Double's Documentarians
(04/04/02 5:00am)
Cannes on the French Riviera. Sundance in Ski Country. And DoubleTake, the nation's premiere documentary film festival, right here in Durham.
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Cannes on the French Riviera. Sundance in Ski Country. And DoubleTake, the nation's premiere documentary film festival, right here in Durham.
The DoubleTake Documentary Film Festival (see story, p. 4) features over 100 documentaries, but the following are four to look forward to.
For this spring break, I told the travel agent I wanted to go "south of the border" - for sun, sangria, and a plethora of "Pedros" (if you know what I mean). She booked my request, I boarded the plane... and found myself, not in Cancun or Cabo, but in Dillon, South Carolina. An honest mistake, but it turns out "South of the Border" ended up being the crazy spring break all college coeds can hope for. I now understand why this little gem off I-95 is considered the greatest vacation destination on the East Coast--it was a non-stop party!
Pop Quiz: Staci's a slutty-hot mid-20-something struggling to make it in Los Angeles. She's not the brightest in the bunch, but throw a semi-attractive male and some female competition in the fray, and her feistiness explodes on screen. She proceeds with some trash talk and inappropriate sexual innuendos. What popular TV show is she appearing on?
Move over, military intelligence. Step aside, jumbo shrimp. There's a new oxymoron in town: MTV books.
Ah, the Oak Room. The name alone conjures images of slightly overpriced dishes of bowtie pasta in a bland cream sauce, our fellow students tripping over their server aprons, eternally fuming about getting stiffed on their last three tables. Ever "flagging," ever doing worse than the year before, ever in a state of promised renewal or near shut-down... and yet the Oak Room endures.
Say hello to the girl that I am/ You're gonna have to see through my perspective
This is the true story of 1000 strangers... arriving in Durham... with the hopes to be picked for a show... and have their lives taped... to find out what happens... when people stop wanting anonymity--and start getting "real."
As you wander with parents in tow through the Bryan Center this weekend, expect to be surrounded by sound--the chatter of coffee breaks at Alpine Atrium, the buzz of buying sweatshirts at the Duke University Store, the din of old Berlin.
At the first North Carolina State Fair in 1853, the entrance fee was $.25 and the City of Raleigh contributed a grand total of $25. Today, $.25 buys you 1/8 of a midway game and $25 will get you two turkey legs, a grape sno cone, a large order of ribbon fries and a deep fried Milky Way.
3:00pm - The arrival. Swarms and swarms of people. Unfortunately, no mullets in sight. We bust out our map and try to find the bicycle stunt race. It never happens-we are sucked into the abyss of carnival carnage.
If a thing happens on television, we have every right to find it fascinating, whatever it is." --Don DeLillo, White Noise.
Aplane crash in the Bahamas last Saturday night ended the life of 22-year-old singer and actress Aaliyah Haughton, one of the most innovative artists in today's hip-hop landscape. For the performer who initially proved that "age ain't nothin' but a number," it was an end that came just on the brink of Yberstardom.
It has taken all year, but I've finally come to terms with it: I suck as a college music critic. I'm not out discovering new indie bands, picking up CDs at Radio Free Records or attending shows at Cat's Cradle. I admit it-I'm a mainstream music junkie. I listen to G105 in the shower and review the artists that practically everyone has already heard about.
Chevy Chase "won't even give Time magazine" half an hour, so we at Recess felt privileged to get 17 minutes with the guy. He's starred on everything from Caddyshack to Saturday Night Live, but now Chase is doing something different-playing jazz piano with the Duke Jazz Ensemble. The actor and comedian will be performing his debut concert this Monday in Page Auditorium. Associate Music Editor Beth Iams got the lucky 17 minutes.
un DMC may be headlining Last Day of Classes, but the true pioneers of hip-hop are performing in Page Auditorium tonight.
For the first time in years, the Grammys had a chance to reverse their inconsequential and hopelessly unhip pattern of recognizing expired radio trends and jumping on pop culture bandwagons. Forget the first two hours of the show, which were dominated by Bono's arrogant ramblings and the Destiny Children's midriffs. The big drama that could have vindicated this irrelevant studio-horse awards show was the battle over album of the year.
The emergence of British folk singer Eliza Carthy marks the latest attempt to transform a female singer from indie ingenue to mainstream mama. Critically acclaimed for her creative fusion of folk, medieval and modern music, Carthy's recipe for her major label debut, Angels and Cigarettes, feels more formulaic than forward-looking.
Misogynistic lyrics, masterful hip-hop mixing-and a midget. It's all here on the Smut Peddlers' debut CD, Porn Again.
Puff Daddy is still all about the Benjamins.