If you have been engrossed in the run-up to this year’s American Idol bleat-off, two transportation milestones may have escaped your notice. This month marks the 35th birthday of our proud yet humble national passenger rail service, Amtrak. And 100 years ago this week, Seattle’s King Street Station opened for business. With President Bush making his periodic burblings about further reducing the Amtrak line’s already-shameful funding levels – not to mention the airline industry's serious consideration of stand-up “seating,” to pack us in ever more densely – it’s time to do your part to stop the insanity.
By Sheri Quirt | May 11, 2006
My older sister was never interested in MTV. So when she would stop turning the dial every time Joe Jackson appeared, singing his 1983 piano-driven hits "Steppin' Out" and "Breaking Us in Two," I figured perhaps I should pay attention.
By Sheri Quirt | May 29, 2006
The film gets off to a pleasing start, cannily priming the audience with cheery nostalgia: prehistoric “Top of the Pops” footage and video clips that made all in attendance hoot with affection at how ridiculous they (we) had looked back then. A late-model Michael (VG+) fondly assesses Wham!’s (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wham) image as “consistently naff (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=naff),” yet grouses about how no one could get past the visuals to take his artistry seriously. His solution: Following his solo debut, the 1987 blockbuster "Faith," the singer abruptly retired from promotion of any kind and began specializing in the bombastic, self-indulgent wrist-slashers that have become his stock-in-trade. His catalog since is a collection of increasingly ponderous bummers redeemed by the occasional catchy dance track.
And thus we downshift into sobriety: Michael in black clothes and dark glasses sitting on a couch avoiding eye contact, a cursory rehash of his life’s highs and lows, and a few concert highlights. There isn’t much here to engage the non-fan nor reward the devotee; the film presupposes a degree of familiarity with the singer’s backstory, yet it doesn’t probe uncharted territory. After 93 minutes, the only new things I had learned were that he has an annoying nervous tic of rubbing his nose and that he patronizes Starbucks – telltale fat green straws poke out of venti cups in scene after scene. Michael is at his most genuine when the topic is Anselmo, his partner who died of AIDS in 1993; the singer can still barely speak of him, pausing repeatedly to fight back tears. His new love, a genial meathead from Texas, seems to make him happy, but he’s clearly second-marriage material.
By Sheri Quirt | June 5, 2006
Remember the first time your parents put you on a plane by yourself? It was just about the coolest thing ever, wasn’t it? And yet, a few hundred thousand frequent flyer miles later, the thrill is gone and you accept the experience of air travel for what it is: red-eyes, center seats, rotgut Chardonnay, and Ben Affleck movies. It only takes one instance of being stuck on a snowed-in runway in Omaha to have all the wonder of the skies sucked out of you.
By Sheri Quirt | July 18, 2006
It seems not a question of if, but of when, Hollywood will see fit to remake this classic, with Brad Pitt in the title role and computer-generated imagery (CGI) technology to “improve upon” the actual North African desert. I can’t stop that from happening. But I can urge you to bring a cushion, have an extra jolt of caffeine and let "Lawrence of Arabia" wash over you like a hot, pure desert breeze. “Masterpiece” is a word that, through careless overuse, has lost much of its meaning – but if this film hasn’t earned the distinction, I’d like to know who a critic has to kiss to get the standards changed.
By Sheri Quirt | August 16, 2006
The denizens of Lower Queen Anne know they've got a good thing going, with nearly every heart's desire just a short walk away. Add to this list of amenities a new option for that most indulgent of weekend meals: brunch, now served Saturdays and Sundays from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Moxie, on First Avenue North.
By Sheri Quirt | February 22, 2008
This season's "Metro Classics" series continues with the 1957 musical "Funny Face." Fred Astaire is a top fashion photographer and Audrey Hepburn his accidental discovery. Throw in some Gershwin tunes, and what more does this pairing need? Why, a Paris location, of course...
Audrey is as luminous in her bookstore-clerk sack dress as she is cocooned in sky-blue Givenchy couture. And Astaire's show-stopping dance number -- a bullfighter-themed pas de deux with a trench coat as his partner -- displays his absolute mastery of his craft.
By Sheri Quirt | February 27, 2008
Back in the dark ages (circa 1988), before earth-toned residential monoliths sprang from every corner, Seattle's mainstay restaurants quietly pulled off the daily miracle of providing the masses with quality food and attentive service. Today they have plenty of company, but we salute them and accord them their proper status: as veterans, pioneers -- and the kind of places where your parents pick up the bill when they come to visit.
By Sheri Quirt | March 27, 2008
In 1964, on their way to world domination, the Beatles took aim at the
thinning ranks of nonbelievers with their latest secret weapon: a
fresh, intelligent rock 'n' roll movie (sorry, Elvis). "A Hard Day's Night"
follows the band through a fictional, frenzied day stacked with numbers
like "And I Love Her," "If I Fell," "Can't Buy Me Love" and other minor
creative miracles.
By Sheri Quirt | April 1, 2008
It exists as sheaves of marked-up, coffee-stained printouts, and on a flash drive you tote around at all times in case your apartment building burns down. It's your baby -- and you've given it as much love and devotion as any real parent as you've prepared it to leave the nest. You chant the mantra: "Somebody out there wants to read my screenplay."
By Sheri Quirt | April 2, 2008
