Seattle Weekly, April 01, 2015

APRIL 1-8, 2015 I VOLUME 40 I NUMBER 13

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WHAT LOCAL CHEFS FEED THEIR KIDS PAGE 14 HELEN MIRREN VS. THE NAZIS PAGE 23

WHY DO WE STILL SMOKE?

Daniel Person attempts to answer the burning question.

Page 10

Dear Tenant

A landlord responds to Janice Harper's heartbreaking letter.

Page 6

“EVIL CHICK” SPEAKS

AN ACTUAL WITCH REVISITS THE SONICS' CLASSIC, “THE WITCH.”

BY MEAGAN ANGUS PAGE 25

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news&comment 4

THE 50,000-UNIT QUESTION

BY NINA SHAPIRO | Seattle’s housing crisis: The Mayor sets a goal while City Council candidates gird for debate. Plus: A building owner responds to last week’s “Dear Landlord” letter.

10 TRUDGING DOWN TOBACCO ROAD

BY DANIEL PERSON | Half a century

after we learned it was bad for us, we still smoke. Why? (It’s more than just the addictiveness.)

food&drink

14 KID CUISINE

BY JACOB UITTI | What your favorite chefs feed their young.

14 | FOOD NEWS/THE WEEKLY DISH 15 | AMERICA’S TEST KITCHEN 16 | THE BAR CODE

arts&culture 17 INDIGENOUS BEAUTY

BY BRIAN MILLER | SAM is the first stop

for a traveling Native American art show.

17 | THE PICK LIST 19 | OPENING NIGHTS | Fugitives in

Costa Rica, foolery in 17th-century France.

20 | PERFORMANCE 21 | VISUAL ARTS

OPENING THIS WEEK | Al Pacino sings,

Helen Mirren battles the Nazis, and more.

24 | FILM CALENDAR

25 MUSIC

BY MEAGAN ANGUS | The Sonics’

1964 hit “The Witch” is deconstructed by an expert. Plus: We let tyro critics loose on Death Cab for Cutie.

28 | THE WEEK AHEAD

Editor-in-Chief Mark Baumgarten EDITORIAL Senior Editor Nina Shapiro Food Editor Nicole Sprinkle Arts Editor Brian Miller Music Editor Kelton Sears Editorial Operations Manager Gavin Borchert Staff Writers Ellis E. Conklin, Casey Jaywork Calendar Assistant Diana M. Le Editorial Interns Kate Clark, Warren Langford

30 | HIGHER GROUND 31 | CLASSIFIEDS

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Contributing Writers Rick Anderson, Sean Axmaker, James Ballinger, Michael Berry, Roger Downey, Alyssa Dyksterhouse, Jay Friedman, Margaret Friedman, Zach Geballe, Chason Gordon, Dusty Henry, Rhiannon Fionn, Marcus Harrison Green Robert Horton, Patrick Hutchison, Seth Kolloen, Sandra Kurtz, Dave Lake, Terra Clarke Olsen, Jason Price, Keegan Prosser, Mark Rahner, Tiffany Ran, Michael Stusser, Jacob Uitti PRODUCTION Production Manager Sharon Adjiri Art Director Jose Trujillo Graphic Designers Nate Bullis, Brennan Moring ADVERTISING Marketing/Promotions Coordinator Zsanelle Edelman Senior Multimedia Consultant Krickette Wozniak Multimedia Consultants Cecilia Corsano-Leopizzi, Rose Monahan Peter Muller, Matt Silvie DISTRIBUTION Distribution Manager Jay Kraus OPERATIONS Administrative Coordinator Amy Niedrich Publisher Bob Baranski

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COPYRIGHT © 2015 BY SOUND PUBLISHING, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION IN WHOLE OR IN PART WITHOUT PERMISSION IS PROHIBITED. ISSN 0898 0845 / USPS 306730 • SEATTLE WEEKLY IS PUBLI SHED WEEKLY BY SOUND PUBLISHING, INC., 307 THIRD AVE. S., SEATTLE, WA 98104 SEATTLE WEEKLY® IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK. PERIODICALS POSTAGE PAID AT SEATTLE, WA POSTMASTER: SEND ADDRESS CHANGES TO SEATTLE WEEKLY, 307 THIRD AVE. S., SEATTLE, WA 98104 • FOUNDED 1976.

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news&comment

Housing’s New Number

Mayor Murray rolls out a figure for affordable housing, while politicians position themselves to take on the new “emergency” that could dominate the fall election.

Why Hopes Are High for the 2015 Mariners

BY SETH KOLLOEN

BY NINA SHAPIRO

JOSHUA BOULET

and about housing in general—as this year’s City Council races heat up. Because of the onset of district elections, all nine council seats are up for grabs. Already the candidates are starting to stake out positions and draw clearer policy lines when it comes to housing.

Lisa Herbold, a longtime aide to City Councilmember Nick Licata who’s running for a seat in

them back. For that, O’Brien stresses, “we still need a revenue source.”

Herbold and Jon Grant, who just left his job as director of the Tenants Union to run for one the new system’s citywide seats, suggest that rents from the units created can be used to pay back the money.

In any case, O’Brien’s focus is elsewhere—on socalled “linkage fees.” These fees would require that developers currently focused on building luxury units for Amazonians and the like pay fees for affordable housing. This would take the entire onus off the city, an appealing idea to the seven council members who voted last fall to work on such an ordinance.

The council is not waiting around for HALA to draw up its recommendations before moving ahead with this. O’Brien says he expects proposed legislation to hit the council by summer—in time for it to be fodder for primary debates.

Linkage fees are plenty controversial.

Roger Valdez, head of the group Smart Growth Seattle, which advocates for developers, recently took to the organization’s website and penned a post titled “Linkage fees: Will Seattle start the San Francisco death spiral?”

Yet linkage fees are not the most

dations produced by Chopp’s housing caucus, in which she participated. In that regard, she has a noteworthy ally in Councilmember Kshama Sawant.

The report issued by the caucus recommends that the city issue bonds worth “at least $500 million.” But Sawant, talking to me in her council office a couple weeks ago, upped the ante to a billion dollars’ worth.

She called “housing justice” her “next big fight” after successfully leading the charge to raise the minimum wage last year.

In that fight, of course, Sawant famously applied pressure to the mayor and her fellow councilmembers by threatening an initiative if the city didn’t act. Now, as she prepares her re-election campaign—running in District 3, which includes Capitol Hill and the Central District—she’s making noises about the same. If the city doesn’t “stand up for working families in terms of creating affordable housing,” then she will explore a ballot measure, she said.

“Bonds are intriguing to me,” allows City Councilmember Mike O’Brien, running in Ballard’s District 6. “But it’s important to remember that bonds are a financing mechanism, not a funding tool.”

Bonds are a form of debt, which requires us to pay

radical idea in circulation. Surprisingly, rent control—which seemed unlikely after the November defeat of wouldbe legislator, socialist and rent-control advocate Jess Spear—has found new life.

“We need to be talking about rent control,” Sawant told me. Herbold says she intends to talk on the campaign trail about the need to strike the state law that prohibits rent control at the city or county level. So does Grant, who wants the city “to go on record and pass a resolution saying if we have authority, we would pass rent regulation.”

Even the mayor, who has expressed little interest in rent control due to the state prohibition, hinted that some form of regulation might be in order. At his press conference, Murray mused about increasing the length of notice property owners are required to give when raising rents, and “limiting the amount of increase over any given period of time.”

Rent control here might not look like it does in San Francisco or New York, two places where the policies come under heavy criticism due to their uneven application and ineffectiveness. “It could mean that you can’t raise rents if you have safety violations,” Herbold says. Or she says it could be that increases would be limited in winter months for units containing elderly people.

O’Brien says he hopes for something more “creative” than has been implemented in other cities. While it’s good that the mayor is talking about creating a specific number of new units, O’Brien says that it is essential to find “tools to help people who currently have housing stay in that housing.”

That’s one point likely to spark little disagreement this campaign season. E

nshapiro@seattleweekly.com

T

he Mariners open their season at Safeco Field on Monday, April 6, with sky-high hopes. Experts at ESPN, Sports Illustrated, and Baseball Prospectus all think the Mariners will make the playoffs. Why all the love for a team that hasn’t seen the postseason since Pierce Brosnan was James Bond? I’ve compiled a dossier of recent developments, and explain what they portend for the M’s postseason dreams.

Nelson Cruz joining the team. Cruz hit the most home runs in the majors last year. So, yeah, adding him is a big reason for optimism.

Zayn Malik leaving One Direction. While many M’s will be playing with heavy hearts, this is unlikely to affect their playoff chances.

The weakness of the American League West.

Oakland traded away half their team; Los Angeles’ starting rotation has injury and decline issues; Texas is talented but old; Houston is young but not talented. The Mariners are sitting pretty.

The strength of the American dollar. Morale will be high as players anticipate their May road trip to Toronto—cheap poutine!

How good the Mariners were last year. The team’s 87-75 record in 2014 is a strong signal that 2015 will be a success season, especially since they have nearly every key player back.

How young the players are. Young players get better, old players get worse. The Mariners’ likely starting lineup is, on average, 28.4 years old. This means that, on average, the Mariners were born a full year after The Goonies came out.

This will have many fans feeling hopeful, and old.

The team’s new commitment to job-sharing. Left-handed hitter Seth Smith and righty

Justin Ruggiano will split right field duties, while lefty Dustin Ackley and righty Rickie Weeks share left field. It’s called platooning—exploiting the natural advantage that lefty hitters have against righties, and vice versa—and it should dramatically improve offensive production.

The club’s ongoing commitment to children. The M’s have scheduled two “salute to

kids” days and a “kids’ appreciation day.” M’s players will have extra motivation to avoid breaking the precious hearts of Seattle’s adolescents.

The Safeco Field beer selection. The everchanging selection of microbrews, cask ales, and booze options makes every trip to Safeco a minibrewery visit as well. Well-lubricated fans cheer louder. Cheered ballplayers play harder. E

sportsball@seattleweekly.com

SE ATTLE WEEKLY • APRI L 1 — 7, 2015

Expect more people to be talking about that—

West Seattle’s District 1, says she believes that the city should direct most of its housing resources to those earning less than 50 percent of the median income, or $44,800 for a family of four. Like many housing activists, she argues that those are the people in greatest need. And she worries that by failing to give HALA a specific breakdown, the mayor is opening up the possibility that the vast majority of those 200,000 units, if achieved, will be for those just beneath the mayor’s 80-percent income threshold.

Herbold is also in favor of issuing city bonds to finance affordable housing, one of the recommen-

JEREMY DWYER-LINDGREN

A

couple of weeks back, an ad-hoc housing caucus convened by state Speaker of the House Frank Chopp declared the city in a state of housing “emergency.” There’s good reason to agree. Last week, Seattle Weekly wrote about a disabled man who killed himself as he faced getting kicked out of his longtime apartment due to a change of ownership and sharply escalating rent (“Dear Landlord,” March 25, 2015). While most people don’t commit suicide, the subject’s predicament is shared by renters throughout the city. At a press conference last week, stressing the gravity of the situation, Mayor Ed Murray noted that “over 40,000 households in this city are spending more than onehalf of their income on housing.”

So why has the press and public paid so little attention to the Housing Affordability and Livability Advisory Committee that was convened by the mayor to deal with the problem? In large part, it’s probably because housing policy is such a complicated issue. Unlike with the debate over the minimum wage that preceded it there has not been a simple number or solution—like “15,” as in $15 an hour—to get behind.

Murray’s press conference attempted to change that. In it, he announced that “this year’s number is 50,000.” Earlier that morning, he had told his committee that he had a new goal for it to work toward: 50,000 new units of housing in the next 10 years.

Actually, the more salient number he delivered was 20,000: the number of affordable units the committee’s recommendations should generate, according to the mayor. The rest is to be market-rate housing, which, given the current housing construction boom, is not in immediate need of government stimulation. The mayor argues that might not always be the case, and a variety of urbanists and developers make the case that increasing even market-rate supply will drive down costs.

Murray described the affordable-housing goal as laudably ambitious—“we are stepping up like no other city”—and yet a “stretch.” He offered no recommendations about how to get us there. That, he said, was up to the committee, whose recommendations are due at the end of May. And he left other important questions unanswered, like how those 20,000 units would be divvied up. While he wants all of them to go to people earning under 80 percent of the area’s median income (or $65,800 for a family of four), he tasked HALA with providing a breakdown that ensures housing for those at the lower end of the spectrum as well.

5

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SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

Dr. Harper,

6

I’m writing you in response to your thoughtful and touching open letter that was published in last week’s Seattle Weekly (“Dear Landlord,” March 25, 2015). In your letter you spoke on behalf of tenants in this city and encouraged your property owner, and property owners in general, to “Ask about our lives, how long we’ve lived in our homes you now own, and what our options are.” I wanted to take some time to address that request and share my perspective as a landlord in this quickly changing city.

It is my belief that the majority of my tenants prefer respect for their privacy and space.

Whether they rent or own, most people value the sense that their home is theirs alone, and landlords are rightly cautious about intrusion of any kind into their personal lives.

That’s not to say that we shouldn’t treat people well. Showing appreciation for long-term customers adds to the sense of community in a building or neighborhood, and it even makes good business sense to keep the tenants that we have, deferring turnover expenses and improvement costs that can be recouped only by raising rents further. However, any type of tenure-based discount should be offered to any tenant who qualifies, equally and without consideration of their personal life story.

Likewise, I disagree with the idea that landlords are the right people to assess the needs of our tenants. And I do not believe we are the proper people to meet those needs.

Your letter told the story of a neighbor of yours who was in need. Bill, you wrote, was a disabled man in his 60s who had been living in your building, in large part thanks to the generosity of your former landlords, paying little or no rent after living in the same apartment for 25 years. You told of his distress at learning that the building would soon be sold and that his arrangement would soon come to an end. And you wrote about his subsequent suicide, an undeniable tragedy.

Unfortunately, Bill isn’t alone.

About two years ago I was forced to confront the reality that a long-term resident of our buildings, who I will call John, was going to be evicted into potential homelessness. We had made numerous attempts to salvage his tenancy, but none worked. It didn’t matter how much back rent we waived or the type of payment plan we offered, he just fell further and further behind.

Eventually he stopped responding altogether.

I got to know John a couple of weeks after we began the actual process of eviction. I had received a report from one of my maintenance workers that John was drunk, belligerent, and had brandished a baseball bat, threatening to kill me if I showed my face on the property.

I chose not to call the police. Instead I took the time to meet with John. After stressing that further threats would be met with police intervention, I asked him a lot of questions about his situation. Over the next four days we spoke frequently, sitting on his front porch sharing stories.

I learned that he had been raised in that very building by parents who were tenants long before I owned it. As an adult, he had moved to Alaska, where he lived a normal life working as a tradesman in the fishing industry before choosing to return to the city and the building of his childhood. As an adult he lived in our building for another 20 or so years, working steadily in sup-

t n a Ten

Last week, Seattle Weekly published an open letter from West Seattle resident Janice Harper to her new landlord, in which she detailed the difficulties facing low-income renters in the current housing market.

Property owner Brian E. Robinson sent this letter in response.

port of the local fishing fleet before being laid off around 2007. Unable to afford rent any longer, he felt defeated. He found refuge in alcohol, to which he freely admitted being addicted.

John and I shared stories about our lives and families. He had a couple of relatives who were probably capable of taking care of him, but they had long since grown tired of throwing money at his ever-growing problems, and cut off aid.

The alcohol had made him unemployable, and his overall mental and physical condition made

even an entry-level job virtually impossible.

There was no doubt that if I evicted John, he would have no option beyond homelessness.

I put together a big package for John in his final days as my tenant, including information about nonprofit providers, phone numbers for shelters, and applications for public aid. I even printed up manuals I found online that provided advice on how to enter homelessness.

These manuals suggested steps he should take, such as carefully choosing the limited belong-

ings he could carry with him, pre-applying for aid, and making arrangements for communication to ensure that he retained the ability to search for shelter and employment.

When I gave John this information, he told me how much he appreciated that I had treated him like a human being. He expressed optimism that maybe this could be a fresh start, and promised to fill out the aid applications in hope that he could get back on his feet. A couple of days later, after a long goodbye hug, he offered me a farewell gift. He had two fishing poles, he said, and could only carry one. It would make him feel better knowing that I was using the other to fish with my son, like he had fished with his dad while growing up in our building. I left that afternoon feeling good about myself, like I had done the best I could to show kindness in a really terrible and gut-wrenching situation.

Later that night I received a call from the police. John had broken into his unit and unsuccessfully attempted to hang himself while simultaneously attempting to light the building on fire.

The next day we learned that he had been giving away possessions throughout the week, an obvious indicator of suicidal intentions.

Later in the week we entered John’s apartment and saw firsthand the depth of his problems. He had lived in squalor, surrounded by trash, hundreds of empty alcohol bottles, pornography, and tools of self-harm. The unit had been destroyed. Walls were kicked in and multiple small fires had been started. We also learned from police that John, a man in his late 40s, was so lonely that he had been offering alcohol to underage students of a nearby high school in order to coax them into providing him company in his apartment. The aid applications I had provided were there also, seemingly untouched.

Maybe I’m telling myself what you described as a “comforting lie,” but I think it is an oversimplification of John’s life story to imply that my rent increases and his subsequent eviction make me accountable for his suicide attempt. I don’t know whether John could have avoided his fall by taking a lesser-paying job back in 2007, or if perhaps his parents could have been convinced to provide the help he needed. In the end, none of that really mattered. What I am certain of is that I was in no way qualified to deal with the underlying problems of mental illness, addiction, and societal inequality that first led him to fall behind on his rent and later to attempt suicide.

John’s attempted suicide was devastating for me and my employees. Not only did I feel betrayed by John’s actions, but I really had to recognize how unprepared I was to deal with the magnitude of problems I would encounter as a property owner. What if that fire had spread? What if somebody had died because I had underestimated the extent of John’s problems? I realized that in trying to accommodate this one person’s needs, I had put all the other building tenants at significant risk.

So I can say with honesty that I have tried it the way you suggest, and despite good intentions, the results are not always what we would hope for. Instead I learned that sometimes a situation with a tenant goes beyond my ability to help.

My experience with John also made me less likely to get personally involved with my tenants and more reliant on a strict set of rules that sometimes seem harsh but are in fact fair,

ing for anybody. Instead our entire community should be demanding, and sharing the cost of, a significant increase in funding for local housingassistance programs to help low- and fixedincome individuals pay regular rent. Benefits from this type of program would be distributed based on a standardized needs assessment and administered by people who understand social services. The funding would empower organizations like The Committee to End Homelessness, which recognize that it is more cost-effective to keep people in their homes than it is to deal with the long-term impacts of homelessness.

It is also essential that we provide a network of social services capable of preparing tenants to deal with issues such as mental illness and other root problems that contribute to homelessness or near-homelessness. These services could be coordinated by existing organizations like Wellspring Family Services, which specializes in evaluating all the complex factors that lead people to homelessness, and helps direct those at risk to a network of comprehensive support.

Extreme stories like Bill and John’s make up only a small part of our housing-affordability problem. Thousands of other renters who are not homeless or suicidal are finding themselves unable to keep up with the increasing cost of housing. They are forced to work second jobs, take in roommates, downsize their accommodations, or make other sacrifices to their quality of life that should not be necessary in a region as prosperous as ours. Many find themselves in situations like yours, where a building is sold

NNIBAL BURESS

consistent, and impartially applied. It is important for property owners and their employees to be very careful to avoid forming opinions and assumptions about residents that may lead to inequitable treatment. The last thing anybody should want is for me or my staff to be making judgements based on limited interaction and treating people differently as a result. That type of subjective treatment—offering special deals and services to those tenants you view sympathetically, while not making them available to others—is both unethical and goes against the spirit of our fair-housing law.

I hope that your former landlords, Charles and Eve, do not feel responsible for Bill’s death, which was no more their fault than it was the incoming landlord’s. The entire region failed Bill and John, and we should all accept accountability for the lack of options that were available to help them.

We should be asking ourselves why it is that Bill and John had nowhere to go for help.

Local housing-assistance voucher programs are so woefully underfunded that people in need are put on a two-year waiting list, left to fend for themselves while waiting for support they desperately need immediately. Without any options for housing assistance, property owners like Eve and Charles, who gave Bill such a substantial discount for all those years, face the difficult choice of either subsidizing tenants indefinitely, evicting them into homelessness, or simply selling the building and passing the responsibility to the next investor.

A system that relies on forcing tenants to beg for disparate charity from landlords is not work-

and rents suddenly adjusted up to market value.

All of this is only going to get worse as wages continue to climb in the city. People will be able to pay more for apartments, outbidding each other and driving prices up. This will be true at both ends of the rent scale as minimum wages see a sharp increase and more high-salary tech jobs are created.

While there is no single solution to this problem, there are some steps being taken to help. Legislation that will eliminate a loophole allowing developers to use large rent increases to avoid compliance with the Tenant Relocation Assistance Ordinance is currently in the works. In addition, I support requiring longer notices on excessive rent increases, with the understanding that price increases of 50 percent or greater should never be required during the normal course of business.

More and more we are hearing cries for rent control as a solution to this problem. While well-intentioned, the policies of rent control in other cities have proven to worsen the shortage of housing supply. They keep the rents low for the longest-term residents, but drive prices up for all others. In addition, it is challenging to find policy solutions and funding sources for these programs that do not discourage new construction. And new construction is crucial, since adding new housing and the necessary infrastructure to sustain it are essential components to any solution.

In the last year, 65,000 out-of-state residents moved into King County, and each of these newcomers is just as entitled to fair and afford-

able housing as the people who were here before them. To accommodate this growth and slow the increases of housing costs, Mayor Ed Murray has called for the construction of 50,000 new housing units over the next 10 years. In existing neighborhoods, this will require communities to be bigger and denser than people are used to. New development will have to be encouraged along existing transit corridors, and substantial investment made to increase those transportation options citywide.

If we want this growth to happen, tenants citywide should consider taking a stand against Seattle’s vocal and entrenched constituency of neighborhood preservationists. Many of these groups oppose growth and increased density because it changes the experience and character of neighborhoods for existing residents. Our housing shortage is too severe to be constrained by nostalgia. We need to ask existing residents of the city to do their part by accommodating minor inconveniences like parking, new crowds, or unfamiliar construction on their streets in order to have enough housing to accommodate everybody.

I share your anger over the lack of options for people like Bill, and hope that this reply serves as a good starting point for further conversation about how to deal with this issue that impacts my city and my industry.

Please accept my most sincere condolences for the loss of your friend.

Regards, Brian E. Robinson President, Jet City Property Management

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news&comment»

Paying the Piper Troy Kelley managed to shake off a questionable past to earn Washington voters’ trust.

But now the feds are looking into a big-time tax dodge that might reveal deeper misdeeds by the State Auditor.

BY RICK ANDERSON

I

n 2011, then-state representative Troy Kelley was worried that voters might get the wrong impression about him. An escrow-services executive and Democrat from the 28th District, representing University Place and Tacoma, Kelley had been accused of theft and fraud in a federal civil lawsuit.

Though he settled the claim out of court without admitting wrongdoing, Kelley said he was concerned that an unscrupulous challenger would twist the truth in an election campaign.

“My political opponents

BY RICK ANDERSON may use them as ‘court documents’ evidencing liability and/or guilt of misappropriation of funds, spoliation of evidence, discovery abuse, lies, and fraudulent transfer of assets,” he wrote in a court brief, outlining claims made against him by a business partner, Old Republic Title. The firm, which insures property titles against legal challenges, had hired Kelley’s escrow company to collect fees from customers who paid off their mortgages. But Kelley, Old Republic claimed, had quietly pocketed $1.2 million he should have returned to their clients.

None of those accusations had been ruled on because he settled, Kelley emphasized at the time, “but campaigns today tend to overlook that critical fact and pull ‘dirt’ from the court file.”

For example, Kelley claimed he could have proved the allegations were untrue, but unfortunately all the records from his Tacoma business had been destroyed by a mysterious 2008 fire in Everett, where he kept an office. He did admit under oath, however, that he hadn’t paid taxes on the disputed amount and other earnings, totaling $3.8 million. That was the amount he moved from bank to bank in what Old Republic called a plan to ultimately hide the money in a tax-free offshore trust.

His opponents and voters didn’t need to know about this, Kelley effectively argued. An attorney and former federal prosecutor who targeted whitecollar crime, he asked U.S. District Court Judge James Robart to seal the file from public view.

Robart was unsympathetic. Though Kelley may feel the documents could “subject him to annoyance, embarrassment, or harm to his political career,” Robart said in a ruling, “the court finds that these bases do not overcome the strong presumption of public access to the court’s files.”

A year later, Kelley won election to high office, becoming the state’s auditor with an annual salary of $117,000. As he predicted, the court case did indeed surface during the 2012 general election campaign against Republican James Watkins, who posted most of the legal files on a website. But while the revelations attracted some news coverage and generated a short-lived debate, they gained little traction. Kelley called it a low blow politically, and said the allegations were never substantiated—since of course he’d settled. Besides, this was an unsexy race for a numbers-crunching job that many voters knew

8

THE HERALD

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

SEATTLELAND

The Stewart Title Company fire in 2008 destroyed evidence, says Kelley.

little about. Though the auditor’s 350 employees watchdog billions of dollars in state and local government expenditures, the office had earned widespread respect under Democrat Brian Sonntag, who was retiring after 20 years. His fellow Democrat Kelley had sailed to victory, beating Watkins by 168,000 votes.

But today those 2010 court files could have the kind of career-altering effect that Kelley once feared. Along with other evidence and testimony, they are the core of a federal investigation to determine whether the 50-year-old Kelley, a father of two who is married to a University of Puget Sound foreign-language professor, violated any criminal laws in his past business dealings.

FBI and Justice Department prosecutors, using a federal grand jury, have been looking into the transactions since Kelley’s 2012 election. The collection of grand-jury documents include a deposition from the Old Republic case, obtained also by Seattle Weekly, in which Kelley admits he didn’t pay taxes on the $3.8 million he wired bank to bank.

Voters and the media may not have been overly interested in the allegations, says Old Republic’s attorney Scott Smith, but the feds apparently were. They contacted him in late 2012 while the auditor’s race was still being fought. “What I think happened is that they were reading newspaper articles around the time of the election and decided to take a look into the tax question,” he says.

The feds are also interested in Kelley’s legisla-

tive records. Last week, the state Public Disclosure Commission said it had turned over all of Kelley’s personal financial disclosure statements to the FBI, including a file of a 2012 complaint made by the state Republican Party claiming Kelley violated a series of disclosure laws. The PDC determined that Kelley had failed to fully and timely report income related to the Old Republic case while he was a three-term state legislator. It fined him $200, with half the fine suspended if he has no other violations for four years. The PDC termed the violations “relatively minor,” and chose not to refer the case to a prosecutor or the attorney general.

Kelley, who ran for auditor on a promise of transparency and accountability, has known about the U.S. probe since at least 2013, but did not publicly disclose it. (The investigation bubbled quietly beneath the surface until the media caught wind of it two weeks ago when federal agents served a search warrant and took evidence

from Kelley’s home in Tacoma.) Old Republic notified Kelley in April 2013 when it received a grand-jury subpoena for the case files, including interview transcripts, discovery evidence, and exhibits. Smith says they also had to provide a copy of the settlement agreement between Kelley and Old Republic, which both sides had agreed to keep private.

“We were obligated to notify Mr. Kelley that we turned over a copy of the agreement,” Smith says.

“We sent him a letter, telling him of the subpoena.

His office confirmed they received the letter.”

Federal officials will not discuss the case, but are summoning Kelley’s former business associates to interviews and closed-courtroom questioning. One of the key figures is 20-year business associate Jason Jerue, who was last reported living in Los Angeles. Jerue was Kelley’s go-to guy when they worked together for a title company in California and later at Kelley’s Tacoma escrow business. Jerue, 45, continues to toil for Kelley as a part-time technical writer for the auditor’s office, working remotely from California. He made a total of $39,000 over the past two years, state records show.

“The feds want to talk to Jerue for the same reason we did—though we were never able to reach him,” says Smith, who notes that, during the Old Republic case, Kelley had Jerue’s cell-phone number but claimed that he did not know where he lived. “Jerue was his operations manager, his right-hand person. He knows more about Kelley’s business than anyone other than Kelley,” says Smith. “Under oath, either he corroborates Kelley or he contradicts him.”

Jerue and Kelley were working at First American Title Co. in Los Angeles when Kelley was fired by the firm in 2000. He sued for wrongful termination and defamation, claiming officials had said he was embezzling company funds. American Title then accused him of burglarizing its offices and stealing artwork, all of it caught on surveillance video. Kelley denied the charge, saying he was out of town that day and could prove it. When time came to do so, he dropped the lawsuit.

Kelley has said little about the federal probe, other than stating that he is puzzled by the inquiry. He’s kept a low profile, but is being called on by state officials to appear at a hearing or face questioning at a press conference.

Ex-auditor Sonntag, who endorsed Kelley for the state house but took no position in the 2012 auditor’s race, told The News Tribune that the public would like to hear “a little more open discussion” from Kelley about why he is being investigated.

Says attorney Smith, “It’s pretty reasonable to see that non-payment of taxes is the feds’ primary angle,” adding that IRS investigators are also involved in the probe. “His defense was, ‘I didn’t steal it, I earned it.’ OK then, did you pay taxes on it? Well no, he said.”

That was the essence of an exchange that transpired during an August 2010 deposition Kelley gave under oath in Seattle. Kelley con-

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based on the estate planning, I don’t know firmed that his company—United National, what—how the attorney did it or why.” He was doing business as Post Closing Department just following expert advice, said Kelley, who has (PCD)—had earned $3.8 million from Old an extensive legal background in tax law.

Republic and two other title companies, Fidelity and Stewart Title.

In Old Republic’s case, Kelley had signed a Lawyers for Old Republic felt Kelley was less contract agreeing that PCD would be paid a $20 than forthcoming about the transfers, as well as tracking fee on each mortgage payoff it handled. about his loss of company records. In court files, But PCD regularly collected a $140 fee and, they contend that in June 2008, one month after after taking its $20 cut, kept the other $120.

Old Republic was hit with the class-action suit, That money should have been returned to Kelley got word of the legal action and began customers, Old Republic contended, which making moves. “In the next few weeks, Kelley led to a 2008 class-action suit against the title shut down PCD and terminated its employcompany. In turn, Old Republic, blaming Kelees [even though the business was making a ley’s firm for wrongly collecting the money, sued profit]. . . . To cover his tracks, Kelley cleaned PCD in 2009. out his home computer [and] Kelley’s vice-pres“In the majority of transactions, the full ident and operations manager, Jason Jerue, took amount collected by Old Republic was not all of [another employee’s] records and deleted all needed and money was left over,” the company PCD files from her home computer.” said in its lawsuit. “Instead of making refunds, On June 12, 2008, the state legislator began Kelley kept most of the excess reconveyance the fund transfers, withdrawing funds from fees. The total amount PCD’s account and wirhe misappropriated ing the money to another from Old Republic was that day, then wir“His defense was, ‘I didn’t bank $1,207,483.72.” Old ing it to a third bank the Republic also claimed steal it. I earned it.’ OK then, following day. By June 18, Kelley misappropriated it had gone to a Nevada did you pay taxes on it? bank under the name of more than $2 million from two other another company, and Well no, he said.” escrow companies, and then on to an East Coast that PCD’s tax returns account in the name of a showed no payments on the funds. new entity created by Kelley, Blackstone InterOther financial documents revealed a money national. trail that was traced through seven wire transfers On June 25, fire struck the Stewart Title Comin two weeks, the $3.8 million going to four pany building in Everett, leaving behind ashes and financial institutions in three states. Kelley also a $1 million loss. The cause was never determined, set up an offshore account in tax-haven Belize the fire department says today. In his deposition, which, Old Republic believed, would be the Kelley said the fire destroyed PCD records that money’s final stop. could have cleared up most of the accusations, Kelley claimed the funds transfers were done showing he properly charged extra for collecting at the advice of a California-based “estate planand retaining the Old Republic fees—although ner,” whom he identified as Palm Springs attorthe contract that Old Republic handed over to ney Alan Eber. According to Eber’s website, he investigators didn’t allow such charges. specializes in asset protection and wealth preserSmith, however, says Kelley’s office was actuvation, promising to “keep your assets out of the ally next to the title building and had been reach of judgments, creditors, business conflicts, closed two weeks earlier. Most of the important and divorcing spouses.“ (During the 2012 camrecords he sought from Kelley were electronic paign, Kelley told reporters the Belize account, spreadsheets, he says, and should have been known as the Wellington Trust, was established saved elsewhere. Kelley admitted in the deposiby an “outside attorney.” When Kelley found tion that his office received only smoke damage out about the account, he closed it, he said, and and was unable to clearly explain why electronic the funds remained in a U.S. bank account. But records weren’t retrieved. (A title company offirecords show that Kelley himself signed papers cial told The Herald of Everett that all Stewart’s to create the offshore trust.) electronic records were secure, having been “When you started this series of wire transfers, backed up on other computers.) who did the money belong to, the $3.8 million?”

Kelley said he wasn’t much of a record-keeper Smith asked Kelley during the 2010 deposition. anyway, Smith recalls. “I asked about his [personal] “The money was earned, so it belonged to my computer, and he said, ‘Well, I don’t have the comcompany,” Kelley answered. puter. It had a glitch, and I gave it to Goodwill.’

“Do you have any intention of paying taxes on OK then, how about e-mails? He said he didn’t that money?” Smith asked in a later follow-up. save them either. What about data from your web“Yes.” site? ‘Cleaned that out before I shut it down.’ ” “When?”

In his only statement about the federal probe, “On advice of counsel [Eber], when he tells Kelley said the government won’t tell him why me to.” it’s snooping into his past. “I do not know any “Any estimate of whether that will be one year, specifics about their inquiry, despite repeated two years, 10 years?” requests for information, and cannot comment Kelley couldn’t say. In 2012, he contended further,” he said. However, he added, “I can that he’d paid all taxes he owed. He could not be assure you that all of my actions over the years reached for further comment last week. have been lawful and appropriate.”

Smith also asked Kelley why he appeared randerson@seattleweekly.com to be hiding the $3.8 million. “Any interest in Rick Anderson writes about sex, crime, money, trying to avoid payment of these funds to your and politics, which tend to be the same thing. His creditors?” Smith inquired. latest book is Floating Feet: Irregular dispatches Kelley said his advisor made him do it. “Again, from the Emerald City.

9

10

JOSHUA BOULET

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

A half-century after learning that it will kill us— and that tobacco companies tried to hide that from us— why do we do it? Why?!

BY DANIEL PERSON

ur story begins on lower Capitol Hill. At Melrose between Pike and Pine, a young woman is exhibiting the universal body language of a woman enjoying a cigarette. Her right upper arm is held tight against her torso, and her left grips the other bicep as if bracing against a cold wind, leaving only her right arm below the elbow free to bring her cigarette to and from her mouth, a perfect lever. The wrist is cocked outward to its fullest extent; the white stick is ensconced between the middle and index fingers. But there’s something wrong: Her cigarette isn’t lit, and her hand dangles it as idly as a construction crane dangles a steel beam on a Sunday afternoon.

She asks me for a light.

I wish I could give her one. Not because I’m a creepy dude trolling for hipster chicks.

I’m happily married, thank you very much.

But ever since Glenn Ford lit Rita Hayworth’s cigarette in Gilda, offering a dame a light has been a quintessential part of the American male experience.

Alas, I don’t have a lighter, because I don’t smoke. It says so right on my Obamacare application, wherever in the ether of the Washington Healthplanfinder that thing ended up after I shipped it through the online portal.

Under the Affordable Care Act, the three things insurance companies can use to jack up your rates are your age, where you live, and your tobacco use. In other words, by the law of the land, the three things that make you an official liability to the nation’s health are getting old, lighting up, and living in a place like Tacoma. (Seriously: Washington health insurers have divided the state into five sections to set regional premiums, the highest of which are seen in Region 2, which includes Tacoma, the Olympic Peninsula and the three counties north of Seattle.) Were I paranoid, I’d imagine that President Obama’s minions were compiling this data for an eventual forced march of all the nation’s smokers into a FEMA concentration camp for re-education. (I’d also probably have a lighter handy, prepared as I would be to survive the failure of the power grid.) But I’m not a conspiracy theorist or a member of the Tea Party. I’m a regular old Seattle progressive, freely enjoying an afternoon on Capitol Hill, bastion of liberalism.

smokers in denial about how often they’re being social. You know who you are.

And anyway, most of those smoking-rate decreases were realized a while ago, before George W. Bush had even taken office. In 1965, 42.4 percent of Americans smoked, according to the CDC. In 1999, 23.5 percent did. But in the past 15 years, those figures have all but flatlined, wavering around 20 percent and even increasing in a couple of those years before dipping to 18 percent last year.

That these statistics today coexist in a health-conscious universe with the phrases “gluten-free pizza,” “vegan cheese,” and “Joe Rogan kale shake” brings us into the realm of the absurd. Had I hung a left at Pike after being asked for a light and walked a mile, I would have quickly passed five yoga studios— two of the hot variety, three where they leave the thermostat alone.

Gene Balk, the Seattle Times librarian whose column reminds us we’re all just data points in this crazy world, crunched some numbers recently that, by my reading, would suggest that in Seattle, neighborhoods populated with people who are finicky about where their quinoa is sourced have lower smoking rates—that Lululemon and Camel Lights are mutually exclusive items on the shopping list.

Northeast Seattle— Maple Leaf, Sandpoint, Mayberry, etc.—shows a smoking rate of 8 percent. Cigs there might be the only thing less popular than Congress. Lower on the economic ladder, the area stretching from South Park to White Center, on the other hand, has a rate of 30 percent.

Indeed, in general, smoking is something rich people don’t do. While 30 percent of people living below the poverty line smoke, those living above smoke at half that rate. Only 5 percent of people with graduate degrees smoke; a quarter of Americans who don’t have a high-school diploma do (strangely, people with GEDs are by far the heaviest smokers, coughing in at 40 percent). Remember, the only crime Eric Garner was accused of committing when he was choked to death by a New York City police officer last summer was selling untaxed cigarettes. They truly are a poor man’s burden.

But I submit there’s a glitch in the data that doesn’t reflect the most visible and fascinating aspect of smoking in America today, that nexus in which affluent whites and bohemian culture still mix in a whirlpool of nicotine. I say the data doesn’t reflect it because where this dynamic is most keenly felt is Capitol Hill, which—lumped in with Eastlake— boasts a low-low smoking rate of 13 percent. I call bullshit.

Take a stroll around Capitol Hill—down

Broadway, left to Cal Anderson Park, over to Pike, and around again—and you will see that the very soul of the neighborhood still has the habit.

In the vestiges of old Capitol Hill culture, one can see smoking still practiced with reliable regularity. There, at the Americana Restaurant on Broadway, is a silhouetted logo of a woman in the Audrey-Hepburnesque thrall of nicotine; at Seattle Central Community College, nine smokers huddle; at Cal Anderson Park, two separate groups of exactly six; at R Place, two men staying close to the door, definitely not 25 feet away. All throughout, playing walk-on parts in my hazy production, are men and women dressed black-on-black

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I offer the woman my sincere apologies and continue on my way. I haven’t reached the end of the block before I hear her squeal with delight: The next passerby does have a lighter.

She will have her nicotine that day.

There is nothing truly notable about this interaction, and yet the incident lingers, like stale cigarette smoke. As a journalist, I’m always looking for breaking stories, trying to find news that will be, well, new to my readers.

But the story of smoking in 2015 intrigues me for almost the exact opposite reason: the very lack of news about it.

The first warning from the Surgeon General that smoking causes cancer came out in January 1964. Think about it: John F. Kennedy hadn’t been dead two months yet; the Beatles hadn’t played a single show on American soil; Maggie Smith, the actress best known for playing the Dowager Countess of Grantham on Downton Abbey, was still a hot 20-something playing Desdemona opposite Laurence Olivier. Since then, smoking has been banned in diners, bars, bowling centers (the law points this one out specifically, Walter), beatnik coffee shops, and anywhere within 25 feet of the swinging glass doors of said establishments.

Lawmakers load taxes onto packs of cigs as if they were beaten mules at the Grand Canyon.

Smoking is so verboten on network TV that NBC doesn’t allow the creators of Constantine to show their title character smoking, though it’s an important plot point for a character who is dying of lung cancer. (As others have noted, this is the same network that gave a cannibal his own show.) Still, cigarette companies somehow find ways to spend billions in advertising despite not being able to flash their wares anywhere but checkout counters and print publications like this one.

In the past year, in particular, smoking was been pilloried like a wobbly-legged prize fighter in the 10th round. Legislators are throwing the punches, the most recent cigarette-smothering hit coming from City Councilmember Jean Godden, who is calling for a smoking ban in all city parks, noting that “second-hand smoke runs counter to the way parks are meant to be enjoyed.” Whatever that means.

And yet smoking remains an undeniable part of Americana, a white-noise buzz of Bic clicks that soundtracks our lives—in particular our night lives.

I’m not trying to feign naïveté on the realities of tobacco advertising or the brutal addictiveness of nicotine. It’s worse than heroin, they say, and tobacco companies spend $23 million a day marketing it.

But the fact remains that a full half-century ago, when the phrase “find your health-care plan on our easy-to-use online portal” would have sounded like pure science fiction, the carcinogenic qualities of nicotine were scientific fact.

Granted, smoking rates have dropped since 1964—the Surgeon General last year said smoking rates among adults and teens “are less than half what they were in 1964.” While that’s great to hear, the number is sort of underwhelming. What if the Environmental Protection Agency were to issue a report that stated: “Since discovering that DDT was killing all our nation’s bald eagles, the number of farms using the pesticide has dropped to less than half of what they were in 1964”? That wouldn’t be considered progress. Forty-two million American adults still admit to being smokers—to say nothing of all those social

11

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marching with a purpose to stage right. Thirteen percent?

I walk into a smoke shop on Broadway. A customer is at the counter, telling the clerk how he didn’t usually smoke but was splurging on a pouch of roll-your-own American Spirit. He then asks the clerk where he’s from.

When he hears Pakistan, he tells him about his friend from India. The clerk is understandably underwhelmed by the revelation that this guy knows one of the 1.25 billion people from that country. Anyway, when I finally get to the counter, Snickers bar in hand, I casually bring up smoking on Capitol Hill.

I quote him the 13 percent figure.

“Bullshit,” he replies. “Who said that?” I tell him it was in the paper. “How many smoke shops do you see just in this neighborhood?” he demands. I shrug. “Five! Who’s buying those cigarettes? No. I’d say 25 to 28 percent of this neighborhood smokes.”

His strangely precise estimate of smoking rates aside, the truths of his assertion seem selfevident.

Again, I recognize that smoking rates ain’t what they used to be. Just as Seattle produces those eerie, silent street corners where nobody is talking and all the hybrid cars pass through the lights making nary a sound, so too are there times on Capitol Hill when the air is completely scentless, bereft of the salty tang of the Sound or the smoke from a cigarette.

That’s great (I guess). But there seems to be no denying that to whatever extent Capitol Hill remains the soul of Seattle, that soul gazes down upon the Amazon campus with a mournful drag on an American Spirit.

Ah, Amazon. To this point I’ve been willfully ignoring the glaring possibility that all the incongruities of Capitol Hill—the smokers and the yoga studios, the smoke shops and the juice bars—are due not to a single population of residents simultaneously destroying their lungs and their belly fat, but are further evidence of the kaleidoscopic effect of South Lake Union’s vibe slowly infiltrating Capitol Hill. That is, there are now two overlapping neighborhoods—one full of high-paid tech workers who have crunched the numbers and found that the data just doesn’t support a smoking habit, and another bohemian one still committed to the intangible and transient feel of a hot fire in the lungs. That Capitol Hill is being gentrified seems beyond debate, but how it pertains to smoking is anecdotal.

In my research, I couldn’t find good data on smoking rates in the tech industry—beyond a recent Wired article decrying the health effects of sitting too long, declaring that “sitting is [Silicon Valley’s] new smoking.” (Picture if you will a modern-day James Dean sitting in a tech office, clad in leather, playing the defiant rebel by refusing to opt for a stand-up work station.) But if the smoking habits of “New Capitol Hill” are difficult to nail down, the habits of the old neighborhood are slightly more tangible.

At least one hard statistic bears out why smoking might seem more prevalent in the cultural heart of Seattle—the “gayborhood,” if you will: Smoking rates in the LGBT community are significantly higher than in the general population. In Washington state, 38.1 percent of bisexual men smoke, compared to 19.2 percent of the general population; 29.5 percent of gay men regularly light up. The

rates are similar for gay and bisexual women.

If you’re a gay youth, there’s a 6-in-10 chance you’re a smoker, which far exceeds the rates seen in 1964 even for the general population.

Researchers suggest that the reason for this is because in smoking, people who have been stigmatized all their lives can find a community; when you’re driven out of your home and into bars, a cigarette offered from a friendly hand can seem awfully enticing. The American Lung Association—the source of all these statistics—reports that interviews with 74 LBGT leaders revealed a prevailing attitude that smoking was important to the coming-out process and smoking was one of the last things they were going to worry about. I don’t necessarily blame them.

Smoking also clearly has a still-strong cultural currency among the artistic class. Nobody bothers gathering statistics on how many rock stars or actors smoke, but it’s not difficult to grasp that the percentages are high.

I submit to you a lineup of recent publicity shots. Enter “Rihanna” into Google Images and the second result shows her defiantly awash in smoke, and the cherry of her cigarette is far too uniform to comprise anything but tobacco. Then there’s Adam Driver, the coolest Brooklyn dude on Girls and therefore the coolest dude on TV, staring down the camera

“For years and years the message was ‘Don’t smoke, don’t smoke’ . . . After a while, the progress started to taper off.” with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Tyler the Creator just got his own online TV show, and to announce it his people sent out a new shot of the rapper with a smoke in his lips. The cigarette was backwards, because Tyler the Creator is different, but the effect still comes through. Mac DeMarco, the rocker so cool right now that in January he was able to sell a pair of his old shoes for $21,100, has made cigarettes central to his artistic aesthetic; when he came by Bumbershoot in August, the photo all the papers—including this one—ran was of him with a gee-whiz grin on his face as cigarettes rained down around him.

Maybe cigarettes are becoming ironic.

Maybe all these people are in on the absurdity, telling a sort of dead-baby joke 20 smokes at a time.

I doubt it, though.

Here’s the thing: Smoking has a gravitydefying ability to remain a red-flag indicator of antiauthoritarianism. While tobacco companies are seeing steadily declining sales, their executives must pinch themselves when they realize that in a world where everything from Stoli Vodka to SeaWorld is finding itself under mass boycott, lighting a cigarette is still viewed as a fuck-you to The Man. No matter that they literally use child labor in their tobacco fields. In the United States. In the 21st century. (Human Rights Watch blew the whistle on the practice last May.) Everybody still knows that smoking ain’t allowed in school, so, ipso facto, light up, street punks.

A friend of mine contends that unhealthy behaviors—of which smoking is the granddaddy—are America’s final sin. Sex has been digitized via online porn, greed codified

though tax laws that ensure we keep what’s ours, and murder ghettoized to a poor man’s problem—be it at the hands of their neighbors or the cops. But cigarettes: There’s a temptation that continues to lurk just around the corner of every yoga studio and kale bar that, if indulged in, would ensure the fall of man.

Were the Adam and Eve story set on Capitol Hill today, Eve wouldn’t be holding an apple— who wouldn’t want a locally sourced piece of hand-picked fruit?—but a pack of organically grown American Spirits.

While it’s just a theory, it would explain why rock stars and those who would emulate them insist a cigarette be in their hand when it’s time for their head shot. So Kate Moss walks down the runway at Paris Fashion Week puffing on a cig and Leonardo DiCaprio flaunts his e-cig inside the auditorium during the Golden Globes. They’re just partaking in the one last thing that will indicate they aren’t a sellout or a sissy.

Health officials have all but accepted that that health-based arguments against smoking, while effective in cutting the smoking rate drastically over the past 40 years, have become less effective as they run into the stubborn final 20 percent.

“For years and years the message was ‘Don’t smoke, don’t smoke, don’t smoke,’ ” Allison Moroni, the lung health manager in the American Lung Association’s Seattle office, tells me about her group’s efforts to keep kids from picking up the habit. “After a while, the progress started to taper off; smoking rates [among teens] declined and then plateaued.”

That’s a problem for the anti-smoking crowd, Moroni says, since 90 percent of all smokers start in their teens. So about 10 years ago groups like the American Lung Association shifted tactics and began to promote legislation that would make it harder for teenagers to get cigarettes and smoke them, no matter how cool it might look when Skrillex lights up. The idea was that if a pack of cigarettes costs more than you make working an hour at Taco Bell, you’ll be a lot less likely to drop money on them.

As reported in this paper last month (“Pack Rats,” March 11), the state cigarette tax has gone up ninefold in two decades. In 1993, it was just 34 cents per pack; today a carton of cigarettes in Washington is taxed $30.25.

Along with the intentionally extortionist prices, the Lung Association is also supporting a bill in Olympia that would make it illegal for anyone under 21 to possess tobacco products.

The bill has already passed one House committee.

The strategy of making smoking a pain in the

ass for teens seemed to be working for a while, Moroni says, but then—riding onto the scene like the Marlboro Man on a futuristic robot steed—came vaping.

When I first saw e-cigarettes hit the market, I expected them to share the fate of Bluetooth earpieces: immediate relegation to that strange underbelly of society where 40-year-old white dudes with bad sunglasses and goatees are king. There’s just no way to look cool dragging off something shaped like a pocket-sized vibrator. Plus, to feed the habit, you have to suffer the indignity of walking into stores with names like Planet Vape, many of which have business signs that appear to have been designed by your cousin in Microsoft Paint. My fiercely unscientific survey of Capitol Hill smoking habits seemed

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to corroborate this impression, as tobacco seemed to be consumed in the very-muchold-fashioned way.

But our children are the future, and Moroni says the future is vaping. A Monitoring the Future survey of 40,000 teens found that e-cigarette use has surpassed regular cigarette use among minors. Moroni says that her interviews with teens suggest that e-cigarettes allow kids to achieve two of their basic biological functions: rebelling against their parents and hiding it from them (despite their being the object of said rebellion).

“We hear from teens who get great grades and don’t want to be seen as a goody-twoshoes,” she says. “With e-cigarettes, you can smoke them with your friends, but you don’t smell like tobacco when you get home.”

Some theorize that vaping represents progress in the smoking debate. It’s not really even smoke, so the vapor is presumably healthier, since it’s denuded of tar and some of the more potent carcinogens found in regular nicotine cigarettes. But Moroni doesn’t buy it. Not only are vape products frighteningly untested— though not untested enough to miss the fact that in them formaldehyde, ye old embalming agent, exists at levels 15 times that of regular cigarettes—Moroni points out that they get you hooked on nicotine just as effectively. If vaping hooks you, the theory goes, next time you’re offered a cigarette you probably won’t decline.

And, again, tobacco companies (or should they just be called nicotine companies now?) have managed to get these products into the hands of American royalty just in time for the cameras to roll. Along with Leo, Julia LouisDreyfus was also vaping at the Golden Globes last year as she awaited her awards for Veep.

Getting back to an earlier point: Both actors are dyed-in-the-wool liberals who rail against everything from the Keystone XL Pipeline to killing elephants, but who have a huge blind spot for the tobacco industry’s misdeeds. Hollywood, darling, is all about perception; just as with guns, the entertainment industry may know they’re wrong, but that won’t stop them from using them whenever they need a scene awash in American noir.

Will smoking ever lose that allure? Arthur C. Clarke said of extraterrestrial life: “Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.” Likewise, either smoking will remain or it will go away. Both seem unbelievable.

At a wedding I attended one recent weekend, held in Lower Fremont, two bridesmaids stepped out after the ceremony to have a cigarette. They go well with wine, I guess. The venue was located right next door to a yoga studio that is all windows, meaning its owner had no trouble seeing what was going on. And in another sign of the changing culture of Seattle, she actually confronted them.

“Could you please not smoke in front of my yoga studio?” the woman asked with just a little bit of tone.

You could take this story to mean that healthniks will eventually win the day, emboldened as they are these days to exert their rights to a smoke-free world. But when the women moved down the street to light up in front of the Carquest auto-parts store next door, an alternative lesson emerged: In 2015, 51 years after the Surgeon General said it would kill you, your next cigarette is just 25 feet away from the public entrance. E

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food&drink

FoodNews

Chez Chef

BY JASON PRICE

Seattle chefs on what they cook at home for their kids.

Arcade Lights at Pike Place Market is on April 24 this year, and will bring over 70 purveyors of food and drink with wineries, breweries, sweet and savory food makers, and even some hard-core booze distillers. Prices start at $60 for general admission and go up to $120 for a VIP pass which gets you in an hour early, with some exclusive tastings and a few extra tokens to burn.

BY JACOB UITTI

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COURTESY OF JOSH HENDERSON

Josh Henderson and his boys.

Volunteer Park Café’s Ericka Burke, who cooks for her 5-year-old son, Finn, every day—breakfast, school lunch, and most dinners (when energy allows)—says she tries to focus on “a seasonal diet [to help] him understand that certain foods are not always available and are best enjoyed while in season.” Burke brings her son to the garden to pick herbs so often, she says, that he now recognizes individual plants for himself. “I think it is very important that he knows where and how his food grows and develops,” she explains.

Despite this healthy mode, Burke acknowledges “everything in moderation,” and admits giving her son a treat once in a while—even making ice cream together, noting, “It’s a nice reward!” What advice would Burke give new parents wondering what to offer their children? “Introduce your kids to many

Sushi Kappo Tamura chef Taichi Kitamura with his daughter.

Chef Ethan Stowell will open a new restaurant in Seattle’s Four Seasons Hotel in late spring, to replace ART Restaurant & Lounge. Chef Joe Ritchie, who currently heads the kitchen at Stowell’s mkt. in Tangletown, will helm the new spot, which will be open for lunch and dinner and “offer a gorgeous selection of shellfish from the region, a top-notch burger, and a smattering of classic appetizers among modern Pacific Northwest dishes.” E morningfoodnews@gmail.com

TheWeeklyDish

Seasonal toast at Bottlehouse.

COURTESY OF TAICHI KITAMURA

ends, she adds, were when more extravagant meals were made. “We couldn’t have meat every day of the week, so on Sundays we made something special: macaroni pie [see recipe below], stewed meats, whole chickens—and the kids got what everybody else got, of course.”

Burgundian chef Jeff Davidson, who grew up in Washington and has two young boys—Cash, 8, and Royal, 4—shares Jacob’s ethic. “I make for my children the same things I eat so when they grow older, they won’t have any stigmas attached to certain foods,” he says. “Royal seems to be the more adventurous eater—he even tried fish eyeballs, which he liked, and said they tasted like corn!” Davidson says he is constantly teaching his sons cooking techniques so that they have a full grasp of the culture when they’re older. “Cash is starting to learn basic knife skills now, and Royal is the grab-me-this, help-put-away-groceries, and stir-this guy. Things do get messy, but how else is a young person to learn?” he smiles.

The ladies behind food-truck fascination Marination have announced they’ll open a new location in Columbia City, to be housed in the former Esmay Auto Rebuild garage built in 1947. The menu will feature primarily new items in the same Asian-Hawaiian fusion vein as Marination, with a couple of classics thrown in. Fall is the target opening date, but we can all cross our fingers and hope the buildout is completed sooner. It’s all about the southside, y’all!

BY NICOLE SPRINKLE

different flavors and smells . . . and let them touch ingredients and ask questions.”

Indeed, the role of education—perhaps coupled with a well-timed healthy smoothie— seems paramount from chef-parent to, potentially, future chef-child. Kitamura certainly agrees, saying his advice to parents would be to “Get your kids to help you cook. Have them do simple work like salting the meat or stirring soup. My daughter loves wrapping pot stickers.”

In other words: Start them early and don’t fret the occasional sweet treat.

Pam Jacob’s Macaroni Pie

1 to 1.5 pounds of sharp cheddar (shredded) 2 pounds cooked macaroni 2 cups full cream 3 tablespoons butter Combine and bake for 45 minutes at 325 degrees. Top with Parmesan cheese and ground crackers. E

food@seattleweekly.com

NICOLE SPRINKLE

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

M

y mother was decent at cooking even though she hated it. Her best dish was a ricotta-andred-sauce lasagna. My dad, save bottling some of his “famous” spaghetti sauce, didn’t cook at all. Both my parents were academics, and preferred to study medieval French literature rather than a book of recipes. As a result, I learned to love food later in life. But some people grow up with chefs for parents and maybe get to taste wonderful food experiments, traditional delicacies, and culturally inspired cuisines. So I couldn’t help but wonder (cue Carrie Bradshaw): What philosophies and strategies do professional chefs employ when cooking for their own children? Surprisingly, it’s less about the exotic and more about instilling good habits and an understanding of where their food comes from.

“What it comes down to,” says chef and restaurateur Josh Henderson—who owns Westward, Skillet, and Quality Athletics and who has two sons, Huck, 5, and Wally, 2—“is will they eat it? My strategy is smoothies. If there is a banana in there, the rest could be all kale. So many times we’ve had pizza with a kale smoothie, and I feel pretty good about it.”

Henderson, despite his busy schedule, still finds time to cook regular meals for his boys.

Some of his go-tos include quesadillas, grilled cheese, seared salmon, and guacamole. “You can totally shape your kid’s diet from the outset,” he says. “It’s just a matter of what you have in the house from the beginning. I don’t give them soda—that’s a big one for me—and if we’re going to have pizza or a cheeseburger, I make sure it’s from a good place—no McDonald’s. If it’s boxed mac-and-cheese, it’s Annie’s.”

Taichi Kitamura, chef and owner of Sushi Kappo Tamura in Eastlake, cooks at least one family dinner a week. He has a straightforward methodology for his 3-year-old daughter, Tamie: “I just try to get her to eat simple, wellbalanced meals with quality ingredients,” he says. “For example, the other night it was sockeye salmon, broccoli, napa and tofu soup, and brown rice. We never really fry much at home.”

Kitamura admits, though, that he does give his daughter a treat maybe once a week. “A donut or cookie,” he says, “or we give her real, fruitflavored gummy bears from Trader Joe’s.”

Pam Jacob, who owns and operates Pam’s Kitchen in Wallingford, says that growing up in Trinidad and Tobago, her children—daughter Anjuli and son Anton, now in their 30s—ate the same things as the adults at the table. Other than that, there was no particular dining strategy.

“Whatever we made was for the whole family,” Jacob says. “We cooked the same thing for us that the kids would eat. The main thing was roti—or flatbread—then we made whatever vegetables were around: cabbage, eggplant, string beans, fried potatoes, eggs with tomatoes.” Week-

If you haven’t stopped in to Madrona’s Bottlehouse (wine bar, shoppe, and urban winery), you’re missing out on a truly lovely, unique experience. While wine is the centerpiece of the charming interior, which feels like someone’s elegant but welcoming home, there are also charcuterie, cheese, pickles, and cocktails; vermouth or white port and tonic on tap; ciders, beers, aperitifs, coffee drinks, ice-cream concoctions (like prosecco sorbet floats), housemade truffles, and a curated list of small plates. Besides the pickled eggs (also delish), I especially enjoyed their “seasonal toast,” with green garbanzo bean and English pea mash (like a hummus of sorts), with fresh mint, lemon, and burrata. Paired with a port shrub at 4 p.m., it was the perfect happy-hour spring snack.

As the weather warms, their outdoor garden space (and their rotating rosé selection) beckons. E nsprinkle@seattleweekly.com

Christopher Kimball Reveals His favorite cookbooks and TV food personalities, and what to expect at next week’s live performance at The Moore.

BY NICOLE SPRINKLE

COCKTAILS! BURRITOS! TACOS! Happy Hour 7 Days a Week 4-6pm & 10pm - Midnight COURTESY OF AMERICA’S TEST KITCHEN

The guy with the bow tie.

T

he America’s Test Kitchen folks bring their popular live show to The Moore on Tuesday, April 7. The face of the show, Christopher Kimball, spoke with Seattle Weekly about everything from his other favorite TV cooking shows and his thoughts on Modernist techniques to his go-to cookbooks and the best audience participant he’s ever had. Plus, he says Seattle’s one of his favorite cities because “people still read out here.” Indeed.

SW: So what are you particularly excited about for this show? You’re going to have a chocolate tasting, some science experiments . . .

Kimball: The fun part of the show is getting people up onstage and having interaction. There will be two sets of tastings, and one of our test cooks does some science experiments. But it’s the live Q&A that’s great . . . questions about how people actually cook at home.

What are some of the best questions you’ve gotten during the shows?

What about the Julia Child tribute?

It’s based on a radio show I did a while back.

I interviewed people who knew her better than I did, what she was like. We’ll play that audio, along with a photo montage. In a dark theater, the audio is more compelling than just watching something.

You guys produce soooo much material. I feel like I get a new cookbook from you every week. If you had to recommend just one, which would it be?

I think our best work is on the new glutenfree cookbook [The How Can It Be Gluten Free Cookbook: Revolutionary Techniques. Groundbreaking Recipes.]. It was the hardest, and we came up with the most interesting techniques. Most gluten-free recipes are terrible. There’s so much technique and science in it, so it really put our

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Who’s your favorite TV chef (besides yourself)?

Well, I don’t really watch TV besides House of Cards. But Rachael Ray . . . I admire her and think she’s a genuine person. I actually like her quite a lot. She does what she does well. Alton Brown does a good job. Martha Stewart up in front of the cameras really knows what she’s talking about. She’s a pro. I like the people who are really who they say they are.

blast from the past Tell us about the time the world revolved around you at SkyCity

Do you use any cookbooks besides your own?

I’m a huge fan of [Yotam] Ottolenghi’s Plenty and Plenty More. My wife and I cook from those books almost exclusively. I also think Martha Stewart’s new book, Clean Slate, has some interesting stuff . . . she’s on to something. I think Fuchsia Dunlop is brilliant. Her Chinese homecooking book [Every Grain of Rice] is fabulous.

How do you feel about sous vide and other modernist techniques that have become so popular?

I had a 12-course lunch at the Modernist kitchen, and it was fabulous. But I don’t know if it has much to do with home cooking. I actually like to chew my food. And you don’t need a sous vide machine to poach something.

Tell us about one of your favorite moments doing the live show.

At our last show in Providence, we had a 12-year-old who came for her birthday. We called her up for a tasting, and she nailed everything. It’s heartening to see a 12-year-old who wants to go to the show for their birthday. E

nsprinkle@seattleweekly.com

AMERICA’S TEST KITCHEN The Moore, 1932 Second Ave., 877-784-4849, stgpresents.org. $32.50–$96.50. 8 p.m. Tues., April 7.

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SE ATTLE WEEKLY • APRI L 1 — 7, 2015

There’s all sorts of silly ones, like how come you’re not fat and do you tie your own bow ties?

But people offer some really interesting questions, like how come when you cook certain meats to medium it’s more tender than when you cook it to medium rare, or can I use salted vs. unsalted butter? Is it OK to substitute sugar for hoisin sauce, or what happens if you don’t use Dutch cocoa?

test-kitchen model to work. The chocolate-chip cookies, the muffins—they really are as good as regular gluten ones. But gluten-free pizza is not on my list; you can get it chewy but not crispy. The vegetarian cookbook [The Complete Vegetarian Cookbook] is good too. There’s a lot of science behind how you develop meaty flavors and umami.

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W

hen Prohibition is mentioned in a contemporary bar setting, it’s usually as a temporal reference point for a certain cocktail’s invention or popularization. Defining a drink as “PreProhibition” harkens to a time when relatively few ingredients were used and the focus was mostly on the base spirit, while “Prohibition-era” drinks tend to involve more mixers and herbal liqueurs. Oh, sure, many modern bars crib

BY ZACH GEBALLE stylist cues from the era (as any of the million or so “speakeasies” that have opened in the past decade or so will demonstrate)—but other than that, we rarely consider just what impact our 13-year dalliance with sobriety had on modern America.

The Museum of History and Industry’s newest exhibit, “American Spirits,” aims to change that. At a press preview I had a chance to explore a dizzying array of artifacts, and to contemplate the ways our modern drinking culture owes that period a great deal. It also serves to highlight Seattle’s unique contributions to both sides of the temperance struggle: Washington was one of the first states to ban alcohol production (in 1914), while at the same time rum-runners plied their trade in the waters of Puget Sound, largely confounding governmental attempts to catch them.

From a drinker’s perspective, the exhibit’s recreated speakeasy offers the most to see and explore. The mock bartop, lined with facts about the era’s cocktails, points out that in many cases the rough hooch being consumed desperately needed strong flavors to mask it.

There are also some fascinating artifacts, like an actual hatchet Carry Nation used to smash bars and a few ingenious flasks—the one disguised as a book of poetry was a personal favorite.

My only real issue with the exhibit is that it appears to start from the position that before Prohibition, America had a serious drinking problem.

While it’s true that 19th-century Americans drank a lot, the exhibit doesn’t mention the fact that for many, alcoholic beverages were safer to drink than water. Similarly, little mention is made of how much damage Prohibition did to the American wine industry, especially in California. Thousands of vineyards were ripped up, destroying old vines that even in the 1910s were producing wine that rivaled the best from Europe. We’ve only recently managed to undo much of that damage.

Those caveats aside, this is a tremendous chance to learn more about a pivotal era in American history—one that played a major role in the creation of jazz, cocktail culture, organized crime, and more. A future exhibit, “The 21st Century Speakeasy,” will explore the ways we currently legislate morality, and how our state’s initiative process has played a crucial role at various times in changing our laws. E

E VE N T S

PR OMO T ION S

AR T S AN D E N T E R TAIN ME N T THEBARCODE

thebarcode@seattleweekly.com

AMERICAN SPIRITS Museum of History and Industry, 860 Terry Ave. N., 324-1126, mohai.org. $14–$17.

10 a.m.–5 p.m. Fri.–Wed., 10 a.m.–8 p.m. Thurs.

Opens April 2. “The 21st Century Speakeasy” opens June 6. Both end Aug. 23.

arts&culture Too Many Tribes, Not Enough Turf

ThisWeek’s PickList

SAM’s survey of American Indian art runs far, if not deep.

THURSDAY, APRIL 2

BY BRIAN MILLER

In their new show, Kate Wallich and Lavinia Vago (of The YC) are testing the old saying that nothing succeeds like excess. Beginning with the super-self-reflexive world of social media, they examine the current state of pop culture and the ownership society, Instagramming as they go. With a long list of collaborators to juggle (including composer Johnny Goss, designer JD Banke, videographer Jacob Rosen, and fellow stage performers Matt Drews and Waldean Nelson), Wallich has turned up the intensity on her usual dreamy, kinetic approach—this next stage in her choreographic development sounds pretty sleek. (Through Sun.) On the

Twelve High-Ranking Kiowa Men, drawn circa 1880 by an unknown Kiowa artist.

terworks of American Indian Art From the Diker Collection, which opened in mid-February. New

York collectors Charles and Valerie Diker have a good eye, augmented by professional curators and buyers. Larger samplings from their trove have been favorably received at the Met, the Smithsonian, and the National Museum of the American Indian.

(Here, some 122 objects are on view, with an additional regional sidebar of 60 familiar pieces called Seattle Collects Northwest Coast Native Art.) The limit to the Diker exhibition is, paradoxically, its breadth. There’s a lot to see from every corner of the continent, including over 500 tribes and 2,000 years of history (up to the present era). You want Hopi pottery? You got it. Navajo blankets? Those too. Tlingit tunics and Washoe baskets? Check and check. Also on view are pipes, drums, bowls, war clubs, ivory carvings, rattles, rugs, moccasins, combs, dolls, purses, and even a bit of metalwork and ink-on-paper drawing—after those materials were introduced by European colonists. The fabulous glass beadwork also resulted from trading with new settlers, which helped create a late-19th-century market for Indian wares.

The show feels like a compressed visit to a dozen different museums scattered across the U.S., Canada, and Mexico—a sampler of sorts.

You want to see more, but you also want to see more focus on history, tribe, or region.

Boards, 100 W. Roy St., 217-9888, ontheboards. org. $23–$25. 8 p.m. SANDRA KURTZ

Buster Simpson

tell.” Despite recent scholarship, it’s difficult to grasp all the forgotten ceremonial and spiritual significance of these artifacts. (Native religious practices were outlawed from 1883 to 1978, during which time missionaries and schoolteachers also did their best to erase the old pagan ways.) Most everything exists in a vague, achronological past, not like the tidy Bible scenes or historical canvases of European art.

Penney sees in many of these artifacts “technology that has its aesthetic dimension,” meaning those portable, useful implements passed down through generations. If ceremonial aspects are often obscure, even today we can understand the urge to decorate a handmade tool. A carved wooden drinking cup from the Anishinaabe bears images of beaver and sturgeon—tokens of wealth (via trade) by the early 19th century. Likewise the baskets and ceramic bowls of Zuni and Pueblo culture were intended to be useful, to fit pleasingly into the hand, so why not also adorn them with geometric patterns pleasing to the eye?

These objects are both valuable heirlooms and instruments of survival.

On the subject of tools, however, forget about bows and arrows, tomahawks, and other instruments of war. I counted maybe one metal-bladed knife (this after colonization) in a show that elides the violent subjugation of our continent’s original owners. But again, beauty is the Dikers’ collecting imperative, not dismal history. Though we do discern, in a 1920 drawing, a depiction of the 1876 Battle of Little Bighorn (aka Custer’s Last Stand)—the last great victory against the U.S. Army. After that: total defeat, poverty, the reservations, and roadside trinket stands.

While none of these creations were intended for display or veneration in the European sense of art, it’s their functional aesthetic that’s so powerful and affecting. Nothing here is merely decorative.

If you’re going to make a pair of high-top Kiowa moccasins, why not make them lovely—with elaborate tassels and beadwork? If Picasso were a stone-age cobbler, and the art market didn’t exist, he might do the same. That culture of practical adornment is also seen in the luggage, litters, baskets, baby carriers, and other objects of transport used by the nomadic tribes of the Great Plains.

And let’s note that, if you’re planning a trip to New York before May 10, the Met is now specifically featuring the Plains Indians—a far deeper view than the 11 sampling stations here.

Certainly the Dikers’ is a far better collection than the Old West trove recently donated to the Tacoma Art Museum by the Haub family.

Everything’s of a higher quality than your average anthropology show at the Burke, which reflects Charles Diker’s Wall Street success. He and his wife began collecting in the early ’60s, before the resurgence of Native American rights and the new appreciation of cultures that had been flattened to stereotype by Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, Hollywood, and TV. Still, I thought more of last year’s Deco Japan show at SAAM—also a private collection on tour—because its period and culture were so much more specific. The Diker Collection covers more ground, yet treads too lightly upon it. E

bmiller@seattleweekly.com

SEATTLE ART MUSEUM 1300 First Ave., 654-3121, seattleartmuseum.org. $12.50–$19.50. 10 a.m.–5 p.m. Wed.–Sun. (open until 9 p.m. Thurs.) Ends May 17.

Simpson photographed as the Woodman.

Since his big career retrospective at the Frye two years ago, Seattle’s pre-eminent creator of environmental and salvage art has been busy. And he’s been traveling—spending time in Italy and Florida on various residencies. New work has resulted from both trips, though his first show at Greg Kucera will sample sculptural installations and photography reaching back 40 years.

Back when he came to Seattle (from Michigan), Simpson found a city in turmoil. Pioneer Square and the Pike Place Market were in jeopardy, and he was arguably the first local artist to incorporate our historical discards—often gleaned from demolition sites and abandoned old buildings—into his work. His totemic character of the stooped Woodman, bundle of scrap timber on his back, speaks to that scruffy early-’70s era,

SE ATTLE WEEKLY • APRI L 1 — 7, 2015

At the show’s opening, Valerie Diker said the couple’s only collecting criterion was beauty— an unimpeachable if amorphous standard.

(They also buy extensively in modern art.)

That leaves the task of organization to visiting curator David Penney and his SAM cohort, who’ve devised 11 nodes of interest—primarily geographic and cultural, which somewhat contradicts the Dikers’ magpie aesthetic. Still, we’d be lost without it; numerous maps and wall texts also help with the navigation.

In keeping with the Dikers’ wide-ranging taste, Penney cites a “sense of modernism, of abstraction, and pattern” to indigenous art.

Figuration is rare. Unlike millennia of Greek, Roman, and Christian traditions, there are no bearded gods and nubile nymphs to represent from the constellations and mythic tales. There’s almost no sense of narrative, as Penney admits: “In many cases, we’ve lost the knowledge of the stories they were trying to

DIKER COLLECTION/AMERICAN FEDERATION OF ARTS

hen private collectors are generous enough to send their art on the road, the catalogue already written, a bottom-linemindful museum isn’t likely to quibble about the contents. Shows traveling among institutions, involving Renoirs or Warhols, are far more pricey to mount. Which is not to say there’s anything cheap or shoddy about Indigenous Beauty: Mas-

GREG KUCERA GALLERY

W

Splurge Land

» CONTINUED ON PAGE 18 17

arts&culture » FROM PAGE 17

WILSON WEBB/WARNER BROS.

when lofts were cheap and shiny expensive Statement Art was suspect. Simpson has always used humble, repurposed materials that remind you of past uses, antecedents, and— implicitly—the passage of time. In his show Double Bound, Simpson reuses old cathode ray tubes (turned into stools), license plates, shovels, a humble iron fence post (clad in gold leaf ), scraps of steel and other metals, and reclaimed wood (always with the wood).

You can’t really separate Simpson’s aesthetic from a deep, parallel sense of ecology: He’s always preserving as much as he is transforming. Simpson will attend the opening and give a talk at noon Saturday. (Through May 16.) Greg Kucera

Gallery, 212 Third Ave. S., 624-0770, gregkucera. com. Free. First Thursday opening reception: 6–8 p.m. BRIAN MILLER

FRIDAY, APRIL 3

Vernae

Spring came early this year, and filmmaker Ethan Folk was more than ready. His new project uses Igor Stravinsky’s iconic Le Sacre du Printemps as a skeleton for a contemporary exploration of ancient rituals and “the intersections of ecstasy and oblivion—of fertility and mortality.” Just over 100 years after its premiere, Sacre still captures the attention of artists in all disciplines. Folk’s film-in-progress is the centerpiece of an immersive live-performance installation featuring multiple Northwest artists. The duo known as The House of ia (kb Thomason and Jillayne Hunter) co-created Vernae with Folk and Devin McDermott; Alice Gosti helped with the choreography; live performers include McDermott, Patrick Kilbane, Anna Conner, and Nathan Blackwell. Northwest Film Forum, 1515

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

12th Ave., 267-5380, nwfilmforum.org. $12–$15.

7 p.m. prelude/venue tour, 8:30 p.m. show.

(Repeats Sat.) SANDRA KURTZ

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SUNDAY, APRIL 5

Mad Men: The End of an Era

For six and one-half seasons, Mad Men has explored social roles, chauvinism, identity, and self-definition through the lens of the ’60s.

We’ve watched Don Draper ( Jon Hamm) and his fellow Madison Avenue execs resist the changing times, creating ad campaigns that looked both creatively forward and socially backward to the comforts of a ’50s paradigm that never actually existed. (Though that illusion was maintained for a while in in the boys’-club atmosphere and office wet bars of the executive inner circle.) As the second half of Season 7 takes us to the end of the ’60s, Don’s protégé Peggy (Elisabeth Moss) is now his boss and former office manager Joan (Christina Hendricks) is a partner, but has their culture really changed? I’d like to say that’s the question on everyone’s mind, but really we want

Waterston and Phoenix on the mystery trail.

to see how series creator Matthew Weiner ends Don’s long, strange trip from mysterious golden boy to self-sabotaging narcissist to whatever final role awaits at the end of this seven-episode arc (concluding May 17). Weiner’s already put one rumor to rest: Don’s wife Megan ( Jessica Paré) will not be murdered by the Manson Family, but that still leaves a lot of possibilities for other character fates. I for one want to see how schmooze-meister Roger Sterling ( John Slattery) fills the firm’s leadership vacuum. For tonight’s premiere party, hosted by Will Viharo and Monica Cortes Viharo, viewers are encouraged to dress in period attire, with prizes to be awarded as incentive. Central Cinema, 1411 21st Ave., 686-6684, central-cinema.com. Free. 7 p.m.

SEAN AXMAKER

MONDAY, APRIL 6

Inherent Vice

Why Thomas Pynchon would go back to 1970 with his late (2009) hippie detective spoof is obvious: nostalgia, command of period color, and unfinished business as one optimistic decade curdles into another—trying to locate Where It All Went Wrong. But what mysteries are there for Paul Thomas Anderson to plumb?

Doc Sportello ( Joaquin Phoenix) is a muttonchopped gumshoe operating near the L.A. beach, salt air and cannabis fumes constantly in his lungs, vaguely pursuing a missing-person case in which the real-estate developer in question may not actually be missing. His “old lady” Shasta (Katherine Waterston) turned him onto the case, which sends him stumbling through a gallery of SoCal eccentrics. (These include Martin Short, Owen Wilson, and Benicio Del Toro.) The squares of Nixon’s silent majority are represented by Martin Donovan (as a string-pulling tycoon), Reese Witherspoon (a D.A. and Doc’s new squeeze), and Josh Brolin as Bigfoot Bjornsen: police detective, parttime actor, and Doc’s possible doppelgänger.

Both Bigfoot and Doc are confronting the MacGuffin that is the Golden Fang: possibly a conspiracy, possibly a paranoid stoner misunderstanding. Don’t expect any mysteries to be solved here; Doc is a P.I. who collects very little hard evidence, yet he persists, unperturbed by the absence of such facts. In Anderson’s loosest, most purely enjoyable film to date (to be screened in 35 mm), plot matters less than the telling and serendipitous details of the tale. SIFF Film Center (Seattle Center), 324-9996, siff.net. $7–$12. 7 p.m. BRIAN MILLER E

» Performance

Opening Nights

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Slowgirl ’s compassionate portrait of people who, regardless of their courtroom guilt or innocence, made some terrible decisions, feels very much of our moment. Most of us have had a “slowgirl” in our past—someone whom, however momentarily, we did not treat kindly.

If we were lucky, our victim survived whatever cruelty we inflicted, so that we might later apologize—or more. To merely villainize bullies doesn’t accomplish much, or say anything we haven’t heard a thousand times before.

Slowgirl dwells in the more ambiguous zone of dispassionate moral scrutiny, a place where one’s past sins can be addressed and forgiven.

PSlowgirl SEATTLE PUBLIC THEATER AT THE BATHHOUSE, 7312 W. GREENLAKE DR. N., 524-1300, SEATTLE PUBLICTHEATER.ORG. $5–$32. 7:30 P.M. THURS.– SAT., 2 P.M. SUN. ENDS APRIL 12.

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MARGARET FRIEDMAN

PTartuffe CENTER HOUSE THEATRE, SEATTLE CENTER ARMORY, 733- 8222. $25–$48. 7:30 P.M. WED.–SAT. PLUS WEEKEND MATINEES; SEE SEATTLESHAKESPEARE.ORG FOR SCHEDULE. ENDS APRIL 12.

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As Monica Lewinsky and Amanda Knox have incidents in their youth that will shadow their lives forever, so too does Becky, the flashier half of Greg Pierce’s poignant two-hander about a mouthy 17-year-old who visits her uncle in Costa Rica after a recent tragedy. Slowgirl denotes Mary Beth, Becky’s mentally challenged classmate, who fell out a window at a drunken high-school party. Becky may share some blame for that, and she’s not the only one wrestling with her conscience. Her apparently benign, geeky Uncle Sterling has some secrets of his own.

SPT’s intimate performance space lends itself perfectly to being a claustrophobic jungle hideaway. Designer Andrea Bush encloses the rustic hut with tangled vines suggesting invasive eyes prying at Becky and Sterling, two souls fleeing scrutiny; Bush also effectively jacks up part of the set like a public stockade. Everything about this small jewel of a production—directed by Kelly Kitchens—feels right, from terrific casting and acting to moody, canopy-filtered lighting (by Tristan Roberson) to Pierce’s strong, naturalistic 2012 script.

Any time Hannah Mootz (Bo-Nita) plays a troubled young person is an occasion to celebrate. Her Becky teeters between Lolita-hood and adulthood, in awkward semi-possession of her own body, as though test-driving it.

Sometimes a bulldozer, sometimes gentle, she describes the rain forest (without irony) as “assfuck beautiful,” fears rape by iguana, and frets to Sterling, “You probably think I’m a total Unabomber.” Kevin McKeon, who excels at making quiet men interesting, provides a satisfying comedic foil to Becky’s rampant emotionalism as they uncover their respective shame sources.

Watching his depressive Sterling come to life is one of the show’s subtle pleasures.

STEVEN STERNE

Mootz’s Becky is running away from something.

The word “tartuffe” has come into the English language to represent an overly zealous hypocrite or impostor. You can still see these charlatans today. They can be false swamis, ministers, or cult leaders; and they make heavenly promises while collecting earthly gains. The term is inextricably linked to Molière’s 17th-century comedy, in which a mendicant holy man entraps a wealthy man and his family. Seattle Shakespeare Company has transported this classic to post-World War II America, a time when the world was rebuilding and searching for new guidance. (Any period resemblance to Scientology and The Master is entirely intended, says director Makaela Pollock.)

Rich, gullible Orgon (Peter Lohnes) is mesmerized by Tartuffe (R. Hamilton Wright), who preaches a type of religion that involves wearing capes and pendants. Despite every warning about the greedy, hyporcritical interloper, Orgon disinherits his son, breaks off his daughter’s previous engagement, and makes Tartuffe his sole heir. Comeuppance, we know, will follow.

Molière’s neat comedic structure reflects the growing certainties of the Age of Enlightenment: A deviant tries to upset the status quo; his ambitions are thwarted (not without some resistance); and all’s well that ends well. Despite the updated mid-century backdrop, not much is added to the play except dapper suits and pretty dresses. Nobility and reason are always rewarded, and swindlers never win.

Pollock’s players perform their roles to stock-character, one-dimensional perfection.

While Orgon remains stubbornly devoted to Tartuffe, his wife Elmire (Christine Marie Brown) counters with calm, graceful reason.

And if that approach doesn’t sway the snaky Tartuffe, she resorts to her sex appeal to expose his fraud. That pivotal scene, however, is suggestive of rape; but, with Orgon watching, it’s milked for comedy. Back in the day of Louis XIV, this farcical moment would be less potentially shocking—just one more indication of Orgon’s deep delusion.

Wright makes Tartuffe an amusingly sleazy, slapsticky villain. Also worth praise are the side-splittingly comic performances by Bhama Roget as the harlequin maid and Maya Sugarman as Orgon’s overly dramatic daughter. IRFAN

19

Birds, Art & Science in the San Juan Islands

BIRD & WILDLIFE FESTIVAL April 30 to May 3 • Orcas Island The Orcas Island Chamber of Commerce hosts BirdFest, a celebration of birds! Nature tours, workshops, fine art exhibition and scientific symposium; all focusing on the health and wonder of birds and grassroots solutions.

www.orcasislandbirdfest.com

on

FREE Community Concert Series Saturday, April 11, 2015

7:30pm (doors @ 7pm)

Ernestine Anderson Place 2010 S. Jackson St. Seattle, WA 98144

www.facebook.com/UpbeatOnJackson Presented by

The Low Income Housing Institute & Seattle Department of Neighborhoods

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arts&culture» Performance Stage OPENINGS & EVENTS

ARCADIA Tom Stoppard takes us from the present to 1809

and back at the Coverly estate. Renton Civic Theatre, 507 S. Third St., Renton, 425-226-5529, rentoncivictheatre.org. $17–$22. Opens April 3. 7:30 p.m. Thurs., 8 p.m. Fri.–Sat., 2 p.m. Sun. Ends April 18.

CLAIM OF THRONES Add you own flourishes to every geek’s favorite TV saga. Jet City Improv, 5510 University Way N.E., jetcityimprov.org. $12–$15. Opens April 2. 8 p.m.

Thurs.–Fri. Ends May 22.

FAIL BETTER: BECKETT MOVES UMO Themes in Samuel Beckett’s work are explored through UMO’s unique style of physical theater. ACT Theatre, 700 Union St., 292-7676, umo.org. $30. Opens April 8. 8 p.m. Wed.– Sat., 2 p.m. Sun., plus other matinees; see acttheatre.org for exact schedule. Ends April 26.

LIZARD BOY A monster with strange powers emerges from the ashes of Mt. St. Helens. Is he a superhero or a freak? Find out in Justin Huertas’ rock musical. Seattle Repertory Theatre, 155 Mercer St. (Seattle Center), 4432222. $17–$67. Opens April 1. 7:30 p.m. Wed.–Sun. plus some Wed. & weekend matinees; see seattlerep.org for exact schedule. Ends May 2.

SECONDSTORY ORIGINALS Three local writers, three plays, three weekends. SecondStory Repertory, 16587 N.E. 74th St., Redmond, 425-881-6777, secondstoryrep.org. $15.

Opens April 3. 8 p.m. Thurs.–Sat. Ends April 18.

SPIN THE BOTTLE The April edition of Annex Theatre’s late-night variety show promises “exquisite and intricate music,” “theatrical commentary on corporate-ness,” and much more. Annex Theatre, 1100 E. Pike St., 728-0933, annextheatre.org. $5–$10. 11 p.m. Fri., April 3.

SPOTLIGHT NIGHT: JASPER IN DEADLAND A preview of Ryan Scott Oliver’s new myth-based pop/rock musical, to run April 30–May 24. 5th Avenue Theatre, 1308 Fifth Ave., 5thavenue.org. Free. 7 p.m. Thurs., April 2.

•

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THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS: THE BURLESQUE ALICE IN WONDERLAND Lewis Carroll’s adventurous

stories for his young Victorian friend are almost too perfect a fit for burlesque artist Lily Verlaine. From the Queen of Hearts to Alice herself, they barely need any translation to serve as a framework for her saucy choreography.

SANDRA KURTZ The Triple Door, 216 Union St., 838-4333, thetripledoor.net. $35–$50. 7 & 10 p.m. Wed., April 8– Thurs., April 9; 7 & 10:30 p.m. Fri., April 10–Sat., April 11.

TRIPLE THREAT WITH KIMBALL ALLEN On hand to launch his variety talk show are Dan Savage, Prom Queen, Mama Tits, magician Ace Carter, and more. The Triple Door, 216 Union St., 838-4333, thetripledoor.net.

25–$30. 8 p.m. Fri., April 3.

VERNAE SEE THE PICK LIST, PAGE 18.

•

CURRENT RUNS

THE BEST OF ENEMIES A KKK member and a civil-rights

activist are forced to integrate a school in 1971 North Carolina. Taproot Theatre, 204 N. 85th St., 781-9707, taproottheatre.org. $20–$40. 7:30 p.m. Wed.–Thurs., 8 p.m. Fri., 2 & 8 p.m. Sat. Ends April 25.

DINA MARTINA—TONIGHT! All-new songs, stories, and videos from the incomparable, indescribable entertaineress, with Chris Jeffries on keyboard. Re-bar, 1114 Howell St., 800-838-3006, brownpapertickets.com. $20–$25. 8 p.m. Fri–Sat., 2 p.m. Sun. Ends April 26.

THE FLICK Annie Baker’s Pulitzer winner takes chances that this production, directed by MJ Sieber, does finally redeem. Working in a dilapidated old single-screen movie theater, ushers Sam (Sam Hagen) and Avery (Tyler Trerise) and projectionist Rose (Emily Chisholm) discuss film, the transition from 35 millimeter to digital, and life in general. A millennial David Mamet, Baker captures, like, the speech patterns of Generations X and Y, and keenly conveys the universal experiences—and rants—of peons in the service industry. Worthwhile for both ardent theater lovers and those theater-averse members of Generation Me, who so seldom find themselves represented onstage.

ALYSSA DYKSTERHOUSE The Mainstage at 12th Avenue Arts, 1620 12th Ave., wearenctc.org. $15–$35. 8 p.m.

Thurs.–Sat., 7 p.m. Sun. Ends April 4.

GOODNIGHT MOON Based on the bedtime book, this musical debuted here in 2007. Seattle Children’s Theatre, Seattle Center, 441-3322. $20 and up. Runs Thurs.–Sun.; see sct.org for exact schedule. Ends April 26.

•

JACQUES BREL IS ALIVE AND WELL & LIVING IN PARIS The 1968 off-Broadway revue made the Belgian

crooner Jacques Brel briefly famous in the U.S. His songs were a touchstone for postwar Europe, their fragililty and terror, beauty and hopefulness a reflection of the world around him. It’s not a bad fit in our current world, either, and this production, directed by the 5th Avenue Theatre’s artistic director David Armstrong, tries hard to make that point. Not every tune works, but Brel’s genius carries the night. His musical punch lines are crisp, his desperation real, his anger frightening—and the cast does a fine job

of bringing these songs to life. MARK BAUMGARTEN ACT Theatre, 700 Union St., 292-7676, acttheatre.org. $15–$49.

7:30 p.m. Tues.–Wed., 8 p.m. Thurs.–Fri., 2 & 8 p.m. Sat., 2 & 7 p.m. Sun. Ends May 17.

LIVE! FROM THE LAST NIGHT OF MY LIFE In Wayne Rawley’s black comedy, a gas-station attendant vows to off himself. 12th Ave Arts, 1620 12th Ave., 800-838-3006, theatre22.org. $14–$25. 8 p.m. Thurs.–Sat. plus 2 p.m. Sun., April 12 & 8 p.m. Tues., April 14. Ends April 18.

THE MARK OF IMMEDIACY Nathan Jeffrey’s theatrical take on the Gospel of Mark. Isaac Studio Theatre, 208 N. 85th St., 781-9707, taproottheatre.org. $12–$15. 7:30 p.m.

Thurs., 8 p.m. Fri.–Sat. Ends April 4.

MOISTURE FESTIVAL Comedy, circus, and burlesque acts of all descriptions. Runs Wed.–Sun. through April 12 at Hale’s Palladium, 4301 Leary Way N.W. with “Libertease Burlesque” shows through April 4 at Broadway Performance Hall, 1625 Broadway, plus other special events including at Teatro ZinZanni, April 7–8. See moisturefestival.org for full schedule and info.

THE MOST DESERVING Catherine Trieschmann’s comedy examines the snakepit that is civic arts-council grantgiving. Theater Schmeater, 2125 Third Ave., 324-5801, schmeater.org. $22–$29. 8 p.m. Thurs.–Sat. Ends April 18.

NO WAY TO TREAT A LADY Douglas J. Cohen’s 1987 gore-free, family-friendly show is one part murder-porngasm, one part hokey musical, and all parts fun. Suffering a deadly devotion to his late mother, failed thespian Christopher “Kit” Gill (Nick DeSantis) dons various disguises and adopts different dialects whilst murdering women who remind him of her. This cat-and-mouse script smartly balances engaging action with witty dialogue and lyrics and the ensemble enchants with energetic singing and excellent acting. ALYSSA DYKSTERHOUSE Village Theatre, 303 Front St. N. (Issaquah), 425-392-2202. $35–$67. Runs Wed.–Sun.; see villagetheatre.org for exact schedule. Ends April 26. (Also runs May 1–24 in Everett.)

THE RAINMAKER arrives to transform a drought-stricken farm in N. Richard Nash’s 1954 play. Presented by Local Jewell Productions. The Ballard Underground, 2220 N.W. Market St., 800-838-3006, brownpapertickets.com. $15–$20. 8 p.m. Fri., 2 & 8 p.m. Sat. Ends April 4.

SLOWGIRL SEE REVIEW, PAGE 19.

TARTUFFE SEE REVIEW, PAGE 19.

For more Current Runs, see seattleweekly.com.

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Dance

KATE WALLICH/THE YC SEE THE PICK LIST, PAGE 17.

• RELAY DANCE COLLECTIVE The local troupe’s third

showcase features choregraphy by Eva Stone, Alana O Rogers, and many others. Velocity Dance Center, 1621 12th Ave., relaydance.org. $15–$20. 7:30 p.m. Fri., April 3–Sun., April 5.

Classical, Etc.

BAROQUE AT CORNISH Vocal and instrumental music

from Byron Schenkman, Ingrid Matthews, and Cornish students. PONCHO Recital Hall, Cornish College, 710 E. Roy St., cornish.edu. Free. 12:30 p.m. Wed., April 1.

LONDON SYMPHONY On his 70th-birthday tour of the West Coast, Michael Tilson Thomas conducts favorites by Britten, Gershwin, and Sibelius. Benaroya Hall, Third Ave. & Union St., 215-4747, seattlesymphony.org. Call for ticket prices. 7:30 p.m. Wed., April 1.

INVERTED SPACE, UW’s new-music ensemble presents a “Long Piece Fest”—works that might be a bit unwieldy for a regular concert, like, tonight, Sciarrino’s 75-minute L’Opera per Flauto, played by Daria Binkowski. Chapel Performance Space, 4649 Sunnyside Ave. N., inverted spaceensemble.com. $5–$15. 7:30 p.m. Thurs., April 2.

SEATTLE SYMPHONY Chopin, Szymanowski, and Prokofiev’s Fifth. Benaroya Hall, Third Ave. & Union St., 215-4747, seattlesymphony.org. $20–$120. 7:30 p.m. Thurs., April 2; 7 p.m. Fri., April 3 (a one-hour “Untuxed” concert; no Prokofiev), 8 p.m. Sat., April 4.

MARC SEALES The UW faculty jazz pianist performs.

Brechemin Auditorium, School of Music, UW campus, 685-8384, music.washington.edu. $15. 7:30 p.m. Fri., April 3.

ROBIN HOLCOMB & PEGGY LEE New music in various styles for piano and cello. Seattle Public Library, West Seattle Branch, 2306 42nd Ave. S.W., spl.org. Free. 3 p.m.

Sun., April 5.

CLUB SHOSTAKOVICH Inching near the finish line of their exploration of all 15 of Dmitri Shostakovich’s string quartets, Trio Pardalote plays the 13th (a single-movement work that showcases the viola), plus other Russian chamber works. The Royal Room, 5000 Rainier Ave. S., trio pardalote.com. Donation. 7:30 p.m. Sun., April 5.

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B Y G AV I N B O R C H E R T

Send events to stage@seattleweekly.com, dance@seattleweekly.com, or classical@seattleweekly.com

» Visual Arts Openings & Events TONY ANGELL The owls are not what they seem. From

the local sculptor, The House of Owls makes connections between these mysterious birds and humans.

First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Foster/ White Gallery, 220 Third Ave. S., 622-2833, fosterwhite.com. 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Tues.-Sat. Ends April 30.

PETER FERGUSON His paintings are old fashioned in style while featuring the whimsical and grotesque in Prime Meridian. Also on display is Uchronia, exploring alternate histories. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Roq La Rue, 532 First Ave. S., 374-8977, roqlarue.com. Noon-5 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends May 2.

KATE HARKINS AND KEUNAE SONG Harkins uncovers meaning through layers and textures in her paintings; Song’s glasswork challenges perceptions through light and space. Opens First Thursday. Core Gallery, 117 Prefontaine Pl. S. (Tashiro Kaplan Building), 467-4444, coregallery.org. Noon-6 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends May 2.

JUSTIN HILLGROVE AND JESSE LINK Their group show, New Beginnings, explores introductions. The Piranha Shop, 1022 First Ave. S., 687-7463, thepiranhashop.com. 6-11 p.m. Thurs., April 2.

CARA JAYE Dramatic Play Area includes drawings created with her daughter. First Thursday opening reception, 5-8 p.m. Punch Gallery, 119 Prefontaine Pl. S. (Tashiro Kaplan Building), 621-1945, punchgallery. org. Noon-5 p.m. Thurs.-Sat. Ends May 2.

CLAIRE JOHNSON She renders topographic landscapes, with great attenton to their patterns and colors. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. SOIL Gallery, 112 Third Ave. S. (Tashiro Kaplan Building), 264-8061, soilart.org. Noon-5 p.m. Thu.-Sun. Ends May 2.

CLAIRE JOHNSTON Sea + Space = Obscura is all about the mysteries of ocean and universe. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Zeitgeist Coffee Gallery, 171 S. Jackson St., 583-0497, zeitgeistcoffee.com. 6 a.m.-7 p.m. Mon.-Fri. 7 a.m.-7 p.m. Sat. 8 a.m.-6 p.m.

Sun. Ends May 6.

KIM KOPP AND PAUL LORENZ Kopp focuses on knots and tangles, while Lorenz loves the nuance of color.

First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Gallery I|M|A, 123 S. Jackson St., 625-0055, galleryima.com.

10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m. Tues.-Sat. Ends May 2.

DALE LINDMAN AND ROBERT MAKI The softly abstract and the hardly geometric are paired together nicely in this joint show. Opening reception: 2-4 p.m.

Sat., April 4. Prographica Gallery, 3419 E. Denny Way, 322-3851, prographicadrawings.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends May 2.

FRED LISAIUS His show Arbor Vitae, which means “tree of life” in Latin, explores the concept of family and genetics through nature. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Patricia Rovzar, 1225 Second Ave., 2230273, rovzargallery.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Mon.-Sun. Ends May 2.

•

ED MCCARTHY AND CARMI WEINGROD

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER

bers curated by George Brandt, the gallery’s founder.

First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Gallery 110, 110 Third Ave. S. (Tashiro Kaplan Building), 624-9336, gallery110.com. Noon-5 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends May 2.

MARY ANN PETERS Her work is all about multiple truths, unreliable narrators, and nostalgia. Small paintings and large tapestries consider notions of exile and displacement. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. James Harris Gallery, 604 Second Ave., 9036220, jamesharrisgallery.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Wed.Sat. Ends May 9.

SCISSORS + PAPER Cut-paper art from Lauren Iida, Alisa Lahti, and Ann Leda Shapiro explores culture and storytelling. First Thursday opening reception, 5-8 p.m.

ArtXchange Gallery, 512 First Ave. S., 839-0377, artxchange.org. 11 a.m.-5:30 p.m. Tues.-Sat. Ends May 2.

KURT SOLMSSEN AND JEFF SCOTT Solmssen’s paintings focus on surroundings, both household and outdoors. Scott’s paintings reflect the spirit of travel in the form of local roadways and discarded vehicles. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m.

Linda Hodges Gallery, 316 First Ave. S., 624-3034, lindahodgesgallery.com. 10:30 a.m.-5 p.m. Tues.-Sat. Ends May 2.

KIMBERLY TROWBRIDGE Framing Perception is her self-referential new show, mostly comprising plein-air paintings. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m.

Gallery4Culture, 101 Prefontaine Pl. S., 263-1589, galleries.4culture.org. 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Mon.-Fri. Ends April 30.

DIANA VELASCO Her two photo series, Portraits and Family Album, recognize the daily lives of Danish relatives, their identity, and personal histories. Opens Sat., April 4. Nordic Heritage Museum, 3014 N.W. 67th St., 789-5707, nordicmuseum.org. $6-$8. 10 a.m.-4 p.m.

Tues.-Sat. Noon-4 p.m. Sun. Ends June 28.

MICHAEL NICOLL YAHGULANAAS His selfdescribed “Haida Manga” style is a blend of traditional Haida folklore and Japanese comics. His work is currently featured in SAM’s Indigenous Beauty show.

First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Stonington Gallery, 125 S. Jackson St., 405-4040, stongingtongallery.com. 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Mon.-Fri. 10 a.m.-5:30 p.m. Sat. Noon.-5 p.m. Sun. Ends May 3.

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KUMIKO, THE TREASURE HUNTER

GALA BENT AND BLAKE HAYGOOD A Chorus for

the Multiverse and The How, What, and Wherefore explore complex themes through watercolor, acrylic, and graphite on paper. G. Gibson Gallery, 300 S. Washington St. (Tashiro Kaplan Building), 587-4033, ggibsongallery.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends April 18.

CHANGE-SEED Twenty-five artists from Hong Kong seek to update the U.S. on shifts in contemporary art created outside mainland China. Most works are small, concerned with the body and functionality. CoCA Georgetown, 5701 Sixth Ave. S., 728-1980, cocaseattle.org. 11 a.m-5 p.m. Wed.-Fri. Ends May 15.

• IMOGEN CUNNINGHAM 17 photographs of Cornish, its students, and founder Nellie Cornish, taken in 1935 by the pioneering Northwest photographer. Cornish College of the Arts, 1000 Lenora St., 726-5151, cornish.edu. 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Mon.-Fri. Ends June 30.

EMERGE/EVOLVE 2014: RISING TALENTS IN KILNGLASS This traveling group show from Portland’s

Bullseye Glass Company gallery features about two dozen artists pushing the boundaris of their medium.

Bellevue Arts Museum, 510 Bellevue Way N.E., 425-519-0770, bellevuearts.org. $5-$12. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Tues.-Sun. Ends June 14.

CHARLES EMERSON AND GUY ANDERSON The two painters take inspiration from the Northwest landscape. Sisko Gallery, 3126 Elliott Ave., 283-2998, siskoworks.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Fri.-Sun. Ends May 3.

JOHN GRADE Middle Fork is a partial replica of a giant Western hemlock created with plaster molds and cedar chunks. MadArt, 325 Westlake Ave. N., 6231180, madartseattle.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends Apr. 25.

IN LEGO, WE CONNECT Tiny toy tableaux are captured in whimsical photos by Vesa Lehtimäki (from Finland), Shelly Corbett (local), and Boris Vanrillaer (a Swede). Fun crossovers include Star Wars and Toy Story . Bryan Ohno Gallery, 521 S. Main St., 459-6857, bryanohno.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Mon.-Sat. Ends April 11.

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McCarhthy’s sculpture in Mud explores shadow and texture, while Weingrod’s Umbra finds intricacies in monocrhomoatic prints. First Thursday opening reception, 5-8 p.m. Shift Gallery, 312 S. Washington St. (Tashiro Kaplan Building), shiftgallery.org. Noon-5 p.m. Fri.-Sat. Ends April 25.

MARS AND PONY Gretchen Gammell and Amy Spassov collaborate on new mixed-media work. First Thursday opening reception, 5-8 p.m. Hall|Spassov Gallery, 319 Third Ave. S., 453-3244, hallspassov.com. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Tues.-Sat. Ends May 2.

ANN MORRIS She considers the fagility and strength of vessels via found objects (including sinew, wasp nest paper, and seaweed) in Crossing Through. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Lisa Harris Gallery, 1922 Pike Place, lisaharrisgallery.com, 4433315. 10 a.m.- 5:30 p.m. Mon.-Sat. Ends May 3.

RYAN SARAH MURPHY Collaged Constructions features the overlooked,with constructions made of found cardboard. First Thursday opening reception, 6-8 p.m. Platform Gallery (Tashiro Kaplan Building), 114 Third Ave. S., 323-2808, platformgallery.com. 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Ends May 2.

NARRATING EARTH Gallery artists Lin McJunkin, Ann Vandervelde, and Anne McDuffie explore the fragility of the planet through glass sculpture, paintings, and poetry. First Thursday opening reception, 5-8 p.m.

Burien Arts Gallery, 826 S.W. 152nd St., 244-7808, burienarts.org. Noon-6 p.m. Wed.-Sat. Noon-4 p.m.

Sun. Ends May 3.

NORTHWEST CLAY Eighteen contemporary ceramic artists from the region are featured. First Thursday opening reception, 5-8 p.m. Traver Gallery, 110 Union St., 587-6501, travergallery.com. 10 a.m.-6 p.m.

Tues.-Fri. 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Sat. Ends May 2.

OUTSIDE LOOKING IN A collection of work from mem-

SCANDALOUS, HILARIOUS,

A RACY AND UPROARIOUS PORTRAYAL.

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arts&culture» Film P3 Hearts OPENS FRI., APRIL 3 SEVEN GABLES. RATED PG-13. 106 MINUTES.

HOPPER STONE/BLEECKER STREET

Pacino shows us the heart behind the ham.

Danny Collins

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

OPENS FRI., APRIL 3 AT MERIDIAN AND OTHER THEATERS. RATED R. 106 MINUTES.

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“The following is kind of based on a true story a little bit.” There is a germ of truth to the opening disclaimer to this simultaneously hackneyed and likable rock-’n’-roll redemption tale. There really was a guy who, 40 years after the fact, discovered that John Lennon had written him a letter telling him to stay true to his art. Danny Collins simply replaces English folk singer Steve Tilston, who never found fame or riches but did remain true to the music, with a fictional American folk-rock sellout with plenty of regrets.

Al Pacino plays Danny as a music celebrity living high on his legacy, doing what looks like a lounge-act version of Mick Jagger on the casino circuit. He’s on showbiz autopilot, performing his greatest hits for the AARP demo with a voice like gravel, numbing the monotony with lines of blow and fifths of booze. The belated arrival of the Lennon letter doesn’t ring true as an existential crisis, but it does get the film out of the tired parody of L.A. rock-star decadence (mansion, Mercedes, young bimbo girlfriend) and into a sleepy New Jersey Hilton. From there, he hopes to finally connect with his neglected son Tom (Bobby Cannavale), born from a backstage hookup.

Like Danny, Pacino has also been a showman verging on—if not spilling over into—self-parody in recent decades, but he’s been on his own careerredemption tour of late. He turns Danny’s showmanship into a character trait, a reflexive instinct to connect with and charm everyone he meets, whether a sold-out concert hall or a gobsmacked parking valet. Even in a momentary bit of banter, Pacino makes that moment feel genuine.

Dan Fogelman, a veteran screenwriter making his directorial debut, actually has better instincts as a director than as a writer. It’s hard to get worked up over the emotional journey of a spoiled celeb who’s milked a bubblegum pop anthem into a fortune.

What exactly happened to the earnest young folk singer of the prologue? We never learn. Yet such questions fade as Danny becomes part of Tom’s family. Pacino’s chemistry with Cannavale and Annette Bening (as his not-quite-but-getting-closer-to-ageappropriate love interest) overrides the plot contrivances, and he communicates more about his character by just sitting silently next to Cannavale than any

long speeches could. It doesn’t make you forget the predictability of the redemption checklist here, but it makes the trip worth taking. SEAN AXMAKER

ROBERT HORTON

Welcome to New York RUNS FRI., APRIL 3–THURS., APRIL 9 AT GRAND ILLUSION. RATED R. 108 MINUTES.

In the early minutes of Welcome to New York, Gérard Depardieu’s performance as a VIP called Devereaux appears designed to elicit a variety of animal comparisons: pig, bear, bull, rhinoceros.

His character grunts and wheezes, an overgrown satyr whose sex addiction can’t be satisfied, regardless of how many prostitutes or innocent bystanders fall into his path. Say this for the welltraveled, enormous Depardieu: He’s the most interesting thing about this bizarre film, and he exposes his baser instincts (and his corpulent body) with fearless abandon.

Effie Gray OPENS FRI., APRIL 3 AT SUNDANCE CINEMAS. RATED PG-13. 108 MINUTES.

It’s no coincidence that Dakota Fanning’s Euphemia (nicknamed “Effie”) looks like she stepped out of a pre-Raphaelite painting. Within the first few minutes of Effie Gray, she lives out her storybook fantasy and becomes the teenage bride of John Ruskin (Greg Wise), the 19th-century art critic who championed the upstart painters of the pre-Raphaelite movement. (He also praised J.M.W. Turner, earning the critic a small, lisping appearance in Mr. Turner.) John is serious, cultured, talented, and passionate in his love of art. A life with him will sweep Effie out of rural Scotland and into the center of London’s cultural elite—or so naive Effie believes. John meanwhile appears to view her as a lovely social prop for his budding career. He quite literally flees from any physical or emotional engagement with his wife.

Did I mention he still lives with his parents ( Julie Walters and David Suchet), who have spent their lives planning his career? The critic who argues that art should reveal truth is content to live a lie so long as appearances are maintained.

Appearances are everything in Effie Gray, a film that pushes tasteful restraint to extremes. Screenwriter Emma Thompson (Wise’s wife), who also plays Effie’s only London ally, offers a portrait of silent female suffering. Effie expresses herself mainly with furtive glances and longing looks. Director Richard Laxton, a British TV veteran, shoots it all like a series of still lifes with the characters trapped in their frames. When the young painter Everett Millais (Tom Sturridge), working on a portrait of Ruskin, leaves his face blank in the center of a wild natural backdrop, it’s hard to miss the suggestion of a man disconnected from the world. And if the resigned, exhausted misery of Effie’s pale face isn’t clear enough, Laxton cuts to the drowned maiden in Millais’ masterpiece Ophelia.

All those oppressive social codes Thompson wove so elegantly through Sense and Sensibility become the entire film here, and it shortchanges Effie. We get hints of a lively intelligence and curiosity, but Fanning isn’t given much opportunity to show us who Effie is, or could be, if unleashed from this smothering prison. Laxton is just as guilty of turning Effie into a bloodless symbol as Ruskin and his controlling parents. Effie Gray is lovely to look at, but never gives us a hint of life outside of those carefully composed frames. SEAN AXMAKER

NICOLE RIVELLI/SUNDANCE SELECTS

Opening ThisWeek

The missed rendezvous: such a potent storytelling device, such a tantalizing chance to imagine what might have been if only Character A had been on time or Character B had waited another five minutes. Romeo and Juliet has a whopper along these lines, and the device works even when not depicted—like between the action of Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, for instance. One of my favorites is in Jules and Jim, in which a missed assignation is a brief plot beat, a mysterious “what-if ” in the course of the great aching journey of François Truffaut’s classic. I wonder whether director Benoît Jacquot (A Single Girl) might have been thinking of that moment in Jules and Jim with his latest film, 3 Hearts. Here a missed connection is central to the passionate tale we’re watching; its ripples keep expanding through the rest of the movie.

A tax accountant, Marc (Belgian everyman

a movie star can achieve with relatively brief screen time. Like Jules and Jim, this film might be mistaken for a romance rather than a tragedy. But it leaves no doubt that—in French movies, at least—love is a life-or-death matter.

Depardieu’s VIP (center) amid an orgy.

Benoît Poelvoord), shares a single enchanted evening with Sylvie (Charlotte Gainsbourg), after failing to catch the last train back to Paris. They agree to meet in Paris in a week; when they miss connections, they don’t know how to find each other. It then happens—with fairy-tale logic—that Sylvie goes back to her bewildered boyfriend and moves to America, while Marc meets Sophie (Chiara Mastroianni) and falls for her before he realizes she’s Sylvie’s sister. The whole thing hinges on chance meetings and charged objects—a cigarette lighter functions like a magic amulet, and also ties in to Marc’s serious heart problems. I liked the story’s reliance on such ancient storytelling tricks—a break from the dull naturalism of most current drama.

Jacquot is something of a stealth director, a quiet analyst of human behavior whose Farewell, My Queen (2012) garnered his first proper U.S. release in a few years. He knows how to stage important moments, from the first time Marc sets eyes on Sylvie in a nondescript small-town cafe to a fatal glance the two share across a kitchen table. The actors are locked in: It’s especially good to see Gainsbourg—having bravely surrendered herself to the brier patch of Lars von Trier’s recent movies—get to inhabit a rather more normal character in such a subtle way. The main cast is filled out

by Catherine Deneuve (Mastroianni’s reallife mother), who gives a lesson about what

The film is inspired by the story of Dominique Strauss-Kahn, a leading French politician and head of the International Monetary Fund, who was arrested in 2011 for an alleged sexual assault on a hotel maid in New York. Wild-man director Abel Ferrara (of Bad Lieutenant notoriety) uses the Strauss-Kahn case as a platform for a variety of subjects: the nature of addiction, the corruption of idealism, the power of money, the emptiness of America. (The movie begins with “America the Beautiful” and close-ups of dollars, a blunt and clumsy way into whatever this thing is supposed to be about.) There’s so much on the table that Ferrara seems to unable to choose from this menu of ideas, so greedy are his appetites. So scenes unfold in various tones: clinical sex in lavish hotel rooms; dreary police procedurals as Devereaux is arrested and booked; and long conversations between Devereaux and his extremely wealthy, extremely ambitious wife Simone ( Jacqueline Bisset).

She’s arranged (or paid for) Devereaux to get off with house arrest while he goes through the legal system, in a Manhattan apartment renting for $60,000 a month. This is a rare opportunity for the bilingual Bisset (the film’s mostly in English, but with a good deal of French) at a complex role, so it’s good to see a historically underchallenged actress get this kind of chance. Unfortunately, although her dialogues with Depardieu hint at rich territory, they sound improvised and flabby. Much of the film plays like that: an extended, fairly repellent search for some kind of

Voted Best Movie Theater F

2014

point. (When Depardieu finally gets a voiceover that sounds truly written, it gives the film a rare chance to hit some targets.) For the record, Ferrara is upset with this release of the movie, which has been cut and rearranged from the version that was screened at Cannes last year. He may yet have his day, but it’s hard to imagine the movie entirely making sense. ROBERT HORTON

W

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The last time Helen Mirren went up against the Nazis, in The Debt, it was really no contest. So you will not be surprised to learn that the Austrian art thieves of the Third Reich fare no better against her Holocaust refugee Maria Altmann. Woman in Gold takes its title from the alternate, Nazi-supplied moniker for Gustav Klimt’s 1907 Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer. Adele was Maria’s beloved aunt, and Maria became the plaintiff in a long-fought artrestitution case, begun in 1998, against the Austrian government. Now you can bet this film would not have been made had Maria lost that case, which bounced between Austrian tribunals (rigged, natürlich) and the U.S. Supreme Court. The movie’s postscript will refresh your memory of past newspaper headlines, but the chief pleasure to Woman in Gold lies in its complete absence of surprise.

First, the Vienna-by-way-of Echo Park accent: Mirren perfectly channels Dr. Ruth’s mixture of Continental severity and relaxed American vernacular. Upholding her formality has become a joke to Maria, too, after five decades running a L.A. clothing boutique. Then there’s her sidekick—Ryan Reynolds’ unseasoned young attorney Randy Schoenberg (forever judged against his genius forebear Arnold Schoenberg). Too often positioned as a leading man or superhero because of his jawline (e.g., Green Lantern), Reynolds is better as an insecure bumbler. His forever-darting eyes make me think of Stan Laurel: a man always on the verge of panic, hysteria, or locking himself in a bathroom stall to cry (as Randy actually does in this picture).

And those pleated Dockers!

This odd couple is obviously going to prevail against the stubborn, post-Waldheim Austrian establishment. As Maria says, “If they admit to one thing, they have to admit to it all.” One small victory for the Jews will mean total defeat for the Austrians. (Though the five paintings stolen from the Bloch-Bauers would later be auctioned for the not-so-small sum of $330 million.) Were the writing better, this would’ve made a good courtroom procedural (Elizabeth McGovern and Jonathan Pryce show up as judges), but director Simon Curtis (My Week With Marilyn) instead chooses to add copious flashbacks to the Anschluss era and Maria’s narrow escape from the Nazis. So while this is a star vehicle that depends on Mirren’s reliably purring V-12 engine, two other actresses play Maria at different ages—depriving us of the regular pleasure of her smackdowns upon poor Randy.

In my favorite moment in this serviceable, satisfying film, Mirren disdainfully holds a donut on her upturned fingers while Reynolds navigates his battered Jetta along the freeway to yet another court date. Drive faster, she says impatiently, ze chocolate is melting. I smiled just a little bit more because Mirren recently said she wants to be in the next Fast and the Furious movie (if there is one). Drive faster is right. And let there be more Nazis for her to smite. BRIAN MILLER E

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arts&culture» Film Local & Repertory • CRY-BABY What was Johnny Depp like back in 1990

before he became an Oscar-nominated pirate genius?

Possibly still a genius? John Waters uses the young thespian, then transitioning out of 21 Jump Street, to fine effect in this send-up of ’50s juvenile delinquency pictures. Ricki Lake, Iggy Pop, Troy Donahue, Polly Bergen, and ex-porno starlet Traci Lords lend to the fun and music. Depp pokes fun at his Tiger Beat teen-idol image, but nobody’s dumping on the films—then and now—that made such melodramatic eye-candy of the troubled-hormone set. (PG-13) BRIAN MILLER Central Cinema, 1411 21st Ave., 686-6684, central-cinema. com. $7-$9. 7 p.m. Fri.-Sat. (also 3 p.m. Sat. matinee) & 7 p.m. Mon.-Tues.

GROWING UP BAUMBACH Opening April 10, Noah Baumbach’s While We’re Young features Ben Stiller and Naomi Watts as 40-something filmmakers who become besotted with an energetic married couple (Adam Driver and Amanda Seyfried). The ending doesn’t quite achieve its desired effect, but it’s a brisk, smart comedy of marital dissatisfaction you’ll definitely want to see. (R) SIFF Film Center (Seattle Center), 324-9996, siff.net. $5. 7 p.m. Weds. April 1 NOIR DE FRANCE Is there anyone in Touchez Pas au Grisbi Jean Gabin does not slap? In one of my favorite scenes during this influential but frankly rather dull 1954 French gangster flick, he open-hands his girlfriend, her double-dealing fellow chorine (who happens to be Jeanne Moreau, so we really feel the sting), and a hotel concierge cowering behind some folded linen.

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I’m pretty sure that when the take was over, Gabin walked behind the camera to slap the director and several grips as well. It’s that kind of movie. You’re so intent on finding the pleasure and worth to its creaky Gallic gangster archetypes that you imagine better things occurring offscreen and in scenes unseen. The plot is just as simple as a slap. Max (Gabin) and his partner, Riton, are sitting on 200 pounds of stolen gold; his partner’s coke-sniffing moll (Moreau) tips that info to a gang of thugs, who then kidnap Riton. Fortunately, Grisbi is set in Paris, and we do glimpse the real Moulin Rouge and other black-and-white sights among arrondissments laced with narrow cobblestone streets.

(NR) B.R.M. Seattle Art Museum, 1300 First Ave., 654-3121, seattleartmuseum.org. $63–$68 series, $8 individual. 7:30 p.m. Thursdays through May 21.

SATURDAY CLASSICS Beginning this morning matinee series is the great Lawrence of Arabia, which ought to look tremendous on Paul Allen’s trophy screen. Other titles in the series include Ben-Hur, North by Northwest, and Oklahoma!. (NR) Cinerama, 2100 Fourth Ave., 448-6880, cinerama.com. $13. 10:30 a.m. Saturdays through April 24.

SLEEPER Woody Allen’s 1973 sci-fi comedy is still pretty damn hilarious, however ragged the assembly of jokes. Somehow the giant banana-peel gag never gets old. (PG-13) Central Cinema, $7-$9. 9:30 p.m.

Fri.-Weds.

ZOMBEAVERS College kids are attacked by zombie beavers. What more do you need to know? (NR) SIFF Cinema Egyptian, 801 E. Pine St., 324-9996, siff.net. $7-$12. 11:55 p.m. Fri. & Sat.

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, REX REED

A TRIUMPH!

“

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

HELEN MIRREN IS BRILLIANT. RYAN REYNOLDS IS OUTSTANDING.”

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Ongoing GET HARD This raunchy ebony-and-ivory buddy comedy

is essentially a long riff on the terror of becoming another man’s prison bitch. Or, even more horrifying, a white man becoming a black man’s. Except for when it’s also a riff on black stereotypes. Financier James (Will Ferrell) is framed for fraud and embezzlement, and has 30 days before slammer-time. He’s so terrified of becoming someone’s bitch that he hires the only black guy he knows, his building’s car-wash guy, Darnell (Kevin Hart), to teach him to survive behind bars. Setting aside any consideration of taste—or the concept of taste—Get Hard is marginally funny with a handful of solid laughs, and it goes limp in the final act.

Along with such hilarity as Darnell telling James that if he can’t fight, he’s going to have to practice sucking dick, there are a few clever satirical moments that’ll be lost on, say, northern Idaho audiences. (R) MARK RAHNER Sundance, Bainbridge, Pacific Place, Lincoln Square, others IT FOLLOWS David Robert Mitchell’s suburban thriller creates constant anxiety. The premise itself is simple, if faintly absurd. A teenager, Jay (Maika Monroe, excellent in The Guest), sleeps with her handsome new crush; he then informs her that she is now the target of a relentless, shape-shifting ghoul, which will pursue her to death. Her only escape is to have sex with someone else, who will then become the target.

Mitchell canny about using the camera to evoke mystery. Every time someone drifts into the background of a shot, we have to wonder: Is that just a random passerby, or is that, you know, “It”? There’s also a wild musical score by Disasterpeace that provides an aggressive—at times maybe too aggressive—accompaniment to the film’s eerie mood. If the use of teen sex as a horror convention seems tired, rest assured that Mitchell seems less interested in a morality play than in sketching the in-between world of suburban adolescence. (R) ROBERT HORTON SIFF Cinema Egyptian, Sundance, Ark Lodge KUMIKO, THE TREASURE HUNTER The setup here might promise routine road comedy: A sad and lonely Japanese woman, who somehow believes the 1996 Coen brothers movie Fargo is a documentary, ventures from Japan to the frozen Midwest to find the cash Steve Buscemi buried in the featureless snow. Yet filmmakers David and Nathan Zellner have no interest in obvious gags. Half their movie is scene-setting in Tokyo, where dejected office drone Kumiko (Rinko Kikuchi, from Babel) is a Eleanor Rigby-like loner. More than shyness or defeat, an ever-widening distance separates her from the world beyond her imagination.

Kindly strangers, including a widowed Minnesota farm wife and a sympathetic cop (David Zellner), barely register. Unseen in Seattle, the Zellners’ prior two features, Kid-Thing and Goliath, also dealt with alienated loners. The well-crafted Kumiko can likewise be seen as a character study; though, like her supposed treasure, it’s not certain if that character actually exists. A stubborn obstinacy lies at Kumiko’s core, but also delusion. (NR) B.R.M. SIFF Cinema Uptown, Sundance, Lynwood (Bainbridge), Ark Lodge MERCHANTS OF DOUBT Based on the 2010 book by Naomi Oreskes and Erik M. Conway, this doc lays out a convincing, follow-the-money trail from the tobacco industry’s postwar efforts to prevent (or forestall) government regulation to a profitable lobbying specialty today. Fake scientific experts and “teach the controversy” subterfuge have now infiltrated all publicpolicy debates where billions are at stake. Harvard historian Oreskes, prominent in the film, helps advance the thesis that PR consultants perfected a strategy of obfuscation and delay (“There is no consensus”) during our government’s decades-long war against Big Tobacco. After those battles, a professional class of liars found eager new clients in the oil, chemical, and food industries. Merchants of Doubt is about D.C.’s permanent lobbying establishment and those false-front organizations always espousing individual liberty and responsibility. Constrained by fact, it’s not so entertaining as Thank You for Smoking, and most of its points are well familiar. And the consultants are winning. They’ve successfully tapped into a tribal belief system that trumps empirical evidence. (PG-13) B.R.M. Meridian, Sundance MR. TURNER Must the great man also be a nice guy? Mike Leigh’s comprehensive biopic tempers our admiration for the English painter J.M.W. Turner (1775– 1851), unquestionably a genius, and recognized as such in his day. Turner (Timothy Spall), when we meet him, is famous, prosperous, and possessed of a nice London home. His cagey old father (Paul Jesson) aids in the family business, as does the devoted maid Hannah (Dorothy Atkinson), who’s plainly, painfully in love with her indifferent master. During the last 25 years

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of his life, Turner and his art—in late career tending toward abstraction—are mutable. He travels under an assumed name to the coastal village of Margate, where he eventually takes a new lover, Sophia (Marion Bailey), to replace poor Hannah. Yet the film’s no melodrama. As for the final nature of this selfish, sensitive, uncompromising artist, Leigh simply frames him in a portrait, leaving us to grope for psychological shapes and colors. (R) B.R.M. Sundance

THE SECOND BEST EXOTIC MARIGOLD HOTEL

The plot devices in this sequel are so stale that the movie itself loses interest in them halfway through its dawdling 122 minutes—and this is a good thing. By that time the contrivances of Ol Parker’s script have done their duty, and we can get to the element that turned the film’s 2011 predecessor into a surprise hit: hanging around with a group of witty old pros in a pleasant location. There are many worse reasons for enjoying movies. Director John Madden (Shakespeare in Love) mostly allows Maggie Smith, Judi Dench, Celia Imrie, and Penelope Wilton to float around on many years’ worth of accrued goodwill. (New to the expat ensemble is Richard Gere.) Especially fine is the spindly Bill Nighy, whose shy Douglas is a hesitant suitor to Dench’s Evelyn, a still-active buyer of fabrics. Even when the story has him fulfilling sitcom ideas, Nighy maintains his tottering dignity and sense of fun. Second Best will be a hit with its original audience, and maybe then some. The languid mood is laced with an appreciation for getting to the End of Things, especially as Smith’s formerly snappish Muriel mellows into a melancholy leave-taking. (PG) R.H. Sundance, Kirkland, Bainbridge, Meridian, others SEYMOUR: AN INTRODUCTION Right from the first scene, in which pianist Seymour Bernstein talks his way through his thought process for fingering a passage in a Scarlatti sonata, it’s gratifyingly clear that Ethan Hawke’s documentary portrait isn’t going to be afraid to dig seriously into music. Hawke’s own search for artistic purpose (why acting?) led him to examine the life of the pianist, a casual acquaintance who became a role model for a life devoted to art, not to the trappings of art. “I’m not so sure that a major career is a healthy thing to embark on,” says the 88-year-old Bernstein, who, despite acclaim, retired from public performance at age 50 thanks to stage fright and a disdain for the showbiz side of the classical-music world.

The concertgoer’s loss was the aspiring pianist’s gain; from the onscreen evidence here, scenes with private pupils and master classes, he’s a fantastic teacher.

He’s also a captivating raconteur (wait until he starts talking about his time in the army in Korea, playing recitals for soldiers on the front) and a fount of aphorisms. You have to admire Hawke’s patience (courage, even) just to stand back, point his camera, and let the man play. (PG) GAVIN BORCHERT Sundance SPRING Evan (Lou Taylor Pucci) is a mid-20s American drifting through Italy in the wake of his parents’ death.

In a small coastal town, he strikes sparks with a sultry, elusive local, Louise (Nadia Hilker), who doesn’t like to explain much about herself. And yet they do a lot of talking. Co-directed by Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, Spring’s idea seems to come from a jokey proposition: What if you were watching one of those walking-and-talking indie romances in the style of Richard Linklater’s Before series, and it suddenly turned into a horror flick? Though slowed by artiness and a certain overly earnest attitude, Spring manages to catch some of the appeal of such a genre-blending experiment. (NR) R.H. Grand Illusion WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS The premise is ’90s-stale: basically MTV’s The Real World cast with vampires, presented as direct-address documentary.

This droll comedy comes from the brain trust behind 2007’s Eagle Vs. Shark: Jemaine Clement (Flight of the Conchords) and Taika Waititi, who play neck-biters Vladislav and Viago, respectively. Our three main vamps are a hapless lot. They can’t get invited into any of the good clubs or discos—ending up forlorn in an all-night Chinese diner instead. After all the aestheticized languor of Only Lovers Left Alive, the silly deadpan tone is quite welcome. Clement and Waititi know this is a sketch writ large, so they never pause long between sneaky gags. The amsuing and essential conflict here is between age-old vampire traditions and today’s hook-up customs. These neck-biters have been at it so long that they’re only imitating old vampire stereotypes. Vladislav admits they’re even cribbing from The Lost Boys. (NR) B.R.M. Sundance, SIFF Cinema Egyptian, Ark Lodge

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BY B R IA N M I LLE R

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arts&culture» Music The year: 1964. Five boys from Tacoma released a hit song as a persecuted spiritual group was just coming out of hiding . . .

BY MEAGAN ANGUS

ILLUSTRATION AND LETTERING BY JULIA GFRÖRER

Editor’s Note: Seattle is experiencing a striking resurgence of interest in witchcraft and pagan/ shamanic spirituality, especially within its arts communities. Tacoma’s influential proto-punk garage rock band, The Sonics, is performing this week in Seattle to celebrate the release of its new reunion LP, This Is the Sonics—the band’s first new material in 50 years. I thought it would be interesting to ask Meagan Angus, a learned witch active in Seattle’s art and music scene, to take a look back at the hit song that launched the Sonics’ career a half-century ago—1964’s “The Witch.” Angus penned the essay/poem/history lesson below. KELTON SEARS, MUSIC EDITOR

“Say there’s a girl Who’s new in town Well, you better watch out now Or she’ll put you down ’Cause she’s an evil chick Say she’s the Witch.”

It’s November 1964. In another time she is a beat, a flapper, a suffragette, an Amazon, an Ethi-

“She got a long black hair And a big black car I know what you’re thinking But you won’t get far She gonna make you itch ’Cause she’s the Witch.”

The Witch has always been a scapegoat for the festering guilt and shame in any community.

She is seen as the foreign element, somehow disturbing the status quo with her very presence.

Does that woman inspire lust in you? She must be a Witch. Did the widow with the nice parcel of land turn down your advances? Absolutely a Witch. Does she claim to heal, can she make a man fall in love, or tell your future?

Witch. Witch. Witch.

The wise woman, shaman, midwife has long been a source of scorn, ridicule, and suspicion for the patriarchy. We might even go back all the way to Lilith as our first example of a headstrong, cunning woman being made the root of ill. Depicted as having long black hair and wings, she is Adam’s first wife, before Eve, and considered herself his equal. Adam wasn’t very into that, and asked God to banish Lilith—give him a more docile wife. God did as he asked, and he got Eve. Lilith was cast out of Eden and became a demoness.

“Well, she walks around late at night Most other people sleepin’ tight If you hear her knockin’ on your door You better sneak away” In November 1964, the gender wars were raging and the second wave of feminism was in full swing. Simone de Beauvoir’s vanguard work The Second Sex was finally, but poorly, translated into English. It still managed to light an inspiring fire under the feet of a generation of American women, and continues to inspire women today.

In 1963, Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mys-

tique came out, causing a ruckus in sleepy suburban households across the country. (Friedan helped found the National Organization for Women two years later.) The women’s-liberation movement was on the rise, marching arm in arm with the American Indian movement, the African-American civil rights movement, and the peace movement.

The general atmosphere from conservative America was waning amusement at these “uppity women,” largely considered a mischievous joke.

Feminists became the scapegoat for everything from the rise of communism to the increase in UFO sightings. Above all, they were to be undermined as crazy, hysterical, delusional—and a clear threat to the stability of the ‘traditional’ family.

“Now you know the score ’Cause I set you straight But you better be careful Before it’s too late She gonna make you itch ’Cause she’s the Witch” In that crushing onslaught of men rewriting history, otherwise known as the Inquisition, the world almost lost a way of life. There has always been a Witch. A woman who lives at the edge of the village, who tends the h-edge of what is known and unknown. She knew the herbs to make you sleepy, or help your cramps, or get your cock hard. She could set a broken bone and ease the pain, or marry you under a full moon,

SE ATTLE WEEKLY • APRI L 1 — 7, 2015

he archetype of the Witch is often maligned, and often misunderstood. She is by turns hunted, shunned, and lusted after. Alluring, repulsive, seductive, haunting, mesmerizing. You really have to get under someone’s skin to cause them to fling such a curse at you. How wicked is the woman to become a dark muse and inspire a song? How foolish the man to let such a harpy in?

cal Slut. She wears caftans, loads of silver rings, a thunderbird necklace made from abalone. She grows her own chamomile and pennyroyal; her house is filled with spider plants, aloe, shells, crystals, dried flowers, with an iron horseshoe over the front door and bay leaves on the windowsills.

Piles of books by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Shirley Jackson, Brion Gysin, John Neihardt, Audre Lorde. It smells like cinnamon and musk. Her strange ink and watercolor art covers the walls.

She’s from somewhere else. She smokes grass.

She sits back in a wicker chair, sipping a steaming cup of tea, after flipping over the Link Wray album again. Her hair shields her face as she leans forward to roll another joint with long, spindly fingers, and casually tells you how she nearly killed her last boyfriend the first time he slapped her. Her mother stopped her and kicked her out of the house for “resisting the will of God.” “My mother believes women were intended to serve men.” She looks you dead in the eye, passing you the smoldering joint, and asks your birthday.

Your answer is a choking bark around the smoke.

“Pisces,” she sighs, “just like Jesus.”

» CONTINUED ON PAGE 26 25

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wreathed in honeysuckle and woodrose, or make a tea of fly agaric and morning glory and send you out to meet the Gods and Goddesses at the blazing edge of the universe, and haul you back in again, helping you process all you had experienced. She was the arbiter of sex and death, the real Sex and Death, helping people be born, live, and die.

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“Well you know you will Say don’t you know And do you remember That I told you so Gonna do you in ’Cause she’s the Witch”

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Jazz drummer Willie Jones with his superlative quintet!

GOAPELE THURS, APR 9 - SUN, APR 12

» FROM PAGE 25

MIN. BEFORE.

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Some Witches, like Jeanne d’Arc, went nova.

As the Inquisition lasted well into the 19th century, most Witches went underground.

By the 1960s, many Witches were coming up for air. Alex Sanders, Janet and Stewart Farrar, Dion Fortune, Gerald Gardner, and Doreen Valiente were among a slew of authors who bubbled to the surface of the cauldron in the ’50s and ’60s, trumpeting a call to return to “the ways of the Goddess.”

Wicca, paganism, and other polytheistic traditions were fast becoming a spiritual trend with environmentalists, feminists, and revolutionaries for their emphasis on equality and deep reverence for the Great Mother, our beautiful planet Earth. Women across the world were once again taking up the threads of a power they had been stripped of 3,000 years before; and in this global discussion, in which women began to truly see themselves and each other as determiners of their own reality, women found this revolutionary view filtering into every level, from the sexual to the spiritual. A New Woman was being born out of the ashes of the old, and she was discovering, maybe for the first time, that she had no need to be burdened with the small worldview of a lanky guy in a leather jacket from Tacoma who was just trying to get laid. E

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

music@seattleweekly.com

26

Meagan Angus is an urban(e) witch, priestess, and notoriously uppity woman. She creates installation pieces for rituals, plays violin for the pagan–influenced chamber doom outfit Thunder:Grey:Pilgrim, and interprets tarot at The Vajra in Capitol Hill. She keeps her athamé sharp, and believes The Way Out Is Through.

Julia Gfrörer was born in 1982 in Concord, New Hampshire. She graduated with a degree in painting and printmaking from Seattle’s Cornish College of the Arts. Her work has appeared in Thickness, Arthur Magazine, Study Group Magazine, Black Eye, and Best American Comics, and her graphic novel, Black Is the Color, is now available from Fantagraphics Books. Her last name rhymes with despair, and her heart is black as jet.

THE SONICS With Mudhoney, The Intelligence. The Moore, 1932 Second Ave., 467-5510, stgpresents.org. $27–$47. All ages. 7:30 p.m. Thurs., April 2.

Broken Record

The new Death Cab for Cutie album, as heard by a class of aspiring music journalists.

F

or the title of its eighth full-length album, Death Cab for Cutie chose a word ripe for interpretation. Kintsugi, after all, is the ancient Japanese art of rebuilding works of pottery from their fractured parts—an apt description for a band that seems, with each album, to be putting back together the pieces of a broken heart. But it’s also fitting for a band that, prior to this album’s release, announced that it would be losing one of its most integral parts, guitarist and producer Chris Walla (though Walla is featured throughout the album). In keeping with the theme, we thought it would be appropriate to have something of a fractured review of the album.

So we asked nine students in the winter session of the Vera Project’s Writing About Music workshop—which is taught by myself and Vera boardmember Chris Nelson—to take on the album, track by track. The songs were randomly selected, and the students weren’t allowed to share notes. Here’s what they had to say. MARK

BAUMGARTEN, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

“No Room in Frame,” 9/10

Death Cab for Cutie’s new album, Kintsugi, kicks off with this, a catchy song worthy of a movie soundtrack. The lyrics are forward-moving, placing the listener securely in a car driving away, sentimental flashbacks fading in and out.

“This highway lived in my mind,” Gibbard sings.

“It takes me back to the place that made me.” A great way to start things off. KELSEY CREEL

“Black Sun,” 10/10

A pristine Chris Walla riff drives this song, recalling the sound of the band’s early, brilliant album, We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes. That riff also serves as a reminder of what is lost with Walla’s departure. Death Cab has always had a knack for etching out delightfully wistful pop songs, and this track ranks high in its eightalbum catalog, a tame, unobtrusive number that could easily fill arenas with weeping fans. “Black Sun” is the quiet pinnacle of the album, and evidence that the band has not lost touch with what got them here. R.P. LEWIS “The Ghosts of Beverly Drive,” 8/10

“Little Wanderer,” 6/10

Overlain with sorrowful, twangy guitar, “Little Wanderer” sketches the onerous attempt to keep a love alive from thousands of miles apart. Gib-

“You’ve Haunted Me All My Life,” 7/10

This song is a painful reminder of heartbreak and sorrow, Gibbard’s feelings coming through in moving lyrics. “You’ve haunted me all my life,” he sings. “Through endless days and countless nights.” The sweet, slow sounds of a single guitar in the beginning are soon combined with a soothing harmony as he sings, “You’re always out of reach when I’m in pursuit.” It’s an easy sentiment to relate to.

Who has not felt at some point that desire for something that is just out of reach? By this point in the album, suffering and misery have emerged as central themes, comfortable territory for the Seattle band. MARY GARNER “Hold No Guns,” 5/10

The plucking strings of an acoustic guitar set the stage for Gibbard’s singing on this track, his pitch starting out low then gradually getting higher, then slowly descending back down again.

He sings that “The counsel’s combing through our debris, for the treasures we never buried,” but the words get lost in the tedious repetition of that guitar. Gibbard is his most vulnerable here, letting his guard down when he sings heartbreaking lines like, “My love, why do you run?/ For my hands hold no guns.” More impactful on the page than in this monotonous arrangement, perhaps this song would be served better by silence, read simply as poem. CHRISTINE MAGGI “Everything’s a Ceiling,” 3/10

This song starts off with decent energy as the synth sounds give way to a rolling guitar and backing vocals, blanketing the listener in a swelling wall of sound. That’s fine if you’re trying to be Coldplay, but it seems off-brand for Death Cab, more at home in the arena than in the bedroom. Add in lazy rhyming couplets—

» CONTINUED ON PAGE 28

El Corazon E orazon www.elcorazonseattle.com

109 Eastlake Ave East • Seattle, WA 98109 Booking and Info: 206.262.0482

THURSDAY APRIL 2ND FUNHOUSE

SAVIOURS

with Wounded Giant, Curse Of The North, Teacher Doors at 8:00PM / Show at 9:00 21+. $10 ADV / $12 DOS

FRIDAY APRIL 3RD EL CORAZON

BLACKLIST UNION

with Sin Circus, Helldorado, Under Sin, Supercult Doors at 7:30PM / Show at 8:00 ALL AGES/BAR W/ID. $8 ADV / $10 DOS

FRIDAY APRIL 3RD FUNHOUSE

YONATAN GAT EX-MONOTONIX with Calvin Johnson (Beat Happening), Kinski, Jason Webley Doors at 7:30PM / Show at 8:00 ALL AGES/BAR W/ID. $10 ADV / $12 DOS

SATURDAY APRIL 4TH EL CORAZON

SUNDAY APRIL 5TH FUNHOUSE

ROSEDALE

with District, Insuburban Avenue, Max Blake, Plus Guests Doors at 7:00PM / Show at 7:30 ALL AGES/BAR W/ID. $8 ADV / $10 DOS

MONDAY APRIL 6TH FUNHOUSE

THROW THE GOAT with Split Skins, Plus Guests Doors at 8:00PM / Show at 8:30 21+. $5 ADV / $7 DOS

WEDNESDAY APRIL 8TH EL CORAZON KGRG & TAKE WARNING PRESENT:

BANE

with Backtrack, Malfunction, Singled Out, Bill Conway (head writer of The Hard Times) Doors at 7:00PM / Show at 7:30 ALL AGES/BAR W/ID. $12 ADV / $15 DOS

THURSDAY APRIL 9TH FUNHOUSE

MIKE THRASHER PRESENTS:

BRIAN FOSS PRESENTS A BENEFIT FOR THE UNEMPLOYMENT LAW PROJECT FEATURING:

with Slaves, Vanna, Alive Like Me, Isles Doors at 6:00PM / Show at 7:00 ALL AGES/BAR W/ID. $15 ADV / $18 DOS

with Fabulous Downey Brothers, The Dumps, Wølfhämmer 3 Doors at 8:00PM / Show at 9:00

THE COLOR MORALE

THE WITCHES TITTIES 21+. $7

JUST ANNOUNCED 4/18 - KINGS OF CAVALIER (CD RELEASE) 4/20 FUNHOUSE - RUINES OV ABADDON 4/25 FUNHOUSE - CHEMICALS 4/30 FUNHOUSE - LAS ROBERTAS 5/4 - THIS LEGEND 5/17 FUNHOUSE - NUDITY 6/2 FUNHOUSE - MASSENGER 6/8 FUNHOUSE - GRAYSKUL 8/7 FUNHOUSE - NO-TALENTS 8/11 - FIREWORKS UP & COMING 4/9 - VOLTAIRE 4/10 - D.R.I. 4/11 - STRUNG OUT 4/13 - MUSHROOMHEAD 4/14 - ABK / AXE MURDER BOYZ 4/15 - THE MAINE 4/16 FUNHOUSE - PEELANDER-Z 4/17 FUNHOUSE - DARIUS KOSKI 4/19 - ENTER SHIKARI 4/20 - DEFEATER 4/21 - RICHIE RAMONE Tickets now available at cascadetickets.com - No per order fees for online purchases. Our on-site Box Office is open 1pm-5pm weekdays in our office and all nights we are open in the club - $2 service charge per ticket Charge by Phone at 1.800.514.3849. Online at www.cascadetickets.com - Tickets are subject to service charge

The EL CORAZON VIP PROGRAM: see details at www.elcorazon.com/vip.html and for an application email us at info@elcorazonseattle.com

SE ATTLE WEEKLY • APRI L 1 — 7, 2015

Ben Gibbard is conceding defeat, but this is nothing new. Gibbard customarily surrenders several times on each of this band’s albums. On “The Ghosts of Beverly Drive,” the singer outlines the history of a collapse, and the inevitable reflection that accompanies it. He channels a sadness that is distinct to Los Angeles, the location of the song’s titular street, where the singer lived during his short marriage to actor Zooey Deschanel. Synthesizer creeps around the edges of the song while Walla’s familiar guitar tone conveys the feeling that guides the band’s earlier efforts. Gibbard pleads “Please work with what is left” as the golden cracks begin to reveal themselves. The beauty lies in the breakage. R.P. LEWIS

bard’s iconic melancholy voice contains a sparkle of optimism and pride as he sings “You’re my wanderer, little wander.” However, the sprinkle of sanguinity is rinsed over with anxious counters (“Won’t you wander back to me”). As he tells of pictures delivered straight from his lover’s window abroad, Gibbard’s characteristically pensive lyrics, dusted with simplistic drum and bass, unveil unrelenting longing for a love several time zones away. SYDNEY ROOT

27

arts&culture» Music

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TWO SHOWS!

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with HOLYCHILD

SHOWBOX & CAPITOL HILL BLOCK PARTY PRESENT

4/7

» FROM PAGE 27

8PM

YELLE BEST COAST with HIBOU

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RAEKWON & GHOSTFACE KILLAH

4/15

6/4

9PM

BLUE OCTOBER

NEON TREES with YES YOU ARE

+ ASHLEIGH STONE

GRAMATIK

4/24

4/30

with GREAT DANE

7:30 PM

6/19 9PM

RICHARD CHEESE & LOUNGE AGAINST THE MACHINE with “IPOD ON A CHAIR”

+ ALEX WINSTON

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with HARVARD OF THE SOUTH

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SAY ANYTHING with MODERN BASEBALL +

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“What am I supposed to do. I’m calling out to you/You’re miles away it’s true, digging for someone new”—and you have a track that should have been left on the cutting-room floor. BRAD HALASZ

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

28

MOORE THEATRE

EMILY KINNEY GEORGE EZRA

6/12

FROM AMC’S THE WALKING DEAD

9PM

8/11

SHOWBOXPRESENTS.COM

8PM

On the road to releasing its latest album, Wasted on the Dream, being dropped from Warner Bros. Records was but a minor speed bump for Nashville-based psychedelic-rock duo JEFF THE BROTHERHOOD. After (jubilantly) announcing their separation with the label, brothers Jake and Jamin Orrall assured fans that the album would still see the light of day—only two weeks later than planned, released via their own, wonderfully named label, Infinity Cat Recordings. Delays and label changes aside, Wasted is a solid blend of classic rock and grunge, plus a few surprises: Best Coast’s Bethany Cosentino, Diarrhea Planet guitarists Evan Bird and Emmett Miller, bassist Jack Lawrence (the Raconteurs, The Dead Weather), and Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson all make appearances. With Bully. Wimps. The Crocodile, 2200 Second Ave., 441-4618, thecrocodile.com. 8 p.m. $12. All ages. AZARIA C. PODPLESKY

One of the most upbeat songs we’ve heard from Death Cab for Cutie, this energetic pop track channels the sound of Gibbard’s other hugely popular project, The Postal Service. The band has traded in the guitar for synth beats, while sticking to the usual, contemplative lyricism for which it is known. Nonetheless, the upbeat track still seems a bit odd on this largely downtrodden album. ANDREA AGUILAR “El Dorado,” 7/10

Seemingly written for the final credits of Gibbard’s love story, “El Dorado” is the sound of cracks mending, the title recalling a mythical city of gold, a metaphor for the ultimate prize.

The journey begins with a conversely melancholic and optimistic guitar chord progression, giving way to rapidly beating drums that prove Death Cab’s ability to capture the light at the end of the tunnel. This song openly illustrates the divorce from the Hollywood lifestyle into which Gibbard married. “Seems you finally found . . . El Dorado,” Gibbard sings, “over in Culver City shining bright, name in lights.” But in a show of acceptance, perhaps resignation, he lets his that light go: “As you slip away behind the gates, behind the gate.” ERINN J. HALE “Ingenue,” 4/10

Arena-rock drums mix with a yearning melody, handclaps, and lyrics that are earnest and obviously personal here, a natural progression for this album. The song builds pleasingly thoughout, with glacial layers of shimmering guitars and Gibbards’ intoned “la-la” vocal drone in the background like a buzz of anticipation. When the triumphant guitar climax kicks in (after a truly stadium-worthy drum fill), it’s like the sun finally bursting through the clouds. But the song’s elation belies its lyrics, in which Gibbard essentially mansplains “the currency” of being a young, pretty woman whose fate is to grow old (and worthless).

“Binary Sea,” 8/10

COLUMBIA CITY THEATER

Wednesday, April 1

“Good Help (Is So Hard to Find),” 8/10

MELISSA JONG

ON SALE FRIDAY AT NOON

TheWeekAhead

Applying the final stitch to Gibbards’s emotional fragments is “Binary Sea,” an exposition of a life broadcast through social media. “Zeros and ones, patterns appear,” he sings. “They’ll prove to all that we were here.” Congruent with the overarching themes of Kintsugi, the claims are personal, pointing to a cause of his failed marriage. “Oh, Atlas could not stay engaged/Was more distracted every day,” he sings over the lo-fi echoes of a piano. “You slowly fell into disarray.” Although Gibbard trips over forced lyrics, he is stalwart in the pursuit of repair. Yet the question remains: Is Kintsugi about mending the self or about cobbling together the memories of a pedestaled relationship? “If there is no document, we cannot build our monument,” he sings. Either way, the story feels complete as the album fades out into eerie cosmic ambience. ERINN J. HALE E music@seattleweekly.com

KEITH JOHNSON

SHOWBOX & KGRG PRESENT

The Funhouse Get out your crusty hanky and wipe your bitter punk tears away because THE FUNHOUSE REOPENING is today! After getting reduced to rubble in 2012 to make way for condos (barf), booker Brian Foss and his business partner Bobby Kuckelburg spent three years trying to find a new home for the scuzzy community of musical underdogs they fostered in their storied downtown venue (which you might know better as that place with the terrifying skeleton clown sign). Like a phoenix from the ashes, The Funhouse has risen once again—this time in El Corazon’s side bar, where it will serve daily happy-hour drinks and host all those weirdo shows you loved. And know that this go-round, The Funhouse will be impervious to developers and bulldozers. With DJ Bobcat. El Corazon, 109 Eastlake Ave., 262-0482, elcorazon.com. 3 p.m.–2 a.m. Free. 21 and up. KELTON SEARS

Thursday, April 2

Now in its third year, TIMBER! OUTDOOR MUSIC FESTIVAL, and its winter counterpart, Timbrrr!, have quickly become welcome additions to festival season.

The three-day event, scheduled for July 16–18 in ToltMacDonald Park in Carnation, Wash., balances an eclectic lineup (last year’s fest featured everyone from Charles Bradley and J Mascis to Grynch, Cumulus, and Julia Massey & the Five Finger Discount) with an appreciation for the outdoors and family via a variety of kid-friendly activities and camping accommodations.

At this LAUNCH PARTY, attendees will not only get a first look at this year’s lineup, they’ll also get to see a few of those artists live before the fest. Chop Suey, 1325 E. Madison St., 324-8005, chopsuey.com. 8 p.m.

Free with RSVP. 21 and over. ACP JEREMY ENIGK’s name has been synonymous with emo since practically before emo was even a thing.

As the lead singer of Sunny Day Real Estate, Enigk, and the band’s debut album, Diary, helped shape the genre into the melodic, emotionally charged entity it is today. After the band’s first breakup, Sunny Day side project The Fire Theft filled that gap, with Enigk at the helm. As a solo artist, Enigk has released five albums, most recently OK Bear, all of which feature just as much feeling as his full-band releases. With so much heartfelt material to draw from for this acoustic show, it’s best to have a few tissues handy, just in case.

With Jen Wood, Mark Nichols and the Everexpanding Experience Machine. Neumos, 925 E. Pike St., 7099442, neumos.com. 8 p.m. $15. 21 and over. ACP

Friday, April 3 There’s an interesting contrast within Divisionary, the latest from Portland choral-pop six-piece AGES & AGES. Musically, the album is bright, airy, and full of group vocals, with all six members contributing at one point or another. Lyrically, though, the band’s sophomore release comes from a dark place—the group lost several family members and close friends during the recording process. The album isn’t about grieving, though; it’s more about finding ways to work through grief so it doesn’t become all-consuming—with a few uplifting moments inspired by a marriage and the birth of a child during the recording period. With Zebra Hunt, Ruler. Barboza, 925 E. Pike St., 709-9951, the barboza.com. 7 p.m. $10. 21 and over. ACP Am I sentimental because I listen to ANDREW JACKSON JIHAD, or do I listen to Andrew Jackson Jihad because I’m sentimental? Sean Bonnette and Ben Gallaty started the band over 10 years ago, and have since had a rotating cast of musicians sit in with them. Andrew Jackson Jihad sounds like the result of Front Bottoms/Jeffrey Lewis slash fic. They have perfected the precise blend of whininess, selfawareness, and humor that makes pop-punk girls swoon and get stick-’n’-poke tattoos of lyrics like “I’m happy that you’re happier than me.” With The Smith Street Band, Jeff Rosenstock, Chumped. Neumos, 925 E. Pike St., 709-9442, neumos.com. 8 p.m. $16.

All ages. DIANA M. LE

Saturday, April 4

Monday, April 6

If you’ve never heard of STROMAE, don’t feel bad. The States are just now starting to catch on to this huge Belgian pop star. He is devastatingly stylish, with an androgynous look that’s part Janelle Monae, part Farnsworth Bentley, with a dash of Tilda Swinton.

The 30-year-old isn’t afraid to push boundaries. He sings and raps exclusively in French, with lyrics that address fatherhood (“Everybody knows how to make babies but nobody knows how to make daddies”), homelessness, AIDS, and cancer, while his music is totally danceable. He also has the Kanye seal of approval, who recently remixed his song “Alors On Danse.” Showbox SODO, 1700 First Ave. S., 628-3151, showboxpresents.com. 8 p.m. $37 adv./$40 DOS. All ages. DML

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Sunday, April 5

Seattle has its very own Easter egg in PASTOR KALEB’S EASTER SERVICE, a local tradition that’s been upheld for 16 years. Take yourself to fake church with everyone’s favorite fake minister and his goofy granny choir. The jokey performance is so elaborate and well-received that it warranted the release of A Pastor Sings: Pastor Kaleb and Sister Sari With the Old Lady Choir, a CD of some of the congregation’s favorite hymns. The service may be phony, but so is Easter brunch with

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Comedian David Burd gave the world LIL DICKY in 2013 after releasing a music video for his song “Ex-Boyfriend” that went viral the day it came out.

The self-aware, privileged, straight, white, uppermiddle-class male says he’s on a quest to “change rap forever.” Of his content he says, “I think a lot of rap is just escalated to a place that many people can’t relate to . . . My niche is that I’m relatable. I don’t rap about going to the club and popping bottles.” He’s basically the Harvey Pekar of rap. With Billy the Fridge. Chop Suey, 1325 E. Madison St., 324-8005, chopsuey.com.

8 p.m. $20 adv./$22 DOS. All ages. DML This HEATWARMER blurb is written in the style of a Vanity Fair profile: When Luke Bergman, Aaron Otheim, and Evan Woodle arrive at Cafe Racer 20 minutes late, they slide into a booth and immediately ask the barista for the wi-fi password so they can “get online.” As Luke leans in to order a grilled PB&J, I catch a whiff of Purell—his signature scent.

Asked to describe their music, he wistfully responds, “I enjoy incorporating my jazz background into my music, but I leave the Whiplash stuff for my many pupils. When I’m with these guys, it’s all about goofs and spoofs. Oh, and synth.” With Dude York, Sick Sad World, Briana Marela. Black Lodge. 9 p.m. Ask a punk for directions. DML

your family. Unlike your family, all things strange and wonderful are welcome at Pastor Kaleb’s—everyone from li’l scooters to jazzy grandmas. Your Sunday’s best is whatever you feel most fabulous in, whether that’s saddle shoes or a DIY crown made of broccoli.

Century Ballroom, 915 E. Pine St., 324-7263, centuryballroom.com. 11 a.m. & 2 p.m. $10 suggested donation. All ages. DML Six years after being born into Seattle’s metal scene, HE WHOSE OX IS GORED still has the city’s best band name. And hey!—they also have the tunage to back it up: riffy barrages of doomy, heavy rock backed by one of metal’s most underappreciated instruments, the synthesizer. Sure, you can conjure tempests with bass, guitar, and drums, but with its brooding, atmospheric synth textures, He Whose Ox is Gored kick the storm up into a full-blown maelstrom that will likely level your home once the band’s upcoming full-length comes out later this year. With A God or an Other, Witch Ripper.

Narwhal, 1118 E. Pike St., 325-6492, unicornseattle. com. 9 p.m. $8. 21 and up. KS

29

odds&ends» Pot for Pets

30

Things are going a bit too far in Nevada, where,

AN

NA

CAS

HIN

as part of a bill to overhaul their medicalmarijuana laws, state Senator Tick Segerblom proposed a Pot-for-Pets provision that would require animal owners to apply for medical-marijuana cards. Cards would be issued only if a vet wrote a detailed description of how Count Flufferton’s condition might be aided with Puppy Chow Dank. Good Lord, it’s hard enough for folks to clean up after their pets, much less register them for a Canine Cannabis Card. Feed ’em all the Purina Cheeba ya want, as far as I’m concerned—just pick up the poop!

Veterinarians agree that feeding a pet straight marijuana or blowing pot smoke in Mr. Bigglesworth’s snout is never a good idea; most companies marketing for pets are using all-natural hemp treats, cannabis oils, and glycerin tinctures that can be put into the water bowl.

Not surprisingly, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals has something to say on the matter. “Our position is that anything that can help animals,” stated President Ingrid Newkirk, “if it’s truly, properly administered in the right amount and can relieve a dog’s pain—then they should be given the same consideration that humans in pain are given.” (No comment on whether PETA gives ganja to the tens of thousands of pets they euthanize at their shelters after not finding homes for the non-rescued souls . . . ) While weed’s not a cure-all for everything; it’s also not gonna kill you (or your chronic companion). My neighbor’s golden retriever, Bailey, not only drank half a gallon of paint I had (stupidly) left out one summer day, but also chowed the brush and sponge inside it. She hurled a lovely shade of Benjamin Moore chartreuse-green for a week, but went on to live—and crap in my yard—for another decade. The bottom line is this: I don’t care if Snoopy gets high as the Red Baron on Snoop Dog Bud-Bones, just keep that pooch away from my personal stash. The steak’s for me. Lassie gets the leftovers. E For more Higher Ground, visit highergroundtv.com.

BRI

SEATTLE WEEKLY • AP RI L 1 — 7, 2015

R

emember the right-wing homophobes who claimed that if we allowed gays to get married, pretty soon people would begin marrying their pets? Well, now, the damn hippies who voted to legalize the wacky weed are indeed trying to get their dogs and cats stoned! Hooked on the hound hemp! The kitty chronic!?

Companies like Seattle-based Canna-Pet and Canna Companion sell cannabinoid treats for dogs and HIGHERGROUND cats—

BY MICHAEL A. STUSSER not to get them high (the hemp biscuits and capsules have very low levels of THC), but to help with joint discomfort and inflammation, and hopefully to make that yappy poodle across the street calm the fuck down.

Recently the Food and Drug Administration began cracking down on pooch-pot peddlers for some of the claims made in their marketing materials. The FDA wants phrases like “anti-cancer” and “anti-tumor” taken off Canna-Pet’s packaging, as those medical claims have not been proven.

Canna Companion, from Snohomish County, says their products are all-natural, and inhibit cancer-cell growth and reduce inflammation.

Clinical trials monitored by the FDA haven’t taken place, because of course at the federal level, the testing or sale of marijuana is a felony offense—not to mention it’s hard to get Fido to fill out the post-trial questionnaire. Cats are better at giving feedback, but are prone to hissy fits in the comments section.

Similar to humans, domesticated animals have endocannabinoid systems and can potentially be physically and psychologically aided by ingesting cannabis. While industrial hemp hasn’t been proven as a puppy painkiller, many vets and owners have had success using the stuff to help pets gain weight after sicknesses and surgery, as well as to provide pain relief during end-of-life stages.

Los Angeles veterinarian Doug Kramer told the Associated Press that he’s had more than 300 patients use cannabis to help everything from infections to separation anxiety to feline immunodeficiency virus to irritable-bowel syndrome (which I thought was the very definition of being a pet). Talk about skunk weed!

After giving his husky, Nikita, cannabis oils for her terminal cancer, Dr. Kramer said she gained weight and was able to live an extra six pain-free weeks before having to be euthanized. “I grew tired of euthanizing pets when I wasn’t doing everything I could to make their lives better,” Kramer noted. “I felt like I was letting them down.”

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