Monday @ Bumbershoot: The Music Alternative Edition

As we were saying, there's a lot more at Bumbershoot besides the music. You've got the comedy, the literature, the theatre, the dance -- and the people-watching, the sideshows, the side sideshows: yesterday we ran into Craig and Victoria doing a violin-and-flamenco act behind a tent; they say they'll be back today, roaming around, so look for a swirl of red.

So far as funnymen go, we can recommend the Todd Barry/Michael Ian Black hour at 7:30pm today. Barry does a Steven-Wright-ish smarter-than-you deadpan and Michael Ian Black obsesses over his caricature on the cover of the Stranger's Bumbershoot guide. We don't really do comedy acts, but watching them we wondered what the hell our problem was. We should mention that if someone telling Jesus to fuck off offends you, it may not be your kind of show. Anyway, that's just scratching the comedic surface of Bumbershoot -- there's much much more.

On the literature side, we saw Mary Gordon and Lydia Millet speak yesterday. Trisha Ready was supposed to moderate, but a nervous, portly young man doing an impression of Chris Farley's starstruck fan appeared instead. As unintentional theatre it was pretty marvelous. Today we're the Monica Drake and Wesley Stace combo. That's at 2:30pm. Drake is the author of Clown Girl, Stace, By George. (The lit stuff is always nice to duck into if you're feeling a little in need of some quiet time and a place to sit where you won't have people stepping over you.)

For a day of dance there's On the Boards' 12 Minutes Max from 1-2pm, then Seattlest Katie recommends Decadancetheatre (4:45-6pm). The Pacific Northwest Ballet does a season sampler from 6:45-7:45pm -- if our experience last year is any indication, get in line early. It fills up.

For theater, we may or may not recommend you go see K. Brian Neel (4-5:30pm). We sat through his life-in-song of worn-down vaudevillian Cecil B. Ukulele without being sure we were doing the right thing. It's an uneasy mix of pathos, not terrific songwriting, hoary jokes, and slapstick. On one hand, it's an illuminating portrait of vaudeville life; on the other, an hour and a half of ukulele songs is particularly trying. We even kind of like the ukulele, keep in mind. We stayed mainly because K. Brian Neel, when he's not succumbing to one-man-show overacting, clearly knows his vaudeville. (And it was better than the aimless Balagan Theatre space odyssey piece. That one felt under-directed and under-written, so we under-attended.)

We have plans to make it over to the SIFF movie palace today, too: Planet Cinema (5:30-6:30pm) if we're feeling green or Fascination (9-10pm) if we're feeling daring, since they claim it's "almost impossible to describe these extraordinary films."

We suppose we should mention Miranda July, whose festival this is. (There, that should do it.) If nothing else appeals, try out the rides while you're there.