612 Sauna Society

As stated in the byline of this blog, I am not a native Minnesotan. I grew up in equal parts in Arkansas and Missouri, the former not being known for snow, and the latter not being known for snow that sticks around longer than a week. I don't consider myself to be a hearty winter-lover.  I'm a winter survivor. A muddle-througher. I feel like the 612 Sauna Society was made as much for me as it was for you crazy Minnesotan folks who like to jump in hot tubs and then roll in snow banks (*eye roll*). 

As its name suggests, the society is all about bringing saunas to the people and celebrating the lifestyle of sauna enthusiasts (which I did not know was a thing). It's a fun conglomerate of folks who love saunas, specifically saunas in the dead of winter. Recently the society teamed up with Little Box Sauna to bring their tiny box saunas to areas around town.  Selling tickets for $16 for 90 minutes, the sauna has just enough room for 8-10 people. 90 minutes is plenty of time, too. The sauna is split into two parts, a small changing area with curtains for privacy, and the sauna itself. My friend and I tended to stay in the sauna in 20 minute increments, taking a breather every once in awhile to cool off.  With the temps outside on a nose dive, it felt wonderful to really bake for awhile.  As the sauna was parked right by Blackbird Cafe, we trotted over there for their beer + burger night after toasting our insides thoroughly.  I slept like the dead.

Reservations are available here through Jan 17th, but hopefully the Little Box Sauna will pop up elsewhere soon.  It would be a fun thing to organize for an event, too.

Picture taken from the 612 Sauna Society webpage.

A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder

The State Theatre is my favorite venue on the downtown strip of Hennepin, all fancy curtains and ornate woodwork. And it is the perfect setting for the fancy, albeit bloody, shenanigans of Monty D. Navarro in A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder. I'd heard a bit of the music from this musical as I can never refrain from exploring the Tony-winning stuff, but I'd never seen the show.  I brought my kid sister and we thoroughly enjoyed this quick, witty, murderous comedy.

The cast is fantastic. Led by our hero (can we call him that if he likes to kill people?), Kevin Massey as Monty Navarro, and joined by a stunning John Rapson, who plays eight characters, sometimes in miraculous succession, the voices rounding out this show deliver hilarious asides with the same punch as a soaring solo. The ladies don't slouch either, as Kristen Beth Williams and Adrienne Eller, as Sibella and Phoebe respectively, inspire just as many laughs and rounds of applause as the leading men. I was struck by how quickly the 2 hours and 20 minutes (including intermission) sped by, never a dull pause. 

Murder is in the title, and it's central to the plot, but this isn't a remotely scary show so don't worry about bringing kiddos or fraidy cats. The house was packed last night for the opening, so I wouldn't waste time in grabbing tickets.  Showing at the State Theatre through January 10th, don't forget to check out the discounts for teachers, students, and military. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Equus

From the first chant to the final blackout, every beat of Equus pulses with a raw, prickling intensity. Expertly cast, and performed at a clip that leaves you wondering where the 3 hours went, this powerful take on pain, religion, and sanity demands attention. 

For those that don't know the story, Equus centers around a heartbreaking crime, the blinding of six horses, by the local stable hire. Brought to see Dr. Dysart  by the local authority in hopes that the good doctor can help him, the troubled teenager, Alan Strang, powerfully played by Kevin Fanshaw, sulks, stares, and sings his way through the initial meetings. Over time, as trust between patient and doctor grows, we learn more and more about Alan's past and his home life, marching us closer to the answer as to why a boy who so revered horses would attack them with such malice. 

In parallel to Alan's revelations, we learn of Dr. Dysart's increasing malaise towards his role. Burdened by the thought that in "curing" Alan he will essentially rob him of his purest joys, Dysart struggles to reconcile the job he's meant to do and the passion he begrudgingly envies in Alan. As the boy's story of lust and worship builds to a crescendo, Dysart's fascination with his beloved Greek antiquities begins to pale and crack in comparison. Dysart is played with astonishing skill by Charles Numrich, who deftly embodies a man empowered with both the ability to remove his patient's greatest source of pain and the knowledge that gifting Alan with "normalcy" will leave his life lacking. Frequently referring to the sacredness of Alan's pain, the sacredness of each person's pain, we begin to question whether the doctor's years of treating the most damaged of children has sparked in him a near worship of the damage. 

A bare stage is the perfect setting for exploring Alan's mother's near-lustful religiosity and his father's atheism, the foundation of Alan's trauma. Pale, tempered wood, not dissimilar from what you would find in a stable, houses every scene. Just as Alan's world is consumed by the horses, the audience experiences his fragility and passion in the context of a barn. Made famous for its nudity, this production reaches its climax when Alan and his almost-lover, Jill, strip in the stable, and Alan's reverence for his horse god causes a mental and emotional break that culminates in his crime. The choreography of that crime and the use of light to focus on that violence are expertly done, reinforcing at the play's near end that this is not a simple, impassioned moment of weakness, but a visceral, soul-tearing act of violence that shatters a boy and his already fragile family. 

This is a brilliantly done piece of work, and a thrilling introduction for me to the Theatre Coup d'Etat company. Make the time to experience this play and support this group of artists.  Playing November 6-23, Friday-Monday at 7:30. The small theater was packed for our viewing, so reserve your tickets early. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Minnesota Opera: Ariadne auf Naxos

Opera is frequently an exercise in hyperbole. The grand sweep from one emotion to another, the tragedy of love lost, the joy of love reborn, it can all become a bit exhausting and disjointed from reality. The best operas that I've seen have done one of two things, they've used that melodrama to heighten the purest of our emotions, or they've flipped the melodrama on itself, highlighting the common understanding that while not all emotions explode with operatic passion, we can all relate to the very human tendency to exaggerate, well, everything.  Ariadne does the latter. The opera itself, the play within a play, teases the audience with the ridiculousness of its self-importance, allowing for an overzealous composer and a haughty (with a voice to say, "and I deserve to be haughty") diva to provide numerous laughs at the expense of The Opera. 

I didn't expect to giggle as much as I did, which is to say, I don't think I expected to giggle at all at an opera. But the comedy of self-aggrandizing  and forced humility never gets old, we all love to see a diva teased. Running a fast-paced 2 hours and 40 minutes (including one intermission), Ariadne manages to surprise us not only with commedia dell arte silliness and routine snark directed at opera's superiority complex, but with a warmth that makes the teasing feel less cruel, and more the type of ribbing a sibling gives another. 

Commedia: Hey Opera, get over yourself. Life isn't THAT serious. Lighten up!

Opera: Hmph. 

Commedia: Cry a little, fine. But let's crack a smile occasionally.

Opera: Hmph. (Opera cracks a very tiny smile.)

Commedia: (winky face)

The vocal talent, as always, is astonishing.  Ariadne and her comedic foil, Zerbinetta, are equals in inhabiting a character with the voice it needs.  Ariadne's deep, creamy, powerhouse of tone expertly underscores the depth of Ariadne's importance onstage and off. She's a star, her voice the perfect showcase for why opera demands applause, and more applause, and more applause, please. Where Ariadne exudes depth and gravitas, Zerbinetta lightens the mood with wit and a shimmering soprano that seems capable of brightening the darkest rafters. Deepening the connection between these two characters, Zerbinetta is the one who highlights how much her comedic persona shares with the tragic Ariadne.  Just as Ariadne is trapped and heartbroken on her deserted island, so Zerbinetta finds herself frequently isolated and confused in a throng of suitors. The physical facts matter little, the heartache in each voice can sound strikingly similar. And therein lies the sisterhood of two warring forms of art.  

Ariadne auf Naxos is sung in German with English subtitles and, due to its easily understood plot, fast pace, and comedic lift, would be an excellent first opera for anyone on the fence as to whether the art form strikes their fancy. It's a beautiful, emotional, frequently funny less-than-3-hours of entertainment, and it would be a shame to miss out on these artistic fireworks (winky face).

Ariadne is showing at the Ordway 1st, 3rd, and 4th.  Get your tickets at www.mnopera.org. And follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite. 

Throwback BNW: Junk From Our Trunk

Having seen several of Brave New Workshop's shows over the last year or so, I was excited to experience some throwback hilarity. There were definitely several scenes I'd never seen before, and the ones I'd seen before were true gems. 

While I laughed often and still believe BNW is one of the best bets for local entertainment, I was hoping for more "throwback" in the Throwback show, more snippets I hadn't seen before. That said, a couple scenes I could watch every night and still crack up (Edina Innuendo, looking at you). If you haven't been to BNW before or it has been awhile (and your sensitivity to offense is low), you'll love this show. 

Stage Kiss

The play within a play is a classic trope. There's no quicker way to shine a spotlight on both an audience's expectations and the complication of Actors as Actual People. Sarah Ruhl's Stage Kiss, playing through August at the Guthrie, takes that theatrical construct and expertly uses it to highlight the worlds we build inside our heads, the relationships we paint in rose-colored tints.

He and She are once-lovers who stumble upon one another years later as costars in a decidedly awful play. The clumsy dialogue allows for 200+ stage kisses, each one opening teenage wounds and reawakening teenage desires. They find themselves falling in love again, "for a time," ignoring the concerns that drove them apart in favor of the thrill of rekindled romance.  The complication of a current husband, a current Nice Iowa Girlfriend, and the realization that they are still the same people that fell out of love years before, only slowly begin to unravel the daydream.

Peppered with laughter throughout, Ruhl showcases the self-consciousness of acting as much as the intense feelings tied to that first true love. From her first entry onstage, Stacia Rice's She bumbles and questions and worries over every word that slips from her mouth, every gesture, every direction. Losing that self-conscious patter only in her most relaxed moments with her lover and, eventually, her husband, She shines a light on that desperate search for a companion who lets you sink into yourself. As her love affair with He unravels and she finds herself craving the comfort of home and Husband, the lovers find themselves within another too-bad-to-be-real play. The stage once again provides the perfect environment for over-analysis and over-exposure of what was, really, a mistake.

Equal parts hilarious and touching, Ruhl's characters are expertly performed by a small but superb cast. Ruhl's hiccups of fantasy, plays on lighting and emotion, are brought to life by lovely staging and lighting, not an easy task considering the fluidity of reality and theatricality throughout the show.  A quick-paced show that feels shorter than its two hours (plus intermission), this is well worth braving the construction downtown.

Stage Kiss plays on the McGuire Proscenium at the Guthrie through August 30th. Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite.

Revival

As most are aware, I'm not a native Minnesotan. While I lost the majority of my accent years ago (give or take a few Southernisms that won't die), my soft spot for Southern cooking has only deepened this far North of my birth state of Arkansas. Both sides of my family are Southern-based, Arkansas and Texas firmly represented on my Mother's side, and Tennessee and the Carolinas gracing my Dad's.

We weren't a fried chicken family. I didn't grow up with Sunday suppers of the bird. But I've been eating pimento cheese since childhood and I've eaten hoppin' john nearly every New Years Day of my life for good luck. A jar of chow chow is bought as soon as we land in Tennessee, and I even made a bastardized version of it this winter when my Uncle Buck visited and requested the condiment (no, Uncle Buck, they do not have chow chow in Minnesota).

All this to be said, I've been waiting for the Revival opening with equal parts excitement and anxiety. My attachment to the sides is more acute than to the main attraction, Everybody loves fried chicken. And everybody has expectations when they eat fried chicken. But only a Southerner has expectations (a lifetime of dipping tortilla chips into Ruth's pimento cheese) when it comes to the sides.

The pimento cheese and meat plate is a sizable sharing portion for $13. We could have easily shared it with a table of 4, instead I was thrilled to bring home a serving or two, which I will not share with anyone. My night was made when I saw the small heap of chow chow beside the pickles. A sweet, vinegary condiment of shredded cabbage and celery seed (or maybe it was caraway seed in this version?), a bit of that bite perfectly pairs with the rich, creamy goodness of classic pimento cheese.  And the pimento cheese. Y'all, there's nothing fancified about this pile of glorious goop. I was worried that the Revival version would pale in comparison to my own recipe. But honestly, I believe I have to admit defeat on this one. I could have happily made a meal of the cheese and chow chow, and I'm sure at some point, I probably will. Pimento cheese is rich and needs a bit of tang, so the pickles and chow chow and a dash of pepper vinegar made for many perfect bites. The andouille addition was nice for snacking, but the pimento cheese is the star. The meat felt a bit superfluous, but maybe I have friends who love andouille and want to focus on that, leaving the pimento cheese to me. That could be the basis for a great friendship.

Revival offers three fried chicken varieties, classic Southern, Tennessee Hot, and gluten free, along with several traditional Southern dishes. The low country chicken bog with clams and sausage would have called to me on a wintery night, I'm sure. I always pick whatever is labeled as spicy, so the Tennessee Hot fried chicken was my choice. Offering a welcome kick to crunchy, perfectly moist  chicken, it'll be tough for me to ever order anything other than that gem. Along with the chicken, I ordered sides of collards and hoppin john.  Both of the sides were great, with a slight edge given to the collards because the combination of collards and the delicious Revival hot sauce was simply delicious. We split an order of perfect biscuits, all fluff and butter, with a tin of sorghum butter to further gild the lily. The sides run $4-$6 and the 2 piece chicken is only $7.50.  Split a 1/2 bird (five pieces) for only $15.  I'd be tempted to get a half bird, or even a full, next time, for the sake of leftovers.

The Revival space, housed in the former Corner Table home, is bright and unfussy. Despite recent Twitter stories of a line out the door, we arrived at 6 pm on Tuesday and were able to sit immediately. It was a packed, lively space, but not too noisy to still have a conversation. With that kind of crowd on a week night, I'm sure a table on a weekend evening requires a longer wait (no reservations, and they insist on a full party before seating guests). But if you're hoping to pop in and experience this delicious new addition, a weeknight would be an easy bet, especially if you're comfy eating at the bar.

As a frequent visitor to Corner Table, I had high hopes and expectations attached to Revival. I'm thrilled to know that every bite of this place is a gift to we Southern transplants.