Thursday, Jan. 15
Tig Notaro
In showbiz, women take off their clothes for all kinds of reasons, most of them bad. The case of Notaro, long one of our favorite, most deadpan stand-up comics (and a Bumbershoot regular) is quite different—as serious, as they say, as cancer. Her appearance back in November was abruptly canceled owing to complications in her treatment for breast cancer. Last year’s tour became a must-see event—apart from the laughs, of course—because the comic was so frankly discussing her double mastectomy, even removing her top to show the audience her scars. Now most comedians—perhaps lazily—mine their personal lives for humor, but Notaro’s illness-related material feels particularly daring. She’s generally walled off her personal life from her stage presentation, the better to focus on extended narrative jokes that often end with an absurd twist. Her long signature gag about repeatedly meeting fallen ’90s diva Taylor Dayne has itself become an exercise in repetition; telling the joke, again, is like meeting Dayne, again. And yet we laugh, again. Notaro often seems intent on patterns and recurrences in her humor; she’s a student of the underlying inane structure to our daily lives. The tour halted last fall by a burst cyst and internal bleeding was called Boyish Girl Interrupted; now we can expect Notaro to resume nowhere near where she left off, because that would be too easy. (Tickets purchased for the November show are still valid.) The Neptune, 1303 N.E. 45th St., 877-784-4849, stgpresents.org. $25. 7 p.m.
BRIAN MILLER
Dame Edna
Like Cher, or Landon Donovan, Dame Edna Everage seems to have been taking a valedictory lap for some time now. But after 60 (yes, 60) years as the pioneering mater familias of generations of drag performers (Divine, Dina Martina, Flip Wilson’s Geraldine, you name it), Barry Humphries’ comic persona—self-billed as “probably the most popular and gifted woman in the world today”—promises this stage tour, ending in April, really is her “Glorious Goodbye.” Dame Edna’s satirical target is celebrity culture, which she deflates simply by being more flamboyantly, joyfully immodest than anyone else. And by lacerating observations like this: “I’m also a close personal friend of Mel Gibson. He’s quite short. I tower over him, of course. But then lying down you don’t notice differences in height.” (Through Sun.) The Moore, 1932 Second Ave., 877-784-4849, stgpresents.com. $40–$85. 7:30 p.m.
GAVIN BORCHERT
Nordic Lights Film Festival
This weekend festival begins with the Norwegian sports doc The Optimists (repeating 10 a.m. Sat.), which may remind some of that singing chorus documentary Young@Heart from 2007, in which seniors belted out heavy-metal anthems. Here, in the small town of Hamar, women aged 66 to 98 vigorously set, block, and spike on the volleyball team, which ought to put our American penchant for power-walking and water aerobics in proper perspective. And if you need to feel any more slothful, director Gunhild Westhagen Magnor is bringing spry Anne-Grethe Westhagen to appear tonight. Other highlights in the fest, running through Sunday, include the family-friendly Norwegian creature-com Ragnarok (4 p.m. Sat), about an archeologist searching for an ancient Viking treature trove. Then there’s a late chance to see the excellent Oscar-nominated Force Majeure (8 p.m. Sat.), from Sweden. Ruben Ostlund’s sly, unsettling study of marital dissolution takes place in the French Alps (hence the name, changed from Turist), where a sleek, modern family is interrupted at lunch by what seems a catastrophic avalanche. The husband flees his wife and two children, then Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli) can’t let go of that fact. Copping to his cowardice only makes Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke) seem more pathetic to Ebba, who begins re-evaluating the whole basis of their marriage. If not for the sake of their kids (played by actual siblings), what’s the point in staying together? This isn’t a fraught drama of the old Bergmanesque variety; it’s more a dark comedy of shame. Men reveal themselves as posturing fools here, while women sensibly wonder if they’re the only ones keeping our species alive. SIFF Film Center (Seattle Center), siff.net and nordicmuseum.org. $8–$12 individual, $55–$65 passes. 7 p.m.
BRIAN MILLER
Friday, Jan. 16
Olivier Wevers
Whim W’him’s artistic director has made a number of intriguing dances since he founded his company in 2009, but he’s also been a smart shopper, commissioning new works and staging existing ones by a variety of contemporary choreographers. For Threefold, Wevers will share the stage with Loni Landon (new year new you) and Penny Saunders (Soir Bleu, set to a new score by Paul Moore), two dancemakers new to Seattle audiences. Both work in the synthetic style that Wevers employs with his company, combining the flexibility and articulation of ballet with the liquid qualities of contact improvisation and modern dance. Their two works join Wevers’ newest, We are not the same, a collaboration with New York composer Brian Lawlor that reconfigures a Brahms score, bringing a 19th-century sensibility into the 21st. (Through Sun.) Cornish Playhouse at Seattle Center, 201 Mercer St., 726-5011, whimwhim.org. $25–$30. 8 p.m.
SANDRA KURTZ
Tuesday, Jan. 20
Nick Jaina
Jaina is what you might call a downer. But he is the best kind of downer. As a songwriter, the longtime Portland balladeer has a penchant for excavating broken hearts and loneliness. Likewise, in his first book, Get It While Your Can (Perfect Day , $10), Jaina has decided to focus his attention on solving the riddle of suffering—his own personal suffering, at least. As in his songs, Jaina here manages to imbue life’s darker moments with a lightness, employing verbal prowess and deadpan humor. Between personal vignettes—as we follow the author on tour and to a meditation retreat—Jaina imparts some bona fide wisdom and provides one of the most eloquent exegeses of the love song you’ll ever read. Elliott Bay Book Co., 1521 10th Ave., 624-6600, elliottbaybook.com. Free. 7 p.m.
Kongsli and Kuhnke in Force Majeure.
