DOC NYC ’22: Ellis

Ellis Marsalis is a lot like the Archie Manning of jazz (the Saints quarterback and father of Eli and Peyton). They were both closely associated with New Orleans, but Marsalis was still playing in his prime when his sons came to prominence. He kept playing brilliantly for decades, right up until his Covid-related death. Sascha Just profiles the late, great jazz great and explains his significance in the simply-titled documentary Ellis, which screens again during this year’s DOC NYC.

For years, Ellis Marsalis was a musician’s musician—the sort they knew deserved to be nationally known. However, he stayed in New Orleans, even while the local jazz scene struggled. Initially, he took a teaching job to help make ends meets, but he became the pioneering model of what we know consider a modern jazz educator.

As jazz fans know, Marsalis had five sons to support, four of whom also became celebrated jazz musicians. Roughly, in order of descending fame, that would be Wynton, Branford, Jason, and Delfeayo—roughly, five out of ten jazz fans might change that order around. Here in 2022, it is hard to understand how big Wynton and Branford were in the 1980s and how unusual that was for jazz at the time (or any other time). Thanks in part to their success, jazz listeners (and discerning ears) started re/discovering the senior Marsalis.

Since then, Ellis Marsalis toured all over the world, but he always returned to teach and play in New Orleans. I heard him play in-person at Snug Harbor, NOLA’s premier jazz club for contemporary mainstream bop-based jazz, on several occasions, including what might have been one of his final sets. It stirs up wonderfully sentimental feelings seeing Just’s footage of him holding forth in Snug Harbor.

Tribeca ’22: Music Pictures: New Orleans

Even though it scattered New Orleans musicians, Katrina never the silenced the music. Jazz Fest continued on-schedule and the Frenchmen and Bourbon Street clubs were undamaged and reopened for business. However, Covid closed everything and canceled all the gigs, including Jazz Fest. At least documentary filmmakers appreciated what we were missing, because there has been a recent boomlet of NOLA music docs released in theaters or screening at festivals. This one is a welcomed addition. Ben Chace profiles four stylistically different—but not too disparate—veteran New Orleans musicians in Music Pictures: New Orleans, which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Part one focuses on Irma Thomas, “The Soul Queen,” a highly fitting and logical place to start. Unlike Martin Shore’s Take Me to the River New Orleans, which felt compelled to team Thomas up with a younger artist, Ledisi, Chace finds her sufficiently interesting on her own, because she is. However, he also gives a bit of time to her sidemen, particularly drummer Johnny Vidacovich, whom Thomas is happy to share the spotlight with. Hearing them put together a smoldering and swinging “My Love Is” is a treat.

Likewise, hearing Thomas casually land an a cappella “Our Day Will Come” and then carefully caress it while recording a lush studio arrangement will give you good chills. Honestly, watching Music Pictures will make NOLA music fans realize she is even cooler than they understood.

Benny Jones Sr. is now the leader of the Treme Brass Band (who were regularly seen in HBO’s Treme), but he was also a founder of The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, who really deserve a documentary of their own, for re-popularizing a funkifying the NOLA brass band tradition. NOLA brass bands have an infectious rhythmic drive and as a bass and snare drummer, Jones is one of the best putting the beat on the street. Of course, the entire band makes their groove swing, but vocalist/alto-player John “Prince” Gilbert gets the time to tell some of the band’s reminiscences, like when they opened for the Grateful Dead, in Oakland, on New Year’s Eve.

Little Freddie King probably lived the blues as much as anyone, if not more so. Yet, he survived to find fame in Europe and play regular gigs in New Orleans. He probably has the film’s most colorful anecdotes, but the important thing is he can still play—and he is a heck of a snappy dresser. It is definitely King’s segment, but his drummer-manager “Wacko” Wade Wright gets credit for handling all the business, as well as a lot of King’s personal, medical logistics.

Appropriately, Music Pictures concludes with New Orleans’ first family of modern jazz, the Marsalises, whom Shore dubiously ignored. It was a wise choice, considering Ellis Marsalis, the NOLA jazz patriarch, passed away due to Covid complications in 2020. Chace focuses on Marsalis’s first and only album length collaboration with his son Jason (brother of Wynton and Branford) on vibes (whereas on their previous recordings together, Jason had played drums).

Take Me to the River New Orleans

Even without jazz, New Orleans would be one of most important musical cities. That might be a heavy statement, but it is backed up by the likes of the Neville Brothers, The Meters, Dumpstaphunk, Fats Domino, Allen Toussaint, and Dr. John. When you add jazz back in, forget about it. Martin Shore doesn’t forget about NOLA’s jazz roots, but he definitely emphasizes the funk and R&B when he takes his documentary franchise to our favorite city in Take Me to the River New Orleans, which opens this Friday in the Crescent City, itself.

Shore visits studios all over New Orleans, where he pairs up legendary musicians, with up-and-coming local artists. It is an approach we’ve seen many times before. Frankly, a lot of fans would rather just see Irma Thomas (on her own), who kicks off the film with Ledisi, performing her classic “Wish Someone Would Care.” We do not mean to insult Ledisi, but this kind of Tony Bennett Duets project is getting to be a cliché.

It is way more interesting to hear a diverse group of New Orleans drummers: Shannon Powell, Herlin Riley, Alvin Ford Jr., Terence Higgins, and Stanton Moore, kvetch and jam on “Li’l Liza Jane,” because it is a real dialogue. Donald Harrison, Jr. represents the jazz tradition and helps explain the significance of the Mardi Gras Indians. He also jams hard on the “Saints” with his nephew Christian Scott and the Tipitina’s Interns. You can’t get much more New Orleans than that.

Shore visits Preservation Hall, but we do not really hear much from the current bands there. However, a number of brass bands perform and discuss the current funkier scene, including the New Breed, Rebirth, and the grandaddies of them all, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band (who back Aaron Neville on a rousing “Stompin’ Ground”).

It is totally cool to see Walter “Wolfman” Washington included, jamming with Ani DiFranco on a real deal Cajun tune. The sessions involving rappers are a mixed bag, with the most successful being the Soul Rebels jamming with the late 5^th Ward Weebie on “504/Enjoy Yourself.” The tribute to Toussaint is a bit gimmicky, but somehow Snoop Dog and G-Eazy almost sound like they belong on “Yes We Can,” with the Meters, William Bell, and Big Sam Williams doing all the hard work of keeping things funky.

Ashland Independent ’22: City of a Million Dreams

New Orleans' music and culture always helped it endure hard times. For most people, funerals are always the worst of times, but the city’s unique jazz funeral tradition gave mourners a feeling of uplift. Drawing from his nonfiction book, Jason Berry explores the history of jazz funerals and the challenges to their continued practice in City of a Million Dreams, which screens virtually as part of the 2022 Ashland Independent Film Festival.

New Orleans is famous for its brass bands and the “second-liners,” the revelers who follow parading bands, literally dancing in the streets (as documented by photographer William Claxton, amongst others). Berry fully explains the connection between brass bands, the Mardi Gras Indians, and the benevolent societies, which originally supplied de facto funeral insurance policies to black New Orleanians. For those who need the context, Berry and his on-camera experts also explain how New Orleans jazz grew out of the roots of slavery and Congo Square, the gathering place, where slaves were allowed to congregate on Sundays.

To keep things real, Berry had the on-screen participation and consultation of “advisory producers” Dr. Michael White (of the Young Tuxedo Brass Band and Original Liberty Jazz Band) and Deb “Big Red” Cotton, an online journalist, who chronicled the city’s brass band/second line scene. However, Berry’s documentary takes on unexpected tragic dimensions when Cotton is hit by a stray bullet while documenting a second line.

Indeed, there is considerable sorrow in Million Dreams, despite the joyfulness of the music (which is terrific). Berry revisits the city’s darkest days, in the early 1980s and mid-1990s, when rampant crime threatened to derail the jazz funeral tradition. Of course, the film reflects on the disruption of Katrina, from White’s perspective (on the positive side, we hear some of the music he composed during the aftermath, recorded on his Blue Crescent album). Berry also necessarily ends on an uncertain note, with the practice of jazz funerals and second lining suspended due to Covid shut-downs and social distancing.

Shapeless, Filmed in New Orleans

New Orleans would be a terrible place to suffer from an eating disorder, because good food is everywhere: muffulettas, po boys, beignets, Zapp’s, etc. Of course, nobody really has a choice in the matter. New Orleans is also known for great music. That is what Ivy is focusing on. The aspiring vocalist wants to focus on her career to the exclusion of just about everything else, but her bulimic impulses take on truly monstrous dimensions in Samantha Aldana’s body horror-ish Shapeless, written and produced by lead thesp Kellly Murtagh, which opens today in select theaters.

Ivy has talent, but she always keeps her trio and her few friends at arm length, except occasionally Oscar, her bassist (a hat-tip to Pettiford?) and once-in-a-blue-moon hook-up. She simply cannot allow anyone to see her secrets demons. Essentially, her eating compulsion manifests itself as Cronenbergian outbreaks all over her body that can only be staved off through binging. Subsequently, purges to maintain her frighteningly slim figure.

Shapeless is the sort of horror film where the horror probably isn’t really happening. Most likely, it is really more of a projection of Ivy’s inner demons. Frankly, a lot of fans are getting tired of the serious issue, after-school-special trend in horror, so there might be some fatigue for Shapeless’s experimental style and sober themes. The truth is Shapeless would have been better served if it muted its genre claims and billed itself as a dark drama about compulsion set in New Orleans. It delivers a frequently harrowing viewing experience, but it is not “scary,” per se.

However, it understands the pressures of life as a musician pretty darned well. Murtagh uses “St. James Infirmary” as a touchstone tune throughout the film, which is a shrewd choice, because it must be one of the most achingly mournful jazz standards ever. Both she and Zardis Nichols (playing Marion, a NOLA singer Ivy idolizes) perform excellent renditions. In fact, there is a lot of terrific sounding music heard as part of Ivy’s world. While cast-members portray her trio on-screen, much of the musical combo duties are handled by Shea Pierre on piano, Gerald Watkins Jr. on drums, and Amina Scott on bass. They always sound great. Unfortunately, there is also a lot of dissonant freakout music that is not nearly as distinctive.

A Tuba to Cuba: On the Road with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band

Don’t expect to hear “When the Saints Come Marching In.” Hip jazz fans know requests of that “good old good one” will set you back a whopping twenty bucks in Preservation Hall. Honestly, it is probably worth it, but the band will really stretch themselves in new directions during this goodwill tour. Forget the politics and get ready to get down during T.G. Herrington & Danny Clinch’s A Tuba to Cuba (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

There are not a lot of seats in Preservation Hall and it is not well-air-conditioned, but they still pack in the standing-room-only crowds for every performance. The Hall was founded by the late, beloved Alan Jaffe, whose son Ben succeeded him both as the Band’s tuba player and the artistic director of the Hall. Having grown up in the middle of New Orleans jazz, Jaffe is particularly aware of its Latin influences—what Jelly Roll Morton called “The Spanish Tinge.”

It turns out the NOLA-Cuba axis was a two-way street, as demonstrated by a sizable expat population that migrated to Santiago de Cuba, due to dissatisfaction with the Louisiana Purchase. Yet, that free-flow of culture and people was shut off when Cuba became a closed Communist police state.

There is some terrific music in Tuba to Cuba that more than compensates for the problematic way the film ignores the merciless human rights abuses that still continue unchecked under the Royal Castro family regime. There is no mention of the violent thuggery directed at the Ladies in White or the jailing of dissidents, like Dr. Oscar Elías Biscet. However, there is plenty of music and it sounds terrific.

As you would expect, the Preservation Hall band-members and the local musicians (whether they specialize in jazz or rumba) mesh together seamlessly. In fact, they immediately recognize a kinship between the second-line and rumba traditions. They also feel a deep rhythmic connection that runs through Congo Square back to Africa.

Hopefully, Tuba to Cuba will also lead to more recognition for the world class musicians of Preservation Hall. Arguably, Mark Braud is younger than modernist snobs would expect, but he has masterful chops worthy of the city’s great trumpet tradition. On the other hand, the sunnily charismatic Charlie Gabriel is everything you could ever hope for from a New Orleans jazz statesman.

The music will recharge your batteries and the human connections forged during the film are genuine, so you might as well overlook the ugly truth, including widespread censorship and street violence employed as a tool of state intimidation, which Herrington and Clinch clearly did their best to conceal—but let’s not make a habit of it. Recommended for fans of New Orleans-style jazz, A Tuba to Cuba opens this Friday (2/15) in New York, at the Village East.

DOC NYC ’17: Rodents of Unusual Size

Thanks to animal rights activists, Hurricane Katrina was more severe than it could have and should have been. It is a story that sounds so crazy, it could only happen in the Louisiana bayou country, but it is inevitably spreading along America’s coastal wetlands. The direct culprit is the burrowing, grass-inhaling mega-swamp rat called the nutria, but it has been aided and abetted by clueless people. However, viewers will meet some of the hardy Louisianans who are rising to the nutria challenge in Quinn Costello, Chris Metzler & Jeff Springer’s Rodents of Unusual Size (trailer here), which screens during DOC NYC 2017.

Essentially, Nutria are just plain varmints. They are an invasive species that was deliberately imported to Louisiana during the Depression to provide jobs on fur farms. However, during one dark and stormy night, a colony of nutria escaped their cages into the swamps—an environment perfectly suited to them. For decades, this was not a problem, because their pelts were valuable to fur trappers. Hence, their population remained in check. Unfortunately, the bottom fell out of the market in the 1980s, thanks to the anti-fur campaign.

There was no longer an incentive to trap nutria, but the nutria continued doing what rodents do best. As a result, they have literally chewed up the coastal marshlands, leaving the soil fragile and infertile due to their massive tunneling networks. Of course, the lush wetlands were a prime defense against serious hurricanes, but tragically, they were appreciably depleted when Katrina hit.

On one level, Rodents is an object lesson in the unintended consequences of cheap, feel-good activism. Yet, it is also a tribute to Louisiana resiliency. In recent years, the once-exploding nutria population has actually decreased dramatically, thanks to the $5 bounty U.S. Fish & Wildlife now pays for every nutria tale. Clearly, there is no limit to what well-armed and highly-motivated Cajun bounty-hunters can accomplish, when they put their mind to it.

In addition, various New Orleanians are working to create sustainable demand for nutria products. Righteous Fur markets nutria as a guilt-free fur with its hipster-friendly accessories, while some New Orleans celebrity chefs promote nutria as a local cuisine. In fact, there is no bigger celebrity chef than Kermit Ruffins, who fixes up some nutria barbeque for a skeptical audience at his Tremé Mother-in-Law Lounge.

Rodents is a terrific documentary. It illuminates a fascinating case study, while showing plenty of sensitivity to local customs and culture. The doc also sounds great, featuring the music of Ruffins and the Lost Bayou Ramblers. There is even a sly animated history lesson, narrated by Wendell Pierce that is totally in keeping with the attitude and sensibilities of the Crescent City and Pelican State. Plus, we meet a service dog named “George W. Bush” and the title is a Princess Bride reference, so what more could you ask for?

Maybe more Ruffins. At a whisker under seventy-minutes, Rodents totally hits it and quits it, without any wasted time. Yet, it is an important and informative film, especially given the spread of the nutria population. Very highly recommended, Rodents of Unusual Size screens this Wednesday (11/15) as part of this year’s DOC NYC.

Kew Gardens ’17: Dark Meridian

In New Orleans, the city is loyal to the Saints, neighborhoods are loyal to their local brass bands, and cops are loyal to the gangsters who first bribed them—at least the semi-honest ones are. Det. Spencer Soleno is one of them. When Old Man Marek asked him to hang around in case of trouble, Soleno faithful obliged. However, neither of them expected this much trouble in Rankin Hickman’s Dark Meridian (trailer here), which screens during the first ever Kew Gardens Festival of Cinema.

At Mr. Marek’s request, Soleno is staking out a warehouse, just in case. In case of what, he asks Marek’s youngest son Tevi when he steps out for a cigarette. The recent college graduate will not say, but the shots fired from inside are answer enough. Much to both men’s shock and regret, they find Tevi’s older brother and a trusted lieutenant dead inside. Soleno and the junior Marek will chase the elusive killer all through the city, because neither wants to face his father without the hitman’s scalp.

Of course, it would help Soreno if he knew why the Mareks had brought the killer to their warehouse in the first place. That story will unfold in flashbacks, but it might take a while, considering the Mareks originally had their doubts whether they were holding the right guy.

Hickman earns a gold star and a trumpet fanfare, because he actually uses flashbacks quite deftly to enhance the mystery of his narrative. Even though he is constantly revealing, he keeps the audience frequently second-guessing their assumptions. There are about a thousand indie crime dramas that completely bungle their timeline hopping for each one like Meridian that gets it right, but when they work, they work.

James Moses Black is another glaringly obvious reason why Meridian works as well as it does. As Soreno, he is all kinds of intense, yet acutely, clay-footedly human. It is a terrific portrayal of a problematic but charismatic lawman that could keep company with Bill Paxton in One False Move and Denzel Washington in Training Day. The deceptively everyday looking Billy Slaughter also helps keep the audience off-balance as Patrick Fox, whoever he might be.

Hickman’s execution is lean and mean and tight and tense. Cinematographer Jerry M. Jacob gives it all an appropriately noir look. The only frustrating thing about Meridian is there is no jazz to be heard, despite its New Orleans setting. There are a lot of great Old School NOLA musicians who are still struggling to get by, nearly twelve years after Katrina. A little soundtrack work would have been a nice gig for them, especially if the film takes off. Oh well, a lost opportunity. Regardless, Dark Meridian is still highly recommended for thriller fans when it screens this Wednesday (8/9) as part of the inaugural Kew Gardens Festival of Cinema.

Reel South: The Exceptionally Extraordinary Emporium

It is sort of like the Louisiana Music Factory for fabric and crafts, but only genuine locals shop there. Jefferson Variety is your one-stop destination store for beads, feathers, and brocade. Whatever you need for your Mardi Gras and parading costumes you can find there. Lindsey Phillips introduces viewers to the employees and customers of Jefferson Variety in the short documentary The Exceptionally Extraordinary Emporium (trailer here), which airs as part of the current season of Reel South on PBS’s World Channel (hosted by Darius Rucker).

Dressing up and looking good is a way of life in New Orleans. It is not just for Mardi Gras, but that is the Super Bowl of New Orleans parading. It is a lovely tradition that helps make New Orleans such a distinctive place and forges so many friendships amongst the benevolent parade societies—and with the staff of Jefferson Variety.

Phillips gives us a bit of historical background on the store itself and the various traditions it supports, like the Mardi Gras Indian tribes. However, it is mostly about appreciating the colorful costumes that are crafted out of the store’s sequins and boas. Even if you are not a fashionista, the costumes look pretty cool, really because they are so New Orleans. The film also sounds terrific thanks to the on-location recorded performances of Krewe of Eris and the McDonogh No. 35 Marching Band.

You could argue Emporium is an extended commercial for Jefferson Variety, but whatever, you’ll still be sold on it regardless. It is a nice tribute to NOLA culture, brimming with good vibes. Recommended for everyone who digs New Orleans (and the surrounding parishes), The Exceptionally Extraordinary Emporium airs this Sunday (2/5) on PBS’s World Channel.

DWF ’16: Dinner with the Alchemist

Next time you are in New Orleans, consider taking a walking tour of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. You can’t miss what is considered the crypt of the illustrious voodoo priestess (and Roman Catholic of good standing) Marie Laveau, because it is surrounded by offerings left by those seeking her intervention (often in matters of the heart). None can doubt the name Laveau still has potency in the Crescent City. In the early 1900s, Laveau’s cautious granddaughter has difficulty filling the shoes of her legendary namesake, but an enigmatic new arrival will convince the voodoo practitioner to take a more activist role in Kevin Good’s Dinner with the Alchemist (trailer here), which world premiered at the 2016 Dances with Films.

Alchemist Jacques St. Germaine has just arrived from Paris, but he should feel linguistically and culturally comfortable in New Orleans. He immediately seeks out Marie Laveau, out of respect and for professional reasons. His beloved cat died during the voyage, but he is certain she can fix it. He also believes Laveau’s powers can halt the Yellow Fever ravaging the outer wards. Although Laveau is reluctant to open Pandora’s Box, but she relents in the case of the cat out of gratitude for some timely assistance.

The good news is the epidemic might not be as bad as the city assumed. The bad news is its death toll has apparently been inflated by a serial killer planting his victims among the deceased diseased bodies. Prostitutes are his preferred target, which is rather bad timing for Mary, an earnest Catholic orphan who has just accepted employment in Madame Catherine’s brothel. She hoped to perform conventional servant girl chores, but obviously that is not what the Madam had in mind. However, Mary can possibly forestall the worst of her new duties by investigating the murders (presumably committed by one of their clients). St. Germaine is not one of them, but he has taken a personal interest in Mary, for mysterious reasons.

If you dig New Orleans, there is probably just enough of it to carry Alchemist. The premise is terrific, but at times it is hamstrung by its budget constraints. For instance, the supposed interior shots of Saint Louis Cathedral were obviously shot in a different, smaller location. The subplot involving Mary and her sailor suitor are also rather awkward (to put it diplomatically).

On the other hand, Dan Istrate is terrific as St. Germaine, especially when confronting Dionne Audain’s Marie Laveau. They have real presence, dignified but also somewhat uncanny, as befitting such powerful Crescent City denizens. Unfortunately, many of the supporting players provide rather questionable support.

Still, Jenna St. John’s screenplay is quite clever, incorporating a great deal of colorful NOLA lore and even some legitimate history. She and Good clearly understand the original Laveau’s continuing importance to New Orleanians. Despite its limitations, Dinner with the Alchemist is an entertaining period urban fantasy and an affectionate love letter to New Orleans. It deserves to find an audience among fans of the city’s macabre legends and lies, following its world premiere at this year’s Dances with Films, in Hollywood, USA.

Of Mind and Music: A NOLA Street Musician’s Tale

In many respects, the case of Una Vida (“the Queen of Royal Street”) is not so different from those chronicled in the documentary Alive Inside. Although she suffers from Alzheimer’s, music seems to awaken her memories and offers a means to relate to the outside world, at least to some extent. However, the standards she sings are also intertwined in her head with a profound trauma from decades past. A grieving neuroscientist will be drawn to the vocalist and her blues guitarist protector in Richie Adams’ Of Mind and Music, which opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Much like Dr. Nicholas Bazan, the author of the film’s source novel, Dr. Alvaro Cruz is an Argentine polyglot neuroscientist specializing in Alzheimer’s. He is also a New Orleanian through and through when it comes to music and cuisine. Plagued with guilt when his Alzheimer’s-stricken mother dies while he is attending an international conference, he seeks solace in the muffaletttas of the Central Avenue Grocery and the sounds of Frenchmen Street. At such old school NOLA locales, he regularly encounters Una Vida and her guitar accompanist, Stompleg. He can tell she suffers from some form of neurological dementia, but the lyrics of the “gold old good ones” keep her somewhat tethered and focused.

Dr. Cruz quickly develops an easy rapport with Stompleg and Una Vida finds him pleasant enough, even though she can’t necessarily remember him from one day to the next. However, her junkie former minder Jessica is instantly suspicious of the doctor and jealous of the connection he might be slowly forging with the withdrawn Una Vida. Nevertheless, she will need his help when Stompleg is accepted by an out-of-state assisted living residency for legit blues artists.

Clearly, Mind means well so ardently it practically aches with good intentions. Fortunately, it also has an intimate familiarity with New Orleans, which helps ground the picture and gives it the ring of authenticity. The somewhat pivot role played by the Louisiana Music Factory earns it multiple bonus points. You could actually go to a lot of the locations in Mind—in fact, you really should.

Although he is probably still best known for playing Bucho in Desperado and Ramon Salazar in 24, Portuguese-born Joaquim de Almeida is wonderfully earthy as Dr. Cruz. Quantico’s Aunjanue Ellis is mostly convincing and often quite compelling as the tragic Una Vida, but it is Bill Cobbs who really lowers the emotional boom as Stompleg. Frankly, he does award-worthy work, but he gets a key assist from John Fohl, who dubs Stompleg’s blues guitar. Their rendition of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” heard over the closing credits is eerily haunting. Similarly, Mykia Jovan supplies the deeply soulful vocals of Una Vida. Unfortunately, Sharon Lawrence (from NYPD Blue) is mainly stuck watching the drama from the sidelines as Cruz’s eternally patient wife Angela.

Strangely, the incidental soundtrack is not very jazz or blues, but the inclusion of bandoneon and clarinet gives it a touch of Louisiana flavoring, while also evoking Dr. Cruz’s Argentine roots. Of course, you cannot get anymore legit than Kermit Ruffins and Jon Cleary who briefly appear as themselves. While Adams does not always skirt every potentially melodramatic pitfall cleanly, the cast and the music always propel the film forward. Recommended as a valentine to the Crescent City and a realistic portrayal of the challenges of Alzheimer’s, Of Mind and Music opens this Friday (3/4) at the Laemmle Music Hall in Los Angeles.

NewFest ’15: Sisters of the Plague

There is no shortage of locations for Jo’s haunted French Quarter tours. Unfortunately, she can’t stop bringing her work home each night. Lately, she has been beset by weird visions and feelings of dread. She suspects it all has something to do with her mother’s premature death. The circumstances surrounding the incident remain murky, but that is true of much that you will find in Jorge Torres-Torres’s Sisters of the Plague (trailer here), which screens as part of the inaugural Queer Horror Night at this year’s NewFest.

In retrospect, Jo was probably asking for trouble when she participated in staged “witchcraft” shows for her tour patrons. Rather than cheesy shtick for the tourists, they look pretty real, but perhaps that is a bad thing. Although her mother has been dead for a while now, Jo still has unanswered questions. She was hoping her formerly-estranged drunkard father Bob would have some answers when she let him move in, but they are still rather standoffish around each other.

For obvious reasons, Jo’s girlfriend Kate is less than thrilled to have the constantly hacking, hard drinking Bob in such close proximity. Jo’s increasingly erratic behavior gives her further reason to conclude this family just isn’t cute anymore. Yet, Jo is sufficiently lucid to recognize she has a problem. Proactively, she seeks help from an old school psychic in some of the film’s best sequences.

In Plague, Josephine Decker and her Butter on the Latch co-star Isolde Chae-Lawrence reunite under the direction of Torres-Torres, the editor and associate producer of Toad Road, so it is hardly surprising this outing feels like an unholy marriage of those two hipster films. At least Plague is long on atmosphere, as you would jolly well hope from a movie set in New Orleans. There are a handful of eerily suggestive scenes, but Jo’s connective drama gets downright laborious.

Despite her bold extremes, there is something oddly distancing about Decker’s performance. Chae-Lawrence gives viewers somewhat more accessible energy and attitude to work with, but it is still hard to fathom why she sticks around as long as she does. However, Thomas Francis Murphy deserves all kinds of credit for his uncomfortably gross work as Bob.

Of course, it is hard to go too far wrong when using New Orleans as the backdrop for a ghost story involving long buried secrets. In fact, there is something impressive about its rigid aesthetic, not unlike Sarah Adina Smith’s The Midnight Swim, but it wouldn’t have killed anyone to embrace a few more genre indulgences. It is an intriguing film to parse and dissect, but most cult film fans will prefer something a little more fun. Recommended almost exclusively for fans of Decker and producer-co-writer Jason Banker, Sisters of the Plague screens this Sunday (10/25) at the Chelsea Bowtie, as part of NewFest 2015.

AAIFF ’12: Mr.Cao Goes to Washington

Anh “Joseph” Cao was elected to Congress in 2008, a generally bad year for Republicans.  He was defeated in his re-election bid two years later—a decidedly good year for Republican candidates.  In a mere two years, the idealistic former Jesuit seminarian received an eye-opening education in all manner of group-think politics.  Cao’s short tenure in office is documented in S. Leo Chiang’s Mr. Cao Goes to Washington (trailer here), which screens during the upcoming Asian American International Film Festival in New York.

Immigrating to America while his father was still a captive of a Communist Vietnamese re-education camp, young Cao led an eventful life before he even considered a political career.  Choosing law school over a life of the cloth, Cao became an activist leader in Versailles, New Orleans’ small but enterprising Vietnamese community (profiled in Chiang’s previous documentary, A Village Called Versailles).  Louisiana’s second congressional district was deliberately drawn to elect an African American Democrat, everything that Cao is not.  However, the ethical issues dogging William “Cold Cash” Jefferson gave Cao a once in a lifetime opportunity to flip the seat—and he was precisely the transcendent candidate to do it.

The question throughout MCGTW is whether or not Cao can hold his seat against a relatively untarnished Democrat (if one can be found in the Crescent City).  Unfortunately, most viewers already know the answer, undercutting the suspense, but also preparing them for the inevitable crushing disappointment.

Chiang and film editor Matthew Martin arduously walk a political tight-rope, trying to frame Cao to be as appetizing as possible to left-of-center film critics.  Much is made of Cao’s relative liberalism within the Republican caucus, including many laments that he might be better suited to the other party.  Yet, Cao remains staunchly pro-life throughout his term of office, so so much for that idea.  Frankly, Cao had no complaints with his Republican colleagues, getting more than his share of their earmarks for his ungrateful district.  Conversely, the figure who emerges in Chiang’s doc as the poster boy for political hypocrisy and opportunism is none other than the current (but perhaps not long term) occupant of the Oval Office.

Initially wooed by Obama, Cao genuinely believed the President’s pretenses of friendship.  Indeed, Cao took a lot of heat voting for the House’s first Obamacare bill.  However, when Obama inevitably cuts a commercial for his Democrat opponent (a less than inspiring figure with a history of disbarments and barroom brawling), it is profoundly disillusioning for Cao.  Indeed, for all the film’s attempts to distinguish Cao from the national GOP, time and again it is the Democrats (both nationally and in New Orleans) who refuse to look past party labels and racial identity.  To their credit, Chiang and his team show this quite clearly.

Nonetheless, MCGTW is so intent on presenting Cao in non-partisan terms, it declines to correct a few inaccuracies.  While Cao was the only Asian American Republican in Congress at the time of his election, he was eventually joined by Charles Djou, the first Thai American congressman, who won a special election in Hawaii (but was subsequently defeated in 2010, like Cao).  Perhaps more problematically, MCGTW lets a local provocateur’s incendiary racial attacks on the GOP stand unchallenged.  Still, it illustrates the sort of rhetoric Cao faced from some extremists.

Perhaps most importantly, MCGTW always treats Cao fairly, recognizing his earnestness and integrity.  He is clearly the real Horatio Alger deal, with the attractive wife and cute kids perfectly suited for campaign brochures.  Watching his re-election campaign unfold will be a frustrating experience for viewers of most political stripes.  If anything, it suggests the greatest problem with the current political system is not money or PACs, but the voters themselves.

That is a real downer of a Pogo-like message, isn’t it?  Still, Cao’s frank, vigorous spirit is quite refreshing.  After viewing MCGTW, one hopes for a sequel with a more satisfying ending.   Clearly, Cao is talented man and Chiang has a keen understanding of the community he represents.  Considering the mildness of its biases, the mostly fair and responsible Mr. Cao Goes to Washington is recommended for political junkies on both sides of the aisle, particularly those who following events in New Orleans from a distance, when it screens this Thursday (7/26) at the Chelsea Clearview as an official selection of the 2012 AAIFF.

BBC America’s Road Trip: Louisiana

Chef Jamie Oliver, the vocal champion of organic ingredients, gets so hammered his last night in New Orleans, he binges on junk food on the way to Cajun country. He is certainly not the first and he will not be the last. At least Oliver came to play during the Louisiana episode of Jamie’s American Road Trip (promo here), which airs this coming Tuesday on BBC America.

Sort of a punkier British alternative to Anthony Bourdain, Oliver set out to understand America through our regional cuisine. Obviously, it would have been a crime to skip New Orleans. Oliver could not ask for a better guide than Kermit Ruffins, the Louis Armstrong-influenced trumpeter and vocalist, whose band is not called the Barbeque Swingers for nothing. Well known for grilling outside his gigs, the Treme co-star takes a quickly sobered Oliver on a tour of the still deserted Lower Ninth Ward. It is a timely reminder work remains to be done. Yet disappointingly, Road Trip never features any of Ruffins’ music. Come on, help an artist sell some CDs.

Thoroughly hung-over, Oliver trenchantly observes on his way up to David Allemond’s hurricane ravaged restaurant, McGee’s Landing, the surrounding Bayou region was ravaged far worse by Gustav than New Orleans was hit by Katrina, but scrupulously avoids the loaded implications. Before cooking for Allemond’s symbolic reopening, Oliver hunts gators with grandmother and former State Representative Sydney Mae Durand, a Democrat appointed by Republican Gov. Bobby Jindal to the State Pharmacy Board, who sadly recently passed away. Much to the consternation of PETA, but to the credit of Oliver, he kills them and grills them.

Naturally, all the Creole and Cajun food looks delicious, most definitely including the alligator. It is also entertaining to watch gumbo legend Leah Chase lay down the law with hipster Oliver. Frankly though, fifty-some minutes is simply not sufficient to do New Orleans justice, let alone the entire Pelican State. Still, it is pleasant enough as far as armchair culinary tourism goes when it airs on BBC America this coming Tuesday (1/24). To support the Jazz Foundation of America in its continuing efforts to aid musicians whose homes and livelihoods were badly damaged by Katrina and subsequent hurricanes, viewers can also check out their website here.

(Photos: Freemantle)

House of Blues: Hugh Laurie’s Let Them Talk

If you have spent much time in Starbuck’s lately, you have surely heard a good portion of British actor Hugh Laurie’s new CD, a tribute to the music of New Orleans. Though undeniably the beneficiary of a considerable marketing campaign, the man known as Dr. House can definitely carry a tune in his medical kit and has an agreeable touch on the ivories. Laurie explains his love for those Crescent City sounds and performs a set of jazz and blues standards in Great Performances’ Hugh Laurie: Let Them Talk (preview here), which premieres on most PBS stations this Friday.

In his introductory voice-over, Laurie tells viewers every man is entitled to one pilgrimage in his life. Laurie had the good taste to take his in NOLA. He took the scenic route getting there though, stopping off at bluesy-rootsy roadside attractions, like Euclid Records, whose mail-order operations are well beloved by many of us, and sitting in at Maggie Mae’s in Austen, Texas, with Miss Lavelle White, who can vocalize a mean harmonica.

Granted, just about anyone would sound okay fronting a band assembled by New Orleans R&B maestro Allen Toussaint, performing with special guests Irma Thomas and Sir Tom Jones. In truth though, Laurie is at least pretty good in his own right on vocals, piano, and a spot of guitar. He offers the appropriate support to Thomas, “The Soul Queen of New Orleans," on “John Henry” and backs up Jones nicely during “Baby Please Make a Change,” a soul shouter perfectly suited to the Welsh icon. Laurie also has a surprisingly strong left on the ivories, opening a real can of barrelhouse on “Swanee River” and gamely tackling the Professor Longhair classic “Tiptina.”

As a vocalist, Laurie has a strong, clear tone that expresses the plaintiveness of “St. James Infirmary” quite strikingly. Arranged with stately funkiness by Toussaint, it is obviously positioned as the concert’s showcase number, and rightly so. The highlight of the set, it is here that Laurie really puts his stamp on an old school New Orleans classic. It ought to be the title track, but it might have confused some of his House fans (though it sounds medical).

Mostly, Let Them Talk is a respectfully traditional celebration of the NOLA songbook, (though Laurie earns further credit for capturing Jelly Roll Morton’s idiosyncratic attitude in “Buddy Bolden’s Blues”). Much like the still vital local music scene one can find in the small clubs on Frenchmen Street, Laurie and Toussaint effortlessly blend jazz, blues, and R&B throughout the set. It is quite pleasant, but if it rocks your world, just wait until you check out the original recordings from Toussaint, Louis Armstrong, James Black, and ‘Fess Longhair.

While some of Laurie’s narration is a bit hokey, the music will remind many of us once again why we fell in love with New Orleans, which is what good valentines are supposed to do. There is one glaring misstep though: Toussaint’s band is never introduced on camera or allowed to take the bow they earned. An enjoyable love letter nonetheless, Laurie’s Let Them Talk airs on most PBS outlets this Friday (9/30), including New York’s Thirteen, as part of the current season of Great Performances.

About Those Levees: The Big Uneasy

Journalist Michael Grunwald describes the Army Corps of Engineers as a government agency funded almost entirely through pork. That truly speaks volumes. Giving FEMA a break, the Corps emerges as the unambiguous villain of Katrina in The Big Uneasy (trailer here), Harry Shearer’s documentary investigation of the devastating levee breaches precipitated by the hurricane, which opens this Friday in New York.

Despite the bumper crop of Katrina docs, most viewers will be stunned by the meticulous indictment assembled by Shearer, the Simpsons voice-over artist and part-time Crescent City resident. To start with, most of the worst flooding was caused by under-seepage rather than over-topping of the levees. This is obviously implies some rather profound design flaws in the levee system.

Calling on expert testimony from several academics who investigated the levee breaches on behalf of the State of Louisiana and a Corps of Engineers whistleblower, Shearer establishes a pattern of pervasive negligence at the agency. Essentially, the New Orleans levees were built to unrealistically low specifications, on dangerously porous ground, incorporating a network of substandard pumps. To make matters unnecessarily worse, they created a flooding “funnel effect,” with “MR. GO,” an acronym for a little used but highly expensive commercial waterway. That’s hundreds of millions of your tax dollars at work.

Indeed, in many ways Uneasy is a chronicle of wasteful, counterproductive government spending run amok. Frankly, term “incompetence” is too generous for the systemic failures of the Corps. Yet, the agency has been largely spared the public recriminations leveled at FEMA. As Shearer points out, congressional reps love to put big conspicuous waterworks projects in their districts, which, of course, are duly constructed by the Corps.

As narrator, writer, executive producer, and director, Shearer maintains the right tone throughout, keeping the proceedings largely dispassionate and authoritative. He is definitely looking to assign responsibility, but he does not engage in the sort of finger-pointing that so many previous Katrina docs indulged in. Legitimately non-partisan, Shearer even presents a Republican politician in a favorable light, including footage of Sen. David Vitter effectively cutting through the dissembling of a senior Corps officer testifying before the Senate.

To his further credit, Shearer is not interested in creating more victimization narratives. Though he largely focuses on muckraking the Corps, he occasionally interjects a brief “Ask a New Orleanian” vignette. Hosted by actor John Goodman, these segments contradict most of the helpless NOLA victim stereotypes, offering a portrait of a revitalized city, with a unique and ever evolving culture. Wisely, Uneasy also features a legit NOLA style soundtrack by funky jazz pianist David Torkanowsky to remind so many of us how we came to love the city in the first place.

Uneasy’s release is timely for a number of reasons. Shearer repeatedly emphasizes the issue of inadequately constructed levees effects many communities beyond the Crescent City. New Orleans was simply the most vulnerable. It also hits theaters the day after the Jazz Foundation of America’s annual Great Night in Harlem benefit concert. Created to help jazz musicians in need, the Foundation’s caseload exploded when Katrina hit. Working tirelessly, Wendy and her staff provided housing and medical assistance, replaced lost instruments, and even found paying gigs for hundreds of displaced musicians. To support their efforts and buy tickets for a swinging star-studded show go here. Surprisingly informative and persuasive, Uneasy is also recommended when it opens this Friday (5/20) in New York at the Cinema Village.

Royal Flush Fest ’10: Coals to Newcastle

Leeds is a hipper city than you might think. Home of the first European music college to offer a jazz degree, it has attracted talented students from around the continent, many of whom have stayed in town. As a result, it has a fairly happening music scene that can more or less support a band like the New Mastersounds. Still, it’s not New Orleans, so naturally the band jumped at the chance to play Jazz Fest, post-Katrina. Appreciating the band’s journey to the birthplace of all funky sounds, filmmakers Marca Hagenstad and Aaron Dunsay documented their mini-tour in Coals to New Castle—The New Mastersounds: from Leeds to New Orleans (trailer here), which screened last night at the 2010 Royal Flush Festival, New York’s annual celebration of film, music, and attitude, newly relocated to the Brooklyn Knitting Factory for extra added swagger.

The New Mastsersounds might have scratched out an even larger following in the States than in their native Britain. In fact, their 2007 New Orleans gigs generated a lot of heat and American goodwill for the band. A jazz-influenced instrumental funk jam-band, the NM’s blur genre distinctions in way that makes them feel quite at home in the Crescent City club circuit. Wisely, Hagenstad and Dunsay focus on their three big gigs: the venerable House of Blues, a free outdoor porch concert (literally on their host’s porch and probably their biggest show in NOLA), and at the Blue Nile on Frenchmen Street. (I’d just like to take a moment to give a shout out to the Blue Nile, whose staff was quite welcoming when I caught Kirk Joseph there nearly three years ago).

Sweet Georgia Brown, the music of Coals is funky. The NM’s are a groovy band and they had some killer NOLA musician’s musicians sitting-in with them in 2007, including the likes of Stanton Moore (of Galactic) and Ivan Neville (founder of Dumptaphunk). Though the music drives Coals, the bandmembers, particularly drummer Simon Allen, offer some interesting insights on the sociological differences between the British and American scenes. Indeed, the very NOLA tradition of sitting-in was something that took some getting used to for the NM’s. They clearly warmed to it though.

Obviously, Katrina’s wake was an all too fresh reality when they played Jazz Fest, but Hagenstad and Dunsay smartly resist over-playing that card. Instead, they just let the band and their guests chug away. The results are just a rollicking good time.

With their retro-1970’s graphics and some energizing concert footage, Coals looks cool and sounds great. Frankly, it is more than entertaining enough to merit a legitimate theatrical life. Unfortunately many distributors probably will not understand the New Mastersounds’s knack for packing houses. Thoroughly satisfying, Coals next screens on October 24th at the Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival in Arkansas, while the 2010 Royal Flush Festival continues at its new BKLN home through the 18th.

New NOLA: A Village Called Versailles

Most armchair political analysts were stunned when a Vietnamese-American Republican defeated scandal-plagued Democrat William Jefferson to represent nearly the entire city of New Orleans in Congress. Party registration will remain a challenge for freshman Rep. Joseph Cao, but the strength and resiliency of the Crescent City’s Vietnamese community has emerged as a major post-Katrina political development. Documenting the unexpected rise of the New Orleans East neighborhood that challenged an out-of-touch municipal government, S. Leo Chiang’s A Village Called Versailles (trailer here) airs this coming Monday as part of the current season of Independent Lens on most PBS outlets.

Many of the older Vietnamese residents of the Versailles neighborhood (named after a large housing complex in Eastern New Orleans) had already endured two painful dislocations. Mostly from two predominantly Catholic towns in the North, they had first fled the North Vietnamese Communists to the South, only to come to America as refugees following the fall of Saigon. Indeed, the Katrina evacuation brought back many painful memories.

However, this time they returned, reclaiming their homes and neighborhood, in large measure thanks to the unifying role played by Father Vien Nguyen and the Catholic Church. Unfortunately, their rebuilding efforts were nearly sabotaged when then “Mayor” Ray Nagin used dubious emergency powers to dump an environmentally questionable landfill in their midst.

Refreshingly, Chiang’s broadcast cut refrains from the sort of cheap political shots that are often commonplace in Katrina related documentaries. However, there is just no papering-over Nagin’s arrogant disregard for the Versailles community. Of course, he is now gone, but they are still there.

While documentaries about so-called “political empowerment” are often rather dull and stilted, Village is legitimately inspiring. It unambiguously illustrates the positive role faith can play in public life at a time when organized religion and the Catholic Church in particular do not get a lot of love from the documentary film community. Village also celebrates the voluntarist spirit and genuine grassroots activism. The film’s only real shortcoming is the largely synthesized soundtrack. Though some pleasant incidental music was obviously composed to evoke the neighborhood’s Vietnamese heritage, in general, it is disappointing to hear only incidental snatches of distinctly NOLA (or Versailles) music.

Appearing only ever-so-briefly in the film, Cao’s victory became the obvious capstone for Village. Indeed, it clearly explains the circumstances apart from the Jefferson scandal that made his election possible. The winner of the New Orleans Film Festival’s Audience Award, Village is easily one of the more uplifting documentaries about the Katrina aftermath. The film offers a number of important lessons, not the least being the positive role faith can play in a community. Definitely recommended, it airs Tuesday (5/25) on most PBS stations.

The Dogs of Katrina: Mine

When Katrina devastated New Orleans, many volunteers rushed into action—to save stranded animals. While that might sound noble, in many cases the rescuers and the animal shelters that took them in have been less than cooperative in subsequent efforts to reunite the pets with their rightful owners. Frustrations and regrets continue to compound for many New Orleanians in Geralyn Pezanoski’s documentary Mine (trailer here), which airs this Tuesday on most PBS outlets as part of the current season of Independent Lens.

Storm shelters, including the infamous Superdome, refused to accept pets, and neither did most motels. With Katrina bearing down, many New Orleanians with limited means were forced to leave their animals behind. Most assumed the storm would pass and they could return to their homes in a matter of days. Of course, nobody predicted the extent of Katrina’s devastation or the complete breakdown of the state and local governments which would follow. Evidently though, some self-styled rescuers jumped to rather judgmental conclusions about the owners forced to leave their pets behind.

It would be nice if Mine were simply a collection of inspiring animal rescue stories, but the reality is much more complex. As the ironic title suggests, many of the cases of disputed adoptions documented in the film boil down to legalistic questions of property ownership.

Mine focuses on a handful of displaced residents as they search for their beloved dogs, including Victor Marino who lost Max, Jesse Pullins who lost J.J. (short for Jesse Jr.), and Malvin Cavalier, an octogenarian missing his beloved Bandit. All were doting owners who will spend years trying to get them back, with varying degrees of success. Although the film clearly invites audiences to view their conflicts through prisms of race and class, there seems to be another factor at play. Indeed, several times rescuers express the notion that Katrina might have been the “best thing” to happen to some pets.

Pezanoski captures some pretty dramatic scenes including a telling phone call in which a “rescuer” flips out on Pullins. While we do hear from some rescuers, those who participated in the film sound rational and moderate. Notably missing from the film are a few pointed queries directed at the less reasonable rescuers, like the one who had taken J.J. The obvious question not being asked is whether they believe in their heart of hearts that the dogs should have been saved before human beings, which was a very real trade-off faced by many of the former owners profiled in Mine.

Granted, Pezanoski can only talk to those who voluntarily consented to interviews, but the absence of the uncooperative rescuers is conspicuous. Still, Mine is quite an eye-opening look at the myriad of unexpected indignities that continue to bedevil New Orleans residents. By contemporary documentary standards, it is relatively restrained in the cheap shots it takes at President and contemporary America in general (but of course, the dubious performance of Mayor Nagin and Governor Blanco go entirely unremarked upon).

There is a lot of bitterness in Mine, but there are some touching moments as well. It definitely an opinionated doc, worth checking out when it airs on Independent Lens this coming Tuesday (2/16 at 10:00 PM on New York’s Thirteen).

On-Stage: Vieux Carre

It is probably the first play a Tennessee Williams biographer should read as part of their research, but it has not been produced on the New York stage in twenty-five years. Although Williams’s 1977 Vieux Carré might be infrequently revived, its biographical significance is undeniable, right down to the address of the squalid boarding house in which it is set: 722 Toulouse Street—Williams’s own address in the late 1930’s. Now Vieux Carré has the additional distinction of being the first Tennessee Williams play undertaken by the Pearl Theatre Company, as well as their last production at their current home on St. Mark’s, where it officially opened last night.

The residents of Mrs. Wire’s Toulouse Street boarding house are the dregs of New Orleans. Frankly, most are waiting to die, but one is still trying to find his place in the world. The Writer has recently moved to New Orleans from his native St. Louis, to pursue his literary career and come to terms with his homosexuality. Does that sound like any great American playwright?

There is plenty of raw material to inspire him in 722, including the shrewish landlady, two destitute elderly women, and Nightingale, an old consumptive lecher who seduces the writer during a moment of vulnerability. He finds a friend in the understanding Jane, a young lady from a proper Westchester family, who has been tragically diagnosed with Leukemia. Unfortunately, it is awkward for him to be near her lover Tye, a brutish strip club bouncer, who seems to protest too much when making crude homophobic remarks.

Williams first started Vieux in the late 1930’s, but he did not complete it until the late seventies with its brief 1977 Broadway production. Granted, it might not be Streetcar, but it is certainly a meaty play, prefiguring most of the themes and motifs of his acknowledged major works. It is also a great depiction of the Crescent City’s seedy glory, in which the promise of freedom is fittingly represented by Sky, a jazz musician.

Sensitively directed by Austin Pendleton, himself an actor often seen on the New York stage, the Pearl’s production effectively evokes the atmosphere of death and decay that looms over the doomed residents of 722. The wall-less set design also nicely conveys the claustrophobic environment and the lack of privacy experienced by Mrs. Wire’s boarders.

The cast is quite strong, particularly George Morfogen, who brings out the complex humanity of the problematic Nightingale. Sean McNall is also notably impressive in the role of the Writer, coming across as an intelligent, multifaceted young man, rather than a mere narrator or a stand-in for the famous playwright.

Like most of Williams’s plays, Vieux might sound depressing, but there is something reassuring about the dramatically messy humanity on view. In fact, Williams was a very humane writer, depicting deeply flawed characters, like Nightingale, with great compassion. It is definitely a strong production of a rewarding play, well-worth catching during its surprisingly rare revival (though parents should be cautioned there are distinctly adult situations and brief full frontal nudity). Its limited engagement at the Pearl ends June 14th, and look for the company’s upcoming 2009/2010 season in their new home at New York City Center.