BY DAVE ALLEN Like time, news waits for no man. Keeping up with the funny papers has always been an all-day job, even in the pre-Internets era. These days, however, it’s a two-man job. That’s right, these days you need someone to do your reading for you, or risk falling hopelessly behind and, as a result, increasing your chances of dying lonely and somewhat bitter. That’s why every week, PAPERBOY does your alt-weekly reading for you. We pore over those time-consuming cover stories and give you the takeaway, suss out the cover art, warn you off the ink-wasters and steer you towards the gooey center. Why? Because we love you!
ON THE COVER
PHILADELPHIA WEEKLY: Tara Murtha highlights one of the shows in the upcoming Fringe Festival, riding shotgun in Kate Watson-Wallace’s modern dance/drive show Car. Through Watson-Wallace’s DIY mentality and her high-concept vehicular choreography, Murtha taps into the current state of modern dance in Philly and its presence at this year’s Festival.
A lot of heavy shit goes down in cars. In the suburbs, they’re sweet sips of freedom. Then it’s commutes and
road rage. Bikini car washes and Kerouac road trips. Ill-advised half-drunk conversations with significant others. And plenty of backseat baby-making. The inspiration for exploring cars through dance theater came to Watson-Wallace from bicycling around town. She started noticing how people act differently once the doors slam shut. “Sometimes they act as if they’re invisible even though they’re not,” she says. “It’s about what people become when they get into their cars.”
We get the experience of an “audience of one” meandering through the parking garage at 40th and Walnut, with members of Watson-Wallace’s American Bodies troupe writhing on windows and hoods. All that, late at night, in an otherwise-empty parking garage? Gets me revved up.
CITY PAPER: Cole Hamels’ given name is “Colbert.” No snickers, please. You could get this from the Phillies’ media guide, but E. James Beale’s cover story on the talented left-hander reads better. He digs deep into Hamels’ California roots and his since-childhood intensity to show just how much the Phils are counting on him. Despite the Superman graphics, his emergence wasn’t exactly Clark Kent-ian – San Diego isn’t Smallville, and his high school is nicknamed “The Factory” for its output of MLB prospects – but the disparity between his charged-up mound presence and reticent off-field personality makes for a good tip-of-the-iceberg exploration.
Cole Hamels is 6 foot 3, 190 pounds, almost all of it legs. After games he dresses slowly, pulling rumpled tees from his carefully ordered locker and dropping them over a chest that drapes from his shoulders like a shirt on a hanger. Typically, he matches them with loose cargo shorts and sneakers. Over freckles too faint for TV cameras to pick up, he’s grown just enough stubble to let you know he could grow a beard, but never enough to suggest that he will. He doesn’t look un-athletic, but out of his red-and-white uniform he wouldn’t stand out of a crowd as an athlete. Nor does he act like one, per se. Off the diamond, Hamels’ friendly smile and mild-mannered demeanor will remind you more of your affable cousin just out of college and searching for a career. He smiles when he answers reporters’ questions, but seems more engaged talking about blockbuster movies and last-second fantasy football letdowns than discussing the details of his job.
Good quotes from his high school coaches, along with some bland ones from his teammates (from Ryan Howard: “Hollywood means a lot to this team…Playing behind him gives us the confidence that he’s going to go out there and shut them down.” Um, thanks for stopping by, Ryan.) Take heart, phaithful ones. Our golden boy looks like he can shoulder the load.
INSIDE THE BOOK
PW: Additional preview-age for the Fringe Festival. Brian McManus gets all hot and bothered at the Faint show. Sweet blue kernels springing up in South Philly. Liz Spikol’s uterus is the bomb like tick…tick…
CP: Grinding out Greek tragedy: Live Arts at FDR Park. For true audiophiles, it’s the vinyl countdown. In a MontCo labor-rights struggle, sides of beef and both sides of the story. Violating the separation order in the centuries-long trial Science v. Religion in Conshohocken.
WINNER: Edge to CP. Cool temps have us thinking about fall, and Cole’s going to keep the Phils playing when the leaves start to change. Ya gotta believe!