Last Friday: Can someone tell us what is up with the gorilla bouncers over @ Revolver? Last Friday night, some dude dropped a Doritos bag (Cooler Ranch flavor) on the floor of the downstairs lounge, and one of the bouncers picked him up and slammed him into a table. We saw it happen, along with twenty frightened, little Chris Carraba girly men. Rumor has it that same thing happened the prior weekend. Seriously, fire those felons or we’re starting a boycott like Ms. Parks. It’s going to start right after we crash your Atmosphere and Electroclash shows. We’re going to graf all of your glamorous walls with greasy Cheese doodle powder. Perpare, because we’re rolling too deep. Chairs.

***

From beginning to end, New Theatre’s complex fable of a man who sells his soul to the devil, makes one contemplate the aspects of life that are conflicted with greed and passion.

Hearing the live violin music helps to place the audience in the timely setting of the 18th century. “Tom Walker,” written by John Strand, stars a middle-aged man, played by Stephen S. Neal, who allows his desire for riches to overpower him.

This leads to a deal with an “alleged” black Lucifer. As Lucious Smith (AKA the devil) says himself, in a role masterfully played by Robert Strain, “the devil dwells in every man’s heart,” and this play follows that decree and then some.

The universality of the title character, Tom Walker, helps swindle the audience into a plot that appears sinfully predictable, but, of course, is not. Lisa Morgan delights the audience in dual roles as the love interests in Tom Walker’s life. One lover is a crude, miserly woman, and the other, a cherished asset to his life. Tom’s initial wife seems to fall straight from the lines of Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew,” with a cross-pollination of the Bible’s Book of Job.

“Death makes a man think,” and so does this slyly told tale of mirth and avidity. One might find it difficult to imagine being corrupted by a passion for riches, and the audience clearly beholds this conviction in Tom Walker as a character.

It is almost painful to watch this flaw consume him so far into the play, as Walker himself describes: “All my gold I’d give back to purchase my poverty.” A small cast of characters, including a stand-out performance by Tara Reid, as the narrator Cora, and Ken Clement and David Perez-Ribada, who play several roles, help round out this study of the life of an alcoholic, middle-aged fiddler with tight-knit sufficiency.

This is the recreation of a “legend” that goes beneath the surface, to entertain and instruct individuals who wished to be moved emotionally. “This land is full of Tom Walkers,” is an excerpt that cannot possess more truth.

“Tom Walker” plays through September 15, 2002 at the New Theatre in Coral Gables, Wednesdays through Saturdays, 8pm, and Sundays at 2pm. Call (305) 443-5909 for more information.

Josh Caraballo can be reached at email4josh@aol.com.

Take the self-deprecating British wit of Bridget Jones’ Diary, combine it with the feisty arrogance and sassy style of Sex and the City, throw in a Vietnamese opium den and an intercontinental love triangle, and you get Backpack, a hilariously insightful page-turner that will keep you hooked throughout the journey.

First-time author Emily Barr brings the male-dominated genre of backpacker fiction to a new level with her creation of Tansy Harris, an overindulgent British journalist who, fed-up with the pressures of London life and the recent death of her alcoholic mother, takes off on a backpacking adventure through Asia, anxious to leave everything else behind. Well, not exactly everything.

Tansy is trapped by the confines of cocaine, a shallow relationship, and an even shallower outlook on life. Her incentive is to come home “skinny and brown…standing around looking lovely and thinking deep thoughts,” but the third world gives her a much-needed slap in the face the second she steps off the plane. Confronted with poverty, crime, and hostility from the natives as well as from pretentious backpackers, she is broken in as an amateur traveler.

Not included on her itinerary is Max, a shaggy, sensitive backpacker who sees past Tansy’s front and helps open her eyes to the possibility of a romance other than the empty relationship back home. Tansy’s inner monologues about her relationships can get enduring, and after a while, one becomes annoyed with the overkill of sentimentality. However, at other points, this conflict does enhance the story.

Soon enough, another subplot emerges from the journey: a serial killer stalking his way through Europe, killing blond British women, essentially Tansy look-alikes. The “clever twist” at the end of this subplot is predictable and does not really add to the meat of the story. One thing worth noting, however, is that there is more to Tansy than meets the eye and the reader will find out she really is a three-dimensional character, making her spiritual journey that much more exciting.

One element that makes Backpack worth reading is the writer’s vivid depiction of Asia. Since the story is based loosely on Barr’s own backpacking experiences originally submitted to the London newspaper she worked for, she can accurately paint a picture of the countries Tansy treks through: Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, Tibet, and China. The setting itself is enough reason to pick the book up, especially for people who want to learn more about the Asian culture.

Barr’s satirical description of the backpacking culture, as established by Garland with The Beach, depicts backpackers as wealthy, dread-locked, pseudo-intellectual posers who reek of ganja, and impose their Western culture on the East while caring to oberve only the more romanticized aspects of Asia. They jump at the chance to walk around in sandals and wrinkled linen, but in reality, they have the comfort of their credit cards and available technology to bubble-wrap their “adventures.” In the end, the story may sound like Bridget Jones Goes to Thailand, but it evolves into so much more. This is a great read for anyone who suffers from wanderlust and longs for a similar escape.

Alexandra Zayas can be reached at zandar143@aol.com

* 1/2

Comedy is among the most difficult genres to recreate and, therefore, should not be done unless executed adequately. The beautiful set design by Joseph Thomas is just not enough to compensate for the scalded acting that accentuates the jokes in Larry Shue’s “The Nerd,” now playing at the Stage Door Theatre in Wilton Manors (a sub-division of Fort Lauderdale), where barely any audience members broke a laugh.

The story stars Shane Tanner, who plays Willum Cubbert, an ex-Vietnam vet whose life is allegedly saved while in battle by a geeky friend named Rick Steadman, played by Jesse Teeters. The play is well written by Larry Shue, but falls to its death by the direction of Dan Kelley. The witticism seems to have been funny and clever at one time, but has lost his fervor on stage. It almost seems as if the actors are all in their own world, not really listening to each other, but instead hell-bent on making us laugh. Stagy blocking contributes to murdering this piece, as gag lines are delivered straight to the audience, who can already deduce the jokes.

On a positive note, the play does pick up speed and accomplishes to peak interest with certain scenes played by Teeters, or “The Nerd” himself. Teeters plays the typical nerd who moves into Willum’s apartment unexpectedly, and begins to wreak havoc upon the lives of Willum and his closest friends. The situation is hardly feasible though and the actors don’t seem to be having fun, which causes the audience to become bored as well. The ending has a twist that might have been exciting if one had invested their interest from the get-go, but this is far from the case here.

As one actor in this production states: “Rick-this is bad… real bad.” (The man sitting next to me said, “I agree.”) Those who would like to find out for themselves can see the piece until October 20. Call (954) 344-7765 for more information.

Joshua Caraballo can be reached at email4josh@aol.com

At the Wallflower, screenings of new independent films, a poetry night, muti-media showcases, and a gift shop are some of the features found at this ever-changing “gallery.”

Currently on display are the works of four very talented visual artists.

Their work is so good that it might even inspire you to purchase an entire set of new furnishings for your living room. Anibal Fernandez, a native of Uruguay who moved to Miami 7 years ago, captures in his oil and acrylic paintings a consonant semblance almost reminiscent of a Romanticist. His fluid works are characterized by a smoothness of shading and a peaceful ambience created by a detailed air-brush style. Look out for a visual representation of different sensations and nature’s beautiful harmonics in “Tree Eye,” “The Eye in the Storm” as well as “Crossin’ Winds and Seas”.

Clutch, a former electronica DJ from Utica, New York, claims his work is inspired from, among others, Spawn cartoonist Todd McFarlane, and he moved to Florida 22 years ago. He wants to project street style in his art through modern technology. His “Computerized Digital Design Exhibition” meddles with your concentration through digitally-designed paintings that seem to vivify the extreme personalities and abstract concepts of modern society. The graphic images have a chromatic edge and smooth coloration, and may display the humanistic thrill of living. You might find yourself in awe while viewing “Time Squared,” “Signs,” and “DJ Rabeat,” all containing a marvelous use of colorization techniques.

Dive into a more somber feel while gaping at Abdiel Acosta’s oil and

mixed-media collection. The Cuban native says he’s been influenced by the works of Robert Rauschenberg and Frida Karlo, and he combines personal as well as historic images in his mixed-media creations to seemingly convey intrinsic mental visions and feelings. The sense of tumult in his work appears as a destructive force that is compensated by subtle, clean details that reflect a certain balance. “Producto de un Cultura” and a piece incorporating the biblical Adam and Eve theme entitled “The Deception” are highlights.

Then there’s Xavier Cortes, a Venezuelan native who has resided Miami for the past 20 years. Bauhaus, Dali and Warhol are cited to be his influences, but his work delves into new levels of consciousness. In his acrylic and mixed-media creations, he pleases the eye with a number of pasted found items that add texture and, possibly, further symbolic meaning. He also mingles the old with the new by combining miniature animal skulls with technology and thus establishes certain emotional gradations in his sculptures. “Absolut,” “Antelope,” and “Tree of Life” all demand your attention. Cortes’ work is entrancing and seems to want to display the gritty interaction of technology with the broader realm of life.

All exhibits run until Saturday, October 26. Call (305) 579-0069 for more info.

Joshua Caraballo can be reached at email4josh@aol.com.

Forget The Real World or the abundance of trendy so-called reality shows that have been saturating the airwaves and actually don’t broadcast any sense of reality whatsoever, but rather embark the viewer into a world of fantasy and illusion. The hip settings of Real Word residences and picturesque scenery of exotic islands on Survivor or Temptation Island look like perfect-world paradises compared to the raw, no-holds-barred making of One Big Trip, a homegrown, grassroots-produced film by five friends (two girls and three guys) who decided to set out across the country and film the adventure with 4 cameras, a spur of impetus and…five ounces of weed.

“When you’re growing up watching The Real World, watching Heather B fight with that guy from the grind,” explains Jason Goldwach, the director, in a Yellow Rat Bastard magazine interview, “eventually you’re like, this isn’t real. Who are these people? Where are all the drugs, where are all the sluts, guns and condom wrappers? What about LSD, beer bellies, infinity and God?”

Financed by money from past jobs and allowances, the film was shot on MiniDV and Super 8mm film in the winter of 1999/2000. It may represent a spiritual post-adolescent experience as five young Americans search for enlightenment in a media-directed, agenda-setting world. Whilst ingesting a massive amount of drugs-from hash and shrooms to red rock opium and ecstasy-the group reflect on what it’s like living in the modern age in the U.S. and encounter a sundry array of people in different cities all over the country, including Las Vegas, New Orleans, Miami, and areas in Alabama, Virginia, Tennessee and California.

“I wanted to do a Road Rules, but without the rules and influence of MTV,” says Goldwach. “Plus, it had just turned to the year 2000. We wanted to make our own myths, or at least discuss what our generation really does in a world of disposable myths and ‘popstars.'”

Throughout the trip, the movie captures the diversity of American people as well as the volatility and precarious situations of many, and how the American Dream has wavered too often. The filmmakers come across interesting people, such as a worm-eating alligator wrestler in Florida, a good-old-American deer hunter in Virginia, a black mime in New Orleans painted in silver glitter, a guy in Las Vegas who claims he’s the black Elvis, and gold-toothed, rhyme-spitting kids from the ghetto in Miami, each offering their thoughts on the millennium and the state of the country. Notably, one of the most gripping events is when the crew tries to buy weed from some dealer, who ends up selling them paper and then breaks down crying in front of the camera as he confesses that he needed the money to get more heroin.

The DVD, now available in most stores, comes packaged with a bumping hip hop soundtrack, with guest performances by Jurassic 5, Dan the Automator, Dilated Peoples, Del tha Funky Homosapien, Swollen Members and others. The movie may now be the closest you can get to “real” TV and significantly documents important aspects of the current America, all the while trying to answer spiritual questions about life (though some of the lingering monologues may wear you off).

“The moment is now,” says Goldwach. “We’re just little balding monkeys, on some tiny round melting rock at the far end of some little solar system. Relax and enjoy its splendor over a joint and some magic purple mushrooms.”

Goldwach is a veteran hip hop director, having made videos for Kool Keith (“Plastic World”), Common feat. Sadat X (“1999”) and Dilated Peoples (“No retreat”), and he is already in the pre-production process for their next big trip, a hip-hopumentary, which is scheduled to stop in Thailand, South Africa, Amsterdam, Brazil and Egypt, and is titled Customs. Check out www.onebigtrip.com for more info.

Omar Sommereyns can be reached at SOASIS@aol.com

There is a magical place in South Beach where no velvet rope, no picky doorman, and no cover exists to hamper your fun. Near the entrance, a Harley is parked outside, not for show, but because the person visiting inside is a true biker. Upon opening the clear, glass door of Automatic Slim’s, located on 1216 Washington Ave., you are no longer in the world of over-priced drinks and cold, shady stares. Co-owner Buzzy Sklar set out to leave the pretentiousness often associated with SoBe in the dust. He glances around his sparkling new bar with a relaxed smile of satisfaction.

“Exactly what we wanted to happen here has happened,” he says.

There is a cozy, local vibe about the place that is noticeable the second you walk in. Around the room, bartenders are dancing on top of the bar and the patrons are having the time of their lives. With a menu consisting of $7 drinks, $5 shots, and $4 draft beers, it’s easy to see why. The drink prices are amazing, especially considering Slim’s ritzy location, and the food is top shelf.

Until 4:00 a.m., Automatic Slim’s offers palatable munchies ranging from deep-dish apple pie a la mode, to their signature mouthwatering “naughty nachos.” If you’re up for a late night culinary trip to New York City, one bite of their “NYC street vendor pretzel” will take your taste buds on a romantic tour of Times Square – well almost.

If the snacks and beverages aren’t enough to keep you inside, resident DJ Mark Leventhal’s transitions between crazy funk, hip hop and classic rock n’ roll will keep you dancing into stylish oblivion.

The bar is fashioned to appear straight out of the ’70s, with slanted square mirrors and lights dangling from above. Benches inspired by car seats conjure a charming cool comparable to the faux-diner, Jack Rabbit Slim’s, in Pulp Fiction.

Future stars and strippers in waiting can dance on a stage, complete with a “performance pole,” while being doused in the drunken limelight. Chances are that many UM students will find themselves up there belting out “Born to be Wild” before sunrise.

Automatic Slim’s opened up three weeks ago and is quickly becoming the new hot spot where anything goes. Buzzy often quips that “this is where the beautiful people go to get ugly.” The crowd is as diverse as the lounge’s choice of music, which is stocked with plenty of staple sing-a-longs that are cheesy enough to bring absolute strangers together. Take note that you will never encounter electronic music at Slim’s.

Every evening from 4-8 p.m., all drinks are priced at $4 for happy hour, and tall pitchers of beer are only $7. At 11:00 p.m., the crowd gets thick and chatty, as everyone absorbs the laid-back atmosphere. The early morning hours are worth the wait if you care to polish off leftover Jell-o shots with a guy, who emerges merrily from the kitchen bearing giant trays filled with gelatin rippers. Whether this type of mania occurs every night is unclear, but last Friday night, he returned every 15 minutes, smiling with yet another tray.

If Slim’s strictly enforced motto, “No Cover, No VIP, No Bullshit,” sounds enticing, you will not be disappointed. With no dress code, practically anyone can pop in off the beach wearing board shorts and a t-shirt to kick it with some buds and suds.

If you’re craving free mayonnaise sandwiches from 10 p.m. until midnight, swing by on a Tuesday, or if you’re looking for a girl’s night out, drop by on a Wednesday, where ladies drink free from 10 p.m. until 2 a.m.

Warning: once you walk in and find yourself relaxing with an out-of-this-world caramel apple martini and a plate of “Buffalo Boob’s Bodacious Wings,” you may never want to leave. Too soon enough, girls and guys dancing and mouthing the lyrics to “Bust a Move” will end with pleasant, exhausted 5:00 a.m. “goodbyes” and perhaps some hazy reminiscing over breakfast.

Rachael Henrichsen can be reached at rachluv@aol.com.