its enormous scenic drops and set pieces, and its cast of two dozen plus, it'd be enough for Countryside Community Theatre's current production of the piece to be impressive, and it most certainly is that.
Not for nothing, but have you seen the size of that freakin' tree that fell in Rock Island's Lincoln Park over the weekend?
By the time the title character takes to the skies in the Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse's Peter Pan, the effect, while wondrous, is also somewhat superfluous, since the presentation had already been airborne for a good 40 minutes beforehand, and will continue to be for the two hours that follow. If ever a production deserved to be called "ethereal," it's this one, but even that adjective doesn't suggest just how enthralling this Peter Pan truly is.
If you were to ask me which I'd rather see - a new stage comedy by David Mamet, Elaine May, or Woody Allen - I'd have to think long and hard before giving you my answer: "Yes, please."
There are nights during the run of a happily manic, door-slamming farce when everything seems to go magically right: The actors hit their marks exactly on cue, the dialogue lands with almost inhuman accuracy, and the set's many doors open and shut with razor-sharp precision. The audience, meanwhile, barely has time in between laughs to catch its collective breath.
THE PROPOSAL
