A Horse of a Different Color: Between Riverside and Crazy and Equus, reviewed.

Frankie R. Faison, Emily K. Townley, and David Bishins in Between Riverside and Crazy. (Allie Dearie/Studio Theatre)

Among my other inspired headline ideas was the immortal "Race, Horse." Washington City Paper editor-in-chief Steve Cavendish came up with the winning entry: "Crime Doesn't Neigh." Bravo, Steve. Herewith, my reviews of Studio's Between Riverside and Crazy, the 2015 Pulitzer winner from Stephen Adly Guirgis, and Constellation's new production of Peter Shaffer's Equus.

Heal Thyself: The Critic and The Real Inspector Hound, reviewed.

The cast of The Real Inspector Hound (Scott Suchman/Shakespeare Theatre Co.)

I couldn't make the Monday-night press premiere of Shakespeare Theatre Company's twofer of Richard Brinsley Sheridan's The Critic and Tom Stoppard's The Real Inspector Hound last week, as I am teaching the Sweet Science on Monday nights this season. But I caught up with the show later in the week and my Washington City Paper review went up this afternoon. Stoppard's play, especially, makes the pain of hackery burn more than usual.

Pop Culture Happy Hour No. 278: The Hateful Eight and the Theatrical Filmgoing Experience

Samuel L. Jackson in The Hateful Eight. (The Weinstein Co.)

It's a split verdict from the Pop Culture Happy Hour panel this week on the merits of Quentin Tarantino's eighth and—on account of having been shot in 65mm Super Panavision, for a 2.76:1 aspect ratio when projected in 70mm—widest feature, The Hateful Eight. I don't think I was at my sharpest trying to defend the picture. All I can tell is you that I saw its refusal to give us any character to empathize with fully as a strength, not a weakness, and reflective of a deliberate decision by Tarantino. Although more modest in scale and contained in its setting, this is a more complicated film than the two historical fantasias that preceded it, 2009's Inglorious Basterds and 2012's Django Unchained. I enjoy and admire all of these films, but it's very clear in the latter two who is supposed to enjoy the audience's support. Not so in The Hateful Eight. That discomfiture ain't for everyone. "The viewership for this one narrows to the self-selected," wrote my pal Scott Tobias in his NPR review three weeks ago.

When we moved on to discussing how theatrical film exhibition has evolved, I missed my window to mention Sensurround, the gimmick that Universal rolled out with the 1974 release of Earthquake! That's okay; I used it as my lede for my review of San Andreas eight months ago. You know, The Hateful Eight is only the 11th feature ever shot in Super Panavision 70/Camera 65; of the 10 others, three of them starred Charlton Heston, who is also in Earthquake! That cat sure got around. Imagine the performance he would've given in a Tarantino movie.

More trivia: Scent of Mystery, the 1960 "Smell-O-Vision" epic I mentioned, was directed by Jack Cardiff, who was probably better known for the films he shot as a cinematographer. He was behind the camera for a trio of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger classics in the 1940s, A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, and The Red Shoes, and then for John Huston's The African Queen. Much later, after he'd retired from directing, he shot 1984's Conan the Destroyer and 1985's Rambo: First Blood, Part II. But not the first Conan or Rambo movies—the ones you can actually defend. Too bad.

Hear it all here.

When You're a Jet Something Something: West Side Story, reviewed.

(Signature Theatre/Christopher Mueller)

I brought my folks to Signature Theatre's reverent, rapturous production of the Broadway classic West Side Story the week before Christmas, but due to vagaries related to two issues falling on holidays between then and now, my Washington City Paper review is only now surfacing. I filed on time, dammit. At least I think I did. Who can remember anything from before Christmas now? Holiday-time usually brings a conventional but deeply satisfying revival of a proven crowd favorite, and this winter, West Side Story is the one to beat.

For what it's worth, the first time I heard "America" was when Bono was singing a snippet of it during "Bullet the Blue Sky" on U2's PopMart Tour in 1997.

Pop Culture Happy Hour No. 274: Star Wars — The Force Awakens and Merch, Merch, Merch

I was delighted to join Linda Holmes and Stephen Thompson — and to share my first Pop Culture Happy Hour panel with the estimable Gene Demby — to process our reactions to Star Wars: The Force Awakens. We recorded this episode just a few hours after seeing the movie; the review I wrote to accompany the release of the podcast came from a day or so later. I know my opinion had not entirely settled yet, but we had a fun, lively discussion. 

When I sat down to watch the film again two nights later, with Pal-for-Life Glen Weldon seated beside me, he asked if I missed the 20th Century Fox fanfare before the glowing green Lucasfilm logo appeared onscreen. We've spoken before about how that fanfare always gives us a ripple of excitement no matter what we're about to watch, because of the sense-memory of Star Wars. Strangely, I hadn't noticed its absence until Glen pointed it out. (There was a lot of other stuff to notice, c'mon.)

I don't think I mentioned during the toy-talk portion of the podcast that I divested myself of my entire collection of Star Wars figures — in their bust-of-Darth Vader carrying case — at yard sale sometime in the late 1980s for less than $20. My mom, I recall, was not pleased. It's not that she thought I could hold onto them and maybe pay for grad school one day; it's just that I had put my parents through a lot demanding that they track down particular figures for me. (I also demanded a talking toy car from Knight Rider, as you'll hear.) I'm sorry for that, Mom and Dad.

$149.99 at a Bed, Bath, and Beyond near you. (Disney/Lucasfilm)

Stuff I found out for this episode that you won't learn from it: Star Wars action figures each retailed for $1.49 in 1977, $1.99 in 1980, and $2.49 in 1983. There is no small sum of irony in the fact that while many of us, including me, have decried Return of the Jedi as an extended toy ad, it was only the revenue from the sales of Star Wars toys that kept that film's precursor, consensus favorite The Empire Strikes Back, afloat during its troubled production. (Chris Taylor covers all this in his fine book How Star Wars Conquered the Universe.)

Finally, I was happy to be able to pimp my tenth Christmas mixtape, which is posted for your hall-decking streaming pleasure right here.