Your Arts & Oswalt Weekend Planner


The weekend begins with a double dose of comedian Patton Oswalt . Before tonight's gig at the Moore, he'll be appearing at the Varsity following


Your Arts & Oswalt Weekend Planner

  • Your Arts & Oswalt Weekend Planner

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    The weekend begins with a double dose of comedian Patton Oswalt. Before tonight's gig at the Moore, he'll be appearing at the Varsity following the 5 p.m. screening of his film Big Fan, which our Vadim Rizov describes thusly:

    After writing The Wrestler, Robert Siegel now directs the story of Paul (Patton Oswalt), a parking garage attendant whose only pleasure is his nightly AM sports radio call, on which he valiantly defends the Giants against Philly fans. Paul lives in Staten Island with his mother, a shrieking harridan. Things go massively awry when, through a series of events that involve a Times Square strip club, Paul inadvertently gets his QB idol suspended. Mental anguish ensues. Big Fan chooses to beat up its clueless center so that we'll like him more, and then surround him with familiar stereotypes to make him look more authentic. Varsity, 4329 University Way N.E., 781-5755, $10. 5, 7:30, and 9:40 p.m. (Rated R, 90 minutes) VADIM RIZOV

    Make the jump for comedy, murder, drug addiction, and those damn Yankees...

    FRIDAY (cont.)

    Patton Oswalt

    So if you missed him at Bumbershoot, or didn't get enough of the guy during those shows, Patton Oswalt now returns to a much bigger, grander stage. Though, no matter that he supplied the starring voice in Pixar's hit Ratatouille, he remains a very unassuming, underdog sort of comic--one more accustomed to playing cretins on Reno 911!. Or obsessive losers, like the football-crazed nebbish in Big Fan, which opens today at the Varsity. At 40, now married and a parent, Oswalt organized the successful Comedians of Comedy tour and is still associated with the alt-comedy movement of the '90s. But he's no slacker; with a résumé that includes The King of Queens and Steven Soderbergh's The Informant! (opening today), he's often dissed the whole indie rock shoegazer shtick. He has no patience for those, in comedy or music, who pretend they don't want to be on stage. He worked hard to get his name on the marquee; and his fans appreciate the effort. The Moore, 1932 Second Ave., 877-787-4849, $26.50-$28. 8 p.m. BRIAN MILLER

    Mariners Vs. Yankees

    When the Red Sox or Yankees (and, evidently, the Blue Jays) come to town, Mariners fans are often outnumbered, or at least out-vocalized, in the stands. This is unacceptable, especially when it's the fucking Yankees, who still have fucking A-Rod on their team. In short, any Yankee fan who's not from fucking New York (or at least lived there for a spell) can fucking go fuck themselves, the bandwagon-hopping, fair-weather fucks. Granted, if you say "fuck" too many times in Safeco Field, you're liable to get tossed out on your fucking ass, but who fucking cares at this point? While the M's have had a brilliant season based on what was expected of them heading into this year (zilch), there's fucking nothing left to play for now--no fucking pennant, no fucking playoffs. Really, the only reasons to visit Safeco Fucking Field at this juncture in the season are to: (a) watch Ken Griffey Jr. play what could be the fucking final games of his fucking career, or (b) fucking boo the fucking Yankees, because they fucking suck, even if they're the best fucking team in baseball, record-wise. Safeco Field, 1250 First Ave. S., 622-HITS, $8-$70. 7:10 p.m. MIKE SEELY

    Stephen Elliott

    Most non-fiction writers, when insinuating themselves into the story they're supposedly reporting, try to disguise that tendency. Not Stephen Elliott, the Bay Area author who took a crack at crime writing by following a murder trial. (In 2006, Hans Reiser was charged with killing his Russian mail-order bride, the mother of his two children.) The Adderall Diaries (Graywolf, $22) are emphatically and forthrightly diaries--first-person and candid, more confessional than investigative, a series of very loosely related ruminations on the author's drug addictions, sex addictions, unhappy family history, things he's read, writing classes he's taught, old girlfriends, and his doppelgänger relationship with a key trial witness. (The latter, also fond of drugs and S&M, was briefly the lover of the slain woman.) Though Elliott interviews Reiser in prison, the former Silicon Valley executive remains unknowable--a study in denial who refuses to acknowledge his own worst impulses. By contrast, Elliott tells us everything about his failings, which makes him seem comparatively healthy. Elliott Bay Book Co., 101 S. Main St., 624-6600, Free. 7:30 p.m. BRIAN MILLER


    "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" Dance Contest

    Will Beyoncé's video for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)" become the "Thriller" of our time? Will we one day see 13,000 Mexicans recreate its gluteophilic dance moves in perfect synchronization? (Already, a hundred women have donned one-sleeved leotards and flash-mobbed Piccadilly Circus, performing the dance en masse to promote Trident gum.) Velocity Dance Center is making the video the center of tonight's dance fundraiser, staging a competition for the best duplication/reinterpretation of its glorious black-and-white fierceness. The finalists, already chosen by video audition, will perform tonight and be judged by a panel of experts, with the audience's pick equaling one judge vote. (Democracy in action!) $300 goes to the winners. Century Ballroom, 915 E. Pine St. (second floor), 324-7263, $18-$20. Doors open at 8 p.m. Dance at 9 p.m. GAVIN BORCHERT

    Michelle de la Vega

    Sometimes it's better not to read the artist's statement (Corollary: It's almost always better not to read the curator's statement.) Affixed to a wall, the 300 delicate white pillows crafted by Seattle artist Michelle de la Vega for her Dream House installation defy obvious utility. They look too fragile for your couch. And forget about pillow fights. On closer inspection, they're made of old architectural blueprints for residential designs long faded. They're not the trendy new domiciles of Dwell or avant anything--mostly large suburban homes with yawning garages. The difference in scale between the diminutive pillows and cul de sac behemoths gives Dream House part of its poignant mystery: These headrests suggest obsolete dreams, the visions of the past. And indeed, per the artist's statement, they are--the handiwork of her father, now in his 80s, who wasn't an architect but obsessively sketched these designs. None of them were built. And today, their paper walls only enclose the air. (Through Sept. 26.) Monarch Studio, 312 S. Washington St., 682-1710, Free. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. BRIAN MILLER



    From 2008, this deliberate, meticulous heist-gone-wrong flick eschews all the usual excitement of crime (no spoilers as to what goes wrong). Instead, Austrian writer-director Götz Spielmann concentrates on the slow buildup to a bank job and its simmering moral aftermath. Laconic robber Alex (Johannes Krisch) is an ex-con pushing a mop in a Vienna brothel (cruelly named Club Cinderella, for all the poor princesses who spread their legs there). His elderly grandfather lives on a rural farm--where Alex takes refuge after the botched heist--near a cop (Andreas Lust) and his wife (Ursula Strauss). Spielmann barely moves his camera and never allows an easy, emotional closeup as Alex furiously chops at the farm's woodpile. His weapon of revenge--"revanche" in French, though the movie's in German--could be an axe or the gun from his robbery. But who deserves to die? (While he chops, we worry.) Unaccustomed to conscience, or to the throes of wheezing, paralytic grief, Alex is no less confounded when the cop's wife comes on to him. Krisch plays this hard case without concession; he's a man who can only express himself physically. Yet new thoughts gradually crease his brow like water cutting through stone. The Oscar-nominated Revanche recalls a sort of filmmaking out of vogue since Bresson and Kieslowski--a cinema of moral consequence. Though Alex may scoff at the cop's wife driving his grandfather to church, he's the unlikely subject of what's ultimately a stark, powerful sermon. (NR) Grand Illusion, 1403 N.E. 50th St., 523-3935,, $5-$8. 4, 6:30 & 9 p.m. (Runs Fri.-Thurs.) BRIAN MILLER

    Roger Shimomura: Yellow Terror

    During his tenure at the University of Kansas, Roger Shimomura recently explained, "I met a farmer who asked me what I was and why I spoke English. By then, I'd gone through that conversation so many times as one of the few Asian faces in the Midwest." A third generation Japanese-American and Seattle native who as a child was interned with his family during World War II, he explores such mistaken notions of identity and ethnicity in "Yellow Terror: The Collections and Paintings of Roger Shimomura." (The 70-year-old artist, who often shows at Greg Kucera, lives today in Lawrence, Kansas.) The exhibit is full of appropriated racist caricatures--Japanese depicted with severely slanted eyes and sickly yellow skin--and the latest anime imagery. Shimomura's self portraits superimpose his face over cartoon icons like Sailor Moon and Astro Boy. Also on display is his collection of WWII-era ephemera accrued via eBay: salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like benign Japanese archetypes, newspaper cartoons with headlines like "How to Spot a Jap!" (It claims you can detect the enemy by wide spaces and calluses between their toes from wearing wooden sandals.) The Pop Art style of the show hardly masks its political content, however. As Shimomura said on opening night, "I was strangely attracted to the idea of creating art out of something that I hate." (Through April 18.) Wing Luke Asian Museum, 719 S. King St., 623-5124, $8.95-$12.95. 10 a.m.-5 p.m. ERIKA HOBART

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