Things to do in Los Angeles this Sunday
Weekend, where have you gone? Before it’s time to head back to work, take a day to relax on the beach or picnic in a park… and maybe sneak in one more boozy brunch. Make the most of your Sunday with these great things to do in L.A.
Time Out loves
Ai Weiwei: Life Cycle
The acclaimed Chinese artist kicks off a flurry of activity in L.A. with this takeover of the Marciano’s massive theater gallery, including Ai’s floor-covering “Sunflower Seeds,” which features millions of porcelain seeds, as well as the similar but smaller “Spouts,” a pile of thousands of Song dynasty teapot spouts. “Life Cycle” also marks the premiere of its namesake work, a nearly 60-foot inflatable raft made entirely from bamboo. Inspired by the European refugee crisis, the work employs traditional kite-making techniques to create its passengers, which are often pulled from the signs of the Chinese zodiac—such figures also factor into the astounding mythological mobiles and creatures that surround the black box space.
Red Bull Music Festival Los Angeles
Though the much-loved 30 Days in L.A. series has left the city, the Red Bull Music Festival is back again—and boy does it promise an unforgettable lineup. Robyn, Trina, CupcakKe and others are all slated to partake in a month of concerts, conversations and installations spread across the city. Other highlights include a skate and film fest with Illegal Civilization, a showcase of the music from Red Dead Redemption 2 and a screening of Selena with Edward James Olmos and Jacob Vargas.
Marc Maron
The irreverent ranter Maron, who has hosted programs on Air America, performed his own one-man shows and written a book, is one of the reasons for the recent alt-comedy (and podcast) boom. These days, he’s swapping time between the stand-up stage and his WTF podcast with comedy luminaries.
‘Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’
When the Supreme Court struck down key sections of the Voting Rights Act, then law student Shana Knizhnik was outraged. But in the blistering dissenting opinion of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Khizhnik found hope and the possibility for a better day. And so, the Notorious R.B.G. was born—a cheeky, DGAF interpretation of the justice on Tumblr that would a few years later inspire a biography from Knizhnik and journalist Irin Carmon. But beyond that crown-wearing caricature is the story of a woman with a tireless and tenacious approach to social change, as Skirball curator Cate Thurston puts it. Through letters, recordings, outfits and photo ops, the exhibition balances that irreverence with an easy-to-understand primer on Ginsburg’s ongoing legal career, as well as a very personal portrait of her life. “The Notorious RBG” positions Ginsburg not as a feminist, but as a tireless advocate for the rule of law, fairness and equality who’s pressed against discrimination at every turn, in both her personal life and her law career. Hands-on installations encourage visitors to not just play dress-up, but to imagine themselves in her role: You’ll listen to Supreme Court recordings, step into a recreation of Ginsburg’s childhood Brooklyn bedroom and be able to throw on a robe and a collar to pose behind a facsimile of the Supreme Court bench. The exhibition—which will later tour to Philadelphia, San Francisco and Skokie, Illinois, with two more locations to be announced—comes at a tim
“Annie Leibovitz: The Early Years, 1970-1983”
When you set foot inside Hauser & Wirth’s north gallery, you’re greeted with a wall-filling timeline of the 1970s that’s comically meticulous in its detail. But once you round the corner of the wall, it’s clear why: Annie Leibovitz was there for seemingly all of it. The artist dug through her archives to handpick this early-career collection of works that meant the most to her, arranged chronologically and thematically in the Arts District gallery. “I lived with my camera, I never went home,” said Leibovitz during an exhibition walkthrough, and the photos prove it. Her Rolling Stone cover photos from the ’70s are indelible parts of pop culture history, and those instantly recognizable shots are certainly on display (think David Cassidy nude, a fiery Patti Smith, and a naked John Lennon embracing Yoko Ono shot hours before he was murdered). But the most remarkable parts of this early-career retrospective are the moments in between, all captured with fly-on-the-wall candor (“No one paid me any bit of attention because I was a woman,” she says). Candid shots of Jerry Garcia and Dennis Hopper occupy the same space as behind-the-scenes photos of an always-smoking Hunter S. Thompson, with whom Leibovitz worked extensively. There’s Richard Nixon’s fall, Jerry Brown’s rise and the surge of cults. And then there’s her documentation of a 1975 Rolling Stones tour, with no drug-addled details spared. (“It took me a while to get off the tour,” remarked Leibovitz about the experience).
“3D: Double Vision”
See how three-dimensional technology has transcended View-Masters and 19th-century stereoscopes and worked its way into cutting-edge digital art.
“Rauschenberg: The 1/4 Mile”
See Robert Rauschenberg’s magnum opus, a nearly quarter-mile display of 190 painted panels, on display at LACMA. The piece was completed over the span of 17 years and signified the distance between his studio and home on Capitiva Island in Florida. LACMA’s exhibition marks the first time that all of the panels have been displayed together, and it’s easy to see why: the piece takes practically every surface of the museum’s third-floor gallery. A self-contained retrospective of sorts, the installation is displayed chronologically, but there’s no wrong way to navigate it. Fans of Rauschenberg will find something familiar in its mix of paint, photographs, mass media images, textiles, paint, cardboard boxes and found objects like chairs and traffic lights.
Popular
Red Bull Music Festival Los Angeles
Though the much-loved 30 Days in L.A. series has left the city, the Red Bull Music Festival is back again—and boy does it promise an unforgettable lineup. Robyn, Trina, CupcakKe and others are all slated to partake in a month of concerts, conversations and installations spread across the city. Other highlights include a skate and film fest with Illegal Civilization, a showcase of the music from Red Dead Redemption 2 and a screening of Selena with Edward James Olmos and Jacob Vargas.
Marc Maron
The irreverent ranter Maron, who has hosted programs on Air America, performed his own one-man shows and written a book, is one of the reasons for the recent alt-comedy (and podcast) boom. These days, he’s swapping time between the stand-up stage and his WTF podcast with comedy luminaries.
Witness Uganda: A Documentary Musical
Intolerance drives a New Yorker to volunteer in a small African village, where AIDS and corruption are the new roadblocks. Written by Matt Gould and Griffin Matthews. Matthews directs.
A Gentleman's Guide to Love & Murder
The hilarious tale follows a distant heir, who maneuvers himself ever closer to the inheritance, and the sundry characters (played by one man) standing in his way. Peggy Hickey directs and choreographs.
The Secret Garden
An embittered 10-year-old blossoms when she learns to love the plants, animals and other children in a safe, walled garden. Music by Lucy Simon, book and lyrics by Marsha Norman.
Free
Ai Weiwei: Life Cycle
The acclaimed Chinese artist kicks off a flurry of activity in L.A. with this takeover of the Marciano’s massive theater gallery, including Ai’s floor-covering “Sunflower Seeds,” which features millions of porcelain seeds, as well as the similar but smaller “Spouts,” a pile of thousands of Song dynasty teapot spouts. “Life Cycle” also marks the premiere of its namesake work, a nearly 60-foot inflatable raft made entirely from bamboo. Inspired by the European refugee crisis, the work employs traditional kite-making techniques to create its passengers, which are often pulled from the signs of the Chinese zodiac—such figures also factor into the astounding mythological mobiles and creatures that surround the black box space.
Telestron
“Immersive installations” are a dime a dozen in Los Angeles lately, but a pair of polyhedron-twirling robot arms that bathe a raw space in haunting light patterns? Well, we’ve never seen anything remotely like that before. Telestron, a futuristic light show from design firm and technology studio VT Pro Design and director GMUNK, will come to ROW DTLA this winter for a monthlong run. The installation is entirely free to visit and is open Wednesday through Friday from 4 to 10pm and Saturday and Sunday from 11am to 10pm. VT Pro Design describes Telestron as—deep breath—a light and shadow installation, inspired by an ancient Greek ritual, that recreates the Earth’s rotation from day to night and draws upon the movement of the sun, the change of seasons and climate change. Translation: A pair of robot arms project light patterns onto each other and all surfaces of the room during a seven-minute show. TELESTRON from VTProDesign on Vimeo.
“Annie Leibovitz: The Early Years, 1970-1983”
When you set foot inside Hauser & Wirth’s north gallery, you’re greeted with a wall-filling timeline of the 1970s that’s comically meticulous in its detail. But once you round the corner of the wall, it’s clear why: Annie Leibovitz was there for seemingly all of it. The artist dug through her archives to handpick this early-career collection of works that meant the most to her, arranged chronologically and thematically in the Arts District gallery. “I lived with my camera, I never went home,” said Leibovitz during an exhibition walkthrough, and the photos prove it. Her Rolling Stone cover photos from the ’70s are indelible parts of pop culture history, and those instantly recognizable shots are certainly on display (think David Cassidy nude, a fiery Patti Smith, and a naked John Lennon embracing Yoko Ono shot hours before he was murdered). But the most remarkable parts of this early-career retrospective are the moments in between, all captured with fly-on-the-wall candor (“No one paid me any bit of attention because I was a woman,” she says). Candid shots of Jerry Garcia and Dennis Hopper occupy the same space as behind-the-scenes photos of an always-smoking Hunter S. Thompson, with whom Leibovitz worked extensively. There’s Richard Nixon’s fall, Jerry Brown’s rise and the surge of cults. And then there’s her documentation of a 1975 Rolling Stones tour, with no drug-addled details spared. (“It took me a while to get off the tour,” remarked Leibovitz about the experience).
“Valley Girl Redefined”
Forget about uptalk and tired clichés: 11:11 A Creative Collective is curating a group exhibition of the women shaping what it means to be a “Valley girl.” Artists at this Brand Library & Art Center show include Rachel Apthorp, Judy Baca, Hilary Baker, Lynn Coleman, Gioj DeMarco, Kathi Flood and others, plus a pop-up newstand by the San Fernando Valley Zine Fest. Swing by on January 26, from 6 to 9pm, for an opening reception that includes an opening ceremony by the Cihuatl Women’s Group, a pop-up shop from 11:11 ACC and VLY GIRL, free beer from 818 Brewing and their Valley Girl Blonde, music by DJ Lobo and more.
“Piero Manzoni. Materials of His Time”
The exhibition focuses on the Italian avant-garde artist and early Conceptualist’s radical use of unconventional materials (including cotton balls, fur, straw and stones).
Movies
Alien
After 30 years, the “Boo!” and gross-out moments are permanently cemented in the cultural psyche—from the face-hugger’s leap out of the translucent egg to John Hurt’s dinner-table stomach burst. So what’s left to discover about Ridley Scott’s great deep-space horror show? Mainly it’s the sense of pace and craft that the once-promising director would soon trade in, post–Blade Runner, for empty, pretense-laden spectacle. When Scott introduces us to the crew and corridors of the interplanetary mining ship Nostromo, he emphasizes silence and languor, the better to immerse us in the cavernous physical and mental playground that the alien (designed by Oscar-winning Swiss surrealist H.R. Giger) will use to its merciless advantage. It’s the creature’s instinctual murder spree that makes the immediate impression, but that would be nothing without the simmering tensions among the human counterparts. At times, Alien plays like an upstairs-downstairs comedy of manners, complete with disenchanted, proletarian grunts (Harry Dean Stanton and Yaphet Kotto’s union-men mechanics) and effete, eye-rolling snobs (Ian Holm’s above-it-all science officer) trading class-specific aspersions. What it all comes down to, of course, is Sigourney Weaver in her underwear facing off with a drooling, phallus-shaped nightmare made flesh. The dissertations practically write themselves.
Black Panther
For all their global dominance, everybody wants these superhero movies to be better: funnier, smarter, more inclusive, more super. A huge step in the right direction, Black Panther is that dream come true. Proudly African—even if its Africa comes in the form of the fictional country of Wakanda, a powerhouse of secret technologies—Marvel’s latest is, from top to bottom, a conscious reversal of racial paradigms. Handsomely mounted by Creed director Ryan Coogler and starring an enviable slate of black actors that makes cameoing comics godhead Stan Lee almost seem lost, the film is provocative and satisfying in ways that are long overdue, like its ornate, culturally dense production design and the deeper subtexts of honor, compassion and destiny. Wakanda’s young king, T’Challa (a dignified Chadwick Boseman, well-seasoned after playing onscreen versions of James Brown, Jackie Robinson and Thurgood Marshall), recognizes that the world outside his peaceful realm is a divisive place. Still, even as his own armor-clad excursions as Black Panther set up an internal tension between isolationism and responsibility (yes, this is the rare blockbuster with something on its mind), tensions within Wakanda—fomented by exile-turned-rebel Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan, on fire)—threaten to bring him down. In their script, Coogler and Joe Robert Cole take inspiration from the Black Panther’s 50-year history on the page, including a dazzling current run by author Ta-Nehisi Coates, and the fi
The Favourite
We’re watching an extremely luxe pocket of 18th-century life in The Favourite, which means the bewigged fops are scheming, the ducks are running (these people don’t lack for strange competitive sports) and the offscreen organist is going for baroque. Even Stanley Kubrick knew to lay off his fish-eye lens once in a while. But Greek-born director Yorgos Lanthimos can’t say no: He warps his period chamber piece—loosely based on the highly competitive court of the unstable Queen Anne—into a Lewis Carroll comic nightmare, piling cattiness upon cattiness. And what’s not to love about that? The constant visual and verbal bitchery feels like a pent-up release of something churning just under the surface. If this is your first Lanthimos movie, welcome. Know that you’re a little late to the party: Two of his prior films—the psychosexual Dogtooth, about a family that has never allowed its grown-up kids to leave the house, and the equally vicious The Lobster—went darker and deeper than The Favourite, the first that Lanthimos hasn’t personally written. But like its predecessors, the new one has an empathy that sneaks in amid all the bad behavior. What makes The Favourite work are its women, who rule, both literally within the movie and outwardly, commanding our enjoyment. Unlike the similarly set Barry Lyndon or Dangerous Liaisons, which both had strong female characters toppled by the whims of strutting cocks, Lanthimos’s latest makes the men extraneous, building a potent hothouse atmo
Green Book
Call this actors’ duet sentimental and simplistic at your own peril. Green Book may well move you, possibly to tears, at the thought of real social change and kindness (at a time when we need it badly). Something of a reverse Driving Miss Daisy, it charts a road trip into racism shared by two well-worn stereotypes, characters that, almost surprisingly, come from real life—a true tale that happened in 1962. “Tony Lip” Vallelonga (a pizza-chomping Viggo Mortensen) is a brutal NYC club bouncer prone to howyadoins. On the hunt for work, he gets an unlikely gig at the invitation of Don Shirley (cryptic Mahershala Ali, superb), a finicky black jazz pianist who requires a tough driver to escort him on a tour of the Deep South. Tony’s no bleeding heart, but for the right price, he’s willing to swallow his pride. The mouth, however, can’t be closed: Tony cuts loose with deliriously rude arias about Little Richard, fried chicken and the proper way to write a love letter, and both actors shade their roles with unexpected nuance and a generosity of spirit. They widen the already spacious Cadillac into a stage for some of the most relaxed banter of the year. If you recall the movies that Green Book’s director Peter Farrelly made with his brother Bobby (There’s Something About Mary, the Dumb and Dumber saga), you won’t be surprised by the crassness or the unexpected heart, both Farrelly trademarks. The new film creates a beautiful friction eased by conversation—somewhat calculated, yes, b
BlacKkKlansman
If you’ve been pining for the return of the fiery, political Spike Lee of Do the Right Thing and Malcolm X, good news: BlacKkKlansman is the director working at his electrifying best. Maybe the optimism of the Obama era robbed him of some of that righteous fury (which would be one explanation for his limp Oldboy remake), or maybe middle age mellowed him; either way, Trump’s America—Charlottesville, Black Lives Matter and everything else—has brought the old mojo flooding back. Veering from a blaxploitation spoof to an undercover thriller and ending with a no-punches-pulled real-life coda, BlacKkKlansman is riotously fun one minute, savagely biting the next. The story, as the opening credits declare, is based on some “fo’ real, fo’ real sh*t”—the kind that’s hard to believe actually happened in early ’70s Colorado, yet it’s all true. Black police officer Ron Stallworth (John David Washington, son of Denzel) joins the local force, where he’s warned that he’ll have to “take a lot of guff.” Sure enough, the guff comes thick and fast as he’s exiled to the storage room and harassed by a racist colleague. Spotting an ad for the local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan and taking the initiative, Ron phones the “Organization” (as they vaguely describe themselves), clears his throat and claims to be a vitriolic white supremacist, thus setting in motion the most unlikely undercover operation in law-enforcement history. His first thrill of contact with the enemy is only slightly diminished by
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