HIS NAME IS SPIEGELMAN: Maus-keteer Art Spiegelman has a new graphic memoir out, Breakdowns: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young %@&*! The book "traces the artist’s evolution from a MAD-comics obsessed boy, to a neurotic adult examining the effect of his parents’ memories of Auschwitz on his own son." He's at Town Hall for what you'd hope is a multimedia "reading," otherwise it seems like, you know, the graphic part would be lost in translation. more ›

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Yes, they're overblown and sure, it's tiring to watch 4+ hours of Hollywood patting itself on the back, but it's the Academy Awards, fer fuckssake. We can't not watch Sunday's big show. From the red carpet fashion to the drawn-out musical numbers to the people-who've-died montage and the Academy's tribute to gaffers, the Oscars offer something for everyone. Plus, this year it's hosted by Jon Stewart and, though his comedy is not exactly made for Hollywood insiders, we still love that wee little funnyman. (Fact: Jon Stewart is approximately Oscar-sized.) more ›

Not so long ago--even into the 1980s--it seemed certain that the Western would stand the test of time as quintessential American cinematic form. After all, the story of cowboys, outlaws and Indians on the great rolling plains between the coasts and the travails of those courageous families crossing the country in covered wagons is as much a part of our creation story as defeating the British; Independence and Manifest Destiny go hand-in-hand, and John Wayne, with his swaggering bravado, not only represented the embodiment of American masculinity, but his unwavering devotion to righteousness (even, perhaps especially, when begotten by violence) spoke to the American sense of our own virtue and uniqueness. Even when the Italians got their hands on the genre, and Clint Eastwood gave the cowboy a dark edge, that moral ambiguity never really changed the fundamental sense that there is a right and wrong; the innocents, after all, are still innocent. The change that Sergio Leone wrought was simply one of transforming the West into a wide open space into which the damned could escape their demons, even in death. The figure of the dying cowboy, gut-shot, riding into the sunset slumping atop his steed is still an image of freedom and hope. more ›

Next up was Juno, the latest comedy from Jason Reitman. We loved his first feature, Thank You for Smoking, and had heard nothing but good buzz about this flick, which is kinda Knocked Up meets Superbad, if Judd Apatow stopped focusing so much on male friendships and paid more attention to the pregnant girl. As the titular acid-tongued, preggo high schooler, Ellen Page keeps on getting better and better, and the rest of the cast (JK Simmons, Allison Ranney, Jennifer Garner, and Jason Bateman, reunited here with his TV son, sweet baby Michael Cera) ain't no slouch neither. A couple minor quibbles: if anything the film is too cute by half. We don't need pop culture references for the sake of pop culture references: "No, It's Morgan Freeman. I'm here to collect some bones." And we certainly don't need a quirky folk song introducing every goddamn scene (Wes Anderson much?). Still, the film was ultimately very moving -- we always appreciate it when a foul-mouthed movie turns out to have some heart. more ›

FESTIVAL: The first-ever (official) Lebowski fest in Seattle kicks things off at the Showbox. Tonight's the chubby dance-rock of the oft tighty-whitey-clad Har Mar Superstar and a screening of the Coen Brothers' classic. Tomorrow's bowling with The Dude at Kenmore Lanes. Wear your best bathrobe and pound some white Russians, or you'll be out of your element, Donny. more ›