WEDNESDAY 11/10
John Wood
The Log Camera peers into the past.
Janus Films
Polanski as teen hooligan.
Related Content
More About
Stage: Season's Bleedings
I don't know whether Evil Dead auteur Sam Raimi is a musical-theater fan, though I suspect Rodgers and Hammerstein never wrote anything with enough gore for his taste. In his adaptation of Evil Dead: The Musical, director George Reinblatt has taken some liberties to turn a campy movie franchise into a campy musical. His concern for the source material, though, is evident in the vast amounts of blood poured on the stage—and, in some cases, on audience members. Reinblatt is a comedy writer, and he never resists the opportunity to throw in an extra joke—some incredibly funny, some incredibly stupid. What makes this production entertaining is that the actors never back down, fully embracing their over-the-top characters. Particularly good is Kate Jaeger, playing the daughter of the man who inadvertently sets evil demons free in rural Michigan. With excellent comic timing and a beautiful voice, she stands out in a cast of very talented demons. (Ends Nov. 20.) ArtsWest, 4711 California Ave. S.W., 938-0339, artswest.org. $10 and up. 7:30 p.m. BRENT ARONOWITZ
THURSDAY 11/11
Film: Internal Exile
Something of a tarnished brand, what with his Oscar and child-rapist-fleeing-from-justice status, Roman Polanski wasn't always so notorious. And you can't judge the formative work of a young artist by his future offscreen transgressions. For that reason, SIFF and the Polish Film Festival—continuing through Sunday—are offering a selection of Polanski's student-era shorts, made between 1958 and 1962, long before Chinatown and Rosemary's Baby. His ability to mix innocence and malice is demonstrated in the 15-minute Two Men and the Wardrobe, where two Keatonesque clowns lug a piece of furniture out of the sea. Wandering through the streets of Lodz with their allegorical burden, these gentle, playful souls are rejected by society and finally beaten by a gang of American-style juvenile delinquents wearing plaid shirts and jeans. (Look for Polanski among them.) What does the wardrobe symbolize—perhaps the director's Jewish ethnicity? In Communist-era Poland, Polanski is wise not to say, but it's evident this is a place to leave. The five shorts will be accompanied live by visiting Polish avant-jazz duo SzaZa, whose Pawel Szamburski and Patryk Zakrocki employ violin, clarinet, and electronica to underscore Polanski's brand of whimsy and cruelty. SIFF Cinema, 321 Mercer St. (McCaw Hall), 448-2186, siff.net and polishfilms.org. $10–$12. 7:30 p.m.BRIAN MILLER
FRIDAY 11/12
Stage: Weep, Memory
A heartsick narrator recalls a summer in the Irish countryside in 1936, when he was just 7, when life with his mother and four aunts began to shift from hardscrabble to hopeless. The sisters battle the lack of work, love, and any consistent sense of security in a world on the cusp of wrenching change. You'd have to reach all the way back to The Glass Menagerie, arguably, to find a more haunting, lyrical memory play than Brian Friel's 1990 Dancing at Lughnasa. And you'd have to be made of a very cold steel not to respond to the moment that gives the piece its title—a fleeting outburst of spontaneous celebration around the time of a harvest festival that finds the family of disparate women up on their feet in joyful abandon. Indeed, Lughnasa is so beautifully constructed that it'd be difficult for any production not to be affecting. The Rep, which first gave it a solid staging back in 1995, won't be coasting on that fact, however. This current take is in the trustworthy care of Sheila Daniels, who earlier this month won a local Gregory Award for her work last season on, among other projects, Intiman's Abe Lincoln in Illinois. Daniels wears her heart on her sleeve. Prepare to wipe tears away with yours. (Ends Dec. 5.) Seattle Repertory Theatre, 155 Mercer St. (Seattle Center), 443-2222, seattlerep.org. $12–$42. 7:30 p.m.STEVE WIECKING
Comedy: Stuck in the Middle
After two decades of showbiz acclaim, Louis CK occupies a comedy sweet spot. Or maybe a treacherous middle ground. He's not a trendy young alt-comedy darling, and he's too smart to be a Vegas headliner who caters to conventioneers. He kills on Letterman, Leno, and HBO specials, but his sensibility doesn't quite translate into sitcom land. (Though he's trying yet again with Louie, currently on FX.) He's a balding middle-aged dad trying to make sense of the world, but with a profane candor that can't be safely squeezed into Dockers. He's a curmudgeon who also laughs at his own petty outrage. He'll make a standard, Seinfeld-style observational joke about being stuck in the slow line at the grocery store, then reframe it as if to say Look at me being such an asshole to complain about this shit. In his struggles through marriage, kids, and divorce, he's similarly double-minded. Musing about why, outside of family, no one would ever tolerate a delay because someone—i.e., his 4-year-old daughter—won't put on her shoes, he exclaims, "Nobody ever calls her on her bullshit!" Then he turns the third corner: What kind of a jerk would say that about his child? And we laugh again. The Moore, 1932 Second Ave., 877-784-4849, stgpresents.com. $33–$35.50. 8 p.m.BRIAN MILLER
