m isof spring Check N il Arts:
inist Gregory Lee and pianist Debrielia Frank join the IUCheck out the Daily's own Breaking Records. Postponed
University Symphony Orchestra tonight. With spring-like condi- for a day, but hardly forgotten, the new CD release page will
tions, why not get a musical serenade to put a spring in you step. feature Dirty Three and Chris Whitley.
The University Symphony Orchestra and its guests will perform
Wieniawski, Frank, and Bart6k. The performance begins at 8 at
Hill Auditorium. Admission is free. Tuesday
March 31, 1998
Brilliant 'Bent' offers skewed view o Holocaust

By Laura Ryer
Daily Arts Writer
Intent on conveying powerful messages,
movies often will contain shocking scenes to
evoke strong emotional reactions from the audi-
epee. Martin Sherman's "Bent" could not have
been any more explicit in displaying horrifying,
d not necessarily violent, visuals that make
one want to curl up in a
fetal position on your seat
s by the end.
Reconstructed for the
screen, "Bent" is based on
Bent the controversial 1979
British stage play that hit
Broadway and starred
At the Michigan Richard tiere. Unlike
Theater some stage-adapted films,
"Bent" seems to have a
made a smooth transition
from a play to a movie.
"Bent," the movie, is
unique in its own right
with a post-modern, high-
ly stylized quality that can
only be achieved on screen.
The moving story of the relationship between
two homosexuals and how they mentally cope
with the brutality forced upon them as prisoners
ring the Holocaust begins with a sentimental
t melancholy solo from none other than Mick
Jagger. Singing at a gay meat-market cabaret,

one can feel the urgency and foreshadowing of
turbulence to come.
We are introduced to Max (Clive Owen), and
his lover, Rudy (Brian Webber), who are aware
of their status of inferiority as homosexuals
according to the rising Nazi party. Max's uncle
(Ian McKellen, who created the role of Max) can
only help his nephew but not Rudy as well in
escaping the impending danger in Berlin. Max
and Rudy stick together, and inevitably are
shipped off to a concentration camp in Dachau
where their excruciating, torturing experience
evolves.
"Bent" insightfully combines issues of big-
otry with that of differing attitudes of moral
strength. Max, who, being Jewish, wears a yel-
low star. He is at first in denial of what is
occurring, as he repeats over and over again on
the train to Dachau, "This isn't happening, this
isn't happening ..." Luckily, he meets Horst
(Lothaire Bluteau), who helps him direct his
feelings: Care for no one, and you will survive.
Once in the concentration camp, Max man-
ages to get the a "good" job after bribing the
Gestapo guards: the task of transferring heavy
stones from one side of the room to another, and
then back again - all day long. But Max needs
company, and continues to bribe for Horst's
sake, so they can work side by side.
Together they resist the temptation to go
insane from this mechanistic, pointless task, and
soon develop an intense, loving relationship.

A powerfully eroticized moment occurs dur-
ing a brief three-minute rest period, where they
must stand side by side yet not look at each
other.
An engagement in verbalization leading to
orgasm, without any physical contact, shows
how strong their love is for each other, despite
the horrible conditions surrounding them.
This episode raises the paradoxical issue of
that numb, emotional stoicism that Horst once
championed versus this new, deeply affectionate
relationship that evolves between them. Max
battles with this problem and soon learns to
define himself as a person on the inside as well
as on the outside.
The highly formalized cinematography by
George Arvanitis and outstanding direction by
Sean Matthias adds to this film's superior quali-
ty. "Bent" is an emotionally difficult visual spec-
tacle due to certain traumatic scenes where
every second that passes is more painful than the
previous one.
But as the saying goes: No pain, no gain.
Maybe, except it is debatable whether an overall
appreciation for this film is not overshadowed its
brief yet exceedingly powerful moments, which
left me in a traumatized state of being even
hours after the conclusion of the movie.
Nevertheless, the coexistence of visual com-
plexity and significant underlying and multi-
faceted messages of "Bent" offer lasting images
audiences will certainly never forget.

Clive Owen and Ian McKellen star in Sean Mathias' Holocaust drama, "Bent."

Salmon
spawns
Wvarmed-
over show
By Peter Altman and Reilliy Brennan
Daily Arts Writers
Imagine a diverse amalgam of chem-
ically induced 20-year-old rockers, a
Ivous 40-something violin-playing
geek and a blind 60-year-old black
Detroit native, playing songs that cross
the lines of blues, bluegrass and
improv-rock. These were the sights that
complemented the sounds of Leftover
Salmon at The Magic Bag theatre on
Sunday night.
The Colorado-based quintet, known
for its savory blend of mountain-hillbil- '
bluegrass intertwined with 20"-
Unute-plus exploratory jams, was
joined by a few on-stage guests and
greeted by a raucous crowd of more
than 1,000 people.
At least 25 ticketless freaks waited
outside the venue.
Some without tickets came as far as
Canada. The most
notable of these
grovelers was a
Leftover merry-prankster-
Salmon esque male, com-
plete with his own,
The Magic Bag baby rattle, tie-
March 29, 1998 dyed shorts, and
shoes that looked
liked they've seen
more than a few
Leftover shows.
R He didn't say
much, but made
for interesting
We-candy while waiting to get into the
venue.
Eventually, the doors of the tour bus
opened and everyone in the bus -
band members, roadies, the bus driver,
everyone - appeared completely
stoned.
Admittedly, the first set left a lot to
be desired, as the band seemed com-
pletely disinterested in playing and.
more excited about their recent smok-
g session in the bus. As a result, the
rst set was a smattering of stupid
country-like tunes and occasional

Sholl reads unexpected 'Explain'

REILLY BRENNAN/Daily
Leftover Salmon played at The Magic Bag Sunday night.

mandolin picking by Drew Emmitt
and banjo plucking by Mark Vann.
Even he could hardly keep his eyes
open and at one point I saw him fum-
ble for his banjo picks and monitor
cable.
But a few surprising moments at the
end of set one were cause enough for
the attendance of most during the rest
of the performance.
The circus-like atmosphere outside
of the venue was topped only by the
band members, who welcomed their
teen-age guitar-tech to help on percus-
sion and another unidentified hooligan
to play accordion. The dueling-drum
solo that followed was interesting, and
left most of the crowd wanting more.
A long break was greatly appreciated
in the sweltering hot theatre, which was
drenched by the carefree perspiration of
spring-loving hippies.
The second set was the bread and
butter of Leftover's main menu. At the
beginning of the set, Guitar player-
Vince Herman smiled and yelled "we'll
see you in a half hour, on the other side
of this!"
This paved the way for a jam of fre-
netic speed which highlighted the mas-
tery that Vann and Emmitt hold over
their banjo and mandolin, at least when
they're awake.
After a few songs into the second set,
Detroit legend Robert Bradley, of
Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise,
was helped onstage and tore through
vocals on "Big Bossman" and "Little
Red Rooster" to the delight of the

crowd. All the while, Herman stuck his
tongue out and played spoons on a
washboard-like chest plate.
The stage, then holding more than_
eight people in total, was quite crowd-
ed, but somehow Leftover managed to
keep it all together.
The second set, characterized by a
non-stop pace and scorching banjos
solos by Vann, brought forth the
Leftover Salmon for which the audi-
ence members paid $18.50.
Although not living up to the sky-
high standards that I had expected, the
band did perform well to the Detroit
audience, and on more than one occa-
sion Hermann improvised song lyrics
to include a few Motor City refer-
ences.
Leaving the venue exhausted and but
only mildly content, it became clear
that the band will never handle a crowd
like String Cheese Incident, another
blqegrass-rock group hailing from
Colorado that is known for an upbeat
show. It was an interesting performance
that thankfully was documented by
more than 20 audio-tapers in atten-
dance.
I But Leftover Salmon's aloof attitude
during the first part of the show left a
bad taste in my mouth, something that I
never recovered from. Even with the
many special guests and eventual man-
dolin and banjo jams, most left happy to
be outside of the sticky venue to enjoy
the cool weather.
Leftover Salmon still has a long
swim upstream.

By Cara Spindler
Daily Arts Writer
In Betsy Sholl's poetry her concrete images and stories,
for all their tightness, have more questions asked in the
poem's telling than are answered.
Tonight, Sholl will read from her fifth book of poetry
"Don't Explain," winner of the Felix Pollak Prize. As
judge Rita Dove explained, Sholl's "revelation unfolds
effortlessly. These poems are what narrative can aspire
to... and yet the charm of the anecdotes ... never take
precedence over the hard facts of our daily living."
Sholl's quasi-narrative style is gritty and full-bodied.
Her thickly laced poems cross-hatch anecdotes, time and
imagery to one flush image that is a concrete, tangible and
vibrant read. With a fluid, bony grace she writes about that
annoying child screaming in the art museum or a nephew
with schizophrenia.
But fortunately, these poems are never monocelluar.
With a feel for what is necessary to fill in the image, her
poems are about real people and places. It's not entirely
clear if the nephew has schizophrenia because the focus is
not his mental disease, rather how this disease affects life
at all levels: his mother watching; the conversation with
his senile grandmother. "Who are you, she'd whisper.
He'd shake his head and smile, eyes puffy with meds.
"Good question."
Sholl textures her poems with an eye for detail.
Between the brain-blood barrier of thought and the physi-
cality of the world, Sholl makes poetry into an extension
of thought. The blues in the park open to memories of
love, and an unquenchable fire for love - "screaming
love me, love me, till everyone ran." But she doesn't stop
there.
Instead of being purely anecdotal, or purely abstract, the
poetic elements are woven together. The fire inside
becomes a trope that threads the memories: The need for
love is a monster, a house burning consumes all the mem-
ories, yet Sholl always returns to the location of the
moment, in apark, listening to a blues singer.
"A little fire here - could that spare us later, so when
the light finally does become liquid and pours over us, we
won't be all chaff and dross, turning away from its bright-
ness?" This line is firmly entrenched within the texture of
memory and location that Sholl creates, and yet her power
to use abstract metaphors never makes these poems insu-
lar or exclusionary. "Don't Explain" presents itself as bits
of flesh that are autonomous in their own respect yet with

a power to reach outwards.
In part, this accessibility is created by the stories,
spliced with images and re-coagulated and by the subtlety
in their telling. In "Style" the character isn't simply "Billy
the gay teen." Instead, Sholl works with the trope of style
to both flesh out and move beyond Billy: Pride and
courage in a high school hall (in part, a boy refusing to
stiffen his wrists); the cycle of domestic violence; and in
an off-angle, herself in liking the non-urgent kisses.
Billy is complicated in a way that is realistic. Sholl does
this by evoking particular scenes: "I still remember our
visit to that couple...teenagers with two babies, four par-
ents giving them a week at the shore for passing their
GEDs ... "Wouldn't you give anything," you asked later,
"for that?"
Though the voice and author
often appear to be one, the poet's
presence is never overbearing or
Betsy egocentric. Her presence transmits
Shull the image and makes it real without
telling too much and, perhaps,
Shaman Drum reveals more general truths in their
Tonight at 8 specificity.
Sholl uses the norm to extend to
the abstract, like starting a poem
with something that we've all done,
"Of course, the gorgeous guy is
really greeting the gorgeous woman
behind you, and now you're some
kind of alien from a hot red-faced
planet." It's this familiarity and
foundation in the "everyday" that she moves through
unexpectedly, to jump into how embarrassment really
makes the world go round.
But the great thing about these poems is their depth
goes beyond one reading. For all of her clarity in line and
verse, there's an understated complexity.
Part of these poems' power is to use images that lead
somewhere totally unexpected - like loose keys. In
focusing on a commonplace object, Sholl moves to a very
20th-century cry: "And ask how we got so full of our-
selves, what it would take for something to reach
down...into the switch box of our brains and shut off this
incessant furnace-rumble of Self." Yet what truly lifts
these poems are the flashes of description like "Butterflies
- those sailboats of the insect world" that then move the
reader to somewhere totally unexpected.


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Teamwor d
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