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the latest
national Ta-Nehisi Coates’ writing for The Atlantic and The New York Times has earned him wide acclaim.
Fear of a Black Pundit
Rising star Ta-Nehisi Coates raises his voice in American media By Jordan Michael Smith
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Before ta-nehisi Coates was a superstar at The Atlantic, he was fred from three consecutive writing jobs. Well, not quite fred. “I’m still not exactly sure what happened,” he said, sipping a single espresso at a Morningside Heights bakery near his Harlem apartment, where he lives with his wife, Kenyatta, and their young son. What is understood is that over a seven-year span beginning in 2000, Philadelphia Weekly, The Village Voice and Time consecutively hired Coates and then promptly released him. Nobody is going to fre him anymore. At 37, Coates is the single best writer on the subject of race in the United States. His Atlantic essays, guest columns for The New York Times and blog posts are defned by a distinct blend of eloquence, authenticity and nuance. And he has been picking up fans in very high places. Fans such as Rachel Maddow, who tweeted: “Don’t know, if in U.S. commentary, there is a more beautiful writer than TaNehisi Coates.” The New Yorker’s Hendrik Hertzberg described him as “one of the most elegant and sharp observers of race in America,” when announcing that Coates had won the 2012 prize for commentary from The Sidney Hillman Foundation. MSNBC’s Chris Hayes, who recently hosted a book reading at MIT with Coates, a visiting professor at the school, said “he is as fne a nonfction writer as anyone working today.” Without a Ph.D., Coates is an uncommon visiting professor at MIT. In fact, he doesn’t even have a college degree, having dropped out of Howard University, failing both British and American literature. Before that, he failed 11th-grade English. “If you had told me he would be a big deal, I would have said,
‘Get real,’” said Times media critic David Carr. Coates’ frst writing gig was at the Washington City Paper, where Carr was his editor. “He needed work. He was not a great speller. He wasn’t terrifc with names. And he wasn’t all that ambitious.” Indeed, it was an inauspicious beginning. The article that launched Coates toward stardom, his frst for The Atlantic, came on the heels of his departure from Time. In that piece, “This Is How We Lost to the White Man,” Coates situated Bill Cosby’s attention-getting criticisms of black men within the tradition of African-American self-help conservatism championed by Booker T. Washington. Published in 2008, the article was well-received and eventually included in the collection Best African American Essays 2010. And yet, it almost was never printed. Coates had started working on the piece the previous year, when he was at Time, and it was rejected by several publications before Coates asked Carr if he knew of a home for it. The Atlantic editor James Bennet was receptive. “I’m very grateful to both those guys,” said Coates, who was inked to a blog deal by The Atlantic soon after the article came out, “but it shows the power of that networking. I couldn’t help notice that it was one well-placed white dude talking to another well-placed white dude to get it published.” Ideas about race and racial identity have always been with Coates. He was introduced to the writing world by his father, a former Black Panther and Vietnam vet who ran an Afrocentric publishing house out of the family’s home in West Baltimore. “I was surrounded by books and ideas. We literally had the machinery for creating books in our basement,” said
Coates, who is tall but carries himself casually. (In his Atlantic author photo, he sports thick black-framed glasses and a driving cap, which is what he wore on the day we met as well.) The printing press existed alongside the geek paraphernalia that Coates constantly mentions in his writing—video games, comic books and Dungeons & Dragons are among his obsessions. Coates’ writings are also flled with anecdotes and lessons extracted from his time spent in an urban reality most American journalists know only from watching Season 4 of The Wire (which was actually flmed at Coates’ old school, William H. Lemmel Middle). In this way, he fnds relevant insights into debates that are mere abstraction for so many other pundits. Of course, growing up in diffcult circumstances doesn’t inherently confer wisdom. In another writer’s hands, the constant invocation of childhood adversity would seem like a ham-handed attempt to assert credibility. But Coates’ talent is a lottery-ticket-rare ability to both reveal his personal life and seem extraordinarily humble. He also has a disarming habit of smiling as he speaks. Once, when confronted by the conservative Daily News columnist John McWhorter about something mean-spirited Coates had written about him, Coates immediately apologized, saying, “It was tremendously unkind.” McWhorter was taken aback by the honesty. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he admitted. And while it must be said that Coates’ memoir, The Beautiful Struggle, fails in pulling off the delicate balance between remembrance and braggadocio, the book does advance a theme that has underscored much of
his work—that the dismissal of hip-hop as merely “a symbol of the decline of the West if ever there was one,” as the National Review recently argued, is only a subtler form of the same lazy ignorance that runs through centuries of racist stereotypes of young black men. “I learned about writing from hip-hop,” he said. “More than any books I’ve ever read, hiphop’s use of language and sense of geography infuenced me— there is something about the condensed space that music forces you into.” But he is no music critic.
Coates’ writing about hiphop is normally a segue into his main subject: race. In a February Times column, he suggested the White House study the rapper Kendrick Lamar’s new album as a way to understand the effects of gun violence, among the most unlikely public policy proposals of recent years. But Coates bristles at suggestions that race is his beat. “I think I write about America, and about things that interest me,” he told The Observer. When The Village Voice asked Coates to write a column about
Photo by Leigh Vogel
March 21-27, 2013
The New York Observer
race without alienating white voters. It snakes through the importance of Obama’s presidency for African-Americans while showing the limitations of that achievement. The article “had the kind of impact for which magazines hunger,” wrote a blogger at Harvard’s Neiman Foundation. For Coates, the job of the writer, even the pundit, is not to persuade. “The job of the writer should be one of humility, I think, one of being ignorant and learning—not to stand up and pretend to know everything,” he said. “I’m not a
consultant or a race expert.” Indeed, Coates is particularly anxious about being seen as some kind of black spokesman. And even Stephen Colbert poked fun at this idea when, in January, Coates appeared on The Colbert Report and the host asked him: “Are you guys still all excited about this frst black president thing, or have you gotten over that?” Coates says he is uninspired by the emails he receives telling him how his writing has helped someone win an argument. “That ain’t my burden. I don’t write to help others with their
is tough,” Coates admitted, adding that he’d like to be able to just be a fan of things without feeling the need to constantly comment. “I’m leery of talking too much—I feel like I need to sit with an idea for a year or two if I want. Isn’t that what a writer’s supposed to do?” Coates is fnishing a novel on the Underground Railroad and will soon be submitting to a publisher a book of essays about the Civil War, a subject he has been infatuated with on his blog for fve years. And blog or no blog, Coates is likely staying at The Atlantic. The Times asked him to become a regular columnist, but Coates rejected the most coveted real estate in American journalism. He would not comment on the matter, but recently wrote on his blog about the diffculties of writing a twice-a-week Times oped column. He suggested that he would be taxed writing so frequently at such length, and feared his writing would suffer. “I won’t go so far as to say I’d fail,” he wrote. “But I strongly suspect that the same people who were convinced this would be a perfect marriage, would—inside of a year—be tweeting, ‘Remember when that dude could actually write?’” Of course, that humility is exactly what makes readers want to see Coates on the op-ed page twice a week. The fact is, wherever he writes next, the man has arrived.
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black men, he objected. “The moment you put that upon yourself—‘black correspondent’— that’s always with you, you never get rid of that,” he said. Still, racial issues are what Coates writes about most, and what he is best known for. Everything Coates has written for The Atlantic’s print magazine, for which he serves as senior editor, has regarded race in one form or another. Perhaps his best-known piece is a 10,000-word article called “Fear of a Black President,” about Barack Obama’s inability to mention
racism, and I’m not here to educate you,” he said. “I’m here to be insanely curious.” It’s not hard to see how Coates’ sphere of infuence has grown along with his outsized online community. Some even say he has redefned the blogging form. “There’s really nobody else who does what he does, in terms of creating a community of people around his blog,” Carr said. “He does a ton of moderating that blog and putting in time with it, and it’s become a self-policing community, which is really remarkable. He goes where he wants to go, and the community goes along with him.” According to Natalie Raabe, communications director for The Atlantic, it has “by far the most engaged community in our comments section.” If Coates is notable for popping into his own comments section to praise or criticize posters, it’s because he has a distinct vision of blogging. “It is its own space; it’s not the entire Web—there are plenty of places to go if you want to do other things,” he said. He gestures to the establishment we’re in. “This is an individual place—if you started yelling in here or screaming that they need to be serving chicken if they don’t want to, they’d kick you out. They have the right to be their own spot.” And yet the blog might end soon. “Managing a community
March 21-27, 2013
“I learned about wrItIng from hIp-hop,” he saId. “more than any books I’ve ever read, hIphop’s use of language and sense of geography Influenced me—there Is somethIng about the condensed space that musIc forces you Into.”
UNLVino Turns 39 Seven reasons to fall in love with the annual wine festival all over again UNLVino is the grande dame of epicurean festivals, having served Las Vegans every spring for 39 years. And, like a vintage Bordeaux, the event seems to improve with age. This year’s version, which has moved from its customary late-March slot to mid-April, expects to be bigger and better than ever, with more than 600 wines, spirits and sakes for tasting over four days instead of three. One thing that hasn’t changed in the four decades since the festival was conceived by College of Hotel Administration dean Jerry Vallen and Southern Wine & Spirits senior managing director Larry Ruvo (pictured below right in the early days) is its purpose: to raise scholarship money for the William F. Harrah College of Hotel Administration. The frst event took place in Southern’s warehouse; these days, you need a city map and a day planner to properly immerse yourself. To save you some time and a few steps, we’ve asked Southern’s territory manager, Tony Goitia—a former UNLV International Wines instructor—to share his highlights:
Wine Finds For the Big night
iron CheF in the house
Once just a dedicated tasting area during UNLVino’s Grand Tasting, Sake Alley so grew iso much that it requires its own night. Sake Fever features incredible fare from local Asian restaurants, along with many of the best sakes available. This year, Iron Chef’s Masaharu Morimoto will be the Dom Pérignon Award of Excellence honoree. Sake Fever, 7-10 p.m. April 19, at The Mirage Pool.
Beer
Like sake, beer has a growing presence at this increasingly diverse epicurean weekend. Among the new and not-to-miss items being poured at the Grand Tasting is a Belgian strong ale called Rince Cochon. Translated, it means “Pig’s Rinse,” and not only is the label a winner—a pink piggy downing a frosty one—but so is the beer! This ale is re-fermented in the bottle, resulting in sediment at the bottom. It has a dominant caramel flavor mixed with the bitterness of roasted malts and hops. LaRinceCochon.com.
Yes, there are spirits, too! In the world of spirits (booze, not ghosts), a new must-try at the Grand Tasting is Absolut Tune. This blend of Sweden’s Absolut vodka and New Zealand sauvignon blanc wine is then carbonated, and—voilà—sparkling vodka in a bottle. Sounds like a party waiting to happen. Absolut.com/US/Tune.
sundaY FundaY
A new event, Bar-B-Q (with an emphasis on the bar), makes this year UNLVino’s frst four-day festival. Chefs including Charlie Palmer, Scott Conant and Gustav Mauler will present their high-end cuisines, and mixologist Francesco Lafranconi will showcase his polished, balanced cocktails. Farm-to-table is the theme, as local producers are in the spotlight, as well as an Absolut Bloody Mary bar and Dom Pérignon Award of Excellence honoree, MGM Grand President and COO Scott Sibella. Bar-B-Q, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. April 21, at the Cleveland Clinic Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health.
Creating opportunitY
Today, hundreds of UNLV graduates work in the Las Vegas hotel or restaurant feld—and UNLVino helped many of them get through school. The sip that supports scholarship is the most delicious of them all.
March 21-27, 2013
For the frst time in Bubble-Licious history, there will be a number—and it looks like seven—of fne local restaurants showcasing their individual cuisines, including Dom Perignon Award of Excellence honoree Thomas Keller. So far, the list includes Table 10, Delmonico, Mario Batali’s Las Vegas restaurants, Bouchon and Postrio. Bubbles and great food under the stars? What a combination! Bubble-Licious, 7-10 p.m. April 18, Doge’s Palace across from the porte cochere at the Venetian.
happY hYBrid
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Goitia photo by Anthony Mair; Photos provided by UNLVino
Fine Bites With Your BuBBlY
Among the hot new wines that will be featured at Saturday night’s Grand Tasting, don’t miss the two cabernet sauvignons and chardonnay from Napa’s Parallel, a relatively new winery at only 12 years old. Owned by a group of old skiing buddies, and with consulting from winemaker Philippe Melka, the wines consistently receive high acclaim. Along those lines, have a go at wines by the Dreaming Tree, especially Crush, a collaboration between famed winemaker Steve Reeder and singer–songwriter Dave Matthews. Both men enjoy reasonably priced wines that go well with food and are ready to drink upon release. The Grand Tasting, 7-10 p.m. April 20, in the Champagne Ballroom at Paris Las Vegas.
nightlife
parties
Vegas takes shelter SBE’s nightlife plan for SLS takes shape, brings a little more L.A. to L.V.
What does “SLS” mean … to you? The redevelopment by lifestyle brand SBE of what used to be the historic Sahara property is leaving its name open to interpretation. It could be “Style, Luxury, Service” or “Sexy Little Secrets,” its reps say. But if you are moved to shout, “Shelter Lives, Suckas!” your level of excitement may be justified. Just one of the three venerable nightlife brands the entertainment group plans to inject into the north end of the Las Vegas Strip, the extinct Shelter nightclub is being revitalized as part of SLS Las Vegas Resort & Casino and is slated for a fall 2014 opening. Not to be confused with the even older-school New York City club of the ’90s, the Shelter in Los Angeles was SBE’s first venue, established in 2002, and has no connection to Shelter in New York. Nevertheless, the megaclub that is poised for mega-DJ programming will join other established SBE brands at the SLS, including Foxtail and the Sayers Club, a large, exclusive venue for live music on the level of the Black Keys, Prince and Gotye, as well as young, emerging artists. Shelter promises special effects, undulating wall surfaces, projections and other technological advances to give its designers the ability to enhance the space and create a new world every night. “The space is intended to completely confuse the senses,” designer Mark Zeff says. So with properties dotting tastemaker cities across North America, to what audience does SLS anticipate catering so close to SBE’s headquarters in California? An SBE spokesperson explains, “It’s important to appeal to visitors, but it’s also really important to make sure you’re staying committed to that local community and providing something that actually is cutting edge, because the locals see cutting-edge change of programming every year. There is a distinct appreciation of the art form, whether that’s EDM, live music, who knows … You have to be able to appeal to both sides.”
ghostbar The palms
[ Upcoming ]
March 21-27, 2013
March 23 GBDC with Mark Stylz March 24 Ryan Green and Vegas Banger spin March 27 Lisa Pittman spins
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See more photos from this gallery at SpyOnVegas.com
Check out renderings of SLS Las Vegas at VegasSeven.com/Nightlife, and keep an eye on SLSHotels.com/LasVegas for developments.
Photography by Teddy Fujimoto and Bobby Jameidar
By Sarah Gianetto
nightlife
parties
haze Aria
[ Upcoming ]
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See more photos from this gallery at SpyOnVegas.com
Photography by Bobby Jameidar, Teddy Fujimoto and Josh Metz
March 21-27, 2013
March 21 Model Madness: L.A. Bikini Brigade March 23 DJ Pauly D spins April 4 Nelly hosts
nightlife
parties
Hyde Bellagio
[ Upcoming ]
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See more photos from this gallery at SpyOnVegas.com
Photography by Tony Tran
March 21-27, 2013
March 21 Live music with Mahi from American Idol March 22 Konflict and Jace One spin March 23 DJs Reach and Jace One
dining
“Presented with potent names in kitchendom such as Sub-Zero, Wolf, Le Creuset and Mauviel, students can play with it all.” Get Out Of YOur Kitchen ... {paGe 72}
Meet the executive chefs, Diner's Notebook, the Cooking Experience and Nobu has the spice of life
The Guy Behind‘The Guy’
Meet seven chefs who are actually making your food
Chef Richard Camarota of Sage in Aria.
[ Continued on Page 70 ]
March 21-27, 2013
i hate tO break it to you, but Mario Batali isn’t in the kitchen at Carnevino grilling your steak. Nor is Jean-Georges Vongerichten. Speaking recently at a private dinner at his eponymous restaurant at Paris Las Vegas, celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay mentioned that “People always ask me who’s cooking at my restaurants when I’m not there. And I always tell them, it’s the same people who are cooking when I am there.” Most executive chefs who operate under a well-known chef—especially ones who have multiple restaurants—are akin to ghostwriters. The name that appears on the cover may have all the ideas and words, but someone else has to put it all on paper. This is what these chefs do. They take their boss’ ideas and execute them. In the process, many become great chefs in their own right. Here are seven with that potential in Las Vegas.
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Photo by Anthony Mair
By Grace Bascos
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Jeremy Berlin, Gordon Ramsay Pub & Grill in Caesars Palace Before coming to Las Vegas, Berlin last served as the executive chef of the highly praised Church & State in Los Angeles, but had worked for Gordon Ramsay in the years leading up to that. When he returned to work for the Hell’s Kitchen star in Las Vegas, he had to transition from his own fnedining style to the upscalecasual menu, but no adjustment period was needed: “I’ve cooked for him for so long that I can make food that I know he would be proud to serve at any of his restaurants.” A Ramsay takeaway: “Regardless of how he’s portrayed on TV sometimes, he’s one of the nicest guys you’re ever going to meet. I’ve learned that no matter if during service I get revved up or upset, once service is over, I’ll go out and have a beer with the cook I was just yelling at an hour ago.” Nicole Brisson, Carnevino in the Palazzo Coming from a restaurant family background, Brisson lived nearly two years in Italy, so Mario Batali’s simple style of Italian cuisine came naturally to her. One of the few woman executive chefs in Las Vegas, Brisson has spent the past 10 years learning the Batali way of doing things, and that includes how to adapt quickly, not to let your ego get in the way, and to keep it simple. The Batali Way: “Now when I cook at home I fnd myself cooking very similar to the way Mario cooks. The favor combinations and techniques I have learned I will use for the rest of my life in or out of work. He has also taught me that when you start out with great ingredients you don’t have to mess with it as much. Using a great olive oil and a great sea salt can make a dish. Simplicity is a wonderful thing, and you don’t need to overthink it.” Richard Camarota, Sage in Aria The Chicago native frst served as chef de cuisine at Shawn McClain’s Custom House in Chicago before landing at Sage. The two have worked closely together for a decade, and although McClain is defnitely still involved, he allows Camarota nearly complete autonomy: “He’s a great sound-
DINING ing board … We give him ideas and thoughts and he helps take things to the next level. Camarota’s imprint at Sage: “My background goes a little more Mediterranean; I push myself a little more there. I’ve done a lot of butchery work, too. So I try to be creative as far as the proteins that we’re using and different cuts and things of that nature to give the guests a little something different than what they’re expecting. If we’re going to do chicken, we’re going to do a little something different with it.” Ben Jenkins, Michael Mina in Bellagio The executive chef of Mina’s namesake restaurant was only 21 when he opened it in 1998 before making his way to other restaurants within the company. He found himself back at the helm of the Bellagio restaurant two years ago, and actively collaborates with Mina and the rest of the culinary team to keep pushing the boundaries of their cuisine. Jenkins’ proudest dish: “It’s an old dish of Michael’s—the classic tuna foie, a crispy potato cake with spinach, mushrooms, and tuna and foie gras with a red-wine sauce. He came to me about a year ago—I don’t think he had it on a menu, for years and years—and he was like, ‘Ben, let’s reinvent this, let’s bring it back to light.’ There were people coming into this restaurant and asking for it, and we fnally brought it back. We tweaked it and moved it forward, changed the setup and the presentation. … We tweaked everything to be for now instead of then.” Jean Paul Labadie, Todd English PUB in Crystals at CityCenter Labadie’s frst stint in Las Vegas was with one of the frst true celebrity chefs, Emeril Lagasse, at Table 10 in Palazzo. He left the Strip to spend more time with his family, working at local favorites Marché Bacchus and Garfeld’s, but it was only a matter of time before he started craving the high volume of a big kitchen. He’s only been at Todd English PUB less than a year, but already we can fnd touches of his Puerto Rican background on the menu, such as in the new ropa vieja. Size matters—bigger vs. smaller: “[There’s] a lot of money, a lot of support, infrastructure is
Jean Paul Labadie of Todd English PUB (above), and Ben Jenkins of Michael Mina in Bellagio (left).
hurtful concept, or challenging his authority, but it’s a great working relationship and he’s so open to everything. He just wants to please. I’m the same way; I want to put things on the menu that customers want. I get to serve hundreds of people a night with the best food that I could possibly put out there.”
usually pretty strong. I came from two smaller restaurants, [where if] you break a plate, and you think, ‘When am I going to get this plate back into rotation?’ It isn’t that we don’t care here, but the volume takes care of a lot of small issues that are easier to handle when you have this big umbrella with you. It’s a lot easier to do it with somebody else’s money. I’ve got to be careful, because it’s not my money, it’s not my restaurant. But I treat it as if it was.” Rob Moore, Jean Georges Steakhouse in Aria
Want to fnd chef Moore’s imprint on the menu? Check out the beef program, which he calls his baby. He started it during his time at Bellagio and helped develop it for Jean Georges Steakhouse in Aria, and now the restaurant is one of few that carry true A5 Kobe beef imported from Japan, something impossible until very recently. The Vongerichten learning curve: “I call it my doctorate program … At this point in our relationship, after 6½ years, I can give my opinion, or say [a dish] might need a little of this or a little of that. It’s not a
Todd Sugimoto, Scarpetta in the Cosmopolitan First the executive sous chef at Scott Conant’s D.O.C.G., Sugimoto became executive chef of both there and Conant’s Scarpetta late last year. Having done stints under Todd English, Bradley Ogden and Michael Mina, Sugimoto’s philosophy is the same as any chef worth his salt: “to use nicest, freshest ingredients that are available to me. I integrate that into any menu of any restaurants I’ve ever worked at.” The Conant method: “Scott believes in fresh pasta. He doesn’t like dried pasta. I always thought there was nothing wrong with it, but Scott’s philosophy is that that is the best. That is the way to cook pasta. I’m kind of starting to lean toward that way myself. I think if you’re going to have pasta on the menu, it should be fresh. I’m defnitely not as good as my pasta maker, but I can do it if I have to.”
Photography by Anthony Mair
March 21-27, 2013
Dining
[ Continued from Page 69]
[ Continued from Page 77 ]
A&E
Stage
March 21-27, 2013
***
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Who is this guy who performs like he just stuck a fnger in a light socket? Trim, compact, with a hailfellow-well-met charm—a dialed-down Lonny, if you will—the guy who portrays one of the Strip’s zaniest characters is as content as an actor with an apparent hit show can be. “They tell us that tickets are on sale through 2014,” he says, plopping down at his diningroom table for a brief interview before we head out to break-
fast. “That’s a great sign.” Unlike most theater thesps who claim they belted out “Give My Regards to Broadway” in the womb, this transplant from Ontario turned to the stage life only after icing his fedgling hockey career as a goalie for the Belleville Bulls in the Canadian league. “It didn’t pan out where I was going to play every day and that started to get to me,” Shunock says. “You’re by yourself at the end of the ice and I’d start singing in the crease.” (Note to those who don’t know a puck from a matzo ball: A “crease” is the playing area directly in front of the goal.) “I took singing and dancing lessons as a kid, so when it came time to pursue other things, it was a natural ft.” Broadway hasn’t beckoned yet, but TV commercials and small flm roles have, as well as a two-year stint as Timon in the national tour of The Lion King. Auditions followed, including one for that hit about street-corner crooners from the Garden State. “I went through the Jersey Boys ringer with what they call Frankie Camp in New York,” Shunock says. “They put you up for a week, and they teach you all the music and the dancing.” Not making it to Jersey, he instead bounced to L.A. and, in usual young-actor fashion, took a bartending gig. Passing on an opportunity to join Rock’s national tour—“I wanted to settle in Los Angeles for a minute,” he says—Shunock was still remembered by the casting director, who promised to call when a “sit-down” version materialized in Vegas. “It was three years later, but she did call,” he says. “I’m spoiled. I’ve got the goofest part. I hope this show lasts for years and years.” Chow-down time. Destination: Egg Works on East Sunset. After Shunock fips on the wallmounted radio—his pooches gotta groove to some tunes in his absence—we climb into his big, honkin’, 2004 Honda Element. “It’s my toaster on wheels,” he says. *** See that P.T.’s bar/grill? Video-poker gods smiled upon
Shunock when he frst arrived, bestowing a $520 jackpot. “That’s where it happened,” he says behind the wheel, a trace of amazement in his voice that’s unique to newcomers for whom luck’s been a lady. Hooked on playing those come-hither contraptions now? “I haven’t done it since.” Good boy. Over eggs and coffee at Egg Works, Shunock is a gracious meal companion—even politely asking the waiter about my MIA rye toast—who good-naturedly recounts some amusing career stopovers. “Can you believe I was in a movie called Lethal Eviction?” he says. (Horror fick, 2005. Judd Nelson starred. Missed it? So did everyone.) “Friends would joke about it and say, ‘You’re in a movie called Lethal Erection?’” While we’re in a gonad motif, there was also that encounter involving Paul Newman and missing testicles. … Whoa, let’s back up and set this up: aspiring off-Broadway actor scores a rather sexless role in Princess Turandot (based on the opera) at Connecticut’s Westport County
Playhouse, operated by Joanne Woodward, Newman’s spouse. Decked out in his eunuch’s tunic, Shunock runs smack into The Legend in the hall. “He says to me, ‘Even knowing you have no balls, you can still get out there and stick it to them,’” Shunock says, smiling at the memory through a forkful of egg. Perhaps that earned him a small cosmic connection to Newman when he landed a bit role in Slap Shot 2: Breaking the Ice, a fast-melting 2002 followup to one of Newman’s bestknown flms. Cast as an irate fan, Shunock got to get into the face of star Stephen Baldwin and tell him off (a pleasure not afforded most of us). Wanna get him amped up to nearly Lonny-like levels? Ask him about that blank upstairs den wall at his home, and the nearby camera equipment he points at it to produce audition tapes. “Those tapes are badass!” he says, explaining that as his agent forwards scripts onto him for the TV pilot season, he asks his wife or other actor pals to read with him. He then creates links and emails them
to casting directors. Gone, he says, is the actor’s wild card—a bad co-reader, low energy, a mid-scene sneeze—that can wreck his chances at a live audition. “I control everything!” No sitcoms yet, but Shunock’s career attitude—especially after scoring the Lonny prize—is head-on-straight smart. “It’s like gambling,” he says. “Don’t get greedy. Walk away from the table when you have the $100.” Speaking of which … Check, please. *** Back in the toaster-onwheels, we’re Strip-bound. Destination: the Cosmopolitan. Destination within the destination: Stitched—clothing store of Mark Shunock’s dreams. A dog eyeing a lamb chop’s got nothing on this man eyeing these racks. “Isn’t this dope?” he asks, admiring some snazzy footwear, a pair of Allen Edmonds navyblue shoes, starring bright-red laces. Outftted in jeans and T-shirt, Shunock doesn’t at this moment exude fashionforwardness, but sleek threads
Photos by Andrew James
a TV scene, screen all wavy, faces all squishy). Average Tuesday morning, 10 hours before curtain-up, hangin’ with Loony Lonny—a.k.a., actor Mark Shunock, who in only three months has established himself as the liveliest wire in a live-wire show. STOP. Hit the mood-changer button. Silence is a living, breathing creature in this middle-class ’hood in southwest Vegas, pushed back from the I-215 bustle like an aloof party guest, mountain rising around it like some burly, implacable bouncer. Don’t live here? Not visiting? Beat it. Amscray. Hightail it back to, ya know, “Vegas.” Mercifully mullet-free right now, 35-year-old Shunock lives amid this eerie quiet, in a modest, three-bedroom abode he purchased in 2009 when he thought he might join The Lion King at Mandalay Bay. No-go on that gig, so he rented out to other show-bizzy types until Rock made him a resident when the show bowed in December. Wife/actress Cheryl Daro is Los Angeles-bound for an audition, leaving him only three hefty companions—meet Perry the Labrador, Princess the Rottweiler and Max the mutt—that disrupt the peace with frenzied paws, slobbering tongues and hungry eyes cast expectantly at baby carrots their master pulls from the fridge. “Watch this,” he says, directing his canine cast as he balances one goodie on each of their snouts. “Go!” Heads jerk, mini-orange missiles sail upward, then downward. Chomp! Crunch! Neat trick. Shunock beams.
when he gazes out the window of an adjoining private room that overlooks other stores. “You see that?” he asks. “You can see into the dressing room of the bikini store.” Hmmm. Too bad we don’t have that “Hooray for Boobies” T-shirt handy. Speaking of which … showtime’s ticking closer. *** After returning home for some pre-performance chill time, including a hike with Perry, Princess and Max, Shunock hops into his motorized toaster about 6 p.m., pulling into the Venetian about 6:30 for the Rock of Ages rock-out at 8. Amid the backstage labyrinth of dressing rooms, at the end of a hallway, is Mark/Lonny’s. Neighbors include the show’s co-lead young lovers, Carrie St. Louis—who shouts out a brightly chipper “Hello!” worthy of her wide-eyed ingénue
character, Sherrie—and Justin Mortelliti, who plays wannabe rocker Drew. Across the way is the room of Troy Burgess, who portrays Dennis Dupree, the middle-aged, hippie-ish owner of the Bourbon Room, the show’s fctional club. Adorning his wall is a poster of a topless woman, plus a calendar featuring the ladies of Luxor’s Fantasy, which includes his missus. “I’m stressed,” Burgess declares. “I’m almost out of beer.” Striding in soon after, offering a friendly greeting and frm handshake, is tall, strapping soap star Kyle Lowder (Days of Our Lives, The Bold and the Beautiful), who gives a full-on hilarious performance as addled rocker Stacee Jaxx. Commencing his nightly routine in his room, Shunock’s in a pristine white robe, one of a bunch he purchased online for his castmates, which he had
embroidered with the Rock of a sticky ACE bandage and a hair Ages logo. “I wanted to,” he says. net he pins into place, Shunock “People are running around heads to the hair-and-makeup here in their skivvies.” room, where wigmaster Robin Stripping down to his jeans, Lee tops him off, slipping on he begins his transformation and straightening out the into Lonny. Step one: applying hairpiece that lives on as the fake tats—a skull, an eagle and hirsute symbol of an era. a pinup girl—by wetting his “When the hair hits the arms, then pressing the macho head,” Shunock says, looking images into place from a sheet. into the mirror, “it’s game on!” “They last two days, and someLight the frecracker. Mullet times I forget I have them on,” Man’s in the house. he says, admitting to a touch *** of embarrassment when he’s in public. Mark’s gone. Rock of Ages “People see them LONNY’S ON. and I’m like, ‘No, no, Rock of Ages opens The Venetian, they’re fake!” on the shoulders of 8 p.m. Tue-Fri Now comes the the grade-A nutbar and Sun, 7 and crucial piece of scampering down 10 p.m. Sat, $52the Lonnie puzzle. the stairs. $152, 853-5950, While his character “That guy”—as a RockOfAgesVerequires no makeup, sage theatergoer gas.com. the mullet makes the observed—“is fucking man. After attaching hilarious.”
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make his eyes sparkle. Now a prominent actor in a prominent show, with red-carpet invitations piling up, he’s made Stitched his Sartorial Central. Not buying or even renting today. Just cultivating a personal “inventory.” And damned if it ain’t dazzling. Over 45 minutes, Brandon the salesman gussies up Shunock in front of a store mirror in stages, shirt by jacket by slacks. Step back and get an eyeful: Mark Shunock in striped shirt, checkered sport coat with fre-engine-red cuffs turned out, patterned tie, red lapel blossom and checkered pocket square. An ensemble that once might have been likened dismissively to a TV test pattern has, thanks to evolving tastes, been reborn as the height of chic, and Shunock carries it off with aplomb. “This is just awesome!” he says—then a little Lonny pops up
March 21-27, 2013
Before heading into work, actor Mark Shunock gets fitted in fancy duds by stylist Brandon Carpenter at Stitched at the Cosmopolitan. As showtime nears, Shunock wraps an ACE bandage around his head in his dressing room before Robin Lee attaches the character’s mullet wig. With costume on, Shunock’s ready to rock.
a&e
concerts
Muse
Mandalay Bay Events Center, March 17 As a concert photographer, it’s my job to capture the essence of a performance in a single image—doing so within the time frame of the first three songs. Sometimes that’s easier said than done, as is the case with Muse. The British rock band eludes photographic summarization because their lyrics and supplemental visual components are designed to take fans on a theatrical journey. And, on this night, they did. The arena lights went dark, and a giant pyramidal LED display descended to cover the center of the stage. I was mesmerized by the theatrical light display preceding the opening song, “Supremacy.” As the band began to play, the pyramid raised, the crowd roared and the energy surged—aided by the striking visual aesthetic. As Muse moved into “Map of the Problematic,” the drum set rotated toward the audience on the opposite side of the stage, and lead vocalist Matthew Bellamy made his way around the stage, fully utilizing the 360-degree platform. My Muse concert came to an end after “Supermassive Black Hole,” but I classify it as one of the best concerts I’ve ever partially attended. ★★★★✩ – Wayne Posner
Volbeat
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From the audience’s first fist-pump, this Danish act offered a highenergy set. Although Volbeat is relatively new to American fans, the musicians performed songs that spanned their 12-year career. The title track of their previous record, “Guitar Gangsters & Cadillac Blood,” had the crowd chanting along. The song also featured a wicked guitar solo from Rob Caggiano, formerly of Anthrax, who joined the band last month. Before playing their latest single, “Heaven Nor Hell,” lead vocalist/guitarist Michael Poulsen said, “If I lose in Vegas, I always win when I’m onstage with all of you.” Volbeat rocked covers ranging from Slayer to Johnny Cash, which is a good representation of their sound. Poulsen, resembling Cash
with a pompadour, white-collared shirt and black vest, performed a solo cover of “Ring of Fire” on a mounted acoustic guitar at the front of the stage before segueing into Volbeat’s “Sad Man’s Tongue.” The band also gave a sneak peak of their new song “Lola Montez” from Outlaw Gentlemen & Shady Ladies, scheduled to be released next month. “A Warrior’s Call” had the crowd screaming “Fight! Fight! Fight!” with more fist-pumping action than ever. For the encore, the band played a beefed-up hard-rock cover of Young the Giant’s “My Body.” Definitely a band to catch live, Volbeat is winning over new fans around the world one fist-pump at a time. ★★★★✩ – Jack Hallows
Muse and Volbeat photos by Wayne Posner
March 21-27, 2013
House of Blues, March 14
Stage Carolla and Dr. Drew.
The Shock-Doc iS in
Adam Carolla reconnects the ‘Loveline’ with Dr. Drew
March 21-27, 2013
By Jason Scavone
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ImagIne, If you will, that Abbott and a highly trained Costello were heavily invested in the fortunes of 19-yearolds who may or may not have caught gonorrhea in an ill-advised Spring Break three-way. There you have Loveline, which, along with Emeril drunkenly screaming “Bam!” and hangover-tinged SportsCenter reruns was what passed for appointment television across college dorms in the late ’90s. The MTV staple, which aired from 1996-2000, was an outgrowth of Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew Pinsky’s Westwood One radio show of the same name that ran for 10 years, where the pair dished out advice about sex and drugs to the earnestly confused and the suspiciously outrageous alike. By 2005, Carolla left to take over the West Coast principality in Howard Stern’s vacated kingdom before founding a podcasting empire that would eventually reunite him with Pinsky. The duo started doing a twicea-week podcast in December with live dates sprinkled in. They’ll be at the House of Blues March 29. Not that they were ever far apart. Pinsky is a regular on Carolla’s iTunesbusting podcast The Adam Carolla Show. Carolla says taking up the old mantle was like putting on a pair of slippers. Though, those slippers might have been chewed up by the family dog over the years. Both men have faced public backlash—something that baffes Carolla. Especially when the criticism comes from laypeople, like when pop singer Richard Marx compared Pinsky to Dr. Jack Kevorkian following country singer Mindy McCready’s suicide last month. “As somebody who makes a lot of comments, who pisses a lot of people off, it’s hard for me to come down on
people who make stupid comments. But I don’t know what his angle is,” Carolla says. “My former life, I was a carpenter. When people would talk to me about carpentry and I would tell them the nailing schedule on shear wall or the difference between Struct 1 plywood and oriented strand board, no one went, ‘Hey man, that’s just your opinion.’ But I’ve seen people argue with Dr. Drew his entire career. They’re idiots who don’t know the subject, but they’re still willing to argue with Drew, who’s got 30 years of medical training.” Carolla, of course, has come under fre even more often. He’s often drawn the ire of minority groups, and got hit with it again on March 1 when his interview with California Lieutenant Governor Gavin Newsom touched on subjects of race and poverty. The Internet outrage machine fred up its engines days later, with the Huffngton Post labeling it a “shocking racist rant.” It isn’t particularly surprising. Carolla seems to generate online umbrage every six months or so. It’s galling, though, for someone who values expertise to take potshots from the part-timers and comedy tourists. “It’s like people who don’t get jokes. And then when you explain it to them, they go, ‘Oh, that wasn’t funny.’ You only get funny jokes, professor? Maybe you’re an idiot and you should’ve got the joke the frst time around. ‘Hey, I like comedy as much as anyone else, but this isn’t funny.’ Oh, OK, Your Highness. You and your magic scepter will decide what’s funny, what’s not funny, what’s acceptable, what’s not acceptable,” he says. “When did words become so powerful?” Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew’s Loveline Tour, House of Blues, 8 p.m. March 29, $19-$100, HOB.com/Vegas.
stage
Nodding to Motown, a medley performed in spiffy gold jackets—and including “My Girl,” “Just My Imagination” and “Tears of a Clown”—is pulled off with moves that could cause the Temptations to ask for dance tips. Nicely changing up the pace, an a cappella section that welcomes back exmember Marc Nelson gives us goose bump-worthy takes on “In the Still of the Night” and “Yesterday.” Modest tightening could alleviate several dead spots lingering between numbers when the Boyz disappear for costume changes. However, that’s asking for inordinate patience from fans with serious impulse-control issues. Yes, it’s Vegas. Decorum isn’t a required nicety (a fact reinforced when a soused Strip-crawler banged out a drum solo on this critic’s car trunk en route to hotel parking). Performers do rev up crowds, whose energy is vital to their shows. Still, is requesting a modicum of courtesy at appropriate moments so unreasonable? Producers should post a sign to patrons outside the showroom: “Kindly take a 90-minute asshole break. And enjoy the show.” STRIP POSTSCRIPT: Happy birthday to the Colosseum at Caesars Palace, which opened March 25, 2003—featuring Celine Dion’s A New Day—and hosted the biggest headliners in the ensuing decade. Thus far at the Colosseum, no Christians have been sacrifced and no big, hairy, roaring, lip-smacking creatures have been spotted, unless you count Elton John and Bette Midler in costume.
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What song should be played on the radio right after “I’ll Make Love To You”? Maybe Paul Anka’s “You’re Having My Baby”? Or something else? Email your choice to Steve.Bornfeld@VegasSeven.com.
March 21-27, 2013
how Cranky, CrotChety and downright curmudgeonly is it to carp about … manners? Specifcally, showroom manners? Unveiling their new residency at The Mirage recently, Boyz II Men found fans that aren’t as respectful of their idols as their idols are of them. Graciously, they handled it without complaint. I won’t. Is it really that much better to be shouted down by cheers and wild hoots than boos and derisive jeers? Not if you’re showmen (and the Boyz are) trying to put on a show. Gentlemanly Boyz member Shawn Stockman humbly attempted to express the group’s appreciation for its new gig. Fans couldn’t care less: “WOO-HOO! OW! YAAAY! YOW!” And repeat—nearly every time Stockman or fellow soul masters Nathan Morris and Wayna Morris uttered words that didn’t have notes and a backbeat under them. Adoration? Try impatience and selfshness. Fans want what they want (the music) when they want it (now). You’d think courtesy was a communicable disease. (As for overall cluelessness, it’s probably pointless to bitch about the woman in front of me texting on a cellphone that in a blackout could light up the MGM Grand.) Grow up, people. Performance-wise, the Boyz are every bit the R&B force they’ve always been. On a sleek stage similar to the one now hosting Human Nature at the Venetian, they provide the expected hits, including “On Bended Knee,” “End of the Road” and “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday.” Silky romanticism reaches its zenith on “I’ll Make Love To You,” when their ingrates—sorry, “fans”—most of them female, fock to the foot of the stage where they’re rewarded with roses.
VEGAS SEVEN
Photo by Brenton Ho
Courtesy shortage among fans shortChanges Boyz II men show
movies A&E
Berry needs a better star vehicle.
Phoned-in
As a 911 operator, the skilled Halle Berry tries to save a girl and this failed flm By Andrew M. Barker
Tribune Media Services representing a slightly skewed take on 2004’s Cellular, crossed with a lobotomized The Silence of the Lambs, Brad Anderson’s high-concept thriller The Call would be an unremarkable bit of women-in-peril dreck were it not for two distinguishing factors—the sexualized sadism inficted upon the half-dressed 16-year-old Abigail Breslin and the equally sadistic Sideshow Bob coiffure affxed to the otherwise lovely Halle Berry. These indignities aside, there’s little to differentiate this high-pitched screamer from a particularly feverish Law and Order rerun. Berry stars as Jordan, a hotshot 911 operator who rules over the bustling call center known as “the Hive”— we know she’s a star when co-workers casually ask her for the institutional code for a
multiple stabbing. Featuring some nice aerial photography of downtown Los Angeles, the flm expends 10 minutes laying character foundations involving Jordan’s unseen cop father, her handsome LAPD-offcer boyfriend (Morris Chestnut) and her charged relationship with an unsympathetic supervisor, then disregards these details entirely once the action gets rolling. Receiving a 911 call from a teenage girl in the midst of a home invasion, Jordan concocts an elaborate strategy to help her evade the predator, but gives the girl away by hitting the redial button when the call is cut off. (Berry’s character will similarly vacillate between Jason Bourne-like ingenuity and howling stupidity throughout the flm.) The girl is abducted and murdered by the
unseen, catchphrase-spouting killer, and the guilt-ridden Jordan takes a leave of absence. Try as she might, Jordan can’t avoid the call to heroism, which arrives soon, via another emergency call. Teenage Casey (Breslin) has been drugged and kidnapped from a mall parking lot, and wakes up in the trunk of a car speeding down the freeway. Through some needlessly convoluted plot machinations, she has a friend’s untraceable pay-as-you-go cellphone in her pocket, and Jordan must don the headset once again to talk her out of harm’s way. It’s here that the flm gener-
ates its only real sparks of invention, as the desk-bound Jordan is forced to coach the hysterical teen through a series of ruses to try to tip off passersby. Unspooling more or less in real time, the pursuit sequences manage to evoke the primary appeal of such highconcept material for which one happily suspends disbelief, just to see how long the flmmakers can stick to the premise. But no sooner can you say “this time ... it’s personal” than the flm disengages completely, running Jordan through some paint-bynumbers Nancy Drew routines and veering toward the ickily
March 21-27, 2013
short reviews
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Oz: The Great and Powerful (PG) ★★★✩✩
Sam Raimi’s digital blockbuster prequel to the Hollywood classic is uneven but agreeably managed. Oscar “Oz” Diggs (James Franco) is a carny magician who departs 1905 Kansas via tornado and lands in Oz. He runs into witches, including Theodora (Mila Kunis), Evanora (Rachel Weisz) and Glinda (Michelle Williams), and has the company of a winged monkey (voiced by Zach Braff). Oz must lead the revolution to restore order to the land. There are big sights, electric shocks, lots of 3-D and those monkey minions.
21 and Over (R) ★★✩✩✩
At least this rip-off of The Hangover was done by dudes who wrote The Hangover. In yet another crude comedy, this is the story of Jeff Chang (Justin Chon), who goes out on the town for his 21st birthday. His gonzo friend Miller (Miles Teller) and the more responsible Casey (Skylar Austin) get him blind drunk. Told in the usual flashback, there’s a sorority house, a pep rally, a progressive dorm drinking party, and then naturally the campus police station and the infirmary. There are laughs here, but it’s a total rip-off.
Jack the Giant Slayer (PG-13) ★★✩✩✩
This giant, straining blockbuster reinvents Jack and the Beanstalk, as see Jack gape; see Jack run; see Jack slay giants. Bryan Singer (The Usual Suspects, X-Men) directs, and the movie is a bit too much: too much yelling, too much running, too much flaming tree throwing. Jack (Nicholas Hoult) trades his horse for magic beans, and, you know, the beanstalk connects the human world and the world of giants. Mayhem ensues. As far as these things go, it’s just too much fantasy action for its own good.
exploitative as it invents reasons to remove Breslin’s shirt and tie her up. Berry is enough of a pro to muddle through yet another underwhelming star vehicle with her dignity intact, and Breslin acquits herself well enough for a problematic role in which she’s forced to cry and scream continuously. The serial-killer villain played by Michael Eklund is a hulking, malevolent presence, though his scrambledbrow attempt at a psychopathic glare provoked gales of laughter at the screening. The Call (R) ★★✩✩✩
[ by tribune media services ]
Phantom (R) ★★✩✩✩
In March 1968, about 1,800 miles northwest of Oahu in the Pacific Ocean, the Soviet submarine K-129 exceeded its crush depth and imploded, for mysterious reasons. All crew members were lost, and the sub sank with three ballistic nuclear missiles and two nuclear torpedoes. Capt. Dmitri Zubov (Ed Harris) does his best to hold off the alternately motivated KGB agents on board, one of which is played by the completely out-of-place David Duchovny. The movie is OK, but it’s remarkable that they could make a snoozer out of those reliably suspenseful subs.
movies
Snitch (PG-13) ★★★✩✩
Safe Haven (PG-13) ★★✩✩✩
Beautiful Creatures (PG-13)
A Good Day to Die Hard (R)
Based on the young adult novel, this film follows high school senior Ethan (Alden Ehrenreich) who is plagued by a recurring Civil War-era nightmare. The girl in his dreams resembles the new girl in town, Lena (Alice Englert), who is a “caster,” or a person with supernatural abilities. Love between a mortal and a caster comes with its risks, of course. Emma Thompson, Jeremy Irons and Viola Davis support, but it’s not the strongest effort in the genre.
The fifth installment in the franchise, this film is a lousy action movie in its own right. John McClane (Bruce Willis) is back, traveling to Moscow to retrieve his son (Jai Courtney). McClane the elder discovers his son is really a CIA spook trying to keep a Russian dissident (Sebastian Koch) alive long enough to turn over a top-secret file. Chase scenes are over the top, and the violence takes the film so very far away from what made the original movie so good.
Identity Thief (R) ★★✩✩✩
Unfortunately, this road-trip movie fails its stellar stars. Denver businessman Sandy (Jason Bateman) discovers his identity has been stolen, his credit ruined. To fix things, he must track down the culprit, who happens to be Diana (Melissa McCarthy), a Florida con woman. The two go on the road to make things right, all the while followed by bounty hunters. Bateman and McCarthy are great performers and likeable, but the material is so dreadfully inferior, there’s just not much to see here.
★✩✩✩✩
Side Effects (R) ★★★✩✩
This sly film from Steven Soderbergh is a deftly plotted look at pharmacological states of mind. Emily (Rooney Mara) is a tense Manhattanite whose husband (Channing Tatum) gets out of prison. They struggle to connect, and Emily is prescribed antidepressants by her psychiatrist (Jude Law), who benefits from enrolling her in a drug trial. Blood eventually gets spilled, and Mara is a sphinx of an actress, never truly giving us a bearing on her character’s state of mind. It’s taut and worth seeing.
March 21-27, 2013
★★✩✩✩
The new Nicholas Sparks movie begins as a desperate young woman (Julianne Hough) flees the scene of a crime in Boston. Assuming a new haircut, Katie gets off the bus in Southport, North Carolina, gets a job at the diner and a cabin, and starts sharing smoldering looks with town widower dad (Josh Duhamel). Katie has something to hide; Duhamel has some grieving to do; and the filmmakers have some sunsets to film before things get violent and threatening. Which they do. It’s OK, but like most Sparks movies: meh.
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Loosely based on true events, this movie follows a father (Dwayne Johnson) who goes undercover for the DEA to nab drug kingpins in an effort to free his harshly sentenced son (Rafi Gavron). Gritty and noirish, this flick works. Behind the former Rock is a solid supporting cast, including drug kingpin Mr. Big (Benjamin Bratt), conniving politician (Susan Sarandon), ex-con turned partner Daniel (Jon Bernthal) and the middleman Malik (Michael Kenneth Williams). The action and violence are well balanced.
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