MORTDECAI
Mortdecai, a Clouseau-esque slapstick about a bumbling art dealer and a missing Goya, isn't so much a movie as it is a test, and one with a single question: Just how much Johnny Depp can you still stomach? For me, the answer turned out to be "more than I expected," because while director David Koepp's comedy is crummy in many ways, it did crack me up a good dozen times, and every time because its generally overexposed star did or said something that caught me completely, joyously off-guard.
Prior to the Circa '21 Dinner Playhouse's opening-night performance of Smokey Joe's Café, and immediately following the Bootleggers' "birth of rock 'n' roll"-themed pre-show, my partner's daughter, Hannah, tried to argue that the doo-wop style of music heard in the wait staff's entertainment was not rock n' roll because ... well, because she's 13 and knows everything, the history of the genre be damned. Yet despite also proclaiming that she hated this sort of "it's not really rock 'n' roll" music that I warned her would populate the entire evening's entertainment, Hannah was all smiles at intermission, excitedly talking about how much she loved the songs, and even citing a few favorites by name. I hope Hannah's changes of opinion and attitude are testaments to the quality of Circa '21's endeavor. It's truly fantastic.
