<HTML>
<HEAD>
<TITLE> A Prairie Home Companion Movie and Benefit at the Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre</TITLE>
</HEAD>
<BODY>
<FONT FACE="Verdana"><B>This week at the Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre...<BR>
<BR>
Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre and NorthWest Public Radio present<BR>
</B><FONT COLOR="#800000"><H2>A Prairie Home Companion Movie & Benefit<BR>
</H2></FONT><H2>Friday, August 25<BR>
</H2>Sponsored by Hayden & Ross<BR>
<B>Music and Reception at 6:30 PM<BR>
</B></FONT><UL><LI><FONT FACE="Verdana">featuring the talents of Ben Walden and Charlie Sutton
</FONT><LI><FONT FACE="Verdana">hosted by Mary Hawkinds & Robin Rilette
</FONT><LI><FONT FACE="Verdana">food provided by Moscow Food Coop
</FONT><LI><FONT FACE="Verdana">beer and wine provided by Mikey's<BR>
</FONT></UL><FONT FACE="Verdana"><B>Movie at 8:00 PM<BR>
$20/general admission<BR>
</B>All proceeds will support the <I>Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre</I> and <I>NorthWest Public Radio.<BR>
</I>Tickets on sale at BookPeople in Moscow, Brused Books in Pullman, or by calling 882-4127.<BR>
</FONT><FONT FACE="Courier"><TT><BR>
</TT></FONT><FONT FACE="Verdana"><BR>
<FONT COLOR="#800000"><H2>A Prairie Home Companion (PG-13)<BR>
</H2></FONT>Also showing<BR>
<B>Saturday, August 26<BR>
7:00 PM<BR>
Sunday, August 27<BR>
4:30 & 7:00 PM<BR>
</B>$5/adult, $3/child 12 or younger<BR>
KFS pass accepted for Sunday movies<BR>
<B>(See movie review below)<BR>
</B>* * *<BR>
<BR>
<FONT COLOR="#800000"><FONT SIZE="5">Save with a <B><I>Sirius Idaho Theatre</I></B> season pass<BR>
</FONT></FONT><BR>
Preparing for their third season, <I>Sirius Idaho Theatre</I> is offering a significant savings to patrons who purchase a 2006 – 2007 season pass. Passes are now available at the Moscow Farmers’ Market and at BookPeople of Moscow. In addition, if you pay with a check made to <I>Sirius Idaho Theatre</I>, you can pick up your season pass at the <I>Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre</I> box office the next time you see a film! (If you wish to purchase with a credit/debit card, purchase your season pass at <I>BookPeople</I>.)<BR>
<FONT COLOR="#800000"><B>Buy a season pass before the end of August and receive a “Tipping Ticket,” good for any performance to the world premiere of <I>Cow-Tipping and Other Signs of Stress</I>, opening September 21st.<BR>
</B></FONT><BR>
Adults - $15 per show or <B>$40</B> pass<BR>
Seniors - $10 per show or <B>$25</B> pass<BR>
Students - $6 per show or <B>$15</B> pass<BR>
<BR>
The 2006 – 2007 <I>Sirius Idaho Theatre</I> season includes the following productions, with all performances at the Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre, 508 S. Main Street, Moscow, Idaho<BR>
<BR>
<B>World Première<BR>
</B><FONT COLOR="#800080"><H2><I>Cow-Tipping and Other Signs of Stress<BR>
</I></H2></FONT>by Gregory Fletcher<BR>
7:30 pm, September 21 - 23 & 28 - 30, 2006<BR>
<BR>
<FONT COLOR="#000080"><H2><I>Touch<BR>
</I></H2></FONT>by Toni Press-Coffman<BR>
7:30 pm, January 25 – 27, February 1 - 3, 2007<BR>
<BR>
<FONT COLOR="#800000"><H2><I>Breaking the Code<BR>
</I></H2></FONT>by Hugh Whitemore<BR>
7:30 pm, April 12 - 14 & 19 - 21, 2007<BR>
<BR>
For more information, contact Pam Palmer, Managing Artistic Director, 208-596-2270, <FONT COLOR="#0000FF"><U>siriusidahotheatre@gmail.com<BR>
</U></FONT><BR>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<BR>
<B><I>Sirius Idaho Theatre<BR>
</I></B>P.O. Box 8762<BR>
Moscow, Idaho 83843<BR>
<BR>
http://www.SiriusIdahoTheatre.com/<BR>
<BR>
PAMELA PALMER, Managing Artistic Director<BR>
Mailto:siriusidahotheatre@gmail.com<BR>
phone 208-596-2270<BR>
<BR>
Sirius Idaho Theatre is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization.<BR>
Tax-deductible donations are appreciated!<BR>
<BR>
“<I>Let the beauty you love, be what you do.”<BR>
</I>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<BR>
<BR>
<B>Coming in September:</B> <BR>
Superman Returns; <I>Sirius Idaho Theatre</I> presents <I>Cow-Tipping and Other Signs of Stress<BR>
</I><BR>
Regular movie prices: $5/adult, $3/child 12 or younger<BR>
Wednesday matinee prices: $4/adult, $1/child 12 or younger<BR>
KFS series pass prices: $30/10 films, $75/30 films. KFS pass good only for Sunday movies.<BR>
<BR>
For more information on movies, events, rental rates, and/or to download a schedule, visit our website at www.kenworthy.org<BR>
<B>* * *<BR>
<BR>
This week’s movie review-<BR>
</B><BR>
<FONT COLOR="#800000"><H2>A Prairie Home Companion<BR>
</H2></FONT><BR>
Directed by Robert Altman<BR>
Written by Garrison Keillor, based on a story by Mr. Keillor and Ken LaZebnik<BR>
Rated PG-13 (parents strongly cautioned) It has some sexual humor and innuendo<BR>
Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
<B><I><U>As reviewed by Steve Persall, the St. Petersburg (Florida) Times Film Critic<BR>
</U></I></B><BR>
Nostalgia has little to do with my adoration of Robert Altman's film version of Garrison Keillor's venerable radio show, “A Prairie Home Companion.” How can one be nostalgic about something experienced only through hearsay? A better question is: How did Altman and Keillor make a newcomer to the program feel so at home, clutched to the bosoms of affable strangers, somewhere I've never been?<BR>
<BR>
An answer is elusive, but what a wonderful place to be. It must have something to do with the notion that wherever you go, there you are; make the most of it, or at least as much as such unfamiliar comfort offers.<BR>
<BR>
“A Prairie Home Companion” is as hospitable as any movie can be, sharing one free-wheeling night with people who'll seem like lifelong acquaintances by the fadeout. That twinge of sadness when it ends is partly regret that such decency seems so foreign today.<BR>
<BR>
Altman's film glows like a cozy fireplace, pulling us into an unbroken circle of homespun humor and bittersweet memories. He doesn't simply capture a performance of Keillor's live radio show, although choice moments occur in which everyone appears to be flying by the seats of their pants. That must be what attracted the 81-year-old filmmaker to this material, ensemble interaction that looks and sounds ragged until all those tiny revelations fall into place.<BR>
<BR>
There isn't a false note among the performances, even Lindsay Lohan's turn as a Johnson girl's Generation X daughter slowly realizing what's about to disappear. Keillor's unflappable debut performance, playing himself but not entirely, is the hub Altman's cast spins around, making us wonder where this truly original screen presence has been hiding all these years.<BR>
<BR>
No matter the easy comparison to Altman's 1976 classic “Nashville” with its country music twang, this one is different. Heartland values spoofed in that political epic are warmly embraced here, even modestly canonized. If “Nashville” was a warning of where we were headed then, “A Prairie Home Companion” is an acknowledgement of where those values might have led us, had they not been corrupted, like everything else. Perhaps "eulogy" is a better word to describe it than "nostalgia."<BR>
<BR>
Death is a constant theme in Altman's movie, as it must be for an old lion with a transplanted heart: death of a medium that transformed lives long before digital contraptions, and death as an inevitable part of life. Yet this isn't a dour Ingmar Bergman meditation on mortality; it's a buoyant celebration of doing what one does best until the chances run out.<BR>
<BR>
If this is Altman's curtain call - and with any luck it isn't – “A Prairie Home Companion” is a fitting finale to a legendary career.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
<B><I><U>As reviewed by A. O. Scott writing for the New York Times<BR>
</U></I></B><BR>
A late, minor addition to the Robert Altman collection — but a treasure all the same — "A Prairie Home Companion" is more likely to inspire fondness than awe. This is entirely appropriate, since the movie snuggles deep into the mood and sensibility of its source, Garrison Keillor's long-running public radio variety show.<BR>
<BR>
Beloved by tote-baggers across the land, Mr. Keillor's weekly cavalcade of wry Midwestern humor and musical Americana has never set out to make anyone's hair stand on end. Notwithstanding the occasional crackle of satire or sparkle of instrumental virtuosity, it mostly offers reliable doses of amusement embedded in easygoing nostalgia. It looks back on — or, rather, reinvents — a time when popular culture was spooned out in grange halls and Main Street movie palaces, and when broadcasting was supposedly a local affair sponsored by mom-and-pop purveyors of biscuits and Norwegian pickled herring.<BR>
<BR>
In the film Mr. Keillor, who wrote the screenplay and also plays himself (as a jowly, owlish and curiously detached master of ceremonies), supplies the whimsy. Mr. Altman, a more cantankerous spirit (he comes from Kansas City, Mo., a wilder corner of the Midwest than Mr. Keillor's Minnesota), brings his unrivaled sense of chaos and his mischievous eye for human eccentricity. Together they have confected a breezy backstage comedy that is also a sly elegy: a poignant contemplation of last things that goes down as smoothly and sweetly as a lemon drop.<BR>
<BR>
The action takes place during the final performance of "A Prairie Home Companion," a live radio broadcast that, unlike its real world counterpart, is not made possible by the generous support of listeners like you. Its home station, WLT, has been gobbled up by a Texas-based chain and a corporate heavy, known only as the Axeman (Tommy Lee Jones), has been sent north to shut the program down.<BR>
<BR>
Shooting almost entirely within the Fitzgerald Theater, named for the author F. Scott, in St. Paul, Mr. Altman observes the doings of a loose tribe of artists, technicians and hangers-on. The sometime-narrator is Guy Noir (Kevin Kline), a mainstay of the actual "Prairie Home Companion" here incarnated as a onetime private eye and part-time stage-door security guard. He is the first to notice the presence of a mysterious woman in white (Virginia Madsen), who turns out to be an angel and also the film's literal femme fatale.<BR>
<BR>
The cast moves through it all with relaxed professionalism, making the whole production look as effortless as Mr. Altman's sauntering dolly shots or Mr. Keillor's mellow riffs on the virtues of ketchup, rhubarb and duct tape. If it sometimes seems to be on the verge of falling apart, that's the point. The film is, partly, a protest against the smooth, standardized, bottom-line culture represented by the Axeman, and a defiant celebration of imperfection, improvisation and accident. Sometimes you forget a song lyric, your joke falls flat or you scatter the pages of your script all over the floor. Such mishaps occur frequently in "A Prairie Home Companion," and each one turns into a moment of grace. It's not a perfect movie, and it does not aspire to be a great one. It's just wonderful.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
<B><I><U>As reviewed by Roger Ebert writing for the Chicago Sun-Times<BR>
</U></I></B><BR>
What a lovely film this is, so gentle and whimsical, so simple and profound. Robert Altman's "A Prairie Home Companion" is faithful to the spirit of the radio program, a spirit both robust and fragile, and yet achieves something more than simply reproducing a performance of the show. It is nothing less than an elegy, a memorial to memories of times gone by, to dreams that died but left the dreamers dreaming, to appreciating what you've had instead of insisting on more.<BR>
<BR>
This elegiac strain is explained by the premise that we are watching the last performance of the weekly show. After a final singing of "Red River Valley" (the saddest of all songs), the paradise of the Fitzgerald Theater will be torn down so they can put up a parking lot. After 30 years, the show will be no more.<BR>
<BR>
The show is hosted by a man referred to as G.K., and played by Garrison Keillor as a version of himself, which is about right, because he always seems to be a version of himself. Keillor, whose verbal and storytelling genius has spun a whole world out of thin air, always seems a step removed from what he does, as if bemused to find himself doing it.<BR>
<BR>
The last show is treated like any other. In the dressing room, incredibly cluttered with bric-a-brac and old photos, we meet Lola's mother and her aunt, Yolanda and Rhonda Johnson (Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin). They are the two survivors from a four-sister singing act: "The Carter Family was like us, only famous." Their onstage duets are hilarious, depending on a timing that rises above the brilliant to the transcendent; they were doing this double act on the Academy Award telecast last March.<BR>
<BR>
We also meet Chuck Akers (L.Q. Jones), an old-time C&W singer, and Dusty and Lefty (Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly), two cowboy singers who threaten to make the last program endless as they improvise one corny joke after another. We also meet the people who make the show work: The stage manager Molly (Maya Rudolph), and, borrowed from the show itself, the makeup lady (Sue Scott), Al the backstage guy (Tim Russell), the sound effects man (Tom Keith), the bandleader (Rich Dworsky) and the P.H.C. house band. Molly is surely so pregnant she should stay calm, but she is driven to distraction by G.K.'s habit of never planning anything, and moseying up to the microphone at the last conceivable moment.<BR>
<BR>
Adding another level is the materialization in the real world of Guy Noir, Private Eye (Kevin Kline). Listeners of the program will know that Keillor and his stock company perform adventures from the life of Noir, as a salute to old-time radio drama. In Altman's movie, Noir is a real person, a broken-down gumshoe who handles security for the show (he lights his cigarettes with wooden kitchen matches, just like Philip Marlowe in Altman's "The Long Goodbye"). Guy is visited by a character described as the Dangerous Woman (Virginia Madsen), who may perhaps be an angelic one.<BR>
<BR>
The final visitor to the Fitzgerald theater is Axeman (Tommy Lee Jones ), who represents the investors who have bought the lovely theater and will tear it down. He doesn't recognize the bust of a man in the theater's private box, but we do: It is F. Scott Fitzgerald, that native son of St. Paul in whose honor the theater is named. A little later, Ed Lachman's camera helps Altman observe that Fitzgerald and Guy Noir have profiles so similar as to make no difference.<BR>
<BR>
Like the show that inspired it, "A Prairie Home Companion" is not about anything in particular. Perhaps it is about everything in general: About remembering, and treasuring the past, and loving performers not because they are new but because they have lasted. About smiling and being amused, but not laughing out loud, because in Minnesota loud laughter is seen as a vice practiced on the coasts. About how all things pass away, but if you live your life well, everything was fun while it lasted. There is so much of the ghost of Scott Fitzgerald hovering in the shadows of this movie that at the end I quoted to myself the closing words of The Great Gatsby. I'm sure you remember them, so let's say them together: And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
<I>Film reviews researched and edited by Peter Haggart<BR>
</I><B>* * *<BR>
<BR>
<I>Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre<BR>
</I>508 S. Main Street, Moscow, Idaho<BR>
</B>208-882-4127<BR>
Sign up for this weekly email on events and movies at the Kenworthy by logging onto our website <BR>
<FONT COLOR="#0000FF"><U>http://www.kenworthy.org<BR>
<BR>
</U></FONT>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<BR>
PAMELA PALMER, <B>Volunteer<BR>
</B>Mailto:ppalmer@moscow.com<BR>
Film and Events Committee <BR>
Kenworthy Performing Arts Centre<BR>
<BR>
http://www.kenworthy.org<BR>
To speak with a KPAC staff member, <BR>
call (208) 882-4127<BR>
Mailto:kpac@moscow.com<BR>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<BR>
</FONT>
</BODY>
</HTML>