St. Louis Eats and Drinks

Schlafly Bottleworks

Don't plan on wearing what used to be called your Sunday-go-to-meetin' duds to the Schlafly Bottleworks. It's as casual as a well-worn pair of sandals. Larger inside than it appears from the street, it's the scene of farmers' markets, private meetings, a bar, a restaurant and, oh, yes, a brewery, too. The imaginative and interesting ground-breaker for the Maplewood-Manchester strip is a sibling of the Tap Room downtown, but except for a single item, the menus are totally different.

Interestingly, the bar has plenty of televisions but no servers; orders must be placed with the bartender. Evenings seem to start with a combination of people in post-work relaxation mode and families, probably post-work themselves, with young parents feeding younger diners. As the evening ripens, the crowd morphs into more singles and dates, probably paying more attention to the beer than the earlier group.

The Bottleworks kitchen, always a fan and supporter of local suppliers, has strengthened its connections through the years. Many farmers and ranchers have names familiar to patrons of farmers' markets, including the one that operates just outside the front door. The hamburger, for instance, is made with bison commercially raised within a hundred miles of St. Louis.

We didn't have the burger this visit, though previous tastings have proven anywhere from adequate to good. Instead, we kicked things off with a cup of elk chili, thick and studded with beans and bits of tomato. Just enough of a kick in terms of spiciness, and quite satisfying. The sausage platter, one of several appetizers large enough to share comfortably, offered slices of lamb, Italian and andouille. The lamb was outstanding, the others probably pork (the meat was not specified) and satisfactory, though the andouille was very mild indeed. Too mild, in fact, but then again, we have deep affection for spicy food. Thick slices of smoked gouda and an Iowa cheese called Prairie Breeze, semi-firm and creamy, marked the plate, along with a delicious, perfectly cooked head of roasted garlic, some seasoned crostini that we think are from Companion (in lieu of the promised toast points), and Centennial Farms' delicious strawberry-chili jam. The only thing lacking was some mustard, but our server rustled some up in a hurry.

The Bottleworks may well be the only restaurant in the area to offer a sardine sandwich. While this may evoke some wrinkled noses, we love sardines, and did long before they were considered healthy food. Large, skinless and boneless fillets, the kind Joe always described as Portuguese, as opposed to the smaller, skin-on variety from Norway, were on sourdough bread that had been grilled on the outside. It was topped with lettuce, a little mustard and a squeeze of lemon, but no sign, darn it, of the promised pickled onions. Very messy to eat, with the sardines falling out all sides despite a double-fisted grasp. Extremely tasty and a good idea but really needing more attention in terms of execution. The side dish was a cup of exemplary potato salad laced with horseradish.

Bison stew? Sure. Dark brown gravy, small pieces of the tender, beef-like meat, nuggets of sweet potato and mushrooms, along with a few carrots and, of course, onion. Riding atop the stew like a buoy was a muffin-shaped piece of delightful real cornbread, tender and corny.

Another sharing thing could be the sticky toffee pudding, the Schlafly signature dessert that is one of the three or four best in the area, and one served downtown, too. While the serving is immense, it's so good that the other side of the plate should face someone the diner feels very kindly towards. If you've never had it, think of a tender brick of cake, spiced and sweet, the dates in the batter having dissolved in the baking, topped with a warm and very sticky toffee sauce, sharing the plate with a baseball-sized scoop of real whipped cream. Some people go for the ice cream made with Schlafly stout, but that's gilding the lily. Try it in the original version first.

Good service, but a kitchen that, at least early in the evening, tends to rush diners by cramming courses together too quickly. We know it's quiet, guys, but let us relax and enjoy the food.

Beer, of course, much of it made in-house, and also a wine list, both local and farther afield. No reservations on Friday or Saturday evenings, and there's a brunch menu available Sundays.

 

Schlafly Bottleworks

7260 Southwest Ave., Maplewood

314-241-BEER

www.schlafly.com

 Lunch & Dinner daily, Brunch Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Excellent

Smoking: No

Entrees: $9-$23

Jane Eyre

Hardly any heroine--any time, any place--has the permanence of Charlotte Bronte's most famous creation, and still another remake of "Jane Eyre" only makes her more so. The latest version of the 1847 novel, an excellent rendition and a splendid movie, opens here today.

Mia Wasikowska, a 22-year-old, Australian-born actress who quickly is becoming a household name with world-wide fame, offers a brilliant portrayal, on the heels of winning praise in "Alice in Wonderland" and "The Kids Are All Right." Wasikowska has performed in 16 films (nine features), is working on her 17th, has two more in pre-production and still another in post-production. She also has appeared in two TV series, including a season in HBO's "In Treatment." Not bad for a career that began only seven years ago.

As Jane, a poor girl who seems destined to a life in the serving class, she fits perfectly with Bronte's description of "small and plain." Jane also has courage and an intrinsic honesty, traits to stand her in good stead as she is bounced from pillar to post through a series of gloomy English mansions, and a varied group of those who live "below stairs." She gets advice, though it isn't all good, from Mrs. Fairfax (Judi Dench, always charming), and a certain amount of love from St. John Rivers (excellent Jamie Bell) and his sisters, Diana (Holliday Grainger) and Mary (Tanzin Merchant).

And then there's the mysterious Mr. Edward Rochester (Michael Fassbender). No one can match the performance of Orson Welles in the 1943 version (Joan Fontaine as Jane, screenplay by John Houseman), and Fassbender, undoubtedly influenced by director Cary Joji Fukunaga, wisely does not try. Instead of booming and blustering all over the film, Fassbender is almost cool. It's a portrayal with a great deal of texture, and considerably more humanity, and it works.

It's easy to see how young Jane falls for him; her spirit is an influence on him, as well. And the tragic love story builds to its ultimate climax. Moira Buffini wrote the excellent screenplay, and Dario Martinelli's music fits perfectly. It's rare that the English countryside does not look good on film, and Adriano Goldman's cinematography keeps to that standard. An outstanding movie and a fine story, even in its umteenth remake.

Jane Eyre opens today at the Plaza Frontenac and Tivoli

--Joe

Of Gods and Men

"Sacrifice" is a much over-used word. One human's sacrifice is another human's no-big-deal. When it comes to sacrificing life for an ideal or a belief, it may be another story, told brilliantly in "Of Gods and Men," a French film based on a real event, the 1996 killing of six French Cistercian Trappist monks by Algerian rebels.

Xavier Beauvois' movie, winner of the Gran Prix at Cannes last year, is an exquisite, painful and heart-rending tale of these Frenchmen, willing to die at the merciless hands of the rebels rather than run away back home to France. Living in the desolate Atlas mountains, the monks raise bees and collect honey. They pray and they do good to the impoverished villagers who live nearby.

Brother Luc, a physician by training and life-long practice, treats them, provides shoes to those who are in need. Michel Lonsdale, a 79-year-old French character actor, is well-nigh perfect in the role. Lonsdale also has the line that causes a great deal of thought as he quotes 17th-century French philosopher Blaise Pascal, "Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction."

Beauvois, who collaborated on the screenplay with Etienne Comar, has turned what might have been a slow, even-tedious tale into a study of ethics and morality--and peace, as well--among these men, thanks also to the impressive work of Caroline Champetier, director of photography, and editor Marie-Julie Maille.

The acting, led by Lonsdale, Lambert Wilson as Christian, the spiritual leader of the men; Olivier Rabourdin as Christophe and Jacques Herlin as Amedee, is staggering in its simplicity. Watching these men silently agree to stay and face almost-certain death is a moving experience, and a lengthy, silent scene when the men open some wine and dine in a setting that bears overtones of the last supper, is heart-rending. Its drama is magnified by the use of Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" as background. Movie-goers will be interested, or amused, by the use of the identical ballet music in a crucial scene in "The Black Swan."

This is an almost-perfect motion picture. Highly recommended.

Of Gods and Men opens today at the Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Kaboom

Trying to combine sex and horror, Gregg Araki's apparent ambition in the stupid, juvenile, self-reverential movie, "Kaboom," which opens here today, rarely works in the hands of good filmmakers. Imagine how boringly awful it can be with someone like Araki at the helm as both writer and director.

The horror parts are ludicrous. The sex is pretty good, with a goodly number of actors leaping upon a goodly number of other actors. Gender is immaterial in all the he-in' and she-in' that is going on. Some of it is slightly stimulating, with some lovely female bodies, for those who admire female bodies. Most of it is rather boring.

Smith (Thomas Dekker) is a college student, a film major (at least Araki can make fun of himself, which is a good thing). Like many college students, his major interest seems to be in partying, drinking, enjoying recreational drugs and engaging in sexual activities with other students.

He has a roommate, Thor (Chris Zylka), who likes to wander around without clothes on and who is interested in Smith as a bedmate, too. But Smith has a girl friend, Stella (Haley Bennett), and she has a girl friend, Lorelei (Roxane Mesquida), and enjoys her involvement with both. London (June Temple) never says no to a friend and has no enemies, as the saying went when I was in college. Nicole LaLiberte is a beautiful red-haired woman and James Duval is called Messiah, perhaps because of his hair stylist.

In addition to the sex, there are dream sequences, figures gamboling around green lawns and dark forests wearing animal masks, weird dream sequences and much fun among the students. The movie is dark, the plot absurd, the acting barely post-adolescent and the direction and writing no improvement.

And as Walter Cronkite used to say, "That's the way it is. . . ."

Kaboom opens today at the Tivoli

--Joe

The Piccadilly at Manhattan

Every time we visit The Piccadilly at Manhattan, we feel the time warp. Except for the automobiles, three of the four corners feel like Maplewood 1962. That's fun, and the feeling is reinforced when entering the restaurant which, not so coincidentally, is at the corner of Piccadilly and Masnhattan. It's not so much the décor, which is sort of timeless-nostalgic, as it is the atmosphere, which feels neighborhood-y. There always are regulars on hand, and when it's crowded, people sit on the screened front porch to wait, and it almost feels as if they live there.

We stopped by recently on our way to the Rep, and even at 6 o'clock on a Friday evening, things were hopping. Couples with small children, guys who might have been on their way to the bowling alley or a quarter-ante poker game, well-dressed older folks–everyone, it seems, comes to visit with the Collida family. The food, not surprisingly, is mostly traditional American, but with riffs to accommodate a more adventurous palate, and, perhaps, keep the cooks from boredom, always a good idea.

Onion rings are huge, greaseless and crisp, the rings in a crunchy batter that probably has some cornmeal. They're thick-cut, which always seems to make the onion texture more of a factor in the chew, but adds to the flavor as well. While spinach-artichoke dip with housemade crostini was a temptation, the chilly evening made us succumb to a cup of chili. It's from Edmonds, that old St. Louis favorite, thick and a little spicy, just right. On a menu that tells everyone the kitchen makes all its salad dressings, the acknowledgement of brands like the Volpi salami, is pleasantly honest, and a sign they honor those brands.

The fried chicken flies out of the kitchen at The Piccadilly, always a good sign. Four pieces, half a chicken, arrives with mashed potatoes and green beans. The batter is crunchy, seasoned with just a light hit of black pepper, but it's the chicken itself that grabs attention with its juiciness. Could it be that they're brining it? Good stuff, and good the next day at lunch, too. The mashed potatoes have just a few small lumps, and don't taste of instant. A ladleful of yellow chicken gravy tops them, just like the cafeterias of yore, and the green beans, soft a la granny rather than tender crisp, fit right in with the theme. Meatloaf, a beefy, tender mixture, comes with the same sides.

One of the nightly specials was smoked trout hash with a poached egg. Large chunks of the mild-flavored trout, along with chunks of fried potato, sweet red pepper, and onion, had been stirred together, the trout obviously added late in the process to avoid cooking to the point where it falls apart. The egg yolk always acts as a sort of sauce with hash, and this was nicely done, the yolk hot and still a little runny. A Cajun-flavored sauce surrounded it, too, mild rather than deeply hot-spicy. Our sole quibble was that the trout's basic flavor, even with the smoke, is so mild that the peppers, onions and even the potatoes overwhelmed it.

Desserts, too, are made in house. The chocolate raspberry torte was so smoothly cut and carefully plated that we had doubts, but it tastes fresh and homemade. It's a real torte, too, a single dense layer of chocolate cake split in half and sandwiched back together with a creamy layer of raspberry mousse. The glaze over the top seems to have a hit of Chambord, the black raspberry liqueur. Nicely moist and unsweet, it charms. Individual blackberry cobblers sit in their ramekins, a real cobbler, not fruit with a cake batter poured over it, a flaky-crumbly crust on top and – oh, shades of Stone Street and Ann's grandmother – crust on the bottom as well, a seeming rarity in cobbler styles. Good berries, their juices with a slight gleam of shortening that enhanced the flavor. (When the cobbler was served warm when Ann was a kid, her mother often offered a little butter to melt over it, a yummy overkill.)

Three beers on tap, a short wine list, and a full bar for beverages and seats where some regulars seem to congregate. Great service. Check the website for a map; they're a few blocks off McCausland below Arsenal. And, oh, yes, they've started serving Sunday brunch.

 

The Piccadilly at Manhattan

7201 Manhattan Ave., Maplewood

314-646-0016

www.thepiccadilly.com

Lunch & Dinner Tues-Sat., Brunch Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Poor

Smoking: No

Entrees: $8-15

Driving Miss Daisy

With a cast that looks--and acts--as if they were born for the roles, the Dramatic License production of "Driving Miss Daisy" brings style and grace to a suburban shopping mall, and its presence is a plus for civilization. Alfred Uhry's comedy, with serious moments here and there, much like blueberries in a muffin, is a sweet-natured tale that is coming up on its final weekend.

For several reasons, I was unable to attend on the opening weekend, but it was nice to see an almost-full house for a Sunday matinee yesterday. The use of small spaces to promote and perform the arts in malls in Crestwood and Chesterfield helps spread St. Louis' acting wealth around, and small companies who perform there deserve praise just like the mall owners who make the space available.

Then story involves the title character, a wealthy, elderly Jewish woman (a delightful Sally Eaton), her son Boolie (B. Weller, underplaying with grace) and Hoke, her African-American chauffeur (Dennis Lebby) is a good look at mid-20th century America. It covers some 25 years in their lives (1948-1973), from the time just one more driving accident, destroying more than the usual mail box, makes her uninsurable.

Daisy, a retired school teacher, was born poor but her family prospered in the midst of Atlanta's rise to become the major city of the post-World War II south. She has enough money, a house, a maid and a seat in a Reformed temple. She thinks she's rather liberal, but is typical of the Atlantan of the period. Boolie, running the comfortable family printing business, belongs to the Chamber of Commerce, and though he knows it's wrong, he will not rock the boat.

Hoke understands, too, knowing his place and his role, and fighting quietly against being there.

Eaton's Daisy is a perfect aging mother, crochety and fierce, distrusting Hoke and the maid, scorning her daughter-in-law for putting on airs, frightened of the changes she can feel in the air. Weller, who loves his mother and understands her, and nicely shows the frustration that grows in his dealings. He and Hoke conspire lovingly against Daisy, slowly dragging her into the slightly less-segregated second half of the century. Lebby, who has played the role several times before, handles it stylishly. He's polite and in control, accepting small slights because he knows how to make the necessary compromises, but when he finally has his back to the wall, he strikes sparks. All three offer exciting performances.

Annamaria Pileggi's direction brings out all the nuances in Uhry's play, which works well on the small stage. Daisy's frocks, and Weller's checked trousers, reflect the time and place very well. It's a good play, with then ability to provide humor, and also to look beyond the laughs to see the tears.

Driving Miss Daisy, by Dramatic License Productions, continues through March 27 at Chesterfield Mall.

The Real McCoy

Wow!

That's the first reaction to "The Real McCoy," a powerful play that receives superb acting and brilliant staging by the St. Louis Black Repertory Company. It is the United States premiere of a work by Canadian playwright Andrew Moodie, based on the life of Elijah McCoy, the son of escaped slaves, and is a gripping, fascinating tale of a great inventor and a driven man who improved human life in many ways, but whose fame was was held down by societal norms of his lifetime. It opened Friday at the Grandel Theatre, to run through April 10.

McCoy's primary invention was a lubricating device for locomotive engines, but he also invented the folding ironing board and the lawn sprinkler. He was known, it is claimed, as "the real McCoy," because railroads, purchasing lubricating equipment, asked for that made by McCoy and not that of his competitors. During his lifetime, he held nearly 60 patents, most of them in areas involving mechanical and thermodynamic engineering.

Moodie is credited as being the play's original director, with the local production program noting that it was "staged by Tracy D. Holliway-Wiggins based on original staging by Andrew Moodie." Holliway-Wiggins is the Black Rep's resident stage manager. With Alex Van Blommestein's set design looming like a massive gear system, we are thrust into then Industrial Revolution, and before curtain we watch old, faded movies of railroad trains with puffing locomotive engines.

The action is rapid-fire, with 48 scenes blending into one terrific story, perhaps a touch melodramatic at the end. Ka'ramuu Kush is imposing and fascinating in the title role, and the other six actors equally strong as many different characters. Kush, who was in the title role of "Pericles" in January has made a large leap; he is totally confident, in full possession of his character, passionate in his intellectual capacity, secure master of what he knows. He totally engulfs the audience.

Antonio Fargas is primarily George McCoy, a former slave but educated enough to know what a prodigy he has sired. Father and son break over the role of God in their lives, and it's a terrible moment, but one they have chosen and are willing to live with. Chauncy Thomas is a delight as young Elijah, wearing knickers and the attitude of a Horatio Alger hero, that no obstacle is too difficult.

As the grown-up, Kush learns that some obstacles, like American corporate executives and some would-be partners, and the color of his skin, really are too difficult.

The beautifully balanced cast also sparkles with Alan Knoll and Whit Reichert as a wide variety of American businessmen, lawyers, bankers, customers--even a couple of English prep-schoolers--who befriend, belittle, bully and, at times, benefit the inventor. They play perfectly off one another, sometimes as vaudevillians like Gallagher and Shean, sometimes like "The Sunshine Boys." Knoll in drag is a hoot, Reichert as a hard-hearted man with a soft spot is beautiful. St. Louis audiences may have, as Humphrey Bogart told Claude Rains, "the beginning of a beautiful friendship." They are marvelous.

Monica Parks and Sharisa Whatley offer outstanding performances as the women in McCoy's life, teachers and maids and secretaries and wives, with Parks as his first wife, who died only four years into the marriage, and Whatley as his second, a relationship that lasted far longer than it seems in the play. Parks, back in town after earning an M.F.A. in acting in Washington, D. C., is her usual charming self, and Whatley has been in several Black Rep productions in recent years.

The play is a triumph for the Black Rep, with superb ensemble work and a strong drama that has real-life overtones. In addition to Van Blommestein's stunning set, Jennifer Krajicek's costumes are simple and charming, Mark Wilson's lights underline the action at the right times and whether Moodie or sound designer Robin Weatherall chose the music, it made everything feel right.

"The Real McCoy" is the real McCoy, one of the half-dozen best productions of its 34 seasons and it earns the highest recommendation.

The Real McCoy, at the Black Rep through April 10.

Beehive The 60s Musical

When the '60s arrived, I was a grown man with an interesting job, a house, a wife, two very small children and the personal security that came with surviving having been on strike for more than three months. I had strong musical interests, but they did not include piping girl voices, even if they were in splendid harmony.

"Beehive," which involves six women singers and the music of the decade, from doo-wop to rock, from Motown to Carnaby Street, never appeared on my must-do list. However, the Rep's production, which opened last night to run through April 10, was pleasant enough, if rather innocuous and without intellectual stimulus, especially as compared with "In the Next Room, or the Vibrator Play," at the downstairs Studio. The show, created by the late Larry Gallagher in 1986, has been bumping around the country ever since, a little like "Forever Plaid," only for girl singers.

 
When it comes down to basics, I enjoy watching women sing and dance, and the cast sang and danced with skill and grace. Things changed with the second act, with songs that were more political, more strident, more appealing, more familiar. And I realized why. In the later part of the decade, my older children were nearing their teens, listening to their own radios, asking about the lyrics they were hearing. "Beehive" became, as we used to say, "up close and personal" to me.

Made a huge difference.

So did Lauren Dragon, who did four second-act solos with a fierce, penetrating approach in the Janis Joplin mode. She struck a most familiar chord in the Kris Kristofferson-Fred Foster song, "Me and Bobby McGee," with a lyric that typified the feeling of many through that entire decade, "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." Jessica Waxman and Debra Walton combined on an exciting version of "Do Right Woman" and "A Natural Woman," with Dragon returning for "Piece of My Heart" and "Try (Just a Little Bit Harder)."

Walton opened the second act with the Tina Turner "A Fool in Love," written by Ike, perhaps at a time when they both were living here and and playing the late-night clubs in East St. Louis. After Jennie Harney led the way in an elegant "River Deep, Mountain High," Walton returned with a swinging "Proud Mary."

Lisa Estridge was prominent early, telling stories, involving the audience in "The Name Game" and other silliness. The songs featured the likes of Lesley Gore, Brenda Lee and Annette Funicello, with Waxman a standout in "You Don't Own Me." The material moved to London for a while, and birds like Petula Clark and Dusty Springfield, with Kristen Maloney delivering stylishly in "Downtown" and "Don't Sleep in the Subway."

Pamela Hunt did her usual slick direction and choreography, and John Carver Sullivan's costumes ranged from truly glamorous to "did I really wear that!" Michael Sebastian led then band and served as the pianist. Other musicians were John Brophy, drums; Mike Buerk, saxophone; Jay Hungerford, bass; Steve Schenkel, guitar; and Andy Tichenor, trumpet.

It's the final production of the 2010-11 season, but next season, opening in September with "Red," John Logan's play about artist Mark Rothko that won a Tony a year ago, looks to be a major improvement.

Beehive opened at the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis last night to run through April 10.

--Joe

Jimmy Webb

Jimmy Webb sure doesn't sing very well, but he writes good songs and tells great stories, and puts an awful lot of energy into his cabaret performance, which opened a three-night run last night at the Kranzberg Arts Center. He'll be back on stage Friday and Saturday, hitting many high spots on his nearly half-century road as a song writer..

The 64-year-old Webb, back in St. Louis after a absence of several years, has written songs in all styles for singers of all styles. Singers from Willie Nelson to Patti Lupone, from Frank Sinatra to Glen Campbell have recorded his songs, and his performance last night echoed, if it didn't equal, singers from that roster.

But many years in Hollywood turned this Oklahoma country boy, a true son of a preacher man, into gray-haired singer who has become an eminence grisee in terms of giving phrase to the second half of the 20th century. One of his first big hits was "Highwayman," first sung by Johnny Cash, Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Kris Kristofferson, and Webb worked it over to start the evening on a high note.

He told stories of his days as a young writer in Hollywood, of meeting Sinatra and teaming with Linda Ronstadt at a time when different lifestyles kept them working at arms' length. He talked of buying a house in Encino, Calif., from Phil Harris, who was band leader to Jack Benny and husband to Alice Faye and that led to "Campo de Encino."

Many songs resulted from stories; others led to stories. All were told in good spirit and good humor, and when he muffed a line in "What Does a Woman See in a Man?" he went back and bollixed it again, told a self-deprecating story, tried one more time and caught it right. Then he quoted Campbell, "If you do it perfect, they'll expect it like that every time."

"Up, Up and Away," "Galveston," "Wichita Lineman," "By The Time I Get to Phoenix," "Didn't We?" and a few others rounded out the set, and a rousing encore of "MacArthur Park" completed the rousing evening. Great singing? No. Great Entertainment? Right on!

Jimmy Webb sings his own songs in a cabaret performance at the Kranzberg Center for the Arts Friday and Saturday at 8 p.m.

--Joe

A Somewhat Gentle Man

Coming out of prison after serving 12 years for murder can be a disorienting experience, but Ulrik (Stellan Skarsgard) shot a man as a hired killer, not as an emotional revenge-seeker, a robber, or someone in a passionate argument. That makes it both easier and more difficult for him to return to a normal life, and that's the most interesting part of "A Somewhat Gentle Man," an interesting, if sometimes uneven tale from Norway.

His former boss, Rune Jansen (Bjorn Floberg), a swaggering small-time hood in this rather small city, has been fronting him for the jail time, sending money to Ulrik's former wife and to his son, and wants him to return to the three-person gang. Ulrik isn't very interested, preferring work as a mechanic in a garage with a kindly owner. The third member of the gang is Rolf (Gard B. Eidsvold), fascinating in his ability to accept bullying and insults from Jansen. He's amazing, and fun to watch.

Ulrik also returns to an active sex life, though the women chasing him, including his former wife ("let's have a quickie," she tells him, and bends over the sink in the restaurant where she works), are the fiercest set of harridans since the daughters of Melissa Leo in "The Fighter." Ulrik's landlady, Karen Margerethe (Jorunn Kjellsby), looks like a cross between the Queen of Hearts and the worst blind date of your adolescence. She brings dinner to his room, insists on sex before he can eat, then sits silently while he eats and they watch the Polish television version of "Dancing With the Stars."

Then he rescues a battered wife who is the bookkeeper at the garage, but that relationship also ends badly. Skarsgard, a fine actor, is a native of Sweden whose range has included roles in everything from "Hamlet" and "The Pirates of the Caribbean" to cat-food commercials. He has been making movies for more than 40 years, and has been a mainstay with the Swedish National Theater.

Watching him as Ulrik is fascinating; he lacks many social graces, doesn't smile, says little, keeps his own counsel. Watching him reach out to a son he has not seen in 12 years is a frightening experience for him, and coming to grips with the fact that his son's girlfriend is afraid of him and her parents are disdainful hurts him a lot. Repairing the relationship is gimmicky, but when Skarsgard smiles, as wide as a horizon, it's all worthwhile.

A Somewhat Gentle Man opens today at the Tivoli.

--Joe

Limitless

In a world where "mind over matter" has fallen far behind its reverse rival in the way things work, it's a great pleasure to see "Limitless," a movie where suspension of disbelief is a very difficult task but one worth striving for. Its success brings an almost-overwhelming sense of power and pleasure in succumbing to its fantasy.

A pill to make you smart? What a concept, and "Limitless," which opens here today, takes it to ultimate extremes. Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper), a would-be writer who scored a book contract, cannot get words onto his computer screen, a problem that affects most of us writer types every now and then. His girl friend, Lindy (Abbie Cornish) has given up on him. His marriage failed a decade ago, so it's not surprising that he barely recognizes his former brother-in-law when they meet on the street.

But former brother-in-law, once a small-time drug dealer, has moved on to a major-league style pill. Under its influence, Eddie learns Italian in a morning, scores big at the stock market in the afternoon and finishes his novel in the evening. Next day, piano, more market triumphs and reunion with Lindy. And so on, but when he visits former brother-in-law, he finds a corpse. Luckily, he finds a stash of pills, too.

And we go on. "Limitless" is a fairly dumb movie, but Neil Burger's direction keeps thing moving nicely. Cooper and Robert De Niro handle the material well and it's an easy way to spend an evening while waiting for spring.

Limitless opens today at a number of theaters

--Joe

Diner's Delight

Always happy to visit a new restaurant, we dropped by Diner's Delight, and wrote about it for St. Louis Magazine.We suspect more folks will be using Compton now that the Grand Avenue viaduct is closed, so keep your eye open for it, just south of Chouteau.

Cardwell's at the Plaza

Most of us don't think of Cardwell's at the Plaza in terms of snacking, but after a movie at the other end of the mall, it's a real no-brainer for first-rate food and drink. Warning: Early in the week, which is their term, the kitchen closes at 9 p.m., or so the hostess told us when we walked in, despite the fact that it was Thursday, and the website lists 10 p.m. After that, it's desserts and drinks. Nevertheless, coming in right at 9, we were welcomed, seated and fed very well without feeling hurried. Most of the action later in the evening is at the bar, so the California-feeling dining room is often quite calm

Bill Cardwell has made his name creating great riffs on traditional American food, so this an easy and approachable menu, albeit one that makes it extremely difficult for some folks to make decisions. (The flashing arrow is pointing to our table.) We kicked things off with a bowl of gumbo, andouille, chicken and shrimp over a little rice, sided with a small brick of delicious, sweet, tender cornbread that had been nicely toasted. The gumbo was classic, with notes of pepper, garlic, bay leaf, file, thyme and other wonderful additions.

An appetizer plate brought whiffs of the Mediterranean, with olives, creamy feta, some stuffed grape leaves in a cool dill-yogurt sauce, and a caponata that was close to thrilling, its notes of sweet and sour dancing around cool tomato, pepper and eggplant pieces, a few raisins and plenty of pine nuts for texture. An excellent, meaty, spicy bratwurst came not as a sandwich, but rather a small-plate meal, sided with a bit of German-style red cabbage, some sweet potato chips and a spicy barbecue sauce.

A word of explanation about the Burger Meister Burger is probably in order. Marcel Desaulniers, a chef who's known for his several books, primarily on chocolate, his television shows, and his former restaurant, the Trellis in Williamsburg, Va., created a book about hamburgers, with his own recipes plus some from other distinguished chefs around the country. The book won a James Beard Award in 1994 as best single-subject cookbook. Bill Cardwell's burger was included, and it remains on his menu, always popular. We'd never tried it – there was always something else luring us – but here was our chance. Not surprisingly, this is a fat burger, on a fresh, warm bun. The medium-rare came out quite pink in the middle, but not squooshy, and it wore both cheddar and an Amish blue cheese and two strips of excellent bacon, beautifully smoky. We generally prefer our hamburgers less adorned, the better to appreciate the beef, but this was a first-rate variation, and deserves its permanent status on menus in both Plaza Frontenac and at BC's Kitchen in Lake St. Louis.

The wine list is long and impressive, and it's easy to match a ideal wine with anything from the menu.

 

Desserts are frequently irresistible. Profiteroles, cream puffs filled with ice cream, appear too seldom locally, alas. They offer a delightful contrast of creamy and crisp-chewy, and these worked well, although we'd like more chocolate sauce than a mere drizzle. The ice cream, with a fine capuccino flavor available, wasn't rock hard, either, which made it much easier to eat. The nightly special was described as a lemon and raspberry tart, lemon curd in a tart crust. Mouths began to water. The tart, almost six inches across, was piled high with meringue that had been browned under the grill, and was surrounded with raspberries in a thickish syrup. Interestingly, although the crust was hard to cut with a knife when we divided it up, in the mouth it was very flaky and not tough at all. Very lemony, and quite mouthwatering. Lemon lovers should hope it's available when they visit.

Over the years, we've heard, read and participated in discussion of service here. We've visited when we were recognized and when we clearly weren't. (And by now, believe us, we can tell.) In the dining room, we've always been extremely well taken care of, with smooth, friendly, correct service. The front desk can be chilly at times, but beyond that, things are smooth and professional.

 

Cardwell's at the Plaza

94 Plaza Frontenac (Lindbergh Ave. and Clayton Rd.), Frontenac

314-997-8885

www.billcardwell.com/cardwells.html 

Lunch and Dinner daily

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Entrees: $14-$28

In the Next Room, or the Vibrator Play

How does one write--for a St. Louis audience--about an interesting, unusual play that deals with sexual arousal among men and women of the late 19th century?

Very carefully, I would say. And yet. . . .

Sarah Ruhl's often-funny, sometimes-enlightening play, "In the Next Room, or the Vibrator Play," opened last night at the Rep Studio, to run through March 27. It's a lot more than just a sexual romp or a titillating peek at orgasms and--yes, let's say it--masturbation, more than a century ago. Most importantly, it looks at mutual trust, and at the advantages of truth in the never-ending War Between the Sexes, even during marriage. Being in the late Victorian age (the setting is a small town in upstate New York in the 1880s, at the dawn of the commercial use of electricity), hampers honesty and openness, but the 1960s had to begin somewhere.

Stuart Carden's slick direction and Gianni Downs' brilliant set, with two separate rooms (this one and the next one, of course) crammed onto the minuscule Studio space, sometimes give it the feeling of a French bedroom farce, complete with slamming doors. The delightful, well-balanced cast, blessed by a counterpoint of the sighs, squeaks, squeals and sobs of approaching orgasm, does very nicely.

In the "operating theater," we have the electrical enthusiast Dr. Givings (Ron Bohmer), and his loyal red-haired nurse, Annie (a beautifully on-target Amy Landon). In the next room, the Givings' parlor, we have the chatterbox Mrs. Catherine Givings (Annie Purcell). Seeking cures for hysteria, visiting both rooms, are pale Mrs. Sabrina Daldrey (Emily Dorsch), her pompous husband, Mr. Daldrey (Michael James Reed) and a wild-eyed artist, Leo Irving (David Christopher Wells). Only in the parlor, and in an off-stage nursery, is stately Elizabeth (Krystel Lucas), the wet-nurse for the Givings' new baby.

The role of Elizabeth, by the way, did not work for me. Ruhl's use of an African-American woman, a generation after the Civil War, to explain the joy of sex to Mrs. Givings and Mrs. Daldrey is a distasteful re-telling of the myth that African-Americans were more sexually free and enjoyed making love far more than then the uptight white race. Lucas was a strong personality on the stage. The character of Leo the Artist came through as a total mess, though Wells had some of the best lines, like pointing out that if he loved fewer women he'd have been an illustrator, and if he loved more, he'd have been a poet.

Much of the action and the electrical stimulation was based on truth, from the days when Hysteria was a recognized illness. Ruhl just draws it out nicely for the Givingses and the Daldreys. St. Louis-born Purcell was outstanding, her desires and her overflowing joy and love of life erupting as regularly as Old Faithful. In terms of full disclosure, I've known her father, Tom, for close to 40 years, and wrote about him while he was the man in charge of rebuilding Laclede's Landing and much of rehab work along the levee. He looked very proud last night.

Emily Dorsch was exciting as Sabrina Daldrey, slender, pale and wan as a Robert Browning heroine, but right on as a woman who never has had an orgasm, but likes the idea very much, thank you. And if pomposity could be perfect, that was Reed as her husband.

Bohmer, both an actor and a singer at the Rep and across the country, was just right as the doctor who had invented the marvelous electric cure for Hysteria, but was unable to connect when it came time for his own sex life. But then, as he says, "What men do not observe because their intellect prevents them from seeing would fill many books."

I had a wonderful time last night, and I was reveling in the romantic, highly sexual aura provided in a scene with the Givingses. When I was a younger man, nothing excited me more than the fumblings with buttons and brassiere hooks and garter belts that girls used to wear. But when Bohmer finished with Purcell's garb, instead of stretching the suspense when it came to his own clothes, he finished with a quick pull on a zipper, about a half-century ahead of its invention.

In the Next Room, or the Vibrator Play, a production of the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis, opened last night in the Studio Theatre, to run through March 27

--Joe

Even the Rain

Like a set of those nesting Russian dolls, "Even the Rain" has a film within a film within a film within a film, a nod to Francois Truffaut's "Day for Night," a political statement, a social polemic and a revisionist view of Christopher Columbus, all in an hour and 44 minutes. It opens today on an otherwise-quiet weekend.

Directed by Iciar Bollain from a screenplay by Paul Laverty (author of the powerful Irish political yarn, "The Wind that Shakes the Barley,"), "Even the Rain," is a strong, well-made film with a long list of interesting points, sometimes-gripping of view. Bollain's direction is crisp, though it veers toward the sentimental near the end, and Alex Catalan does a wonderful job as director of photography. The cinematography sings. The movie was Spain's nominee for the foreign-language Academy Award.

We're in Bolivia in 2000. Cost-conscious producer Costa (Luis Tesar) and idealistic director Sebastian (Gael Garcia Bernal) have substituted a mountainous Bolivian town for a Caribbean island because the natives are happy to work for $2 a day. At the same time, idealistic Sebastian is out to show Columbus as a tyrant who forced the Indians to give their gold to the emissaries of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, and who insisted that they also embrace Catholicism, under threat of being literally crucified if they don't.

Costa and Sebastian are hiring extras, decide they have enough, then are cowed by those who have been waiting, into interviewing more candidates. Leading these Bolivian Indians is Daniel (Juan Carlos Aduviri), a local activist. He gets a part in the film as Hatuey, a real Indian killed by the 16th-century conquistadores.

While the Spaniards are making the movie, the citizens of Cochabamba learn that they will have to pay for their water under a deal with an American corporation. This incident is based on a 2000 event when the Houston-based mega-corporation, Bechtel, made just such a deal with the government, a deal later rescinded because of citizen protests. And that's where the title comes from, an ironic reference to the fact that even the rain will not fall free of charge on the Indians.

With all of that going on, this is a movie packed with information that comes rolling out of Laverty's screenplay in fascinating style. The acting is first rate, with the cynical Costa and the romantic Sebastian playing well off one another. Aduviri is excellent as a rabble-rouser then and now, and Melena Suliz is charming as his daughter. There's also a first-rate performance from Karra Elejalde, who portrays Columbus in one movie, and is a moody drunk in another. The film inside the film bounces us from the 16th century to the 21st, but it certainly is a fascinating movie on every level.

Even the Rain opens today at the Tivoli

--Joe

Battle: Los Angeles

The Marines win again. Could there have been any other possible outcome?

Well, at least they won in Los Angeles, shown at maximum explosive volume in "Battle: Los Angeles," which opens here today. All we know for sure is that they defeated a bunch of invading aliens in one city, though TV reporters keep interrupting the fire fights to tell us of at least 20 cities around the world that are under attack.

But as long as we have L.A., which obviously means that the movie industry is safe to make more movies as absurdly dumb as this one, all's right with the world.

Aaron Eckhart, who has maybe one-and-a-half expressions, is our heroic Marine staff sergeant who has just received his retirement papers at Camp Pendleton when the world-wide attack is announced. You might wonder about what happened in other time zones, but don't worry about it. Just keep your faith in Hollywood and the Marines.

Eckhart has been haunted ever since he survived a battle on some other continent while most of his command was wiped out. The remainder of the cast consists of B-picture or TV actors looking for credits, or else real actors who changed their names as soon as they saw the script. It's a standard war picture, with diverse people who may help the box office overseas, but they're all just interchangeable, anonymous pieces who can be seen in any war photos since those made by Matthew Brady, or in a TV shot last night from Afghanistan. It offers the same mixed bag as all standard war movies, though L.A. is so covered with concrete there's no space to dig foxholes,.

Of course, Eckhart is assigned to a platoon whose commanding office (Ramon Rodriguez) is taking his first command. One of the jarheads turns out to be the brother of a Marine who died in Eckhart's previous command. We also have a group of rescued people, , including a veterinarian (Bridget Moynahan) who figures out where the aliens' vital organs are, a woman Marine (Michelle Rodriguez) who turns out to shoot really well and, for some extra dramatic impact, the opportunity to join a little boy watching his father die.

The technical work is outstanding, with brilliant fireballs, speedy jet fighters, splendid work with cars and freeways, explosions of all types, weird-looking aliens in weirder-looking vehicles. It's all about equipment and machines. It's not about people. It's a fine movie for those who like to destroy things.

Battle: Los Angeles opens today on many screens

--Joe

Boerwors

Regular readers know how much we like sausage. We're big fans of G & W Sausagein South St. Louis, and never visit Hermann without a cooler so we can take the short drive down to Swiss. Wherever we go, the mention of sausage always makes our ears perk up. This week we found a new one, of a style we've never heard of, and had it for breakfast.

Jack's Gourmet (and, no, Mizzou alums, this is not from Jack's Gourmet Rendezvous) is a new company offering all-beef sausages. What caught our eye at Schnucks was the Boerwors sausage. Boerwors, as some may have guessed, is of South African heritage, “boers” being Afrikaans for “farmer” and “wors” meaning “sausage.” A medium-coarse grind holds notes of coriander, black pepper and vinegar, just enough to taste a little acidic, much as though a bit of mustard had been daubed on. These are pre-cooked, four to a 12-ounce package; browning them brings out almost no extra fat. They are kosher, from a company in Joe's old neighborhood in Brooklyn.

The producers also make Mexican-style chorizo, both hot and sweet Italian sausages and bratwurst, all at the Ladue Crossing store; $8.49 a package, but kosher, like organic, always seems a little more expensive.

Laganini Pizzeria & Restaurant

Visitors to Laganini Pizzeria and Restaurant may think they're just walking into an old Captain D's, but the sight of a handsome wooden bar will immediately correct any perceptions. And while this is a restaurant whose prices are extremely moderate, there's a nice note of dignity about the dining room, which reminds us of some we've seen in the north of Italy. Nothing intimidating, some pleasing artifacts on the walls and an extremely warm welcome.

Laganini's menu sails back and forth across the Adriatic Sea, mixing Italy and Bosnia, along with, we suspect, some neighboring areas. National boundaries and names have moved back and forth over the centuries in that part of the world, and goodness knows cooking styles cross borders without need of passports or identity cards. We focused mainly on the Bosnian dishes, since Italian is easy to come by hereabouts. And we were rewarded quite richly.

The fresh bread on the table was made in house, said our server, who turned out to be the daughter of the family Sadikovic which owns Laganini. She also told us that the Sadikovics make all their own breads, and practically everything else, from scratch. The small loaf was warm and tender, with a firm, if not crunchy crust, a little dense and just a tad salty, so good it didn't need the offered butter.

Goulash soup was the soup du jour, which meant we ordered it forthwith. It truly was a soup, its liquid far thinner than the stew-type goulash we're more familiar with. Its ruddy color and bite-sized pieces of tender beef looked right, and the strong meat flavor did justice to a rustic grandma. Although the goulash lacked large pieces of vegetables, their flavor persisted, bolstered by the sweet, slightly tingly heat of paprika, an essential ingredient. For those who are heat-reluctant, this isn't the hot paprika one sometimes finds in stores. And on the very bright side for those who believe, as we do, that hot food should be hot and cold food should be cold, steam was rising from the bowl when it was placed on the table. That's something we don't see enough of, and the sort of dish that causes a delighted grunt with the first bite.

Cevapcici (chee-VAP-chee-chee) are finger-sized sausages without casings. They're found all over the part of the world that was once Yugoslavia, and beyond, with local variations. Laganini doesn't serve pork, so these are all beef, but cooked in a bit of lamb fat to add that note to the black pepper and garlic we could taste. They're absolutely delicious, arriving in what resembles a large, soft pita that's been warmed on the grill. Alongside are chopped onion, sour cream and a couple of slices of Roma tomato. It probably is would be unwieldy if picked up as a sandwich, but pulling off a little bread, wrapping it around a sausage or three – they come clustered in threes, another regional thing – dipping it in the sour cream and then in the onions works quite well.

We're both quite fond of chicken livers, and Laganini's braises them in a vegetable gravy thickened with the natural juices, the livers tender and full of flavor. We were a little surprised to see that it was served with polenta, but that, too, under various names, spread through this part of the world long ago. This polenta is firm, unlike the creamier Italian version seen around town, and three scoops of it arrived alongside. Neutral and pleasant, it mopped up the juices well.

When a restaurant puts “pizzeria” ahead of “restaurant” in its name, it's trying to tell the world something. We seek clues like that, and believe in letting restaurants prepare what they think they do best, so pizza it was. The choices are a little different than usual, including a tuna pizza, and curious as we were about that, we decided on the capricciosa, a common style of pizza in Italy. The word shares a root with “capricious,” and it's at the whim of the kitchen, usually having the most toppings of any on the menu. The Laganini version has beef prosciutto, mushrooms, tomatoes, a sprinkle of fresh basil and oregano and, in an uncommon appearance, a fried egg sunnyside up. That's not rare on a capricciosa in Italy, and it made a nice dipping sauce for some of the crust. The prosciutto's aroma was almost like bacon, the pie wasn't overwhelmed with cheese, and the crust was remarkable, crispy and tender. Yes, different, but, yes, yummy.

On the sweet side, we tried a couple of apple desserts. The Bosnian applepita was grated apple baked in filo dough, drizzled with butterscotch sauce, a small scoop of ice cream and some whipped cream. No so successful as we hoped because the apples had little flavor and the filo, as often happens, had softened. On the other hand, an apple described as boiled, but which we suspect was actually gently poached after being peeled and cored, was set up like a baked apple, the center stuffed with walnuts, a little syrup (possibly the poaching liquid) and sprinkled with crushed pistachios, was far more successful, the apple still a little resistant to the tooth and nicely tart.

Laganini provides much good flavor at very reasonable prices, has a full bar and often has music on Saturday nights and a small dance floor. Because we've heard folks discuss the high smoke levels of some Bosnian restaurants, we checked carefully and found no residual odor during our visit.

 

Laganini Pizzeria & Restaurant

4625 Gravois

314-481-8000

www.laganinipizza.com

Lunch & Dinner Thurs.-Tues.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $7-$15

Seasonal Food Alert

Seasonal food alert: From now until March 19, Missouri Baking Company is making zeppole.

What are zeppole? .We wrote about it in Relish, SLM's food blog. Run, don't walk.

The Baltimore Waltz

Paula Vogel's brother, Carl, died of AIDS in 1988. She wrote "The Baltimore Waltz," as a tribute to him and an expiation of her own grief. It's a wild ride of explanation and fantasy, of frustration, dark wishes and overwhelming love, with believable acting and first-rate direction. The Muddy Waters Theatre production opened last night at the Kranzberg Arts Center, to run through March 20.

Vogel's persona is Anna, played nicely by Kate Frisina, with Stephen Peirick as her brother, Carl, and DJ Sanders as the Third Man et al, which puts him into a dozen or so quickly sketched, mostly quirky roles, climaxing as the Third Man, Orson Welles as Harry Lime in the classic film, "The Third Man."

Though supposedly a tribute to her brother, "The Baltimore Waltz" is also about Vogel, her response to his death, her pain and her anger as she goes through Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' steps of grief. Vogel substitutes ATD, or Acquired Toilet Disease, for AIDS, then explains that Anna, a first-grade teacher, caught it while using the same toilet her pupils did.

An imaginary trip to Europe, actually planned but never realized by them, is a place for Anna to explore many things, including a series of one-night stands with men from every city, hotel and restaurant they visit. Sanders, in a series of costumes, wigs and accents that demonstrate strange, stranger, strangest, is terrific, lurking beautiful in the dark space between fantasy and reality. He stood out as a double-talking doctor. Frisina's role is difficult, but she generally handled it well. Peirick was adequate, but the role of Carl is so thin that there is not much for an actor to get his hands around.

Jerry McAdams directed smoothly and kept things calmer, and more positive, than they might have been in looser hands. Keaton Treece's costumes were mainly for taking off and putting on, and they held up well under the strain. The set, uncredited, consists of a bed where much of the action takes place, some on top of the covers, some underneath, and a few chairs. It works, and better than a lot of the projections, which often had an amateurish look, but which showed some good pictures of Baltimore. The waltz? Sad, but worth waiting for.

Muddy Waters, which devotes is season to the works of a single playwright, has two more Vogel plays on its 2011 schedule, "The Mineola Twins," coming up next and "How I Learned to Drive," which earned a Pulitzer Prize, to conclude the season.

The Baltimore Waltz, a Muddy Waters Theatre production at the Kranzberg Arts Center, will be on stage through May 20.

--Joe

Two Gentlemen of Verona

Proteus and Valentine, the title characters in William Shakespeare's "Two Gentlemen of Verona," and in the Galt McDermot (music)-John Guare (book and lyrics) musical adaptation, are more rounders than square shooters as they talk about wedding while aiming at bedding someone of the opposite sex. The play isn't great Shakespeare, nor is it great McDermot-Guare, but it's bright and breezy in its current production by New Line Theatre at the Washington U. South Campus Theatre (once CBC High School). It opened last night and will run delightfully through March 26.

The 1971 version, which won a Tony for Best Musical, featured Raul Julia and Clifton Davis as Proteus and Valentine, respectively. McDermot was trying to compose another "Hair," and listening to the score makes it rather obvious. Thom Crain's costumes also show the legacy. Interestingly, "Two Gentlemen" opened while "Hair" still was running on Broadway. It played the Muny during the 1973 season.

Scott Miller's direction is solid, and Robin Michelle Berger did some charming choreography, well-handled by the cast. The acting also is strong, with some of Miller's regulars like Zachary Allen Farmer and Joel Hackbarth as Proteus and Launce, respectively. Farmer is one of the "heroes," with Eeyan Richardson a real vocal standout as his buddy, Valentine. Hackbarth, impressive as the lead comedian, shows splendid timing, especially in a duet with a dog. Valentine's sidekick, Speed, is an excellent performance by Mike Dowdy. He and Hackbarth make a splendidly foolish pair. Their opening moments, as they strew rose petals here and there, sets the mood for the evening.

Taylor Pietz and Jeanitta Perkins are Silvia and Julia, respectively, wooed by Farmer and Richardson. Both are fine singers, and Pietz, with fish-net hose and swirling legs, is a charmer. There's also first-rate work from Tom Conway as the Duke of Milan, Aaron Allen as his wanna-be son-in-law, Terrie Carolan as Lucetta and Michael Jones as Eglamour. Carolan and Perkins are a delight in drag. As in "Hair," there's a strong anti-war tone, with the Duke sending those who disagree with him to Vietnam, though he denies it in "Bring All the Boys Back Home." Guare also inserts a discussion of abortion as Lucetta, Speed, Launce and Julia sing "Don't Have the Baby." Speed and Launce also do a funny, charming rendition of "Hot Lover."

A little dated, perhaps, but a highly enjoyable evening.

Two Gentlemen of Verona, by the New Line Theatre, runs through March 26 at the Washington University South Campus Theatre.

--Joe

Charlie Chaplin Series

Now that the super-hype of the Academy Awards is over, there isn't much to see on big screens around town.

With one huge exception.

The Webster University Film Series, under the leadership of James Harrison, is devoting March to a great collection of movies, all eight feature films of Charlie Chaplin. A consummate writer, director and performer, Chaplin knew exactly how narrow the line between comedy and tragedy, and it shows in these sensitive, superb examples of the motion picture.

All begin at 7:30 p.m. in the Winifred Moore Auditorium, 470 East Lockwood Rd.

Tonight, March 4 -- "City Lights," 1931, a silent comedy-romance in which Chaplin takes pantomime to new heights.

Tomorrow, March 5 -- "Modern Times," 1936, the final film for Chaplin's little tramp character, but a brilliant look at the arriving world of the production line and the industrial society. The beautiful Paulette Goddard co-stars.

Sunday, March 6 -- "The Great Dictator," 1940, Chaplin's first talkie, and a vicious attack on Adolf Hitler and Nazi Germany. Chaplin plays both the Hitler character, known as Adenoid Hynkel, and a gentle Jewish barber.

Friday, March 11 -- "The Gold Rush," 1925, no one ever forgets the dance of the dinner rolls and the sequence of Chaplin cooking his shoe in what may be his best-remembered movie. Also with Paulette Goddard.

Saturday, March 12 -- "The Kid," 1921, was his first feature, with Jackie Coogan as the child he befriends. Shows with a short, "Idle Class" (1921), in which Chaplin plays two characters opposite Edna Purviance.

Sunday, March 13 -- "The Circus," 1928, another slapstick comedy featuring the little tramp in an accidental appearance in the Big Top.

Sunday, March 20 -- "Monsieur Verdoux," 1947, kind of a reverse "Arsenic and Old Lace, as Chaplin portrays an out-of-work bank clerk who woos, weds and murders wealthy, elderly women. Tragedy, horror and humor.

Sunday, March 27 -- "Limelight," 1952, was Chaplin's final film, and the only time he appeared with Buster Keaton, the only other movie comedian to be mentioned in the same sentence. Once again, he befriends a despondent young woman, played by Claire Bloom who, 58 years later, portrayed Queen Mary in "The King's Speech."

Truly a great way to spend a month.

--Joe

Local Wine Conference Open to the Public

We know that our readers know a lot about everything, but we sometimes wonder just how knowledgeable they are about the wines of our state. More than a century ago, Missouri grapes helped save the world's wine industry; about a century ago, Missouri was one of the world leaders in wine production. Today, Missouri is home to nearly 100 wineries.

All this will be celebrated April 2-3 (this is not an April Fool's Day joke) at the Doubletree Westport and at some Missouri wineries. It's the third in a series of Drink Local Wine events; we met in Dallas in 2009 and in Virginia last year, under the leadership of co-founders Dave McIntyre, who writes about wine for the Washington Post, and Jeff Siegel, who runs the Wine Curmudgeon blog from his Dallas home. I was at the first one and had a fine time, and learned a lot about Texas wine.

Both Ann and I will be involved; we're on different panels on Saturday morning and will be the hosts of a bus tour on Sunday afternoon. There are other panels and other bus tours, as well.

The event also includes a Twitter Tasting on Saturday afternoon where a large group of Missouri wineries will be pouring samples and tasters are invited to share their opinions and thoughts on Twitter.

Interested wine-drinkers can get more information and can sign up for the event at www.drinklocalwine.com

Join us. It's sure to be fun, and your next chance won't happen until 2063.

--Joe

The Housemaid

Stark and visually striking, "The Housemaid" revisits a classic, 50-year-old film of the same name. With a plot that has fueled thousands of pornographic tales, the Korean film that opens today has some nudity, more sex and a story of wealth, stealth and revenge all sitting as the whipped cream atop a milkshake of wealth, family, servants and flat-out sexual domination.

Eun-yi (Jean Do-yeon), a poor girl from the provinces, goes to work for a family whose paternal figure, Hoon (Lee Junbg-jae), seems to have limitless wealth and power. There are minions to carry his briefcase, drive his car, make his tea. By himself, he carefully opens and decants bottles of wine, and skillfully plays the piano. He has a beautiful wife (Seo Woo), bountifully pregnant with twins, a daughter of 8 or 9 and a regal, dominating mother (Park Ji-young) who believes that money can solve all problems. One is unsolvable: Mrs. Cho (Yun Yeo-jong) is the long-time lead servant who feels threatened by the younger, prettier newcomer.

Writer-director Im Sang-soo uses lots of low-angle shots, emphasizing distance and mostly keeping the viewer at a long arm's length from the action. With the almost-empty house, and a minimum of antiseptic modern furniture, a huge fake fireplace dominates the living room.

Hoon soon casts an covetuous eye on Eun-yi, and she is not an unwilling participant. When Mrs. Cho discovers the goings-on, and makes sure the women learn about them, the plot, as they say, begins to thicken. Tension is high, and Im keeps it so with a sure hand. The story may be old, but the filmmakers make sure it has almost-fresh appeal.

The Housemaid opens today at Plaza Frontenac

--Joe

Modesto

Some of these days we're going to go to Modesto and try the paella – but we haven't yet, despite quite a few visits. The tapas menu just lures us, time after time. Chef Grace Dinsmoor is back in the kitchen and things, both in the dining room, and the bar, rock on, especially on weekends; one Friday night, we saw folks sitting down for dinner at 10:30 p.m. Ten years ago, Modesto began shaking things up on The Hill, Legend has it that when the founders toured the neighborhood for the required liquor-license signatures, some of the older residents heard "topless" instead of "tapas". Angry was the response before louder, slower repetition brought understanding.

Late at night, it's a younger crowd, mostly groups, and it gets a little noisier in the terra cotta colored dining room with its big south-facing windows. We order tapas about four at a time for the two of us, six at a time if there are two couples, and the servers here are accustomed to that rhythm. Empties were promptly removed, fresh plates supplied intermittently, and drinks refreshed.

And speaking of drinks, while we like Spanish wine just fine, this is the place to explore sangria. If you've had it once and thought “Nope,” remember that it, like turkey dressing, has a thousand recipes and more variations. The red sangria, smoothed out with a little brandy, just like they do in Spain, manages to be lightly fruity without being sweet. The white version cries out for a terrace overlooking the sea, just a little bitter, seemingly starting with a light hit of grapefruit and ending up with a note of pineapple at the bottom of the glass. There's always a sangria del dia, which was hibiscus that night, its flowery notes making it very sippable without being cloying.

Cheese and sausage to start out with for those a little hesitant about things. That great Spanish chorizo, rather like a coarse and very spicy salami, sliced wafer-thin kicked things off. (It also works well with beer.) Arriving hot from the oil were salt cod fritters, light and moist, with a marvelous garlic aioli for a dipping sauce. More of the aioli was drizzled over flatbread topped with smoked salmon and Serrano ham with a few threads of red onions and some capers, a dish particularly well-received by our hungry table.

Dinsmoor says she's getting ready to change the meatballs on the menu to a lamb version that she's used for catering. The current ones, veal and pork, were surprisingly tough to cut with a fork. But, goodness, were they tasty, and we wondered if the fork resistance was from being grilled. Besides the tomato sauce and a little manchego cheese, the meaty flavor seemed to have considerable push from being well-browned, and there's nothing wrong with that. Mussels steamed in hard cider were as fat as we've ever seen, their juices mingling with some chorizo sausage and sweet red pepper strips. Garlic cloves were lightly breaded, threaded on skewers, and quickly fried, the outside crunchy and the inside creamy and sweet.

We're suckers for those marinated white anchovies known as boquerones. Modesto offered them with see-through-thin slices of Iberico ham and piquillo peppers in a vinaigrette. Goat cheese baked in a little cazuela, or earthenware pan, was topped with sauteed mushrooms and some spicy tomato sauce, lush and endearing. Skewers of tender lamb were grilled with a tomato salsa alongside, tomato being a first-rate go-along with lamb.

Grilled octopus, we fear, isn't for everyone. But if you've tried calamari, the texture won't be unfamiliar, and the grilling adds another note to its mild flavor. Dressed with olive oil and a little lemon, as it is across much of the Mediterranean, it arrived atop thin slices of freshly fried potato. Dinsmoor's version of piperade adds roasted and shredded pork to the sweet peppers, as well as some white beans and a fried egg, meant to have the yolk broken and the whole stirred together, the egg acting as an enriching sauce.

In Spain churros and chocolate are a tradition, churros being those long, narrow doughnut sticks and the chocolate there being a drinking chocolate that's very thick. Modesto's chocolate is a dense, warm fudge sauce made with good chocolate, the drill being to dip the churros in the chocolate. Good stuff. Almost as good as their killer bread pudding, dark and white chocolate with a caramel sauce flavored with Licor 43, a vanilla-and-citrus flavored rum-like alcohol. Served warm, of course, and big enough to carry home, trophy-like, for breakfast the next morning.

Paella in four variations is the only entree served. We love rice dishes, so eventually, we're determined to tell you about those, too.

 

Modesto Tapas Bar and Restaurant

5257 Shaw Ave.

314-772-TAPA

www.modestotapas.com

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Poor

Smoking: No

Tapas: $5-$14