From old-school VHS footage to shredding metal legends, last week was a nostalgia-filled blast from the past.
The Found Footage Festival kicked the weekend off in gory style Nov. 30 at Red Room with grainy video snippets of a live roadside birth, severed arms and parrot diarrhea. According to Boise Weekly's Josh Gross, it only got weirder from there.
"They showed clips from a short-lived cable access show called Dancing With Frank Pacholski, which featured Mr. Pacholski wearing only an American-flag Speedo and dancing for an intimate audience of senior citizens while smearing guacamole into his armpits and shoving a plucked chicken into his skivvies," Gross said.
The following night, Dec. 1, Gross swung by Visual Arts Collective for Alley Repertory Theater's Breadcrumbs, a somber look into a woman's struggle to document her life story.
"Breadcrumbs, Alley Rep's new play by Los Angeles playwright Jennifer Haley, is the story of Alida, a gruff and intensely private writer who is battling to get her life story on paper before it's lost in the fog of Alzheimer's," Gross explained.
According to Gross, the play weaves together flashbacks, elements of fairy tales and the struggles of dementia, all the while revealing information about Alida's shattered childhood.
"Both actors, Janet Summers in the role of old and young Alida, and Sarah Gardner in the roles of Beth and Alida's mother, give fine performances in these remarkably complex roles," Gross said. "But since there is little action and sparse staging, the show depends entirely on them. And the chemistry between the two drifted in and out, like they were acting more in their own worlds than in tandem with one another."
Breadcrumbs will continue at Visual Arts Collective through Saturday, Dec. 8.
Moving from shattered childhoods to shattered eardrums, BW's Harrison Berry made his way to Knitting Factory Dec. 2 for a set by iconic metal wizards Megadeth.
"The energy put off by the band multiplied when Dave Mustaine and Chris Broderick played call-and-response guitar solos. Broderick laid a bloody mess of notes over the drum and bass, paused a beat, and Mustaine would respond in his crisp, methodical style," noted Berry. "In that single beat, the audience, reduced to piranhas in the mosh pit near the stage, was caught between Scylla and Charybdis in a whirlpool of sound that sometimes more closely resembled a typhoon of broken glass."