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With the new “Marvel: Infinity War” trailer out this week, new seasons of superhero shows like “Agents of Shield,” “Runaways” and new episodes of “The Gifted,” I’m just trying to hide somewhere dark and deep where the Marvel Universe hasn’t pried its grubby little fingers yet. It’s not that I dislike Marvel; I just like to breathe the fresh air on occasion, so, let’s lead off with a suggestion from an entirely different angle.
This week, let's focus on outcasts. Everybody loves a good comeback story, rooting for the underdogs, David over Goliath, etc. It’s one of the most-used tropes in any business, and one that tends to get audiences to respond well. No one wants to read a story about a king with loads of money who continues to rule peacefully for all his days; that’s why you only see those sentences at the end of stories — unless you’re reading about politics, in which case, Goliath wins every time.
“Words and pictures are yin and yang. Married, they produce a progeny more interesting than either parent.” ? Dr. Seuss
Right next to the Center for Limnology, where the Lakeshore Path begins, there is a stone with a plaque on it. Candles, summer flowers and a flag decorate the stone.
Indie music’s favorite disgruntled hipster has returned with a fresh gospel on what we’ve screwed up since last time. Yes, Josh Tilman, pseudonym Father John Misty, is back to inspire drug-fueled pilgrimages and weed paranoia with his new album, Pure Comedy.
It’s that horrible time of the season—or seasons, I guess is more accurate. Yes, all the shows we love and adore are gearing up for their finales, leaving that horrible, dark place in your schedule that used to be filled with familiar characters and drama. While it could be filled with that homework that’s piling up behind the laptop screen (Nah), I went in search of a new series to fill the void.
Walking down State Street, it is easy to become distracted by the many flashing signs, cries from the street corners or the stunning view of the Capitol in the distance. Amidst all the clutter, tucked between the Asian Kitchen and Pita Pit, is Four-Star Video Cooperative.
Oh great, another Marvel production. With Captain America and friends being thrown in our face almost twice daily, superheroes can feel like a tired topic. The genre has been re-vamped to the public excessively, to a point where it seems like every other movie, TV show or video game has Marvel’s fingers in its pie. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good superhero adaptation as much as the next guy, but it feels like we need something fresh.
Church, specifically the Catholic Church, has never been more interesting than it is in “The Young Pope.” Created by Paolo Sorrentino (“This Must Be The Place,” “Youth,” “The Great Beauty”), the new HBO show follows Lenny Belardo (Jude Law) who is anointed Pope Pius XIII at the age of 46. As the first American to become pope, the Cardinals believe that both his youthful age and his past interactions with the Church will make Belardo a good ‘puppet pope,” a figure that they can control and watch over.
The temperature is struggling to climb above freezing. The people of Madison slowly submerge their skin beneath a shell of thermal layering. This sounds like the perfect time of the year to postpone those New Year’s resolutions and exercise your thumbs by flipping through TV channels. With the new year, the major television players are putting out new content and targeting large audiences too slow from the holiday feasts to change the channel. Here’s what is coming to a living room near you in 2017.
An unusually high concentration of tweed jackets, horn-rimmed glasses and strange hairstyles gathered Thursday evening at the Overture Center for the Arts to hear the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing and Poetry Fellows read their works. Mark Wagenaar, Mika Taylor, Karyna McGlynn, Jordan Jacks and Josh Kalscheur were this year’s fellows, and each performed some of their published works or works in progress.
When Seattle comes to mind, images of rainy days and fish markets may also come to mind. For the members of Hey Marseilles, their thoughts are of home.
Before I get into it, because believe me I’m going to get into it, I want to let all of you dear readers in on my confession. No, I don’t eat my own boogers and yes, I do occasionally sleep with the light on but that is beside the point. I confess to you, dearest readers, that I am an aggressive biker. Yes, I am that guy zooming by your elbow on Library Mall or weaving through pedestrian traffic crossing the crosswalk. I am an asshole, and I embrace it. This doesn’t make it right, though, and frankly at least I know that I am wrong. I just wanted my bias to be in the light before we get down to business.
It was a brisk fall afternoon on campus, and I had just handed over a crisp $10 bill in exchange for a foil-wrapped Korean burrito. I savored the delicious cocktail flavor, made even more precious to me knowing that I was directly jeopardizing my rent for the luxury of food cart cuisine. A fair trade, in my book. My friend and I began to look for a spot to sit down and stuff our faces with our feast, but as we walked down Library Mall, we encountered quite the crowd forming a ring.
Saturday night, the streets were filled with ghouls, ghosts and other garish creatures of the more unnerving persuasion. Classics enjoyed by many generations made their appearance as well, monsters like Frankenstein (Yes I know technically it’s Frankenstein’s monster), werewolves and all forms of vampire. And of course, the slutty nurse, cats that if they were cats would have no fur and professions clearly depicted with less clothing than usual. All these and more haunted the streets this weekend, revealing without a care by the light of the October moon, their visages magical and mysterious in the moonlight, titillating and enticing.
After narrowly dodging a blimplike floating condom, I followed a group of men in fishnets and an assortment of women in sequined outfits to my seat. Upon sitting, a man, who a moment ago I was convinced was a woman, turned from his seat directly in front of me and offered me a condom. I thanked him. He winked and turned back towards the show. Welcome to a viewing of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
It was a crisp October evening in Madison; the leaves were beautiful and the weather was perfect for a warm sweater. I was feeling content, walking down the street towards the glowing sign of the Majestic Theater, visions of the concert to come being entertained in my imagination, as my friends and I enjoyed the warmth of our alcohol blankets. With a few ‘pardon mes’ and only a couple ‘watch it bubs,’ we made our way into a decent position and began to cheer as the lights dimmed. That’s when the crowd began to glow.
The Barrymore was alive with energy and as I approached the flashing sign from the sidewalk there was a line of chattering people winding out the door and a good 5 feet down the sidewalk. A red sign greeted those who were less prepared with a bold “SOLD OUT,” to which they sighed and walked away. Reminiscent of an old movie theater, the Barrymore was looking charming as ever on the evening of the Grace Potter show.
The class clown; not the cool one that has the good jokes or even the one that does stupid stuff that makes everyone laugh. No, I speak of the sub-variety of this personality that sits in the back of the class and has a comment for everything. Someone you want to tell to take a long walk off a short pier, but you know they thrive on any attention. So, you are forced to grind your teeth, smile, and watch as the second hand crawls across the clock face, leisurely strolling towards your freedom.
The Majestic was buzzing with electricity Thursday night as the floor slowly filled and bodies writhed with excitement for The Underachievers show. Colorful shirts sporting even more colorful slogans swayed to the beat as shoes tapped and the crowd waited for the set to begin. The lights dimmed and the crowd got loud as Kirk Knight stepped on stage to help open the set.