BIG EASY: Cirque Dreams Holidaze

For anyone who’s a Cirque du Soleil aficionado (or at least a fan), if you attend a Cirque Dreams Holidaze performance this week at the Mahalia Jackson Theater, you’ll know right away that it’s no Saltimbanco or Alegria. Gone are the foreign languages and super eccentric musical scores and freaky clowns and the slightly aloof air of sophistication of many of the other shows.

Naturally!

Because this is not your run-of-the-mill Cirque show. Its holiday themes are designed to capture adults’ and children’s attention with a more accessible wonderment. That’s not to say that the performances are anything but astonishing. While this kinder, gentler production is probably more palatable to a wider audience, it still has the “Whoa!” and “Wow!” factors. Both of which I uttered more times than I can count.

Throughout the show, an international cast of over 30 artists demonstrates feats of strength and balance, magical illusions, soaring vocal performances, and of course, there are the elaborate costumes, props and set design. There are daring penguins, fearlessly flipping gingerbread men, dancing trees, giant candy canes, and a whole lot of people whose sole purpose, I’m convinced, is to remind me that I’m sorely lacking in any sort of physical talent, stamina or flexibility. I feel confident, however, that I could do a bang-up job as one of the guys with sparkly cornucopias on their heads who always look astonished and do “ta-da” hands after someone does something amazing.

Maybe I can run away and join the circus afterall!

But, I digress. Get your tickets soon -- I'm sure they're in short supply!

Cirque Dreams Holidaze is at New Orleans’ Mahalia Jackson Theater through this Saturday,
Christmas Eve. The performance schedule:

Wednesday, December 21, 2011 at 8:00pm
Thursday, December 22, 2011 at 8:00pm
Friday, December 23, 2011 at 2:00pm & 8:00pm
Saturday, December 24, 2011 at 2:00pm

For tickets, click here or call 800-982-ARTS(2787).

Enjoy!

BIG EASY: Cajun Holiday Tea with Papa Noel

So, there I was at a Laser Tag birthday party in Elmwood, trying to decide if it was worth it to drag my son away from his friends and brave the Krewe of Jingle traffic/parade route to get to the Cajun Holiday Tea with Papa Noel… well, I’m pleased to announce that, YES! We made it, and it was, in fact, totally worth it!

My husband wasn’t really thrilled at the prospect, not being a very tea party kind of guy, but nonetheless, we made a mad dash across town and boarded the Creole Queen. We were handed an agenda for the event, and directed to the next room for Santa pictures. And what to our wondering eyes should appear? But a little person in a Gingerbread Boy suit, a tall dude in a very silly Gaston the Gator costume, and a Cajun-ly dressed Papa Noel in front of a tin-roofed cabin and swampy backdrop. What an eclectic group – I’d expect no less from a Cajun tea party! Such a hoot!

With a buffet-style set up and okay food, it was certainly not the Ritz. But the jovial, attentive staff and very kid-friendly activities more than made up for it. (And, truth be told, the laid-back approach made it much more palatable to many of the macho menfolk and squirmy kids!)

Holding an eighteen-inch live alligator was certainly a highlight, as was the candy buffet. Writing, decorating, and mailing a letter to Santa was a pleasant little activity, as well. But the Magician Elf was, by far, the most entertaining part of the day. Not only did he perform some pretty amazing tricks and handily field some odd questions and requests from the kids, but he stepped up when the Gingerbread Boy was either unwilling or unable to perform his reading of The Cajun Night Before Christmas. Mr. Elf looked a bit surprised by the circumstances, but he took it all in stride, prefacing his reading by saying, “Boys and girls, I’m from a magical land called Pennsylvania, so this should be interesting…”

Hilarious! And the kids were delighted!

It’s hard to tell how these events are going to go (especially if you’re captive on a boat the whole time), but this actually wound up being one of those “good for the whole family” deals, and it really sped by. As we disembarked, each child was handed a huge stuffed alligator. Details like that made the whole experience quite unique. So many element at that party screamed New Orleans. I mean, do you think they’re petting live gators at kiddie Christmas parties in Atlanta? I don’t think so.

I highly recommend you snap up your tickets quickly. Only two more Saturdays for this special holiday party/cruise!

Boarding: 1:30pm - 2pm at RiverWalk Dock (next to N.O. Hilton Riverside Hilton Hotel)
Cruising: 2pm - 3:30pm
Price (taxes are included):
Adult: $49
Child (under 12): $34

BIG SCREEN: The Skin I Live In Revieux (Rated R)

If you dig movies about beautiful people in horrific situations that make you squirm in your seat and beg for mercy… well, look no further. Yes, just in time for Christmas, Antonio Banderas provides eye candy that quickly gets mauled, gutted and violated before your very eyes!

In In the Skin I Live In, Banderas plays Robert Ledgard, a brilliant surgeon who has developed a synthetic skin that can withstand injury. Seems like an interesting concept that was born from the grief of losing his wife in a fiery car accident. But, there’s way, way more to it, beginning with the woman/guinea pig he keeps in a sealed room in his mansion and monitors on a giant screen. She’s beautiful and mysterious and practically mummified in the aforementioned faux skin, leaving us dying to figure out who the heck she is.

Ah, but be careful what you wish for. As the story begins to unfold, we discover that Ledgard is actually a mad scientist who is tortured by a series of traumatic events that turned him into a sadistic monster. That it’s all in Spanish somehow makes it more sensuous and sinister, which raises the creepy factor to almost unbearable levels.

I kid you not, I had to run to get groceries from WalMart after the screening (I know, glamorous, right?), and I found myself nervously checking out seemingly normal people to see if I could figure out which of them might have similarly twisted, sociopathic secret lives. The movie obviously made an impression on me, at the very least. So, kudos for that!

It’s certainly not for mainstream audiences, but I certainly applaud Antonio Banderas for a bold and convincing departure from the mainstream, and celebrated Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar for delivering a unique, albeit demented, movie experience.

BIG EASY: Holiday Tea Time in New Orleans

New Orleans may be best known for its more boisterous festivities, but this city also has mastered the art of hosting refined afternoon teas–-especially during the holidays. Below is a listing of yuletide teas for both children and adults:

Tea For The Holidays at Windsor Court Hotel
Dates: November 25-December 31
About: Highlights of this decadent tea include featured holiday teas and cocktails, special cranberry-orange and gingerbread scones, holiday sweets, 26 of the finest loose-leaf teas, souvenir holiday menus.
Seatings:
November 25-December 23 & 26-30 – 11am, 2pm, and 4:30pm
December 24 & 31 – 11am and 2pm
Reservations: Online or call 504-596-4773

Teddy Bear Tea at The Roosevelt Hotel
Dates: December 3-23
About: This tea is for both children and adults. Santa and Mrs. Claus welcome the whole family while fancy tea and tea sandwiches, scones, desserts, sparkling wine are served. Kids get hot cocoa, peanut butter & jelly/ham & cheese sandwiches, holiday cookies, and other goodies. Kids 12 and under also get a Roosevelt Teddy Bear, Mrs. Claus will read holiday stories, and several holiday characters will appear. Pictures with Santa will be available for purchase.
Seatings:
December 3, 4, 19, 20 -- 10am and 1pm
December 10, 11, 17, 18, 21, 22, 23 -- 10am, 1pm, and 4pm.
Pricing: General reserved seating: ages 3 and under, no charge; ages 4-10, $37 ($46.16 with tax and gratuity); 11 and up, including adults, $54 ($67.37 inclusive of tax and gratuity); Limited VIP reserved seating (includes Roosevelt champagne flute for adults, one commemorative photo per family, and premium seating near the stage): ages 3 and under, no charge; ages 4-10, $47.00 ($58.63 with tax and gratuity); 11 and up, including adults, $69 ($86.08 with tax and gratuity).
Reservations: Online or via The Roosevelt Holiday Line at 504-335-3129.

Cajun Holiday Tea with Papa Noel aboard the Creole Queen
Dates: December 3, 10, 17
About: Guests on the paddlewheeler will join Papa Noel, the Cajun Gingerbread Boy, Gaston the Gator and other jolly Cajun characters. This classic tea with tempting treats will also feature storytelling, children's activities, and merriment while cruising the mighty Mississippi. Children can hold a real live alligator and take home a stuffed one.
Boarding: 1:30pm - 2pm; Cruising: 2pm - 3:30pm
Price: Adults: $49, Children under 12: $34 (includes tax)
Reservations: Online

Papa Noel Tea at The Ritz-Carlton
Dates: December 3-24
About: This elegant tea is for both parents and their children. There will be music, storytelling, and a gingerbread masterpiece. Children will receive gifts from Papa Noel.
Seatings: December 3, 4, 10, 11, 17-24 – 11am and 2pm
Pricing: Adults and children $45 each (does not include tax or gratuity)
Reservations: Online or call 504-524-1331

Longue Vue Tea on Tuesday: Gracious Global Gifts with Vom Fass
Date: December 6, from 1:30 to 3:30 p.m.
About: Join Denise Dussom, co-owner of Vom Fass New Orleans as she discusses delicious vinegars, oils, and cordials from around the globe. Sample some tasty treats and learn how to give a gracious gift this year, “straight from the cask to the customer.” A traditional tea will be served after the lecture with a selection of scones, pastries, homemade lemon curd, and finger sandwiches.
Price: $25 members; $30 nonmembers.
Reservations: Online

Longue Vue Holiday Tea and Tour
Dates: December 8, 13, 15, 20, 22, 27, and 29, from 1:30 to 3:30 p.m.
About: Tour the house, decked in twinkling lights and festive greenery; toast the holidays with a complimentary glass of champagne; savor tea with friends; enjoy seasonal sounds; and find the perfect gift at The Shop at Longue Vue.
Price: $30 for members; $35 for nonmembers.
Reservations: Online

Longue Vue Happy Ho-Ho-Holidays Family Tea with Santa
Date: December 10, from 1 to 3 p.m.
About: Children and their parents are invited to join Santa in celebrating the holidays at Longue Vue with caroling, crafts and good cheer! Have photos taken with Santa and create a festive frame to capture and share the joyful spirit of the season. Toast the holidays with a complimentary glass of bubbly cheer, served with hot chocolate, cookies, sandwiches, and tea.
Price: For children, $15 for members; $18 for non-members. For adults, $25 for members; $30 for non-members.
Reservations: Online www.longuevue.com.

Monte Lion's Children's Holiday Tea at The Hotel Monteleone
Dates: December 10 and 17
About: Hotel Monteleone’s loveable mascot Monte the Lion hosts his annual children’s party, along with friends Santa, Frosty, Rudolph, and the elves. Mrs. Claus will read classic Christmas tales while guests enjoy savory treats, games, and caroling as a trumpeter leads a parade. Plus, photos with Santa and a complimentary stuffed Monte.
Seatings: 10am and 2pm
Pricing: $50 for adults, $36 for children.
Reservations: Online or call 504-681-4452

The Royal Teddy Bear Tea at the Royal Sonesta Hotel
Dates: December 11-23
About: Highlights include a visit from many favorite holiday characters and a parade. Guests get a select assortment of freshly prepared tea sandwiches, homemade currant buttermilk scones and breakfast breads are served with lemon cream and preserves. Christmas cookies, chocolate truffles, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and much more.
Seatings:
December 11, 12, 17, 18, 19 -- 11am and 2pm
December 20, 21, 22, and 23 -- One seating only at 11am
Pricing:
Premium Seats (closest to stage): Adults $68, kids $53
Regular Seats: Adults $58.00, kids $43.00
Prices include tax and gratuity.
Reservations: Online or at 504-553-2201

BIG SCREEN: J. Edgar (Rated R)

Who in the world would’ve ever thought to cast eternally boyish Leonardo DiCaprio as J. Edgar Hoover, for Pete’s sake? Clint Eastwood, that’s who. And that’s why he’s a successful filmmaker. Vision.

J. Edgar tells the story of the legendary FBI director in a fragmented, but thoughtful way. It bounces back and forth from his highly ambitious, youthful beginnings with the bureau to his twilight years, when he was regularly blackmailing political foes into submission with his secret files. It also addresses his alleged mommy issues (enhanced by the usual strong performance from Judi Dench), as well as the rumors of cross-dressing and homosexuality, but with a typically light Eastwood touch. I’m pretty sure Hoover wouldn’t see it this way, but the handling of these issues comes across as downright respectful.

Most striking is DiCaprio’s physical transformation. Kudos to the makeup artists, who seamlessly age him from his 20s to his 70s, making him barely recognizable at either age. I’ll be shocked if there’s no Oscar nomination, if not win, in that department. But his performance is impressive, as well. Historical accounts have portrayed Hoover as a pretty darn unlikable guy, but DiCaprio manages to make him human. Instead of coming across as merely corrupt, we’re shown a complicated guy who genuinely can't distinguish between ego and patriotism. DiCaprio even masters and maintains that weird, early 20th century East Coast accent with its staccato delivery, a la James Cagney.

I wouldn’t exactly call J. Edgar a “great” movie, but it’s certainly a welcomed departure from your usual cookie cutter movies. It’s pretty interesting to see this rather cartoonish figure (in my estimation) in a totally different light, once he’s given some dimension and historical context.

BIG EASY: Casket Girls of New Orleans: Founding Matriarchs or Vampire Smugglers?

On a recent trip to New Orleans’ awesome Musée Conti Wax Museum, I was introduced to a brand new topic I had never heard of before: Casket Girls.

Mwa-ha-ha! Sounds creepy, no?

Sources vary on the specifics, but the basic story is that the city’s founders asked France to send over prospective wives for the colonists. They obliged and all these young girls showed up, bearing only as many belongings as would fit in a little “casket,” which appears to be the 18th century equivalent of an overnight bag.

Some accounts say they were fine young women, some say they were orphans, some say prostitutes. Some even say they’re the ones who brought vampires to New Orleans! And, yet, I’m told New Orleanians are proud if they can trace their heritage back to these women. Prostitutes? Vampires? Intriguing!

After exhausting my online search, I decided to get to the bottom of this. So, I headed over to the Ursulines Convent, where the girls were said to have resided until the nuns could arrange for marriages. Actually… first, I headed over to Croissant d’Or, a block north on Ursulines Avenue. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t open when the mademoiselles arrived in the 1720s, which is a shame. A sublime raspberry croissant and French Market coffee might have softened the blow of arriving in what must have been a sweltering, mosquito-infested swamp-village. But, I digress.

Wouldn’t you know? I arrived at the convent, only to find it closed for the day while they installed a new exhibit (the subject: Pere Antoine. Yet, another interesting historical Crescent City character and restaurant namesake. But, as luck would have it, a friendly employee who was coming through the gate was all too happy to share her considerable knowledge about the girls.

As it turns out, yes, France had sent plenty of shady characters over to populate New Orleans. Convicts, prostitutes, and all-around ne’er-do-wells -- but not in this group. Where did all the creepy vampire stories come from? The Ursulines ambassador shared a few theories. First of all, these girls endured a long and arduous journey across the Atlantic. At best, they were pale and gaunt from traveling below-deck much of the time. At worst, they were deathly ill. A nasty case of tuberculosis could cause a girl to cough up blood – hence the vampire link? Also, their suitcases were called “casquettes,” or “caskets.” A-ha. Nothing says Nosferatu like a coffin handbag!

But, wait – what about the infamous third floor windows, said to be nailed shut to keep in (or out?) the vampires? Pish-posh. I’m told those are fully functional hurricane shutters that weren’t installed until a century after the Casket Girls’ arrival.

So, there you have it. But, just because the Casket Girls didn’t bring ‘em, doesn’t mean they’re not here. Take one Vampire Tour or a trip to the Dungeon and you’ll be convinced.

For more on the Old Urusline Convent, visit http://www.gonola.com/2011/03/30/nola-history-the-old-ursuline-convent-in-the-french-quarter.html

To find other spooky tours, visit http://www.gonola.com/2010/10/27/7198.html


(This blog post originally appeared on GoNola.com)

BIG SCREEN: Snow Flower and the Secret Fan (PG-13)

It would be so much easier to review this movie had I not read the book. I’d probably call it a rather bleak, Asian version of that old Bette Midler/Barbara Hershey sobfest, Beaches. Sort of lovely, but mostly just a manipulative little melodrama, designed to reduce women to tears. (Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.) But after reading Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See, it becomes clear that the filmmakers sucked all the beauty out of the original story. What a rotten shame!

The movie begins in modern day Shanghai, where a young executive named Nina (Li Bingbing) rushes to the bedside of her estranged childhood best friend, Sophia (Gianna Gun), who’s been critically injured in a traffic accident. While Sophia lies in a coma, Nina comes across a manuscript Sophia has been writing, which tells the story of an ancestor, named Snow Flower, and Lily, her laotong (a sort of arranged female friendship in which little girls pledge their love and fidelity to each other for all time). Lily marries up, Snow Flower marries down, and it creates a major problem in their relationship. Similarly, Nina’s star is on the rise, while she finds Sophia has fallen on hard times. The movie jumps back and forth from past to present, showing a parallel between the two relationships, while giving the audience a snapshot of the ancient Chinese traditions women once had to endure, including foot binding, arranged marriages, total submission, and countless other horrors.

Why the filmmakers chose to create this whole modern story line, which does not exist in the book, is truly baffling. It adds nothing to the overall tale, and it doesn’t really allow the audience to develop an intimate relationship with either pair of friends. Sadly, the movie completely missed out on most of the book’s vivid, detailed descriptions of the sights, the sounds, the smells, the emotions, and everything involved in the beautiful and horrible customs of ancient China. Why would they do that?! No idea.

This is definitely one of those cases where reading the book actually ruins the movie. If you’re unaware that it’s a cheap adaptation, it could serve as an excellent catharsis, should you need a good cry. Having said all that, I was grateful for the movie's cutting of corners in one instance... it took me two nights to get through the book’s description of the foot binding process. OMG! So much worse than I ever imagined. It was almost more than I could bear to read about the breaking of bones and bleeding and oozing and other horrific elements of the repugnant process that was forced upon little girls! I vowed that if they were as detailed in the movie, I’d probably have to leave. Luckily, I just had to close my eyes and plug my ears for a scant minute or so.

So, there’s that.

BIG EASY: Darwin the Dinosaur at the Contemporary Arts Center

If you’re anything like me, you have the best of intentions when it comes to providing your kid(s) with creative stimulation. But, if you’re anything like me, it happens much more infrequently than you’d like. A trip to a museum here, a music class there… oh, for a little inspiration.

Well, ask and ye shall receive!

I was fortunate enough to make it to opening night of Darwin the Dinosaur at Creative Arts Center New Orleans (CACNO) on Friday night with my husband and five-year-old son. I knew very little about it, other than it was described as a “glow-in-the-dark adventure." What I imagined would be a glorified puppet show turned out to be quite an amazing and original experience for us all.

Not unlike a live-action, neon Fantasia that combines puppetry arts and movement, it’s all about mesmerizing visuals and music from a dizzying array of genres -- and no dialogue. The basic storyline is about a professor who brings a dinosaur to life and teaches him compassion, then the dinosaur sets out to discover the world on his own. He encounters beauty and danger and love and heartbreak, all wordlessly expressed by larger-than-life creatures made of electroluminescent wire. Some creatures are extensions of the performers’ bodies, some are puppets – all seem to magically levitate in the darkness.

The show itself is innovative and inspirational, but the Q&A session that follows the show really allows the audience to appreciate the group’s ingenuity and enthusiasm. Creators Ian Carney (a Tulane grad who was raised in New Orleans) and Corbin Popp met while dancing in Twyla Tharp’s Broadway show Movin’ Out. After they discovered their mutual love for art, theater and technology, they formed a partnership. Together with their wives, they began to develop puppetry-based creatures (using "EL" wire and repurposed sports equipment and home improvement items!), and Darwin was born.

The show lasts an hour and, despite the volume and intensity, even kids under the age of two seemed to enjoy themselves (I think it would've rattled my kid at that age, but every kid is different). Don’t miss out! I swear you can feel unused portions of your brain being stimulated by this delightfully unique experience!

This week’s remaining showtimes:
Friday, August 19, 7pm
Saturday, August 20, 2pm
Saturday, August 20, 7pm
Sunday, August 21, 2pm

Tickets are $18 General Admission, $15 CAC members & students, $10 for children 10 and under.

For tickets or more information, call the CAC box office at 504.528.3800 or visit http://www.cacno.org/performingarts/event/2011/08/darwin+dinosaur/index.html

BIG SCREEN: The Help (PG-13)

It’s not all that often that screen adaptations live up to the original books, but, ladies and gentlemen – this one does! There are a few places where the filmmakers cut some corners where I wish they hadn’t, but overall, bravo!

The Help is the story of Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan, a recent college graduate and social misfit in 1960s Mississippi. Her dream to become a writer and her disgust with her friends’ ill treatment of their African-American maids converge in one fabulously controversial book project. She convinces some local maids to tell her stories of their relationships with their employers – the good, the bad, and the ugly – which ultimately creates a massive firestorm in an already volatile social climate.

I highly recommend that you read the book by Kathryn Stockett first, just to get the full experience of all the details and descriptions that couldn’t possibly have all been crammed into the screenplay. But, even if you don’t, the movie succeeds for two reasons: (1) it is pretty darn faithful to the book, and (2) the casting is incredibly spot-on.

It’s hard to pick the standout performance. Emma Stone proves she’s got serious big-girl acting chops as she seamlessly steps into Skeeter’s shoes and skillfully anchors the whole movie. Allison Janney plays her long-suffering, dry-witted mother with ease, and delivers one of my favorite lines of the movie: “Love and hate are two horns on the same goat.”

Sissy Spacek is a total hoot, despite her minimal screen time (someone, please cast her in some major roles again!). Cicely Tyson – wow! Still so beautiful, with a presence that leaps off the screen, even in a subtle performance like this. Ron Howard’s daughter Bryce Dallas Howard is a scene-stealer with her fabulously over-the-top portrayal of the truly witchy Hilly. But probably the singlemost excellent performance was that of Octavia Spencer as the mouthy firecracker, Minny. Paired with Viola Davis as her much steadier best friend Aibileen, she’s allowed to really push the sassy envelope with hysterical results.

People who are squawking about how the civil rights theme is just stirring up trouble and reopening old wounds have totally missed the point. In addition to providing perspective on some horrible injustices in our not-so-distant past, it’s a sweet and witty story about humanity. If you ask me, it’s a good thing to be reminded of how stupid, petty, and destructive stereotypes and prejudice can be, and to be shown an example of people rising above it all.

It’s hilarious, it’s heartbreaking, it’s heartwarming… a good, old-fashioned Southern charmer with substance.

BIG SCREEN: Another Earth (PG-13)

I like to take notes while watching a movie I plan to review. You never know if a line or detail that catches your attention might turn out to be crucial, or if some random thought that pops into your head might turn out to be a brilliant insight. In re-reading my scribbly notes on Another Earth, one line stood out: “Interesting concept, but I want to kill myself.”

Yeah. It’s a rather puzzling and bleak experience.

Rhoda Williams (played by the awesomely haunting Brit Marling) is a brilliant and beautiful teen who’s been accepted to MIT. She’s got a bright future ahead of her, but in her exuberance and youthful carelessness, she gets behind the wheel after a boozy celebration and destroys a man’s family.

Okay, so it’s a drama? A sad, cautionary tale? Not so fast.

On that very night, it’s discovered that there’s another planet, visible from ours, that turns out to be a carbon copy, with a duplicate population. Like, a person-for-person, mirror-image duplicate. Sort of like a parallel universe, except it’s a nearby planet.

A-ha. Is this really a sci-fi movie? Hold that thought.

Rhoda emerges from prison a few years later, a shell of a human being. She sleepwalks through life, and takes a job as a janitor who scrubs toilets as though she’s trying to scrub her psyche clean. In her search for some sort of, I don’t know, absolution or something, she (a) enters an essay contest to become one of the first to visit “Earth 2” and (b) winds up becoming the cleaning lady for the man (William Mapother) whose family she killed.

Of course, he has no idea who she is, and as their relationship progresses, she seems to breathe some life into his miserable existence, with the ever-present ugly truth precariously hanging overhead. Is she nuts? Is he going to go nuts? Why does she keep going back? The tension this creates is more nerve wracking than watching people get stalked by a psycho killer in a horror movie.

Which is great, if it’s a psychological thriller. But, is it? Not sure.

It’s no secret that I’m not exactly an astrophysicist or anything, but throughout the movie, I remained distracted by the sudden appearance of this other planet, so close that it’s visible to the naked eye. How did it get here? If it suddenly rocketed into our orbit, wouldn’t it throw us off our axis or screw with our gravity or something? I realized that probably wasn’t the point. So I put aside my disbelief and waited. For the point, that is.

This is a recurrent theme… the filmmakers seem to continually ask the audience to just trust them and go along for the ride. As if all will be revealed if you just resist questioning their motives and choices. Um, okay.

In the final scene, the surprising conclusion to the movie seems to finally explain the purpose of the movie, which I think is just to provide cosmic, spiritual, and/or psychological food for thought. So, all our questions are answered with… a series of new questions?

This is either really brilliant or a total cop-out. I lean toward the latter, but you be the judge.

All confusion and criticism aside, this Brit Marling girl is so stinking intriguing. She's beautiful, of course, but there's something so compelling about her -- depth? Intelligence? Well, she writes, directs, produces, and she graduated from Georgetown with a degree in economics. Yep, smart cookie.

Keep an eye on this one. Maybe someday she'll actually give the Hollywood boys' club a run for their money.

BIG SCREEN: The Smurfs

When you think of Smurfs, what immediately comes to mind? 80s phenomenon? Annoying theme song? How ‘bout an international cosmetics company headed by a psychotic Latino woman? “No” on that last one? Yeah, me neither. Which is why this movie was sort of confusing to me. Perhaps I should explain.

Y’see, in this movie, Papa Smurf (Jonathan Winters) and several of his little blue children find themselves lost in Manhattan after being sucked through a vortex while being chase by their nemesis, the evil wizard, Gargamel (Hank Azaria), and his conniving kitty, Azrael. Desperate to get back to their Smurfalicious world, they seek the assistance of a cosmetics industry marketing executive (Neil Patrick Harris) and his pregnant wife (Jayma Mays, who’s apparently on Glee). His effort to please his ruthless boss (Sofia Vergara) by creating a brilliant ad campaign becomes central to the plot. And I’m not really sure why. Weird, but whatever.

Other than that odd choice, filmmakers definitely adhered to the original formula. The little blue creatures, each named after their defining traits (Brainy, Grouchy… Happy, Sneezy, Doc?), have good intentions, but of course, wind up wreaking havoc. And, yes, they sing that hideous song. I’ll be honest -- the whole Smurf thing didn’t really work for me the first time around in the 80s, so I pretty much assumed that this would not exactly be my cup of tea. And I was right.

But, let’s talk about what worked: Hank Azaria’s portrayal of Gargamel, for one. I mean, is there any wacky character or voice this guy can’t handle? (I’m psyched to see his new comedy series, Free Agents, on NBC this fall, by the way.) The script didn’t give him as many funny lines as I’d like, but “Son of a Smurf!” was a pretty good one. As was “Smurf me!” uttered by a frustrated Neil Patrick Harris, who was pretty adorable (and obviously a good sport) in this role. And might I compliment Katy Perry on her portrayal of Smurfette? The girl was born to do cartoon voiceovers.

All in all, it’s pretty faithful to the original TV series, so if it floated your boat back then – or if you’re under the age of 7 – you’ll probably have a Smurftastic time. Otherwise, this is one of those “take one for the team” experiences for mom and dad.

BIG SCREEN: Friends with Benefits Revieux (Rated-R)

To me, Justin Timberlake is like frozen lemonade from a can. Is it enjoyable? Yeah, if you only take a tiny spoonful at a time. But, in larger doses, it certainly needs a whole lotta diluting to make it palatable.

JT’s skits on SNL? Great. Performances as a supporting actor in movies? Not too shabby. But, a leading man in a 94-minute romantic comedy? My brain puckered at the thought. (And Mila Kunis – forever the cloying Jackie from That 70s Show in my mind – wasn’t much more appetizing.) But, I’m a good sport. I was willing to give Friends with Benefits a shot.

Here’s the story… Dylan (Timberlake) and Jamie (Kunis) become platonic pals when she, an executive headhunter, recruits him to become GQ magazine’s new art director in New York. Fresh out of rotten relationships and unwilling to get entangled in new ones, they decide to attempt the impossible. (Normally, I would let the seemingly obvious title speak for itself. But, I’m going to assume not everyone knows what the phrase means, considering a pair of geniuses brought their 10-ish-year-old kid to the screening I attended. Let’s give ‘em the benefit of the doubt and assume they didn’t know it means, “people who have sex without romantic commitment.” Oy.)

Anyway, in an ironic little wink-wink, nudge-nudge to the audience, the two bond over their shared disdain for Hollywood romantic comedies. Aren’t they clever? But, as one would imagine, they soon discover that their seemingly simple relationship is fraught with complications all its own.

Feel like you’ve seen/heard this concept half-a-billion times? I thought the issue of can you/can’t you was settled by Jerry Seinfeld and Elaine Benes about 15 years ago. Early in the movie, I was not feeling confident they could pull this thing off – and a corny flash mob scene didn’t help. I think I actually groaned aloud. Uuuuuuuuuugh.

But, then came the first sex scene, and it was hy-ster-i-cal. Not an easy task. After a just-okay start, this sucker actually got a little traction and things really started rolling. Both actors not only prove they have solid comedic chops, but their chemistry (in both a comedic and romantic sense) is pretty powerful, too. Color me impressed, youngsters!

A couple of veteran actors up the ante even further. Patricia Clarkson (New Orleans girl!) plays Jamie’s free-spirited, free-love-advocating mom. Woody Harrelson plays Dylan’s highly gregarious gay coworker (a character that serves no real purpose in the plot, but is entertaining, nonetheless). Both turn in effervescent, scene-stealing performances that make you wish someone would cast them in bigger roles, for heaven’s sake. (Jenna Elfman and Richard Jenkins play Dylan’s sister and dad, and while they’re perfectly fine, they’re far less dynamic than the aforementioned.)

Is this movie groundbreaking territory? No way. Is it Woody-Allen-late-70s brilliant? Nope. But the dialogue is tight, the banter witty, the performances energetic. Despite my initial reservations, I actually found it kind of delightful. Like a refreshing glass of lemonade. Fresh squeezed. Minus the pucker.

BIG SCREEN: Winnie the Pooh Revieux (Rated-G)

Why do these reviews so often start with a confession? Okay, here’s this week’s: I was fighting multiple layers of cynicism before this movie even started. I was close to $30 in the hole for snacks and admission to a 69-minute movie that was probably going to bore and/or annoy me out of my gourd. (I’ve been nominated for “Mother of the Year” for my selflessness on multiple occasions, doncha know?) Add to it that my son, the kindergarten grifter, admitted to me after the purchase of the aforementioned sugary snacks that he had, in fact, consumed a sno-ball and two packs of Starburst at camp before I picked him up. I was in a great mood at this point, lemme tell you.

With black cloud firmly in place over my head, I sat back and dared this movie to even remotely entertain me. It’s a good thing it’s dark in there, because man, was I rolling my eyes over the plot. First of all, that perpetually complaining downer, Eeyore (who I actually love and can relate to, for obvious reasons), has lost his tail and needs everyone’s help finding it. Secondly, Pooh is desperately in search of “hunny,” but no one cares. And, finally, Christopher Robin has left a note that the essentially illiterate animals misinterpret. Instead of reading that he’ll “be back soon,” that know-it-all Owl tells them he’s been kidnapped by the “Backson” monster. Genius, no? Ugh. I’ll never make it, I thought.

But a curious thing happened as the movie progressed. Little children, including my own, began giggling hysterically at this simple-minded, uninventive, two-dimensional little filmette. They’re laughing? They’re enjoying it? How can that be? There’s no burping, no fart jokes, no pies in the faces. No C.G.I. trickery, nor fancy car chases. And what happened, then? Well, in Whoville they say -- that the grumpy mom's small heart grew three sizes that day…

Yes, it was like I was sitting atop a giant sleigh full of Christmas, watching the Who’s celebrate the true meaning of Pooh Bear. Suddenly, even I found myself laughing with the kiddies over stuff, like the following exchange:

Rabbit: Can you tie a knot?
Piglet: Um, I can *not* knot.
Rabbit: Not knot?
Pooh: Who's there?

I finally chilled out and saw that the beauty of this movie lies in its simplicity and sense of tradition. Eeyore, Pooh, Piglet, Kanga, Roo, Rabbit, Owl, and of course, Tigger -- they all look and sort of sound the same as they did 30+ years ago. There’s a certain level of comfort in that kind of nostalgia. Especially when little kids, who are being raised on electronic devices and high-tech everything, still love it. And, I mean, when’s the last time you saw an actual G-Rated movie?

Somehow, I missed the fact that John Cleese narrates and Craig Ferguson voices Owl, or maybe I would’ve snapped out of my grouchy funk a little sooner. I did, however, recognize that coolness personified, Ms. Zooey Deschanel (Jovie from the movie Elf and singer from the duo She & Him), was singing some of the Pooh tunes. That probably helped propel me out of the crankiness a little, too.

Bottom line: it’s a beautiful thing. Straight out of an old A.A. Milne book with no bells and whistles. If your kid digs it, maybe there’s still hope for this next generation. If you still dig it, maybe you haven’t lost your soul to the Dark Lord of Parental Cynicism, afterall.

BIG SCREEN: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 in 3D Revieux (Rated PG-13)

I ‘spose I should preface this by admitting that I’ve not read all the Harry Potter books. Just the first one. And, though I’ve seen all the movies, I do not possess intimate, detailed knowledge of every magical, Muggly, Hogwartsian term. Nor can I chart the relation of one obscure character to the next and back again. I do, however, really dig the movies.

In this, the eighth and final installment, Harry, Hermione, and Ron (Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint) continue their quest to find and destroy the final “Horcruxes,” objects containing fragments of evil Voldemort’s soul, which is supposed to result in the destruction of the Dark Lord (Ralph Fiennes). From the opening scene, there’s an eery, sinister sense of foreboding that never really lets up. Many characters from previous Potter films show up for this grand finale, and while it adds a sweet layer of nostalgia, the audience is well-aware that none of them are safe. Nerve. Wracking.

Just as we’ve watched the young stars mature over the years, so have the films themselves. Much of the levity and wonderment in the earlier films are cast aside in order to create this serious, ominous mood. I really don’t want to reveal much more (especially for my fellow clueless non-readers), other than to say a lot of loose ends are tied up, the battle between good and evil is truly epic, the special effects are mindboggling and often highly disturbing (not sure my 5-year-old could’ve handled it), and the emotional conclusion is deeply satisfying. (Even the 3D is done right! No hokey pandering to the camera, it just enhances the whole experience!)

I’m actually kind of glad I didn’t read the books first, especially the final one. There’s no way filmmakers can translate every detail from the written page onto the screen, and I’d hate for any missing elements or minor plot changes to distract me from this amazing movie.

While I’m not nearly as emotionally invested in the films and the characters as true, rabid Potter fans and kids who have grown up with both the book and movie series, I still found myself very choked up multiple times. I also found myself flinching, gripping the arms of my chair, and holding my breath. Really, what more can you ask of a movie?

So, yeah -- wow. Pure movie magic. Sad to see the series end, but what a way to go!

BIG SCREEN: Incendies Revieux

Have you ever tried to write with your opposite hand – just to see if you could do it? Turns out, it’s not only a challenging exercise, but it actually stimulates the growth of new brain cells. I have a theory that watching foreign films does the same thing. I bring this up because I recently saw my first foreign film in about eight years. Believe it or not, there was one year, back in my full-time movie reviewing days in the late 90s, when I saw every single Oscar-nominated film, including short form and foreign. Then I got married and had a baby, and I was lucky if I got to see anything that didn’t start off with a shot of Cinderella’s castle.

So, how fortuitous that my first foray back into the genre was with such a good and highly decorated film. Incendies is a French-Canadian film about two generations deeply affected by the Lebanese Civil War of the 1970s and 80s. Upon a Lebanese woman’s death in Quebec, her adult children find out the strange contents of their mother’s will, and the even more bizarre and cryptic letters of instruction she’s left behind. To understand it all, they have to return to their mother’s homeland and discover the brutal truth behind her true identity. It’s a rather epic odyssey that switches back and forth from the daughter’s modern-day search, to her mother’s horrific experience decades earlier.

In the first few minutes of the film, I was really wishing I’d done a little research on the political and religious backdrop. Who was who and why they were being persecuted, and by whom? It was a little confusing to my feeble brain. But as the story progressed, all the necessary pieces began to fall into place.

I hate that my twisted mind jumped ahead and figured out the disturbing twist to the story (I’m still undecided if this is my gift or curse), but I was still dying to see how it unfolded. And it didn’t disappoint. Just so we’re clear, I’m certainly no high-minded intellectual who frequents foreign films, then sits around chain smoking and sucking down espresso in coffeehouses while engaging in a heated discussion with other sophisticates. So, when a subtitled movie grabs my attention and keeps me riveted, I know they’ve done something right that transcends the language barrier. The story is both beautiful and horrifying, and the performances are really powerful.

I know, I know. Foreign films aren’t for everybody. But it is cool to see how the longer you watch the movie, the more your brain is able to simultaneously process the subtitles, images and even the nuances of the actors’ performances – and, voila! You’re a little smarter. Or so I’d like to think.

BIG EASY: The Running of the Bulls

Have I mentioned lately how much I love this city? I knew for sure I’d moved to the right place when last year, one month after our arrival, my husband and I discovered San Fermin in Nueva Orleans, aka, The Running of the Bulls. Yep. Right here in New Orleans.

Have you heard of this phenomenon? (I accidentally typed “herd,” but thought I'd spare you the unintentional bad pun. You’re welcome.) Every July since 2007, a bunch of wacky party people, dressed in all manner of Spanish-y, bullfighteresque, and/or Elvis-related attire, have been celebrating the historic Spanish festival by meeting at the crack of dawn to have some cocktails, then embark on an 8am run through the streets of New Orleans, while being chased by roller derby girls armed with foam or plastic bats. Yes, the Big Easy Roller Girls don horns and become… da bulls. And, yes, they taunt and smack the runners, who enjoy every second of it.

When we happened upon it last year, we wondered why the heck more people don’t attend this awesome, crazy fest! Well, apparently, the word is out. Last year’s ragtag group of hundreds (my estimate) who gathered in a remote section of the Quarter, exploded into a mob of 10,000 (their estimate) this year in the CBD! Holy smokes!

We arrived in the vicinity of the starting/finish line outside Ernst Café on S. Peters Street a little before 7am on Saturday. As expected, the joint was already hopping. Sangria, wine, and beer were flowing, a stage was set up, music was cranking, and crazily costumed revelers were milling about as far as the eye could see.

There were drummers drumming, buglers bugling, ladies dancing, lords a-leaping. You name it. Finally, a Grand Poobah of sorts, decked out in a papalish, feathered ensemble, called the crowd to order and led some irreverent pre-run prayers in a wonderfully booming, Renaissance Fair delivery. The crowd ate it up! An effigy of Saint Fermin was paraded through the crowd, then it was time for the main event.

When the announcement came for the bulls and the “drunken monkeys,” aka, runners, came over the PA, we found ourselves caught in the crush of the teeming masses, and unable to see any of the actual run! (We’ve already formulated a better plan for next year.) So, we people-watched/shuffled our way toward the last stretch of the course to witness the final gauntlet. Oh, the gauntlet. See, they send the runners and bulls out in chunks, so when each group of bulls returns, they begin forming a gauntlet through which the runners must pass.

Amazingly enough, there were kids there, too. (Can you see the tiny mustache on the baby in this picture?!) Some were actually running, some in strollers… we, however, shipped ours off to Grandma. When they’re too big to ride on shoulders, yet small enough to get trampled, it just ain’t worth it to me to fight this kind of crowd. Plus, y’know, I wanted to suck down some sangria. But to each his own.

Obviously, the bulls took it easy on the munchkins, but it was open season on adults. We were most impressed by one “Mary Choppins,” a lovely bull whose butt-smacking technique was both elegant and brutal (that's her, pictured below). There were many clever roller girl nicknames, and I’ve been kicking around ideas for my own. I can’t decide between “Yosemite Slam” and “Buster Chops.” Get it? “Bust her” – oh, nevermind.

The run is actually only one element in the entire, four-day San Fermin Festival. There were parties and wine dinners and Ernest Hemingway look-alikes. But we really only had the energy (and babysitting) for the run on Saturday. Such is the life of the middle-aged parents.

If I ever were to go to Pamplona for the “official” Running of the Bulls, I image I’d still watch from the sidelines, as I do for the local one. I’d probably still drink plenty of sangria, too. But, while I’d probably get a serious adrenaline rush in anticipation of seeing someone get gored to death before my very eyes, I doubt it would be as silly, fun, and irreverent as the New Orleans edition! But, ain't that always the case?! We are so spoiled living in this fun-lovin' town!

Olé!

PS -- I'm happy to report that no one in my group has experienced any sort of blindness or death as a result of that last cup of sangria we purchased from strangers selling it out of a cooler on the sidewalk. *Shudder*

For more information on the San Fermin in Nueva Orleans/The Running of the Bulls, visit http://www.nolabulls.com/.

BIG SCREEN: Horrible Bosses Revieux (Rated R)

After two great, girl-powered comedies in a row (Bridesmaids and Bad Teacher), I guess it’s time to let the boys have their fun with Horrible Bosses. It stars Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis, and Charlie Day as three working stiffs whose lives are being made miserable by, you guessed it, their horrible bosses. When they all simultaneously reach their breaking point, the trio makes a pact to kill those bosses. With the help of a menacing thug (Jamie Foxx), they come up with a foolproof plan that’s just bound to go smoothly. Right? Just as you’d expect, it disintegrates into chaotic, madcapped hijinks, as all buddy comedies do.

Great as they are with the quips and seemingly off-the-cuff little remarks, Bateman and Sudeikis could easily have been replaced with, say, Vince Vaughn and Paul Rudd. But Charlie Day is another story. If you watch It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (as my husband does), you’re quite familiar with this guy. For the rest of us, he’s a total unknown, which is actually refreshing. Next to his co-stars’ much more understated, sarcastic performances, his high-pitched, neurotic, borderline hysteria makes him the standout. Sort of like Steve Carell without the baggage of recognition from previous high profile characters. It's fun to discover great new comedic talent, isn't it?

You know how they say in real estate, it’s all about location location location? Well, this movie is all about casting casting casting. The writing is silly enough, but without the actors they chose to play the bosses, I don’t think it would’ve worked so well. The role of the psycho, man-eating, nymphomaniac boss could’ve been played well by a multitude of sultry actresses, but seeing girl-next-door, romantic-comedy-princess Jennifer Aniston in the role just elevates it to another level. Shock value, maybe? Kevin Spacey’s character is especially evil, which isn’t really a stretch for him, but when he laughs so hysterically and convincingly in Jason Bateman’s face for referring to his dead grandmother as “Gam-Gam,” he shows his true genius. But, best of all… Colin The-hottest-badboy-Irishman-on-the-planet Ferrell as a disgusting, fat, sloppy, heartless cokehead with a horrific comb-over? Pure. Comedy. Gold.

Will it be ranked among the funniest films ever? Nah. But I’m a sucker for a movie with a strong cast whose sole mission is to crack you up. No message, no moral, no attempt to win any awards. Everybody looked like they had an absolute blast making this, and that energy certainly carries over into the audience.

Just fun!

BIG SCREEN: Zookeeper Revieux (Rated PG)

Of all the movies coming out this summer, for some odd reason, my 5-year-old has been most excited about Zookeeper. Moreso than Cars or even Kung Fu Panda. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times he’s reenacted a scene from the trailer between Kevin James and a monkey. “How long have you been able to talk?” “Let’s see, today is Tuesday, so… forever!” Cracks him up everytime. I managed to stop myself from warning him about how some movies put all their funny stuff in the commercials. I figure he’s got plenty of time to become as cynical and jaded as dear old mom.

So, the premise. Kevin James plays a dedicated zookeeper named Griffin who lavishes the animals with all kinds of individual attention and works alongside a lovely girl named Kate (Rosario Dawson), in whom he inexplicably shows absolutely no interest. When his beautiful but shallow ex-girlfriend, Stephanie (Leslie Bibb), who brutally declined his elaborate marriage proposal five years earlier, reenters his life, all the zoo animals love Griffin so much that they decide to let him in on their being-able-to-speak secret in order to give him romantic advice. This advice includes peeing on stuff and cutting her off from the herd. When she gives him another chance, he has to decide if it’s worth it to leave the zoo to become the man Stephanie wants him to be, or stay true to himself. (I’m sure you’re just dying to know which one he chooses…)

Okay, may I be blunt? This movie stunk like the stuff the monkey suggested Griffin throw at Stephanie’s other suitor. I hate to say it, because I actually had hopes for this movie. I used to love Kevin James’ standup routines, and it just seemed like a slam-dunk to pair his priceless, subtle expressions and physical comedy with outrageous animal antics. But it wasn’t. What happened? For one thing, even the most basic sight-gags fell flat. How can watching a wolf teach a dude how to mark his territory not elicit a huge guffaw from the audience? Because it was so terribly executed, that's how. Another reason for the overall failure? A bunch of TV writers, Adam Sandler (one of the producers), and the director from The Wedding Singer decided to take the same basic premise from The Wedding Singer and broaden the audience to include middle-schoolers by slapping on a little Dr. Doolittle action, and as you can imagine from that description, it didn't work. My son hardly laughed, I hardly laughed. Who were they aiming for? Were they even trying? Because they managed to miss both demograhics completely.

And the animal antics this movie seemed to promise? Lame and decidedly not hilarious. Even when an animated or talking-animal movie’s not so great, usually I love playing “Guess who’s doing the voice overs?” I got Cher and Sly Stallone as the lions pretty easily (though, they were given no awesome lines nor opportunities to parody themselves. Really?!). Nick Nolte as the gorilla and Jon Favreau as one of the bears weren’t too tough to guess, either. As for the rest of them, well, to tell you the truth – they were so annoying, I just didn’t care. It actually sounded like they grabbed people off the street and told them to simply tighten up their throats and read through the script. I never would have guessed that Adam Sandler was the monkey, as it sounded like a really bad Gilbert Gottfried impression. And Maya Rudolph as the giraffe? A really lethargic Wanda Sykes-ish knockoff.

Wow. Disappointing.

On the bright side, the closing credits and outtakes are sort of funny. So, if you stick it out through the whole movie, at least there’s that.

BIG EASY: Degas in New Orleans

A few months ago, I came across this really cool kids’ art book at the library called, “The Usborne Art Treasury: Pictures, Paintings, and Projects,” by Rosie Dickins. It includes brief stories about some well-known artists’ lives and techniques, vibrant images of their work, and corresponding projects with step-by-step instruction. I was so excited when I found it! Which is why it sat around my house for months while I renewed it 20 times before I could figure out exactly how I wanted to use it. Finally, my son and I found ourselves in a camp/activity lull last week, and there’s nothing like a bored five-year-old to motivate a mom.

We randomly dove into the Vincent Van Gogh project first. Thick, swirly paint, the story of a dude who goes crazy and cuts his ear off? I was correct in assuming this would be a big hit with my son. But as I skimmed through the book, I came across a section on Edgar Degas and the light bulb popped up over my head. Degas lived in New Orleans for a while – field trip possibilities! Yes!

First we headed on over to the New Orleans Museum of Art (on a Wednesday afternoon, of course, because it’s free!), to visit a few real-live Degas pieces. Our project was going to involve pastels, so checking out the smudgy technique was of particular interest.

The next day we swung by the Degas House at 2306 Esplanade Avenue in Mid-City. The half-hour film they show before the tours is quite interesting for adults – not so much for squirmy kids (thank goodness for Bakugan and pen and paper). It tells of a French artist in a midlife/identity crisis who seeks a temporary change of scenery at his mother’s Creole family home in New Orleans. Problem was, it was 1872 and New Orleans was in the middle of the miserable Reconstruction, so it wasn’t exactly a party town. Yet, Degas found inspiration in our fair city, creating several classic paintings here, then returning to France and launching a revolutionary new art movement with his fellow impressionists.

Oh, and after he left, his stupid brother ran off with some ol' hussy neighbor, leaving behind his blind wife, Estelle, the subject in many of Degas’ works (pictured below, on the balcony of the Degas House), and his children. An uncle adopted the kids and changed their names to Musson, forever severing that branch of the Degas family in New Orleans. Years later, they wound up dividing the house in half, much like the family! Today, it’s two separate buildings that serve as a bed and breakfast, museum, and event facility. Each guest room is dedicated to a member of the family who lived there, and you can see the actual backdrops for some of Degas’ paintings around the property.

We did a DIY tour, out of squirmy-little-boy necessity, and I was able to summarize the film as we explored the house. He actually retained some of the information from the film on his own, but was disappointed that Degas didn’t engage in any self-mutilation, a la Van Gogh, but what are ya gonna do?

Our abridged tour was fun and all, but I’m totally planning to schedule a breakfast/tour with my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law, which includes a Creole breakfast, bloody mary or mimosa, AND a tour conducted by Degas’ real-live grandnieces! How cool is that?! They also have Tuesday “Bottles and Brushes with Degas” events, which include a social hour followed by painting instruction.

Our next stop was, of course, Café Degas, which is just a few blocks north at 3127 Esplanade, in the Bayou St. John district. What a quaint little joint! It feels like a cross between a treehouse and a Parisian café. Most of it is “outside” on a covered deck, thankfully enclosed with plastic and air-conditioned in the summertime. There’s a tree growing right through the middle and each table is covered by a white table cloth, adorned with sparkly Chambord-bottle flower vases, and surrounded by charmingly shabby white wrought iron chairs. My son’s not much on fromage or La Salade Niçoise, so we just split the Dark Chocolate Decadence dessert – ooh la la! Unfortunately, the boy wolfed down much of it while I perused the amazing menu. The brunch and cocktail/wine selections were especially appealing to me. Just saying, “Châteauneuf-du-Pape” makes me want to brush up on my French and renew my passport! Or, y'know, at least plan a foofy girlie lunch or romantic date night.

Finally, we headed home to start on our project: “Pastel Dancers.” I had the soft pastels covered, but wouldn’t you know we were out of dark construction paper? (It's wise to review the supply list before getting started.) Oh, well – we made due with some sort of rough watercolor paper from our craft bin and dove into the chalky, messy, smudgy goodness. I wondered if my son would fight me on the ballerina subject matter, but I think after learning so much about the male artist who created the masterpieces, gender issues never came up. YES! Once again, I think it’s about hitting that window early!

For more information on the places we visited, please go to:
http://www.noma.org/
http://www.degashouse.com/
http://www.cafedegas.com/

BIG EASY: Butterfly Tea Party at the Windsor Court Hotel

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had an unnatural affinity for fancy hotels. Not upscale boutiques or snooty country clubs, but fancy hotels. It’s a bonus if I’m an actual guest, but merely enjoying their luxurious lobbies, lounges, and cafes gives me a lovely contact high that can last for days. Who knows why? Perhaps it’s weird residual past-life stuff, but the Oak Room at the Plaza in New York is like my own personal Mecca. So, when I moved to New Orleans and discovered the abundance of beautiful hotels, I fell even more deeply in love with the city.

Naturally, when I heard the Windsor Court Hotel and the Audubon Insectarium were co-hosting a “Butterfly Tea,” I was drawn to it like… well, a moth to a flame (lame, sorry). I’m also well aware that I have a very small window before my five-year-old son (a) starts really distinguishing between “boy” events and “girl” events, (b) stops wanting to hang out with mommy, and (c) is past the point of learning proper manners expected of guests at the aforementioned fancy hotels that mommy loves so much. So, I have to strike while the iron’s hot with stuff like this!

I found it both amusing and telling that when we pulled into the quaint courtyard, I had to convince my son it was quite okay to leave the car in the care of the valet – he’d bring it back. (Yeah, gotta get out more!) But it turned into a good lesson in etiquette and protocol later when I let him be the one to present the valet with our claim ticket and to tip him when he delivered the car. My brief tutorial on tipping servers and service staff probably went right over his head, but it doesn’t hurt to plant the seed early, right?

Cheerful doormen ushered us into the lobby where a photographer encouraged us to pose in front of giant butterfly image. The photo was presented to us later at our tables as a little bonus. Very sweet. After we took a short, exploratory stroll around the vast lobby to check out its oil paintings and regal decor, they began seating the guests. In addition to delicate china place settings, each table was adorned with a plexiglass case containing a pretty little bouquet nestled in a bed of Spanish moss with several live butterflies clinging to the blooms. Ours were a bit lethargic for my son’s taste, as he repeated a thousand times, but I felt giving the case a violent shake might be viewed as a bit tacky.

So, he settled for a visit to the Insectarium’s little display table to check out some pink katydids (my very favorite bug at the Insectarium), an intimidating-looking Indonesian beetle, a mantis, and a pair of display cases filled with lots of pinned-down moths and butterflies. The ladies manning the table were not only very knowledgeable, but very patient as they deftly handled the endless barrage of questions thrown at them by inquisitive little party guests. No shortage of curiosity in that bunch!

For this particular Afternoon Tea, Windsor Court's Le Salon offered a special children’s service, which included butterfly-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a chocolate chip scone, colorfully iced butterfly cookies, and huge chocolate-covered strawberries. Adults had their choice of the “Classic” or “Royal” tea services. But, dahhhhling, for $8 more, who wouldn’t go for the Royal Tea which, in addition to the standard scones, tea sandwiches, and sweets, includes both smoked salmon and caviar canapés, AND your choice of a glass of sherry, champagne or chardonnay? I mean, reeeally!

(Note: Keep in mind for future grown-up ladies’ events, they also have a lengthy menu of amazingly decadent-sounding “sparkling wine cocktails,” with names like “Cerulean Sky” and “Sparkling Mint Julep.” Who’s free tomorrow night?!)

After scanning the sizable tea menu packed with lovely and detailed descriptions, I settled on the jasmine tea with its heavenly perfume. We’re talking serious ooh la la here, people. Of course, they offered lemonade as a tea alternative for the kids. I love that my son requested that I pour his into a dainty teacup, then suggested a toast: “One for all, and all for one!” Oh, why the heck not, right? But I convinced him that a light tap would probably be more prudent than slamming our cups together like a couple of pirates.

I have to say, I was incredibly pleased with the boy’s overall manners – and it seemed to be contagious. Not a single wild outburst from anyone the whole time we were there. I have to believe that, in addition to outstanding parenting, the elegant environment somehow must have influenced the youngsters. With the piano softly playing theme songs from children’s movies in the background (nice touch!), my son and I chatted, we nibbled, we sipped, we even laughed ‘til we cried at one point! (Okay, I’ll fess up. After one of his many complaints about the sleepy butterflies, I quite absentmindedly suggested maybe they were getting ready to turn into caterpillars. I have no excuse for such an idiotic statement, but much hilarity ensued, so it was worth it.)

Our server was very sweet and attentive throughout our visit, so at the conclusion of the tea, I decided to let it slide when she quite innocently said, “Oh, you’re all done? Most people have to take some home with them.” Hm. I was thinking, “Lady, I saved up all my daily calories for this. Be glad I didn’t lick the lemon curd right out of the dainty little bowl!” (I said I was thinking it, I didn't actually say it. Manners, y'know.)

Hours later, my son was sweaty and disgusting in his permanently stained baseball uniform, and I was cheering for him from the bleachers. Gotta love the yin and yang!

If you weren’t able to make it to this particular event, you’re in luck! Next month, on Friday, July 29th and Saturday, July 30th, the Windsor Court will be hosting a “Princess Tea.” Crown-shaped goodies, royal martinis, royal purple lemonade, royal decorations, and a crown for each princess? I might have to borrow someone’s little girl for this one!

For reservations, call 504-596-4773 or visit http://www.windsorcourthotel.com/.

For more information on the Audubon Insectarium, visit http://www.auduboninstitute.org/visit/insectarium.

BIG SCREEN: Cars 2 Revieux (Rated G)

I can’t even begin to estimate how many times I watched the first Cars movie between 2007-2008. Around the time my son turned two, he fell in love with the DVD and so did we, because it was the only thing that made him remain somewhat still. Ever. He was also a terrible eater, so nightly dinner screenings bought us a calm, quiet mealtime for many months. (Don’t judge. It saved our sanity, and never fear -- we broke him of the habit by age three.)

You’d think that after hundreds of viewings, I would’ve grown to hate it, but I honestly never did. Why? I guess it was the perfect balance of humor, sweetness, and nostalgia. The story was fairly simple, but the message was strong and the characters were so stinkin’ loveable. Movie magic! When I heard that the sequel was going to take place in Europe and feature a spy story, I feared they were overreaching. And I was right.

In Cars 2, Tow Mater (still Larry the Cable Guy) accompanies Lightning McQueen (still Owen Wilson) as he crosses the Atlantic to race on the European circuit. Through a series of mishaps, Mater is mistaken for a secret agent and has the opportunity to prove he’s not just a silly jalopy who exists for everyone else’s amusement. The legendary Michael Caine voices Finn McMissile, a suave Aston Martin/British Agent and Emily Mortimer (Shutter Island) plays his associate Holly Shiftwell, a purple Bond-girlish car that can fly. The old supporting cast sort of pops up at the beginning and end, but they serve no real purpose.

Here’s the deal, I totally understand ramping everything up to extreme levels with the third or fourth installment of a franchise, when they run out of ideas – but, for number two? Oy. They couldn’t come up with a storyline a little closer to home, with just a hint of the aforementioned sweetness and nostalgia?

Doc is gone. No explanation. Obviously we all know Paul Newman’s passing made it impossible to reprise that character, but they totally gloss over his absence. What a missed opportunity to have made this an integral part of the movie, somehow teaching kids to mourn the loss of someone while honoring their memory.

Or, how about this: with the influx of traffic and tourists that pour in after Lightning relocated his headquarters to Radiator Springs, everyone in town goes all slick and high-tech and commercial, then somehow they realize they have to simplify and regain their small-town camaraderie. Maybe?

Sigh. Instead we mindlessly trek around the world with jet cars and espionage and big oil vs. alternative fuel (I kid you not). The young ‘uns will like the action and the smattering of giggle-worthy jokes, but I doubt they’ll want to wear the DVD out, like with the old one. And the adults will miss certainly the emotional connection the original movie inspired. No heartstrings are tugged. No eyes become remotely misty. What a shame.

For New Orleans-area movie theaters and showtimes, visit...
http://neworleans.mrmovietimes.com/

BIG SCREEN: Bad Teacher Revieux (Rated R)

Cameron Diaz must have thought she’d died and gone to heaven when she read this script. I can’t imagine a more fun, liberating role to play than a really bad girl with few-to-no redeeming qualities. JACKPOT!

Her character, Elizabeth Halsey, is a trash-mouthed, hard-drinking, dope-smoking gold digger who got into teaching for all the wrong reasons, and is desperate to get right back out. When she gets dumped by her sugar daddy/fiancé, her priorities become: (a) lie, cheat and steal to raise money for breast implants (b) land the wealthy new substitute teacher (Justin Timberlake), and (c) make life miserable for her nemesis, an annoying, overly enthusiastic fellow teacher (Lucy Punch).

Notice that neither teach nor encourage her students appears on that list.

If you don’t like raunchy humor, you may as well just cut to my Cars 2 review right now. It’s alright, we won’t judge you for being tasteful!

Okay, for the rest of you, I can think of pretty much nothing I didn’t love about this movie. Yes, yes -- by day I’m a G-rated mommy who watches my language, minds my manners, and sets a good example for my little boy. But, man, there’s nothing like a good, uncensored hour-and-a-half of naughty humor to ease the tension. You remember movies like this from the 80s: Porky’s, Animal House, Fast Times at Ridgemont High (Bad Teacher's very cool 80s soundtrack underscores the similarities, by the way). But the difference is, the adult humor is perpetrated by the adults, not the teens, so we don’t have to feel like pervs watching it. And – most importantly – the leader of the raunchiness is a woman. I think it’s a first in this particular genre, and Diaz does us proud. She totally embraces the role and delivers, big time.

A major part of why this movie is so great is the amazing, amazing casting. All the supporting actors and actresses are as ideally suited to their roles as Diaz, and they totally commit to their characters. In addition to Timberlake, who’s not afraid to play a repressed little worm (did this add to the appeal for ex-girlfriend Cameron?!), and Punch, who goes delightfully over-the-top and borderline psychotic, Jason Segal adds a slightly Judge Reinhold/Brad Hamiltonesque quality to his portrayal of the lovable gym teacher who totally has Elizabeth’s number. But, next to Cameron Diaz, the star of the show has got to be Phyllis Smith, aka, Phyllis from The Office. She plays a self-conscious, nervous fellow teacher who inexplicably gravitates toward Elizabeth, takes on a sort of awkward sidekick role, and delivers some of the greatest lines in the movie.

Dudes will enjoy this movie, too, but, really, it’s let-your-hair-down, girls’-night-out perfection. On par with – and maybe even a shade funnier than -- Bridesmaids. Yeah, I said it!

Keep those funny-lady-driven comedies coming, Hollywood!

For New Orleans-area movie theaters and showtimes, visit...
http://neworleans.mrmovietimes.com/

BIG EASY: Musee Conti Wax Museum of New Orleans

…did you know there was one?! Even friends of mine who’ve lived here forever did not. I’ve passed it many times on Conti in the Quarter and have always been curious. And what better time than summer to hit some of the off-the-beaten-path local attractions that your kids haven’t had time to get sick of?

So, yes, once again I used my 5-year-old son as a guinea pig -- all in the name of science. I made sure not to hype it up too much, as I really had no idea what to expect. The museum is located in a super quiet, super sleepy back part of the Quarter, which adds to the mystique – and makes street parking a breeze. How often can you say that about this neighborhood?!

Before we began our self-guided tour (guided group/school tours are also available), we got a glimpse of their upstairs event facility. It’s a huge space with sky-high ceilings, exposed brick, a stage, two bars, and tons of tables and fancy gold chairs. Please invite me if you rent this place for an event. I love the idea of having a party at a wax museum… and I really need a reason to dress up. Sigh.

Anyway, on with the wax. This joint is awesomely dark and musty, as a wax museum in a historic building should be. It’s made up of four long halls lined with stalls that depict various events and characters significant to New Orleans’ history and lore. Instead of being merely displayed, most of the wax figures are staged within either uniquely characteristic situations or specific historical events. A plaque, or series of plaques, is posted in front of each stall, explaining the back story of each scene.

Of course, they cover all the usual suspects: pirate Jean Lafitte’s infamous meeting with Andrew Jackson, the Battle of New Orleans, Marie Laveau accepting payment from a bride seeking a little voodoo marital insurance, Mark Twain on a riverboat, Mardi Gras stuff, etc. Oh, and there's Napoleon, sitting in a bathtub (pictured, at top) as he explains to his brother and advisers how he made the Louisiana Purchase deal without consulting anyone else. We both got a huge kick out of this one -- especially the strategically placed sponge.

But, the very best part was the stuff that I’d never heard of before. Like the “Casket Girls” (pictured, right). Are you familiar? Apparently, the governor of Louisiana asked France to send over some prospective wives for the soldiers and city planners as New Orleans was in its infancy, and France obliged. Teenage girls made the long voyage over, each bearing only a small wooden casket of belongings, and were housed at the Ursuline Convent while the nuns arranged their marriages. Just as many Bostonians pride themselves on tracing their families back to the Mayflower, many New Orleanians feel similarly about the Casket Girls, according to the plaque. Hm. Seems slightly creepy, but it’s fascinating, nonetheless!

Down another hall, two guys in a boxing ring accompany the tidbit that Louisiana was the first state to legalize prize fighting. And gamblers gathered around an antique craps table (pictured, left) serve as the backdrop for the story of how the game allegedly got its name. The local Americans referred to the Creoles as frogs, or crapaud, which was shortened to become the name of the dice game that the warring factions both happened to adore.

I’m a total trivia geek, so of course I totally dug this place, but I was shocked that my son was not only into the eerie wax figures, but actually interested in my synopsis of each scene. I made them quite brief, of course, but still! This is an unusual and excellent way to add a little dimension to the boring textbook accounts of New Orleans history.

And, ps -- there's a surprise, random, creepy-gory dungeon hall at the very end, featuring everything from a Freddy Krueger figure to scenes from Edgar Allen Poe stories. Not sure if it's to serve as a treat for well-behaved kids, or a threat for the naughty ones...

For more information on the New Orleans Wax Museum, please visit http://www.neworleanswaxmuseum.com/.