Michael Kelleher, who was instrumental in launching and building Just Buffalo Literary Center’s high-profile Babel reading series and its popular “Big Night” poetry readings, is leaving his job as the organization’s associate and artistic director this spring.
The rubber ducks were what did it. In the long, joyously incongruous history of sex scandal in America, we’ve seen a long succession of props and memorable details—Monica Lewinsky’s blue dress and cigar, Gary Hart’s dalliances aboard a yacht actually named “Monkey Business.”
Game on... ... or game not on, the Super Bowl had something for everyone. Driving around Sunday evening, it felt like Christmas Eve, with no one on the road. Buzz went to Aldi, where the checkout was wide open. The clerk asked if we had found everything, which we had. “We’re all cleaned out,” she apologized. Meanwhile, Howard, the guy we married, was all set up with peanuts and pistachios and beer even though he did not watch the game either. Instead he practiced his cocktail piano, pausing only to post one thing on Facebook, that instead of Madonna at halftime, they should have hired a good cocktail pianist. “What a great game,” he said later. “It’s win/win.”
For two decades now, I have been writing that Madonna was going to be a very interesting old woman. She's 53 now. But if her late middle age is any indication, she has become a crashing bore.
“Big Miracle” (PG): What a nice surprise. This true story, based on news accounts and a 1989 book, “Freeing the Whales,” by Thomas Rose, could have been a treacly, unchallenging “family film.”
On Thursday night, the Alleyway Theatre opened its world premiere production of “Cut-Ups,” a short surrealistic play by Mexico-based playwright Kerry Muir about personal loss and the power of the imagination.
Diana Fairbanks is the best thing to happen to Ch. 4 news since Carol Jasen left.
“Man on a Ledge” (PG-13): Teens may lose patience with this irritatingly contrived, oddly miscast crime thriller long before it’s over.
Most Monday nights, the tiny Alt Theatre in the great big Great Arrow Building on Elmwood Avenue is dark, its stage in temporary sleep mode between weekend performances and rehearsals.
We all owe “CSI” a lot. It was, after all, the TV show that first brought us 21st century television. Suddenly, TV was celebrating scientific brains and eccentric, self-effacing personalities.
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