St. Louis Eats and Drinks With Joe and Ann Pollack

Evita

Only two nights remain to see the New Line production of ":Evita," at the old CBC on Clayton Road, and it's worth trying to get there. Every performance for the last week has been sold out, so it may not be easy, but I highly recommend it.

With John Sparger a wonderful, sardonic, sarcastic Che and Taylor Pietz a more-than-tyrannical Evita, this is a splendid production, and Scott Miller's direction is spot-on. Miller has made a couple of minor changes, moving a few songs here and there. His ideas work well most of the time, and his casting eye and ear have put together an exciting chorus that never falters. Terrie Carolan also stands out as Juan Peron's mistress, succeeded by Eva Duarte, who pushed and prodded and poked, and eventually married the dictator. Carolan, Pietz and Sparger stand tall in "Another Suitcase in Another Hall," a song-story of a succession of mistresses, a string that ended with Evita. Pietz' voice was usually strong, but tended to get harsh in the upper register.

Robin Michelle Berger's choreography was splendid; she adapted some of the close-order march steps from the original to the sequence we see in the first act, and it works like a charm around "The Art of the Possible" and "Peron's Latest Flame."

"Evita" may be the best collaboration of Andrew Lloyd Webber (music) and Tim Rice (lyrics) , and the pair wrote splendid songs for Che, as solos or as duets with Evita where he is a brilliant counterpoint and response to Evita in songs like "Oh, What a Circus," "Goodnight and Thank You," with a strong and salacious edge, "High Flying Adored" and "The Rainbow Tour."

The chorus is rich and powerful. Pietz, in a half-dozen different gowns along the way, works hard, but I thought Sparger's lounge-lizard approach to the role of Che, a counterweight to Pietz' Evita and as a realistic response to her pie-in-the-sky political platitudes dominated.

Schaefer's set, Thom Crain's costumes and Kenneth Zinkl gave "Evita" a smooth and polished look, a strong contrast with the edgy score. The story of power, and its corruptive qualities, is as strong as it ever was.

Tonight and tomorrow at the Washington University South Campus Theatre, once known as CBC High School on Clayton Road.

-Joe

Countdown to Zero

The horrors of a nuclear Holocaust, a ticking warning in the back of almost everyone's mind, are ever-present, perhaps ever-closer whenever a terrorist, or a rogue state, or someone less fair and balanced than even Fox news, discusses the possibility of an atomioc bomb getting loose. Lucy Walker's excellent documentary, "Countdown to Zero," is just the latest.

Circling around President John F. Kennedy's 1961 speech in which he spoke of the nuclear sword of Damocles that hangs over everyone, and pointed out how the horror could be unleashed by "accident, miscalculation or madness," Walker lets many people speak, from New Year's Eve celebrants in Times Square to tourists in Trafalgar Square. We also hear from Valerie Plame Wilson, the CIA agent outed in a piece of petty revenge by Dick Cheney. Robert Oppenheimer, the key developer of the weapon, remembers the early days, and politicians, scientists and others ranging from Blair (Tony) to Brzezinski (Zbigniew) chime in with their warnings.

We are reminded of how close Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev came to total disarmament, blocked at the last minute by "Star Wars," and how close we came to World War III when a flock of geese set off alarms in Russia and Yeltsin ("Thankfully, he was sober," says a commentator) refused to act until he had more information.

The story is lightened a bit with clips from "Dr. Strangelove, or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb," but views of Hiroshima, and of non-nuclear terrorist attacks in various spots throughout the world, are enough to create a climate of fear. There are some 23,000 nuclear bombs in existence, easily sufficient to create almost enough damage, and fissionable material like plutonium or uranium is extremely easy to smuggle.

"Just put it in a truck full of kitty litter," says one expert. "No one will find it."

Until it's too late.

Opens today at the Tivoli

-Joe

Great Directors

Like almost all documentaries, the success of "Great Directors" depends on how interested one is in the subject matter, and since this one involves movies, I liked it. Angela Ismailos' film includes 10 interviews with some of her favorites, people like Bernardo Bertolucci, Catherine Breillat, Liliana Cavani, Stephen Frears, Todd Haynes, Richard Linklater, Ken Loach, David Lynch, John Sayles and Agnes Varda.

Ismailos, who manages to squeeze her attractive, blonde self into every interview, is a fan, and her questions reflect it. Few are truly penetrating, but they are good enough to allow the filmmakers time to explain why they do what they're doing and to tell pleasantly illustrative stories about their careers.

Sayles, who is one of my favorites, explains that he writes many commercial, big-studio screenplays to earn the money to make the films he wants to write and to make, and he excoriates Hollywood's film, "The Patriot," while sadly coming to the conclusion that "everything is political" about Hollywood movies.

Bertolucci talks about the influence of Pier Paolo Pasolini, and discusses Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider after a clip of them in the famous buttery sex scene from "Last Tango in Paris," a moment Pasolini would have loved. Linklater discusses his admiration for Rainer Fassbinder, and Breillat tells the story of her first film, made when she was 16. French courts ruled that no one under 17 could see the movie, and Breillat laughs as she talks about not being allowed to see her own movie.

Loach and Frears talk about making films in the Margaret Thatcher days, and Frears relates tales of working with great English actresses like Helen Mirren and Judi Dench. Lynch discusses "Blue Velvet" and "Eraserhead," and there are a lot of good--if too brief--clips from each director's most memorable movies.

It's too easy to quibble about which directors Ismailos chose to interview, or which clips to use, but it's her film, so she gets to make her own decisions. Good entertainment for movie fans of all ages.

Opens today at the Tivoli

-Joe

King Doh

King Doh has been around for 31 years in its Warson Woods space, which makes it one of the longer-running Chinese restaurants in the community. It proudly displays a large handful of reviews, including a couple of very old ones from a former Post-Dispatch critic. Only a few people read them, we'd guess, but we did, curious to see how the place has aged, and we're happy to report that it seems to have aged well.

The interior, with dark wood, walls painted a pale mauve and three fish tanks whose occupants are decorative rather than functional, has been updated, and so, of course, have the prices. But the menu doesn't seem to have changed much. This is the Chinese food that most St. Louisans grew up with, and sometimes that's just exactly what one craves. But King Doh's kitchen has not settled into the sort of boring, second-rate routine that so often occurs at a certain age. In addition, King Doh has a sense of dining-out style. Over the years, we've chided restaurants,mostly Asian, for setting the table with only one fork, forcing servers to take the fork from the used plate and put it back on the tablecloth. King Doh is a two-fork restaurant.

A busy evening of carryout business meant that on one visit, we waited a looong time for our potstickers when the kitchen was suddenly slammed. Servers flew by. Ours quickly explained the delay, and we nibbled at some sesame noodles, trying to pace ourselves for the rest of the meal. They were good, a little sweeter than we're accustomed to, the sesame notes clearly from oil rather than peanut butter, since they didn't have the tendency to remain glued together, and it was hard not to make a meal of them. When the potstickers arrived, the server drizzled a little vinegar and a little soy sauce over them, and left the containers on the table in case we wanted more. The dumplings were outstanding, tender-skinned and with a meaty filling that was firm but not gelatinous. The bottoms were elegantly crisp and the whole dish was clearly fresh from the pot. A first-rate dumpling, to be sure, one we can enthusiastically recommend, and one that, in violation of our usual habit, we ordered on our next visit to enjoy again. (That's a double order in the picture; they're six to an order.)

Hot and sour soup, served in individual bowls rather than the family-size basins, was tart and pungent. And in honor of the retro feel of things, we ordered something we haven't had in years, shrimp toast. Shrimp toast involves squares or triangles of bread spread with chopped, seasoned shrimp held together with some egg and then deep fried. Yes, sure, dietarily shocking, but done right, it's so good, crunchy and shrimp-y. King Doh's version had some of the shrimp left in chunks, and that made it even more charming.

Several proteins are offered “yu shian” which shows a spicy sauce packed with ginger and carrying a little heat, along with water chestnuts, bamboo shoots and mushrooms, plus a few other vegetables. We chose scallops, which were properly cooked, if looking a little ragged, but it was generally a big-flavor dish. Beef with black mushrooms showed off tender lean meat whose beefiness bounced around with the mushrooms and was all the better for it.

Green beans with very slender strips of pork (or as the old critic crowed, “Pork 'n beans!”), arrived with the beans slightly blackened from the heat of the stir-fry in the wok, quite traditional, and with such a generous amount of pork that it should have been listed in the pork section of the menu rather than the one for vegetables. Peking lamb? That was a new one to us. Plenty of garlic and green onions reminded us of what Mongolian beef used to be when it was a new dish in town. (And on our next visit, we'll order Mongolian beef and garlic chicken to return to those glorious days of yesteryear,) And the “special” moo shu contained chicken, shrimp, beef and pork, along with the vegetables. Four Chinese pancakes (much like crepes, for those not familiar) and the hoisin sauce arrived on a cart with the meat and vegetables, and our server wrapped large burrito-esque packets for us. The extra filling and the hoisin sauce remained after the cart and the pancake plate returned to the kitchen. Like the rest of the meal, the freshness and the temperature of the dish, despite the time needed for the tableside preparation, impressed considerably.

Aside from the long wait for the potstickers on the earlier visit, dishes seem to emerge from the kitchen quickly. Diners, both those picking up dinner to take home and those in family groups, indicated many regulars, a good sign in the dining room. Our server had enough English to manage and a cheerful demeanor that made for a pleasant visit.

Very good American-Chinese comfort food, that's what King Doh serves, and well, too.

King Doh

10045 Manchester Rd., Warson Woods

314-821-6988

www.kingdoh.com 

Lunch Tues.-Fri., Dinner Tues.-Sun

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $7-$16

I-70 Eats: Richmond, IN

Returning home from a driving trip East, we stopped for lunch in Richmond, IN, just this side of the Ohio line. On the ground floor of a rehabbed factory, brick walls showing the patina of age, Ghyslain Maurais, a Quebecois chef who married an Indiana girl, is serving lunch (and dinner Friday and Saturday) and selling exquisite pastries and chocolates in a sparkling, tasteful, tasty operation under the eponymous name, Ghyslain.

While lunch was very good, especially a tender quiche lorraine with a fine crust and first-class French bread served with small cubes of sweet butter and a salt dish with fleur de sel, Hawaiian red salt and black lava salt, it was the desserts that sent us off reeling.

Sorbet and gelato, made in house, came in flavors like a creamy and powerful rum raisin, a delicate pineapple gelato, one of the richest coconut sorbets we've enjoyed, and a mango sorbet so dense it was almost chewy. All terrific.

And then there were the pastries. Gorgeous. Makes one remember why the French chef Careme considered architecture one of the fine arts, its main branch being pastry. And good? We're here to tell you, yes, indeedy. A tall, square chocolate caramel cup involved layers of very moist chocolate cake, ganache, mousse, and buttery caramel, the whole thing looking almost like inlaid stone under a striped chocolate top. It was one of the most intensely chocolate desserts we've had in a long time, a great melange of textures and flavors, and far from the oversweetness that detracts from good chocolate.

 The Soleil Levant, however, nudged past its striped cousin to take our grand prize. The glowing yellow dome rises over the edge of the tart's crust; when viewed in profile (minus the chocolate garnish), it does look like the rising sun--thus its name. The tender tart shell holds a layer of yuzu custard, yuzu being the chic and wonderfully tart citrus from Japan. The custard's texture was perfect, neither runny nor rubbery. Atop that was a dome of mango mousse, which was covered lightly with a yuzu glaze. Chocolate ornaments add a bit of contrast.The mango and yuzu worked perfectly together, a marvelous treat for those of us who love tart desserts. One of the patissiers told us they'd made a thousand of them for a party at the Kentucky Derby in May. . Lucky guests.  

Lots of folks having lunch here, but our favorites were three elderly women, their white lawn caps almost invisible over their white hair, quietly chatting away over coffee from a French press (which the house serves with a timer, so one knows when to push down the press), and admiring the goodies in the cases before they moved on, the tallest one with a long stride that made one think of a school principal patrolling the halls. Ghyslain also has two other locations, another bistro in Zionsville, IN, and their plant, with a dessert cafe, in Union City, IN. More details on the website, including possibilities for tours.

To find Ghyslain, leave I-70 at Exit 151, and go south about 2 1 /2 miles on US 27. The highway goes over an overpass; within inches of its southern end, turn left on North D Street. The building will be directly ahead, with lots of parking. The name of the restaurant is painted clearly on it, along with those of a few other tenants. As the Miuchelin Guide might say, "Worth a detour."

Ghyslain Bistro

416 N. 10^th St. at N. D St., Richmond, IN

765-966-3344

www.ghyslain.com 

Lunch Tues.-Sat, Dinner Fri.-Sat

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Entrees (lunch): $6-$12

Fela!

There's as much drama as dance, as much pain as pleasure, in "Fela!" the strong, flashy, throbbing musical directed and choreographed brilliantly and with his usual flowing imagination and imagery by Bill T. Jones. I saw it in New York recently, and can highly recommend it to St. Louisans planning vacations.

The rhythmic, pulsating Afrobeat music of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, whose life is celebrated here, is brought to exciting, sensual immediacy by Jones, who directed and choreographed, recently winning a Tony for the latter. The composer, who became a Nigerian legend in the 1970s, was as much a political figure as a theatrical one, and his story is set in 1978, on the last night before the government closed his club, the Shrine, and sent him into exile. He died in 1997 at the age of 59.

Anikulapo-Kuti also is paying tribute to his mother, who was thrown from a second-story window by government soldiers some six months before the play begins and died of the resulting injuries.

The music is exciting, with a heavy, throbbing bass line, and is a blend of American jazz, blues and hip-hop with the traditional African rhythms. In his choreography, Jones emphasizes both the sensual and the sexual aspects of the music, and the dancers offer tribute to old-fashioned bumps and grinds. Rolling hips and powerful pelvic thrusts are almost a constant, and the dancers are spectacular.

Kevin Mambo and Sahr Ngaujah alternate in the title role, a demanding one because the actor is onstage almost constantly, singing, dancing, playing a variety of instruments and always in an angry leadership position. We saw Mambo, who held the audience as if it were a lover, a friend, a supplicant. It's brilliant work. The great Lillias White, a classic singer who was part of the original cast of "Dreamgirls," portrays his mother, Funmilayo Anikulapo-Kuti, as a ghost and as a live person, and she pounds out her songs with passion. Elasea Douglas is brilliant as one of Fela's wives (he had a dozen or so), Ismael Kouyate is an amazing chanter and Gelan Lambert is a show-stopper as a tap-dancer who spreads electricity throughout the theater.

Given Jones' theater history, "Fela!" is as much dance concert as it is theatrical piece, maybe more, but the dance is passionate and immediate, and the performances are thrilling. The dancers often break off into what can be compared to jazz musicians' riffs. The technical work is brilliant. Marina Draghici designed the colorful scenery that covers the theater's walls with portraits, political banners and much visual evidence of a country in turmoil; she also designed the costumes, and won a Tony for them. Robert Kaplowitz' sound design also was honored with a Tony, while Robert Wierzel designed lights and Peter Nigrini the projections that heightened tension and beauty.

Exciting theater in every respect.

-Joe

I-70 Eats: Columbus, OH

Driving east from St. Louis on I-70, Columbus, Ohio, makes a mid-afternoon stop for us, or an overnight if we're running late. But we recently found a reason to violate all rules of sensible eating at Jeni's, a short, easy detour from the interstate and a place we won't pass up ever again.

Ice cream for supper isn't something for every day, of course, but Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams is far different from most. Located in the Short North Art District on North High Street, a neighborhood that feels like the Central West End, it offers about 15 seats, a mural outside and a plethora of intriguing options.

There are a couple of traditional choices for the timid, yes, but we consider ourselves extremely adventurous when it comes to ice cream flavors. Mom always told us not to stare, but the display cases of a variety of flavors are irresistible, and then we are reminded that it's rude to ask for a taste of every single one. But consider the pistachio honey, the first ice cream we've had that actually tastes like pistachio nuts. Another delight showed off local goat cheese and red cherries, dense, both tangy and tart, almost like eating cheesecake. This is why the photo shows ice cream that's obviously been dug into; we were so taken with our tastes that we forgot to shoot first.

A seasonal flavor was sweet corn with black raspberries, one of those combinations that sound odd but taste great. Salty caramel--carried by Dean and DeLuca in New York--was extraordinary, its texture softer because of the salt, the caramel note strong and seductive. Queen

City Chocolate, named for Columbus' downstate rival, Cincinnati, showed dark chocolate and a slow-growing heat from cayenne pepper. Another spicy option, more complex, was Bangkok Peanut that combined peanut butter, coconut, and some complex spicing that danced on the tongue.

Jeni's has a total of five stores now, but this seems to be the easiest to find. There's a High Street exit from I-70 in downtown Columbus; just follow it north. To return, head back down High Street and look for signs. You'll be grinning happily as you go.

Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams

714 North High Street, Columbus, Ohio

614-294-5364

www.jenisicecreams.com

Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

 

Promises, Promises

 For all its glitter and brightness, for all its Neil Simon one-liners and the talent exploding on the stage of the Robert G. Reim Theatre, there's an underlying bitterness and sadness to "Promises, Promises," the Stages St. Louis production that will run through Aug. 15.

Ben Nordstrom inhabits the body and mind of Chuck Baxter like a hand in a glove; Brandi Wooten simply sweeps everyone off the stage (including Nordstrom and that's not nearly as easy as she is) as the drunken floozy Marge MacDougall.

And yet. . . .

First staged in 1968, the musical celebrates men lying to, cheating on and stealing from women. It makes heroes of middle-aged married men, corporate executives, whose primary joy comes from afternoon liaisons with younger women who participate because their jobs are at stake. Without exception, the women of "Promises, Promises" are in a position which is primarily prone.

The play, which earned the late Jerry Orbach a Tony for creating the stage version of Chuck Baxter, began as a 1960 movie, "The Apartment," written by I.A.L. Diamond and Billy Wilder, directed by Wilder, starring Jack Lemmon and winning five Academy Awards. As the movie title indicates, it's about a young, ambitious, ruthless man who could have served as a model for J. Pierrepont Finch of "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying," which arrived a couple of years later. In an attempt to compile brownie points, Baxter was willing to let his co-workers use his apartment for their assignations and soon had a schedule as routinized as the New York Central commuter lines.

Meanwhile, he was mooning over Fran Kubelik (Tari Kelly) but stumbling over his own feet when it came time to make a move. They both liked basketball, but that's not much of a cornerstone for a relationship. Besides, she had plans of her own. Professionally, she was happy to be the hostess in the executive dining room. Simon, despite his genius at comedy, did not have many great, serious roles for women, or show women in positions of strength. His women were mostly Jewish mothers, subjects of many jokes, or they were the Pigeon Sisters ("The Odd Couple"), or they were dime-a-dance girls like Charity Faith Hope Valentine ("Sweet Charity").

In the Stages production, Nordstrom's Baxter is so good it's almost eerie. His youthful, ingenuous looks are perfect, his command of facial expressions amazing. He dances well, clowns beautifully, sings satisfactorily, commands complete attention when he breaks the fourth wall and talks directly to audience members. His comic scene with Wooten is simply glorious, with flawless timing and brilliant playing off one another. She's striking, brought down the house with a perfectly delivered, "It's owl!" and created a superbly funny character.

Tari Kelly, as Fran Kubelik, was good, but lacked the excitement she should bring to the role. Richard Pruitt excelled as the doctor who lived next door and started slowly, but later, he delivered the crackling Simon one-liners with the same sharpness the writer showed so well. Michael Halling, tall and dapper, was an elegant heel as J. D. Sheldrake, Baxter's boss and partner in seduction. Kari Ely sparkled as Peggy Olson, Sheldrake's secretary, and the four apartment-using executives, John Flack, Edward Juvier, David Schmittou and Darrel Blackburn were a delight as they panicked, harmonized, showed their desperation, and did a little of the old soft shoe.

The Burt Bacharach (music) and Hal David (lyrics) score, the only major show score they ever wrote, includes "I'll Never Fall in Love Again" and the title song, both long-timers on the Top 40 charts. But it isn't exceptional, even though David manages to rhyme "I'll phone ya" with "pneumonia."

Matthew McCarthy's lighting design, with movable panels, went through a range of color and brightness that brought lovely support to an okay set. Dana Lewis' choreography and Michael Hamilton's direction were imaginative and disciplined, creating one of the best productions of Stages' 20 seasons.

Promises, Promises, a Stages St. Louis production at the Robert G. Reim Theatre through Aug. 15

--Joe

No More Salad at Penn Station?

As America--and food writers--continue to wrestle with the problem of obesity, another restaurant chain has done its bit to make things worse. Penn Station, which serves an acceptable cheesesteak sandwich, along with many variations on the sub/grinder theme, has stopped offering salads (and wraps, too). Removed from their menu boards, removed from their website.

It was crazy. The chain, in case you've not visited, offered to take its sandwich fillings and put them atop a field of lettuce instead of bread. Lighter on the stomach, lighter on the calories, lighter on the carbs. It's not like they don't have lettuce on hand.

We left the outlet, muttering.

A day later, we e-mailed the company and asked what was going on. This is the reply, which, by the way, came very quickly, a nice touch in these days of unreturned phone calls and ignored e-mails:

Thanks for the email. Unfortunately, salads were not a big seller for Penn Station,

and we had no choice (we were only selling between 1-3 per day per store, system

 wide) but to remove them. We know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but it's the 'why'. 

 

MORE IMPORTANTLY, as a side note, the store(s) can still serve you a salad in a 

kid's boat (as opposed to the bowl). It is basically the same as before (and 

actually costs slightly less). We just don't promote such. Did they not offer 

this as an alternative when you ordered? The restaurant should have if you 

did indeed ask. Which location did you visit?

 

We hope this helps!

 

And, no, the substitution was not offered, but we're reluctant to disclose the location. We're not about to blow the whistle on the pleasant and apologetic server who makes a peasant's wage for telling crabby adults he can't give them what they hunger for.

So there's the answer. We hope this helps others who crave the tasty cheesesteak, a dish far easier to order with the rationale that it's far less dangerous without the bread.

Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky

I cannot recall ever seeing a movie more strikingly beautiful than "Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky," a fictionalized account of a love affair between the composer and the designer in the 1920s, when the world was recovering from "the war to end all wars." Marie-Helene Sulmoni is credited as production designer, and her work is amazing. She deserves high paise from taking this out of the ordinary, and so do all the technicians who worked with her.

Director Jan Kounen, along with screenplay collaborators Chris Greenhalgh, who wrote the novel based on this footnote (bednote?) to history, and Carlo de Boutiny, obviously knew how fragile the story was, so they provided a highly dramatic, beautifully staged opening scene. It's a warm May 29, 1913, and all of Paris society, in the most fashionable of gowns, arriving in glorious, if noisy, automobiles, is at the Theatre des Champs-Elysees for the world premiere of the ballet to Stravinsky's "Le Sacre du Printemps," ("The Rite of Spring") presented by Sergei Diaghilev, with choreography by Vaslav Nijinsky.

Chanel (Anna Mouglalis) is there, of course, though she is mourning her lover, Arthur (Boy) Capel, recently killed in an auto accident. Their eyes meet on occasion as Stravinsky (Mat Mikkelsen) conducts, but his raucous, atonal music, and the primitive style of the choreography, and maybe the heat, too, soon has the audience stirred up. After catcalls, answered by cheers, and loud arguments back and forth, a riot erupts, and it takes the police to end it.

After that glorious, remarkable scene, everything speeds up. We go through the war in a flash of old newsreel clips. Chanel (Anna Mouglalis) becomes the epitome of cool. Her simple, almost stark, black-and-white designs are the toast of Paris, her slender figure is everyone's goal. She wears a half-smile almost constantly, shows little emotion, stands back with her hands in her pockets. "Don't you like color?" asks Mrs. Stravinsky, and Chanel's answer is, "Only if it's black."

After the Revolution, Stravinsky moves to Paris with his wife and a number of children. Chanel offers lodging in her fashionable, large, country home. After a little internal debate, he accepts. The eventual occurs. Catherine Stravinsky (Elena Morozova), who is not in good health, spends a lot of time in bed, but it is not long before she and the children realize what is going on. When she asks her husband if he and Chanel are being intimate, he hesitates and does not reply. When she later asks Chanel if she feels guilty about the affair the reply is an immediate "No."

Chanel's house and garden are glorious, and Mouglalis looks spectacular in the Chanel (or Chanel-style) gowns. And while there's a lot of sweating as she and Mikkelsen show off their supposed passion, it doesn't come across with much steam, not even when she interrupts his practicing and is in such haste that the piano bench serves as a passion pit.

The affair wanes, as such things do, and Stravinsky proves he has had little experience with women when, during an argument, he snaps, "You're not an artist. You're a shopkeeper."

That's when it's time to bring in the clowns.

"Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky" opens today

-Joe