According to North American folklore, the mythical creature known as the jackalope is a jackrabbit outfitted with antelope horns. But what if one was French? And interfered with your plans to get to Burning Man? And was making his debut at a theatre near you? Then you'd have “Jacques”alope, a world-premiere one-act running November 4 through 13 at the Davenport venue the Mockingbird on Main.

While it may not be a “complete” entertainment quite yet (and as of this writing, no followup is contractually guaranteed), there's so much that's engaging and inventive and glorious about the Dune world according to Denis Villeneuve that the movie practically nullifies your complaints while they're occurring to you. That's not to say I didn't leave with a few; I just didn't mind them much.

While Ridley Scott's latest is ultimately engrossing, if for deeply complicated and largely upsetting reasons, I couldn't help but find my thoughts also drifting away from its #MeToo angle and toward a familiar fairy tale, as one third of the film is too hot, another third is too cold, and the final third is … . Well, it's not just right, but it certainly believes it's right.

Blending horror with the Bee Gees era will absolutely be intentional on October 21 and 22, when Ballet Quad Cities hosts its fall fundraising performances of Halloween Disco Party at the Clubtwo nights of groovy/spooky vignettes performed at Davenport's Outing Club by the talents of the Quad Cities' professional dance company.

No Time to Die is more of the same – and at 163 minutes, a lot more of the same – but with heightened yet human-scale threat, as well as an emotional urgency that makes the old feel close to new.

They're both follow-ups to hits that also enjoyed October openings – one in 2018, and the other in 2019. They're both blessedly short, running 97 and 93 minutes, respectively. And if you're wondering what else Venom: Let There Be Carnage and The Addams Family 2 might have in common, they're both considerably better than the works they hailed from, although in only one case does the improvement result in something resembling a good movie.

While it's intermittently moving and generally well-acted, the film version of Broadway hit Dear Evan Hansen, as you may have heard, has a number of problems: an unconvincing, even preposterous premise; blithe depictions of teen depression and mental instability; a 27-year-old lead cast as a high-school student. We'll get to those shortly. But the movie's biggest issue, it seems to me, lies in a sensation that you might only recognize if you've seen a lot of stage musicals, or least a lot of sub-par ones.

Clint Eastwood isn't necessarily bad here; at times, he's even enjoyable. But while I don't wish to be indelicate, there's no getting around the fact that, at the time of filming last year, Clint was 90, and he looks 90, and sounds 90, and moves 90 … and somehow, maddeningly, not one character in the film seems to notice.

Paul Schrader's hypnotic, sometimes thrillingly intense exploration of some of his favorite artistic themes – obsession, addiction, guilt, redemption – is such a singularly arresting achievement that it's easy to sail past its structural and performance flaws.

Over the past decade-plus, theatre audiences have seen her in such area productions as A Streetcar Named Desire, Oedipus Rex, The Gift of the Magi, and this past June's Hate Mail. They've heard her sing in such musicals as Thoroughly Modern Millie, Monty Python's Spamalot, The Drowsy Chaperone, and Assassins. But until now – or rather, until its September 16 through 18 run at Davenport venue The Mockingbird on Main – stage fans haven't spent a full 75 minutes in her solo (albeit piano-accompanied) theatrical company until the debut of her one-act cabaret Wishes: An Evening with Wendy Czekalski.

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