ARTS Monday, September 23, 1991 ' The Michigan Daily, Page 5 Frozen entree melts the heart Late for Dinner dir. W.D. R ichter by Gabriel Feldberg Seeing Late for Dinner is like watching a good TV mini-series: about 20 minutes into it, you realize you're sitting through some serious mediocrity, which is why it's surprising that the movie is so enjoyable. The film starts off in Santa Fe, 1962, where a fellow named Willy (Brian Wimmer, a less attractive Kevin Costner type) and his brother-in- law Frank (Peter Berg) get framed for a kidnapping they didn't commit. During their escape to Ca- lifornia, Willy is shot. When they reach their destination, they are taken in by a kindly doctor specializing in, of all things, cryogenic medicine. While Willy's laid out, Frank agrees to let the doctor freeze them on the promise that everything will be okay when they wake up. But they end up staying on ice for nearly three decades. Through a chain of intricate accidents, Willy and Frank are miraculously thawed out. Meanwhile, after a 29 year absence, Willy's wife, Joy (Marcia Gay Harden, of Miller's Crossing), has become what is known as estranged. Determined to win her back, Willy takes Frank on a drive back to New Mexico and spends the rest of the movie trying to convince her that their love can still work. This plot line might sound a little hokey, even for a love story, but screenwriter Mark Andrus throws in just about every endearing contrivance he can to make you feel guilty if you don't like it. First, there's the idyllic marriage between Willy and Joy, which drips with Ghost-style passion. To make us really get behind his lead, Andrus includes a scene that showcases what a sensitive father Willy is. Finally, as if all this weren't mushy enough, Andrus throws in Frank. Frank didn't receive enough oxygen during his birth, and as a result he says the kind of sweetly naive things Benny does on L.A. Law. Trying to dislike his character is like trying to hate Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. A movie with this many excessively precious ele- ments is maddeningly manipulative. All the conven- tions in this film work, however. Knowing that he's working from a formula, director W.D. Richter never spoils things by being pretentious or in- appropriately artful. The actors all deliver their lines with as little melodrama as the script will allow. The script itself is at times cutely poetic: when Willy is shot he says that he's been "brutally grazed," and when he returns after three decades, he finds out that his Aunt Harriet has "moved out of her body." But most of the disingenuous lines wash by pretty easily despite themselves. The best adjective to describe Late for Dinner is probably "competent." It doesn't aspire to be a good movie, just a movie that's good for what it is. If the sniffles I heard coming out of the back row are any measure, it definitely does its job. Late for Dinner is very sweet, but then again, so is St. Joseph's baby as- pirin. The kind of person who can watch one of those maudlin McDonald's commercials and feel nothing' but anger for what they've done to the environment should probably find out what's playing at the Michigan Theater. Those who are willing to go to Late for Dinner, (who are in the mood for innocuous PG fun) will probably be glad to have gone. LATE FOR DINNER is playing at Briarwood and Showcase. ANTHONY M. CROLL/Daily Sandra Bernhard showed off her muscular physique at the Power Center on Friday night. Unfortunately, our photographer ran out of film right before she showed off more than that. *Sandra strips; 3rd Bass as,,scores; Jesus adored Sandra Bernhard The Power Center September 20, 1991 At the risk of having my ass kicked by the lovely, the talented SAHN-dra Bernhard, I will call at- tention to her satirical, lyrical beauty, her bared breasts, and those wonderful, awkward moments with the microphone cord (wouldn't you like to know!) Comedian, musician, and the hippest Jew in America, Bernhard "schlepped" her work-in- progress to Ann Arbor for an evening of song and whimsy. The crowd loved Bernhard, and she loved us - it was a beautiful moment. But it was a tough love. From the moment Bernhard stumbled onto the stage, working a copper beehive, rainbow-sequined briefs, and a delicately beaded, oh-so-re- vealing halter piece, she was ready to talk some trash. "I've been out-ed. Now it's your turn," Bernhard shrieked, asking for a show of hands from "kicky, frivolous" bisexuals, and ostraciz- ing the one cardigan-clad woman in the second row who admitted to complete heterosexuality, placing her in the "third, and least in- teresting category." "No matter how confused you are by my sexuality, remember this - you're not as confused as me!" Bernhard declared, softening the blow of sexual antagonism and set- tling the audience into a two-and-a- half hour cabaret, punctuated only with a short break and a tribute to her new band, the Strap-Ons. "I've been a lot of places this past year," Bernhard reminisced fre- quently. Her references to the Parisian world of haute couture reminded audiences of her in- domitable hipness, but the most en- dearing elements of the show were the recollections of her roots. A dyed-in-the-wool nice Jewish girl from Flint, Bernhard told and sang the tragic tale of her best friend Stacy, who disappeared on one the most important nights of Sandra's young life (the night of Cat Stevens' last concert before convert- ing to Islam). Likewise, the por- trayal of a Capri-smoking, straw- berry Margarita-sipping single in a disco is bitingly accurate. Reverent references to Madonna (Bernhard's alleged ex-lover) fu- eled the comic's controversial edge. Halfway through the show (which didn't have an intermission), Bernhard sighed, "Hm, I feel like freshening up." Then she matter-of- factly stripped down to her white cotton briefs to change into a lime go-go dress. This self-deprecating/aggrandiz- ing attitude toward her awkward childhood andsher spindly body created an instant bond between audience and performer. And, while her singing voice was often quite strong and moving, Bernhard never lost the edge that reminded viewers that she's really too cool to take her art that seriously. The show reveled in the requisite snarls that instantly became private jokes. When Bernhard proclaimed Michael Moore's assessment of Flint as "bullshit," and pointed out Kevin Costner's eternal surfer-punk hair-do, the audience jeered apprecia- tively. Queen Latifah was mocked for her rapping self-references (though they may be compared to Bernhard's own style) and Bernhard admitted dryly, "Now that Gyne- Lotrimin is sold over-the-counter, I almost want a yeast infection." Bernhard's ambiguity between straight art and sarcastic put-downs kept the audience alert and apprecia- tive. Her affectionate references to her nerdy parents, "Oh my Gahd, Shandra, if Shtacey doesn't show up, I'll take you to the Cat Shtevens conshert," evoked initimacy from the larger than life performer. The only time that this style didn't accomplish its goal was dur- ing an incense-tinged Hare Krishna number in which Bernhard changed the words of "Stardust" to apply to the Persian Gulf war. Touching on such. a sensitive subject amidst the lighthearted, albeit introspective, performance was a bit confusing. As expected, Bernhard mixed raunch with reflection, verve with vulnerability, to create a musical show that was as satisfying as a late-night pizza. It probably wasn't good for us, but it was a lot of fun. - Elizabeth Lenhard Ned's Atomic Dustbin/ Jesus Jones Hill Auditorium September 21, 1991 I was warned that Ned's Atomic Dustbin was the finest live band in Britain. And now, I have truly seen the light. Ned's gave a charismatic yet sharp performance, thoroughly up- holding their astronomical reputa- tion. Covering most of the tunes on their LP God Fodder and preview- ing some new material (including the potent recent UK single "Trust"), Ned's gave all to a sur- prisingly appreciative young crowd. The band's 45-minute set dis- played their tightness as a guitar- based unit, and also highlighted While Ned's appeared to be honest in their presentation, Jesus posed and preened their individual personalities. The lack of pretentious attitude (and musical abilities) also shone through. Lead singer Jon, in particu- lar, let loose effectively with his swooping leg exercises and clear, strong voice. The dueling bassists, Alex and Mat, and the guitarist, Rat, accented beats with roaming bursts of spontaneous leaping. What was so impressive was the group's lack of self-consciousness, and the ability to make their already gripping songs of young adult life ("Grey Cell Green," "Kill Your Television" and "Happy" espe- cially) move into a higher state of virility and meaning. Headliners Jesus Jones also gave a similarly vibrant performance, simply using twice the amount of time. But while Ned's appeared to be honest in their presentation, Jesus posed and preened, playing to back- ing tapes - they reflected Brit pop stars to a tee. The band's set covered material from both of their albums, and was well executed and enjoy- able. Their arrogance and cockiness, however, seen most notably in vo- calist/guitarist Mike Edwards, de- tracted from a potentially over- whelming performance. The show was saved in part by Amusing Keyboardist Gen, who prowled the stage, danced in circles, and attacked his synth as if it was a guitar, tossing it over his head and from side to side. I was waiting for him to set it on fire. The stage-wide practical jokes, including a sipper bottle squirting contest between Gen and bassist Al, were rampant. But no one explained why a grown man in a diaper and bottle was hanging out with the roadies and techs, placing a cardboard baby in front of the drum kit and making the band laugh. I wondered for a moment, but then I realized Jesus Jones only cares about feeding their own egos and being Entertainers. The audience played along faith- fully and worshipfully, hanging upon every word and note, eating it all up. And maybe Jesus Jones deserved this adulation for their outstandingly catchy yet sub- stantive music, but Ned's ulti- mately was more real, real, real. - Annette Petruso 3rd Bass Royal Oak Music Theater September 21, 1991 Rap group 3rd Bass drew a crowd of less than 200 to the Royal Oak Music Theater Saturday night, but still made this small crowd sound like thousands. The stage was converted into a street scene with park benches, phonebooths and a huge brick wall. Two male dancers were disguised as drunk homeless people. Soon there- after, two female dancers dressed as street women appeared on the stage. Then the music began. The phonebooth revolved to reveal a throne where Pete Nice sat, equipped with a cigar and walking stick. Suddenly, lead rapper MC Serch exploded onto the stage and began rapping "The Product of the Environment." As Serch rapped, the dancers did impressive dance rou- tines, including backflips, hand- stands and complicated contemp- orary dance steps. The highlight of the show was DJ KMD's mixing and scratching. He displayed incredible tech-nique and impossible acrobatic stunts, managing to scratch a record, take his shirt off, spin in a circle and scratch the record again. 3rd Bass only performed five songs, all from their latest record, Derelicts of Dialect. The sound system distorted the beat of the songs so much that, at times, I couldn't understand a word the rappers were saying. It was even harder to tell the songs aDart. The louder the volume was turned up, the more distorted the music be- came. But the songs did manage to flow very well. Live, the music sounded similar to tl'at on record, with the negative addition of profanity. And even though the sound was distorted and the use of profanity was a turnoff, the show was by far better than listening to the album. 3rd Bass really knew how to get the crowd dancing and screaming. The group's encore, the hit "Pop Goes the Weasel," exploded from the speakers. Despite the sound dis- tortion, this song, the one that we were all waiting for, was easily identified. C. - . Mike Edwards of Jesus Jones strikes a heavenly pose at Hill Auditorium Saturday night. But the only divine intervention of the evening occurred when our friendly campus rent-a-cops showed up to police the t-shirt line. Luckily, the boys didn't have to liquidize any dangerous line-jumpers. I _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ i" MSA NEEDS YOU! MSA is presently taking applications for University faculty/student committees. Interested students should pick up an application in the MSA chambers, Irf1iflnr of 4l ea ir a in T Tniwn 1992 BSN STUDENTS. Enter the Air Force immediately after gradua- tion - without waiting for the results of your State Boards. You can earn great benefits as an Air Force nurse officer. And if selected during your senior year, you may qualify for a five-month internship NAka 6 1 k