Arts & Entertainment

If you've tried to walk into Tavern 213 on a Sunday night and got stuck in the doorway, that's a good thing. Folks trying to squeeze the last bit of fun out of the weekend know that on Sundays, there is the chance they'll catch noisy, chaotic, energetic sets by AC Cobra, Malt Liquor Riot, the Slants, the Shakers, Trapped by Mormons, the Creepy T's, the Heatseekers, and countless other local bands. But there's also a chance of getting beer, sweat, or other bodily fluids sprayed on you or an elbow in your eye or witnessing a drum set get thrown through the front window. And since Tavern is open until 4 a.m. every night, that's two more hours of hangover for the next morning.

WLRN-FM (91.3) Sounds of the Caribbean has been a presence on South Florida's airwaves since 1979, when none other than Bob Marley convinced host Clint O'Neil that he could be an important voice of island culture in Miami, a city that could be called the capital of the Caribbean. Until recently, O'Neil's Monday-through-Friday, late-night broadcasts were supplemented with two weekend editions hosted by Kevin "Ital-K" Smith, but Smith's early Sunday and Monday morning shows were replaced with BBC News by station management in October. It's a shame Smith's quick wit and sharp British accent is no longer heard, but O'Neil is still on from 2 to 7 a.m. Sundays, laying down tracks from nearly every tropical genre, from soca to rocksteady and dancehall through Afro-Cuban. Through the Internet, the station reaches listeners worldwide. The show breaks up the canned chatter and carefully calculated playlists that rule the corporately controlled medium of radio today.

The Pissarro dynasty aside, it's not often that you find more than one generation of artistic brilliance in the same family. The Palm Beach Institute of Contemporary Art took advantage of this art-world quirk last year with "The Smiths: Tony, Kiki, Seton," the first exhibition to encompass works by minimalist artist Tony Smith and two of his daughters. Dad was first an architect, then an art patron -- his collection included works by such abstract expressionists as Pollock and Rothko -- and finally an artist himself. The mathematical precision of architecture is prominent in Tony's works, including the huge The Keys to Given! (the title comes from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake), a large, black, steel sculpture you can actually walk through. It's too bad Tony didn't live long enough to see daughters Kiki and Seton hit their stride as artists. Kiki's fascination with the human body is evident in media as diverse as metal sculpture, ink drawing, and mixed media. The Paris-based Seton, in sharp contrast with both father and sister, works in photography, specifically large Cibachrome photographs that are, intentionally, ever-so-slightly out of focus. This beautifully assembled show, including more than 60 works created over the course of half a century, is a bracing reminder of the many ways artistic talent blossoms and flourishes.

The Pissarro dynasty aside, it's not often that you find more than one generation of artistic brilliance in the same family. The Palm Beach Institute of Contemporary Art took advantage of this art-world quirk last year with "The Smiths: Tony, Kiki, Seton," the first exhibition to encompass works by minimalist artist Tony Smith and two of his daughters. Dad was first an architect, then an art patron -- his collection included works by such abstract expressionists as Pollock and Rothko -- and finally an artist himself. The mathematical precision of architecture is prominent in Tony's works, including the huge The Keys to Given! (the title comes from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake), a large, black, steel sculpture you can actually walk through. It's too bad Tony didn't live long enough to see daughters Kiki and Seton hit their stride as artists. Kiki's fascination with the human body is evident in media as diverse as metal sculpture, ink drawing, and mixed media. The Paris-based Seton, in sharp contrast with both father and sister, works in photography, specifically large Cibachrome photographs that are, intentionally, ever-so-slightly out of focus. This beautifully assembled show, including more than 60 works created over the course of half a century, is a bracing reminder of the many ways artistic talent blossoms and flourishes.

For the past five years that she has lived in South Florida, Carol Prusa has been quietly going about her business. And that business is turning out some of the area's most distinctive art. Prusa, who teaches painting at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton, specializes in imagery that looks as if it's from some sort of alien anatomy textbook: pale, ethereal forms that suggest both plants and animals, rendered in a near-monochromatic palette that includes such ingredients as gesso, sulfur, graphite, and silver. Fittingly, she studied biocommunication arts and medical illustration at the University of Illinois before going on to earn an MFA in painting with a minor in drawing at Drake University in Iowa. Since arriving in Florida, Prusa has accumulated an impressive array of awards for her work, from the Art and Culture Center of Hollywood and the Boca Raton Museum of Art, most notably. Her solo shows have been at Palm Beach Community College's Eissey campus, Broward Community College's Pembroke Pines campus, and the Coral Springs Art Museum.

Best Solo Art Exhibition "The Sideshow of the Absurd" There are installations, and then there are installations. And then there is Pamela Joseph's take on the art form that people either love or love to hate. Joseph swept into town in February 2003 with "The Sideshow of the Absurd," which converted the first floor of the Art and Culture Center of Hollywood into a series of interconnected installations and supplementary materials such as banners, sketches, and spotlights casting carny come-ons onto the walls. The Colorado-based artist draws on carnival culture and freak shows for her subject matter, which she then transforms into sly commentaries on contemporary American pop culture, usually with a feminist slant tempered with a sense of humor. Many of the "pieces" are interactive, not to mention wired for sound. Even the exhibition's catalog is outrageously over-the-top, a garish volume filled with photographs, drawings, essays, an interview with the artist, and an introduction by artist Larry Rivers, who died not long after contributing to this traveling show. The catalog also includes an interactive CD and a batch of temporary tattoos that play off the show's themes. What better way to celebrate the innate sideshow-like character of South Florida?

For the past five years that she has lived in South Florida, Carol Prusa has been quietly going about her business. And that business is turning out some of the area's most distinctive art. Prusa, who teaches painting at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton, specializes in imagery that looks as if it's from some sort of alien anatomy textbook: pale, ethereal forms that suggest both plants and animals, rendered in a near-monochromatic palette that includes such ingredients as gesso, sulfur, graphite, and silver. Fittingly, she studied biocommunication arts and medical illustration at the University of Illinois before going on to earn an MFA in painting with a minor in drawing at Drake University in Iowa. Since arriving in Florida, Prusa has accumulated an impressive array of awards for her work, from the Art and Culture Center of Hollywood and the Boca Raton Museum of Art, most notably. Her solo shows have been at Palm Beach Community College's Eissey campus, Broward Community College's Pembroke Pines campus, and the Coral Springs Art Museum.

Best Solo Art Exhibition "The Sideshow of the Absurd" There are installations, and then there are installations. And then there is Pamela Joseph's take on the art form that people either love or love to hate. Joseph swept into town in February 2003 with "The Sideshow of the Absurd," which converted the first floor of the Art and Culture Center of Hollywood into a series of interconnected installations and supplementary materials such as banners, sketches, and spotlights casting carny come-ons onto the walls. The Colorado-based artist draws on carnival culture and freak shows for her subject matter, which she then transforms into sly commentaries on contemporary American pop culture, usually with a feminist slant tempered with a sense of humor. Many of the "pieces" are interactive, not to mention wired for sound. Even the exhibition's catalog is outrageously over-the-top, a garish volume filled with photographs, drawings, essays, an interview with the artist, and an introduction by artist Larry Rivers, who died not long after contributing to this traveling show. The catalog also includes an interactive CD and a batch of temporary tattoos that play off the show's themes. What better way to celebrate the innate sideshow-like character of South Florida?

Best Stage Ensemble John Archie, Elizabeth Dimon, Dawn Renee Jones, Tracey Conyer Lee, Dan Leonard, and David Mann This all-star cast delivered all-star performances. Archie, an art-museum director, and Mann, his bookish art historian subordinate, were on fire in their central, conflicting roles. So was Tracey Conyer Lee as a pragmatic assistant caught in the middle. To this add Dan Leonard as the ghost of a sly, rough-talking philanthropist, Dawn Renee Jones as a regal museum executive, and Elizabeth Dimon as a brutally effective reporter. All brought welcome layers of humanity and humor to their roles, an inspired example of creative collaboration.

Best Stage Ensemble John Archie, Elizabeth Dimon, Dawn Renee Jones, Tracey Conyer Lee, Dan Leonard, and David Mann This all-star cast delivered all-star performances. Archie, an art-museum director, and Mann, his bookish art historian subordinate, were on fire in their central, conflicting roles. So was Tracey Conyer Lee as a pragmatic assistant caught in the middle. To this add Dan Leonard as the ghost of a sly, rough-talking philanthropist, Dawn Renee Jones as a regal museum executive, and Elizabeth Dimon as a brutally effective reporter. All brought welcome layers of humanity and humor to their roles, an inspired example of creative collaboration.

Thomas Gibbons' drama featured complex characters locked in a fierce struggle over race and culture, examining the deep currents of casual prejudice and paranoia that continue to flow under the surface of American life. But the fiery, articulate ideas were only part of this play's appeal. Gibbons has the uncanny knack of revealing one of the most maddening and central aspects of human experience -- his people are expert at spotting the flaws of others but completely unable to see their own.

Thomas Gibbons' drama featured complex characters locked in a fierce struggle over race and culture, examining the deep currents of casual prejudice and paranoia that continue to flow under the surface of American life. But the fiery, articulate ideas were only part of this play's appeal. Gibbons has the uncanny knack of revealing one of the most maddening and central aspects of human experience -- his people are expert at spotting the flaws of others but completely unable to see their own.

Fort Lauderdale's Sol troupe has found a devoted and growing following for its funky, informal "lounge theater" style. Offering a tossed salad of updated classics and high-powered, issue-oriented new plays, Robert Hooker and company have come a looong way in only a few short years. With such recent hits as Marisol, Vampire Lesbians of Sodom, and the blazing Stop Kiss, this Sol is generating a whole lotta heat.

Fort Lauderdale's Sol troupe has found a devoted and growing following for its funky, informal "lounge theater" style. Offering a tossed salad of updated classics and high-powered, issue-oriented new plays, Robert Hooker and company have come a looong way in only a few short years. With such recent hits as Marisol, Vampire Lesbians of Sodom, and the blazing Stop Kiss, this Sol is generating a whole lotta heat.

As the quality of South Florida theater continues to rise, several companies merit high praise but none more than Florida Stage for its challenging, high-quality productions, outstanding mix of local and national talent, and 100 percent dedication to new scripts. Instead of relying on star vehicles or recent New York hits, the Manalapan company, headed by producing director Louis Tyrrell, presents an array of new writers and contemporary issues for a discerning, adventurous audience. The funny, fantastical Running with Scissors took on the age-old conflict between love and death. The romantic, mysterious Mercy of a Storm delved into marital discord and class consciousness, while the fiery, articulate Permanent Collection tackled racial prejudice. To this add top-quality directors of national renown, top-caliber acting, production, and design and the result is a consistently high standard of theatrical art.

As the quality of South Florida theater continues to rise, several companies merit high praise but none more than Florida Stage for its challenging, high-quality productions, outstanding mix of local and national talent, and 100 percent dedication to new scripts. Instead of relying on star vehicles or recent New York hits, the Manalapan company, headed by producing director Louis Tyrrell, presents an array of new writers and contemporary issues for a discerning, adventurous audience. The funny, fantastical Running with Scissors took on the age-old conflict between love and death. The romantic, mysterious Mercy of a Storm delved into marital discord and class consciousness, while the fiery, articulate Permanent Collection tackled racial prejudice. To this add top-quality directors of national renown, top-caliber acting, production, and design and the result is a consistently high standard of theatrical art.

There might soon be a pill, if it's approved, and it probably will be, that would wipe out negative memories from the human brain permanently. Regret. Heartbreak. Failure. Your significant other throwing a pair of scissors at you. Anything your brain encodes as distressing. Before we all turn into Stepford wives, listen to Charm Wrestling, the debut album from Summer Blanket, and soak up the regret and heartbreak of Keith Michaud's voice as it glides over the dystopia of South Florida with achingly beautiful, blissful rock and the pastoral hues of something straining to break out of this water-logged state.

There might soon be a pill, if it's approved, and it probably will be, that would wipe out negative memories from the human brain permanently. Regret. Heartbreak. Failure. Your significant other throwing a pair of scissors at you. Anything your brain encodes as distressing. Before we all turn into Stepford wives, listen to Charm Wrestling, the debut album from Summer Blanket, and soak up the regret and heartbreak of Keith Michaud's voice as it glides over the dystopia of South Florida with achingly beautiful, blissful rock and the pastoral hues of something straining to break out of this water-logged state.

So the argument of what's considered "rock" gets bandied about with indifference these days, and every band in the past four years wants to think it's started the "rock revival." Fort Lauderdale's Pandabite isn't part of any rock revival, but it should get props for making music so loud and bombastic that it could practically make you shit in your pants. Its debut EP, Doom Box, contains four songs that are thicker than Guinness and sweep through the speakers like a wrecking ball. As for the live shows, two types of people can usually be spotted: the folks with the glassy-eyed stare who are too paralyzed with fear to make a run from the band's ear-assaulting metal and those who are there to do the heavy-metal hair swing right along with singer Juan Montoya.

So the argument of what's considered "rock" gets bandied about with indifference these days, and every band in the past four years wants to think it's started the "rock revival." Fort Lauderdale's Pandabite isn't part of any rock revival, but it should get props for making music so loud and bombastic that it could practically make you shit in your pants. Its debut EP, Doom Box, contains four songs that are thicker than Guinness and sweep through the speakers like a wrecking ball. As for the live shows, two types of people can usually be spotted: the folks with the glassy-eyed stare who are too paralyzed with fear to make a run from the band's ear-assaulting metal and those who are there to do the heavy-metal hair swing right along with singer Juan Montoya. Readers' Choice: The Freakin' Hott

Not many rappers choose to operate with their given names, but this young, part-time Browardite (he spends a few months out of the year in L.A.) keeps it real real. To his credit, West doesn't need a stereotypical appellation like Professor Murder, MC Nightmare, or Dr. Drastic. Even without a fancy handle, the 25-year-old remains one of the highest-profile, independent, hip-hop upstarts around. What does he rap about? The thug thang, dog. What else? Though he's been featured in The Source, XXL, Ozone, and other glossy bastions of hip-hop literature, West still gets absolutely no love from his hometown police department. The Sunrise cops routinely target his Chevy Caprice for traffic stops, a topic he's sure to address on his upcoming disc, A Westside Story Chapter One. Until then, West is keeping his profile high, winning a sponsorship from ThugLife Clothing and making an appearance on MTV's new show Pimp My Ride.

Not many rappers choose to operate with their given names, but this young, part-time Browardite (he spends a few months out of the year in L.A.) keeps it real real. To his credit, West doesn't need a stereotypical appellation like Professor Murder, MC Nightmare, or Dr. Drastic. Even without a fancy handle, the 25-year-old remains one of the highest-profile, independent, hip-hop upstarts around. What does he rap about? The thug thang, dog. What else? Though he's been featured in The Source, XXL, Ozone, and other glossy bastions of hip-hop literature, West still gets absolutely no love from his hometown police department. The Sunrise cops routinely target his Chevy Caprice for traffic stops, a topic he's sure to address on his upcoming disc, A Westside Story Chapter One. Until then, West is keeping his profile high, winning a sponsorship from ThugLife Clothing and making an appearance on MTV's new show Pimp My Ride. Readers' Choice: Eminem

Timb is a singular sensation. Timb is like catching a rainbow in a jar. The tall, blond, and skinny Boca Raton singer/songwriter has covered Rob Zombie, composed songs in German, and written a song about his life that's named after Robert Stack, all while pulling off dog collars and bondage pants. Timb's music inspires haikus: Glittering death ride/Strum your guitar and ears bleed/German cinema.

Timb is a singular sensation. Timb is like catching a rainbow in a jar. The tall, blond, and skinny Boca Raton singer/songwriter has covered Rob Zombie, composed songs in German, and written a song about his life that's named after Robert Stack, all while pulling off dog collars and bondage pants. Timb's music inspires haikus: Glittering death ride/Strum your guitar and ears bleed/German cinema.

Some bands take time to find their niche, continually building upon their sound and trying to improve any way they can. For other bands, however, it's the audience that is slow to catch on. Such is the case with Boynton Beach's Die Stinkin'. Formed nearly two decades ago by the lifeguard-punker duo of John Silvernail and Brian McManus, Die Stinkin' has witnessed the ebb and flow of music trends without succumbing to the urge to go with the flow that unfortunately consumes most other bands. Patience does have its rewards, and after the 2000 release of its CD The Smell Is in the Air, Die Stinkin' found a whole new generation of kids who dig its high-humored brand of punk rock. Not to be confused with the MTV variety of bland, sappy "pop-punk," Die Stinkin' is punk in the classic sense: irreverent and fun. Oh, and it's not just hardcore; Die Stinkin' serves up plenty of sweet '60s pop and surf tunes as well. At any given show, you'll hear Del Shannon's "Runaway" sandwiched between originals like "Piss Bomb" and "Liposuction." Whether you're 15 or 55, are into the Big Boys or the Beach Boys, Die Stinkin' is definitely one band you should sniff out.

Some bands take time to find their niche, continually building upon their sound and trying to improve any way they can. For other bands, however, it's the audience that is slow to catch on. Such is the case with Boynton Beach's Die Stinkin'. Formed nearly two decades ago by the lifeguard-punker duo of John Silvernail and Brian McManus, Die Stinkin' has witnessed the ebb and flow of music trends without succumbing to the urge to go with the flow that unfortunately consumes most other bands. Patience does have its rewards, and after the 2000 release of its CD The Smell Is in the Air, Die Stinkin' found a whole new generation of kids who dig its high-humored brand of punk rock. Not to be confused with the MTV variety of bland, sappy "pop-punk," Die Stinkin' is punk in the classic sense: irreverent and fun. Oh, and it's not just hardcore; Die Stinkin' serves up plenty of sweet '60s pop and surf tunes as well. At any given show, you'll hear Del Shannon's "Runaway" sandwiched between originals like "Piss Bomb" and "Liposuction." Whether you're 15 or 55, are into the Big Boys or the Beach Boys, Die Stinkin' is definitely one band you should sniff out.

No doubt about it: A good jazz guy is hard to find. The music of Diz and Bird and Miles and Mingus doesn't play as well in the subtropics as it does in some other parts of America. Jimmy Buffett is, unfortunately, more our speed. But Paul LeGrande, Rich Caruso, and Jim Chapek, who perform Friday and Saturday each week at Luce restaurant in downtown Hollywood (954-920-2500), riff in a style reminiscent of the giants of the genre. Caruso, who lives in Fort Lauderdale, has played with everyone from Luciano Pavarotti to Lionel Hampton. Chapek, of North Miami-Dade, has beat the skins with Chet Baker and Wynton Marsalis. Of course, the 2-year-old trio, which has a jones for the music, doesn't do covers. It comes up with a lot of original music and won't play anything else, says LeGrande, who lives in Hollywood and wields the bass violin and electric bass. "When someone comes in and asks, 'Will you do something by Miles Davis?' we say, no, but we'll do something with the same notes," he explains.

No doubt about it: A good jazz guy is hard to find. The music of Diz and Bird and Miles and Mingus doesn't play as well in the subtropics as it does in some other parts of America. Jimmy Buffett is, unfortunately, more our speed. But Paul LeGrande, Rich Caruso, and Jim Chapek, who perform Friday and Saturday each week at Luce restaurant in downtown Hollywood (954-920-2500), riff in a style reminiscent of the giants of the genre. Caruso, who lives in Fort Lauderdale, has played with everyone from Luciano Pavarotti to Lionel Hampton. Chapek, of North Miami-Dade, has beat the skins with Chet Baker and Wynton Marsalis. Of course, the 2-year-old trio, which has a jones for the music, doesn't do covers. It comes up with a lot of original music and won't play anything else, says LeGrande, who lives in Hollywood and wields the bass violin and electric bass. "When someone comes in and asks, 'Will you do something by Miles Davis?' we say, no, but we'll do something with the same notes," he explains.

To call Lumonics an art gallery is to do this one-of-a-kind place something of a disservice. Yes, there is plenty of art on hand, mainly in the form of "light sculptures" -- industrial plastic pieces that range from small to monumental, all illuminated either from within or from outside sources. Some of these date back to the days of co-founder Mel Tanner, who died in 1993; others were made by his wife, Dorothy, who has carried on the work she began with Mel when they first started creating their light-based art in the late 1960s. But these pieces, as extraordinary as many of them are, are just the tip of the iceberg at Lumonics. The Tanners have always called their space a "specialized sensory environment," and that environment stimulates all the senses: subtle incense to tickle the nose, fragrant teas to stimulate both nose and palate, gently pulsing lights to engage the eyes, softly glowing fountains to soothe eyes and ears, and cushiony furniture to encourage relaxation. Did we mention the light show? A visit to Lumonics isn't complete without Dorothy and creative partner Marc Billard's spectacular show, which pairs music (including original compositions) with multimedia and digital video projections and a dazzling array of light effects projected onto a huge wall in the gallery's big main room.

To call Lumonics an art gallery is to do this one-of-a-kind place something of a disservice. Yes, there is plenty of art on hand, mainly in the form of "light sculptures" -- industrial plastic pieces that range from small to monumental, all illuminated either from within or from outside sources. Some of these date back to the days of co-founder Mel Tanner, who died in 1993; others were made by his wife, Dorothy, who has carried on the work she began with Mel when they first started creating their light-based art in the late 1960s. But these pieces, as extraordinary as many of them are, are just the tip of the iceberg at Lumonics. The Tanners have always called their space a "specialized sensory environment," and that environment stimulates all the senses: subtle incense to tickle the nose, fragrant teas to stimulate both nose and palate, gently pulsing lights to engage the eyes, softly glowing fountains to soothe eyes and ears, and cushiony furniture to encourage relaxation. Did we mention the light show? A visit to Lumonics isn't complete without Dorothy and creative partner Marc Billard's spectacular show, which pairs music (including original compositions) with multimedia and digital video projections and a dazzling array of light effects projected onto a huge wall in the gallery's big main room.

Historically speaking, Monday night is clubland wasteland. After a weekend of partying, folks tend to use Monday for rest and recuperation. Most club owners and talent bookers hate to schedule bands on a Monday night, especially out-of-town acts without a proven track record in these parts. In fact, this inaugural visit from New York City's Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra could very well have ended up one of those embarrassments plagued by a pitiful turnout. Yet not only was the Culture Room filled with spectators this particular Monday evening, the pure Afro-funk energy turned them into bona-fide participants. Encapsulating the energy, spirit, and politicized venom of deceased Nigerian superstar Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, the 13-piece orchestra turned this bar at Oakland Park Boulevard and Federal Highway into a sweaty Lagos discothèque, with each and every soul compelled to dance in a most uninhibited fashion. Even after a year, just the memory of that punchy horn section and those sinuous polyrhythms is enough to make feet do a phantom tap for old times' sake.

Historically speaking, Monday night is clubland wasteland. After a weekend of partying, folks tend to use Monday for rest and recuperation. Most club owners and talent bookers hate to schedule bands on a Monday night, especially out-of-town acts without a proven track record in these parts. In fact, this inaugural visit from New York City's Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra could very well have ended up one of those embarrassments plagued by a pitiful turnout. Yet not only was the Culture Room filled with spectators this particular Monday evening, the pure Afro-funk energy turned them into bona-fide participants. Encapsulating the energy, spirit, and politicized venom of deceased Nigerian superstar Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, the 13-piece orchestra turned this bar at Oakland Park Boulevard and Federal Highway into a sweaty Lagos discothèque, with each and every soul compelled to dance in a most uninhibited fashion. Even after a year, just the memory of that punchy horn section and those sinuous polyrhythms is enough to make feet do a phantom tap for old times' sake.

Have you ever gotten a whiff of Nag Champa? It seeps into your clothes. It does strange things to you. It makes you want to turn on your black light, stare at your Pink Floyd poster, and just "be cool, man." It turns anxious Type A's into mellow love and peaceniks. Now, Afro-Cuban free-jazz groups aren't often known for a sense of humor, but this Fort Lauderdale band makes the dreaded dorm room incense (all right, now you know what we're talking about) sound clever, and that deserves a round of applause. Or, at least a "right on."

Have you ever gotten a whiff of Nag Champa? It seeps into your clothes. It does strange things to you. It makes you want to turn on your black light, stare at your Pink Floyd poster, and just "be cool, man." It turns anxious Type A's into mellow love and peaceniks. Now, Afro-Cuban free-jazz groups aren't often known for a sense of humor, but this Fort Lauderdale band makes the dreaded dorm room incense (all right, now you know what we're talking about) sound clever, and that deserves a round of applause. Or, at least a "right on."

Cheap 'n' dirty. That's the way we like our women, and that's the way we like our movie theaters. Here, there ain't no $8 popcorn, there ain't no $12 tickets, and there ain't no highfalutin "independent films" for no sissies. It's three bucks a person ($1 for children under 12) to get in, and y'all can sit just fine in the bed of your pickup truck or what have you. We always bring a blanket, and we like to bring a boom box, 'cause you gotta listen to the sound on the radio, and we don't like to drain the battery on the Ford, else Scooter's gotta come and give us a jump. Just the other night, I took Debbie to see Starsky & Hutch -- I'm tellin' ya, they show pretty new movies for three bucks! But I can't really say how good the movie was, 'cause it's a drive-in and all, and like I told ya, I like my women cheap 'n' dirty...

Cheap 'n' dirty. That's the way we like our women, and that's the way we like our movie theaters. Here, there ain't no $8 popcorn, there ain't no $12 tickets, and there ain't no highfalutin "independent films" for no sissies. It's three bucks a person ($1 for children under 12) to get in, and y'all can sit just fine in the bed of your pickup truck or what have you. We always bring a blanket, and we like to bring a boom box, 'cause you gotta listen to the sound on the radio, and we don't like to drain the battery on the Ford, else Scooter's gotta come and give us a jump. Just the other night, I took Debbie to see Starsky & Hutch -- I'm tellin' ya, they show pretty new movies for three bucks! But I can't really say how good the movie was, 'cause it's a drive-in and all, and like I told ya, I like my women cheap 'n' dirty... Readers' Choice: Muvico Theaters

Taking responsibility for Stickshift Lover is a quintet of crazies consisting of moonlighting members of Where Fear and Weapons Meet and The Agency. A sendup of cock-rock excess, SSL is like Spinal Tap meets Tenacious D, topped with mulletized fright wigs of ungodly proportions. With a 300-pound front man packed into spandex tights, plus smoke machines and dry ice out the wazoo, Stickshift Lover is truly a sight to behold. In case you missed their sole live appearance, at the Factory in December 2003, our condolences. If "How much cock will it take, baby, before you're satisfied? You took a shot in the back, then you took one in the eye, oh my!" isn't the most memorable line in rock 'n' roll history by now, it's only because "You've got bedroom eyes, but I want what's between your thi-i-i-i-ghs" got there first. Stickshift Lover collects every sexist cliché known to hair-metal, spreads it around on a Slip 'n' Slide, and dives in.

Taking responsibility for Stickshift Lover is a quintet of crazies consisting of moonlighting members of Where Fear and Weapons Meet and The Agency. A sendup of cock-rock excess, SSL is like Spinal Tap meets Tenacious D, topped with mulletized fright wigs of ungodly proportions. With a 300-pound front man packed into spandex tights, plus smoke machines and dry ice out the wazoo, Stickshift Lover is truly a sight to behold. In case you missed their sole live appearance, at the Factory in December 2003, our condolences. If "How much cock will it take, baby, before you're satisfied? You took a shot in the back, then you took one in the eye, oh my!" isn't the most memorable line in rock 'n' roll history by now, it's only because "You've got bedroom eyes, but I want what's between your thi-i-i-i-ghs" got there first. Stickshift Lover collects every sexist cliché known to hair-metal, spreads it around on a Slip 'n' Slide, and dives in.

No, you don't have to try the garlic ice cream if you don't feel like it. But for your own sake, put away your preconceptions. Toss your trepidation. Forget your aversion to the smelly subterranean substance. The lowly clove is enjoying a quiet renaissance -- led by nouvelle cuisine chefs, mostly, and those who praise its health benefits -- and we are so down, the fest has turned into one of Delray's biggest claims to fame. Now, South Florida's soils aren't at all compatible with the conditions favored by the old Stinking Rose, but that doesn't stop farmers from trucking in six-headed hybrids of the beloved bulb. Now in its sixth year, this unlikely combination of garlic and good times has expanded to a three-day blowout featuring live music, and hordes of folks so geeked-up over garlic, the Altoids people should seriously consider co-sponsorship. Garlic -- it's not just for vampires anymore.

No, you don't have to try the garlic ice cream if you don't feel like it. But for your own sake, put away your preconceptions. Toss your trepidation. Forget your aversion to the smelly subterranean substance. The lowly clove is enjoying a quiet renaissance -- led by nouvelle cuisine chefs, mostly, and those who praise its health benefits -- and we are so down, the fest has turned into one of Delray's biggest claims to fame. Now, South Florida's soils aren't at all compatible with the conditions favored by the old Stinking Rose, but that doesn't stop farmers from trucking in six-headed hybrids of the beloved bulb. Now in its sixth year, this unlikely combination of garlic and good times has expanded to a three-day blowout featuring live music, and hordes of folks so geeked-up over garlic, the Altoids people should seriously consider co-sponsorship. Garlic -- it's not just for vampires anymore. Readers' Choice: SunFest

Only a year ago, Fort Lauderdale's Museum of Art looked to be on the verge of collapse. Revenues were down dramatically, and key staffers came and went with alarming frequency. Two years earlier, the plug had been pulled at the last minute on a much-anticipated exhibition, "Fashion: The Greatest Show on Earth," because of financial problems. Then came a seeming miracle: "Saint Peter and the Vatican: The Legacy of the Popes," which opened last August, accompanied by the announcement of a potential new savior for the museum. By the time Executive Director Irvin M. Lippman (MoA's third director in seven years) came on board in October, the papal show was well on its way to becoming the museum's most successful exhibition since 2001's "Palace of Gold & Light: Treasures from the Topkapi, Istanbul." Lippman, who turned around the Museum of Art in Cleveland, can't take credit for the Vatican show, but so far, he's providing a much-needed sense of stability. MoA has had a roller coaster of a history, with daring shows followed by duds and mediocrity. But it has several solid permanent collections, including the "CoBrA Collection," the "Contemporary Cuban Collection," and "European and American Modern and Contemporary Art from 1900 to the Present." The vast Williams Glackens collection got its own wing in 2001, when the museum got a $2.2 million, 10,000-square-foot expansion. And recent shows, including the ethereal "Enrique Martínez Celaya: The October Cycle, 2000-2002," are the most promising in a long time. Call MoA the Comeback Kid of Broward museums. Readers' Choice: Museum of Art,

Fort Lauderdale

Only a year ago, Fort Lauderdale's Museum of Art looked to be on the verge of collapse. Revenues were down dramatically, and key staffers came and went with alarming frequency. Two years earlier, the plug had been pulled at the last minute on a much-anticipated exhibition, "Fashion: The Greatest Show on Earth," because of financial problems. Then came a seeming miracle: "Saint Peter and the Vatican: The Legacy of the Popes," which opened last August, accompanied by the announcement of a potential new savior for the museum. By the time Executive Director Irvin M. Lippman (MoA's third director in seven years) came on board in October, the papal show was well on its way to becoming the museum's most successful exhibition since 2001's "Palace of Gold & Light: Treasures from the Topkapi, Istanbul." Lippman, who turned around the Museum of Art in Cleveland, can't take credit for the Vatican show, but so far, he's providing a much-needed sense of stability. MoA has had a roller coaster of a history, with daring shows followed by duds and mediocrity. But it has several solid permanent collections, including the "CoBrA Collection," the "Contemporary Cuban Collection," and "European and American Modern and Contemporary Art from 1900 to the Present." The vast Williams Glackens collection got its own wing in 2001, when the museum got a $2.2 million, 10,000-square-foot expansion. And recent shows, including the ethereal "Enrique Martínez Celaya: The October Cycle, 2000-2002," are the most promising in a long time. Call MoA the Comeback Kid of Broward museums. Readers' Choice: Museum of Art,

Fort Lauderdale

When the Boca Raton Museum of Art reopened in its spectacular new 44,000-square-foot facility in Mizner Park, it pulled out all the stops. The inaugural show was the sweeping retrospective "Picasso: Passion and Creation -- The Last Thirty Years," which raised a question: Could the museum sustain such a high level of quality? The answer, three years later, is a resounding "Yes!" The museum ended 2001 with "Arman: The Passage of Objects," a show as impressive as the Picasso. And under the stewardship of Executive Director George S. Bolge, formerly of Fort Lauderdale's Museum of Art, the Boca Museum has continued to deliver. Along with the annual "All Florida Juried Competition and Exhibition," there have been a pair of Chagall exhibitions, a show of recent work by Fort Lauderdale-based artist Matthew Carone, Richard Pousette-Dart and David Remfrey shows, and an ambitious exhibition showcasing ten contemporary Latin American artists. In the past year alone, Bolge and his diligent staff have continued their tradition of showcasing art from local private collections, as well as giving us "Frank Lloyd Wright: Windows of the Darwin D. Martin House" and the recent corporate show from the UBS Art Collection. As if all this weren't enough, the museum still maintains rotating selections from its extensive permanent collections in its second-floor galleries. Readers' Choice: Norton Museum of Art

When the Boca Raton Museum of Art reopened in its spectacular new 44,000-square-foot facility in Mizner Park, it pulled out all the stops. The inaugural show was the sweeping retrospective "Picasso: Passion and Creation -- The Last Thirty Years," which raised a question: Could the museum sustain such a high level of quality? The answer, three years later, is a resounding "Yes!" The museum ended 2001 with "Arman: The Passage of Objects," a show as impressive as the Picasso. And under the stewardship of Executive Director George S. Bolge, formerly of Fort Lauderdale's Museum of Art, the Boca Museum has continued to deliver. Along with the annual "All Florida Juried Competition and Exhibition," there have been a pair of Chagall exhibitions, a show of recent work by Fort Lauderdale-based artist Matthew Carone, Richard Pousette-Dart and David Remfrey shows, and an ambitious exhibition showcasing ten contemporary Latin American artists. In the past year alone, Bolge and his diligent staff have continued their tradition of showcasing art from local private collections, as well as giving us "Frank Lloyd Wright: Windows of the Darwin D. Martin House" and the recent corporate show from the UBS Art Collection. As if all this weren't enough, the museum still maintains rotating selections from its extensive permanent collections in its second-floor galleries. Readers' Choice: Norton Museum of Art

After four years of moving about town to display its fascinating, unique cultural exhibits, the Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History finally settled down in 2003 with a facility in Delray Beach. Established in 1999, the museum previously presented exhibits that explored the history of such varied topics as Third World cultures, fashion accessories, architecture, furnishings, toys, and just about any other cultural phenomenon with an interesting past. From lighthearted, multimedia exhibits like "The History of the Teddy Bear" to the more political "40 Years of the Barbie Doll" (in celebration of Women's History Month) to an earnest look at "The Removal of Indian Nations," the museum's wide range of subject matter makes for quite an enchanting afternoon -- one you'll not soon forget. A "Negro Baptismal" photography exhibit that opened in February runs through August 8. 2004 exhibits include "Lunchbox History" and "Creativity and Resistance: Marooned Cultures of the Americas." It's more than worth the $5 admission for adults and children over age 13.

After four years of moving about town to display its fascinating, unique cultural exhibits, the Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History finally settled down in 2003 with a facility in Delray Beach. Established in 1999, the museum previously presented exhibits that explored the history of such varied topics as Third World cultures, fashion accessories, architecture, furnishings, toys, and just about any other cultural phenomenon with an interesting past. From lighthearted, multimedia exhibits like "The History of the Teddy Bear" to the more political "40 Years of the Barbie Doll" (in celebration of Women's History Month) to an earnest look at "The Removal of Indian Nations," the museum's wide range of subject matter makes for quite an enchanting afternoon -- one you'll not soon forget. A "Negro Baptismal" photography exhibit that opened in February runs through August 8. 2004 exhibits include "Lunchbox History" and "Creativity and Resistance: Marooned Cultures of the Americas." It's more than worth the $5 admission for adults and children over age 13.

In 1864, the first pair of ice skates was patented in the United States. In 1920, Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman got beaned in the head by a Carl Mays fastball, becoming the first major league baseball player to die during a game. And in 1992, Andre Agassi won the Wimbledon Tennis Tournament. So how are all these historical sports tidbits related? Sports Immortals Museum and Memorabilia Mart, that's how. Anyone remotely interested in sports could spend hours gazing, mouth agape, at the huge collection of sports memorabilia, from Muhammad Ali's championship belt to Franco Harris' (autographed) cleats that gained him more than 100 yards in eight straight games. There's so much history stuff for the history buff that you won't know where to start; it'd be a good idea to take a guided tour. In addition to the more than 1 million (!) sports mementoes in a rotating display of 30,000 items, Sports Immortals features interactive games and theater. It holds fundraisers, auctions, parties, and field trips. And you can buy stuff too, for $2 to $10,000, such as signed lithographs (O.J. Simpson, $396, no bloodstains), and posters ('96 Stanley Cup, $68). Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for children under age 12. Who says South Florida has no history?

In 1864, the first pair of ice skates was patented in the United States. In 1920, Cleveland Indians shortstop Ray Chapman got beaned in the head by a Carl Mays fastball, becoming the first major league baseball player to die during a game. And in 1992, Andre Agassi won the Wimbledon Tennis Tournament. So how are all these historical sports tidbits related? Sports Immortals Museum and Memorabilia Mart, that's how. Anyone remotely interested in sports could spend hours gazing, mouth agape, at the huge collection of sports memorabilia, from Muhammad Ali's championship belt to Franco Harris' (autographed) cleats that gained him more than 100 yards in eight straight games. There's so much history stuff for the history buff that you won't know where to start; it'd be a good idea to take a guided tour. In addition to the more than 1 million (!) sports mementoes in a rotating display of 30,000 items, Sports Immortals features interactive games and theater. It holds fundraisers, auctions, parties, and field trips. And you can buy stuff too, for $2 to $10,000, such as signed lithographs (O.J. Simpson, $396, no bloodstains), and posters ('96 Stanley Cup, $68). Admission is $5 for adults and $3 for children under age 12. Who says South Florida has no history?

If you've tried to walk into Tavern 213 on a Sunday night and got stuck in the doorway, that's a good thing. Folks trying to squeeze the last bit of fun out of the weekend know that on Sundays, there is the chance they'll catch noisy, chaotic, energetic sets by AC Cobra, Malt Liquor Riot, the Slants, the Shakers, Trapped by Mormons, the Creepy T's, the Heatseekers, and countless other local bands. But there's also a chance of getting beer, sweat, or other bodily fluids sprayed on you or an elbow in your eye or witnessing a drum set get thrown through the front window. And since Tavern is open until 4 a.m. every night, that's two more hours of hangover for the next morning.

Age: 53

Hometown: New York City

Claim to fame: Founder and producing director of the acclaimed Florida Stage

What he's done for us lately: The Florida Stage has stuck by its guns for 17 years, producing quality new stage works with professionalism. No tired revivals of Arsenic and Old Lace or The Glass Menagerie, no janitors stumbling on as walk-ons, no costumes from Kmart. Spots are hit, lines are spoken on cue, and the company does its damnedest to grapple with the issues that contemporary playwrights are brooding upon. This year, Tyrrell, a hands-on theater man all the way, directed local playwright Michael McKeever's macabre Running with Scissors. Then the company staged one of the best South Florida productions of the past year, Permanent Collection, Thomas Gibbons' challenging examination of institutional racism and political correctness.

What it takes: "In the theater, it's all about collaboration. The thing that's driven me is ultimately a practical need to interact with other people, to have a positive impact on the community in the small way that we do. The moment we start to think too much of ourselves and that impact, though, I remind myself that we wear wigs and bows for a living."

Age: 53

Hometown: New York City

Claim to fame: Founder and producing director of the acclaimed Florida Stage

What he's done for us lately: The Florida Stage has stuck by its guns for 17 years, producing quality new stage works with professionalism. No tired revivals of Arsenic and Old Lace or The Glass Menagerie, no janitors stumbling on as walk-ons, no costumes from Kmart. Spots are hit, lines are spoken on cue, and the company does its damnedest to grapple with the issues that contemporary playwrights are brooding upon. This year, Tyrrell, a hands-on theater man all the way, directed local playwright Michael McKeever's macabre Running with Scissors. Then the company staged one of the best South Florida productions of the past year, Permanent Collection, Thomas Gibbons' challenging examination of institutional racism and political correctness.

What it takes: "In the theater, it's all about collaboration. The thing that's driven me is ultimately a practical need to interact with other people, to have a positive impact on the community in the small way that we do. The moment we start to think too much of ourselves and that impact, though, I remind myself that we wear wigs and bows for a living."

The now-defunct (or is it?), FCC-dodging pirate hip-hop station was dirty and raunchy and played music Power 96 wouldn't touch with a ten-foot Source award. It was a South Florida representative of the Dirty South style of hip-hop. Listeners called in to give first-name-only shoutouts to friends they knew might be tuning in. Obscenities were de rigueur. It hosted a Holiday Inn throwdown on Powerline and Commercial called "Throwback Friday," attracting upward of 600 people, some from out of state, as well as a sea of Air Force 1's and tricked-out cars. And then... silence. But if you happen to be dial-surfing in the high 80s soon, listen for the thump of the crunk.

The now-defunct (or is it?), FCC-dodging pirate hip-hop station was dirty and raunchy and played music Power 96 wouldn't touch with a ten-foot Source award. It was a South Florida representative of the Dirty South style of hip-hop. Listeners called in to give first-name-only shoutouts to friends they knew might be tuning in. Obscenities were de rigueur. It hosted a Holiday Inn throwdown on Powerline and Commercial called "Throwback Friday," attracting upward of 600 people, some from out of state, as well as a sea of Air Force 1's and tricked-out cars. And then... silence. But if you happen to be dial-surfing in the high 80s soon, listen for the thump of the crunk.

There have been better times for magic, magician Larry Taylor admits. Fewer and fewer people are getting into the business of pulling rabbits out of, well, wherever. So Taylor, who's spent 35 years as a magician in Philadelphia and South Florida, is hoping to teach the next generation. Taylor gives one-on-one magic lessons for kids and soon-to-be pros out of his Boynton Beach magic shop, the South Florida Magic Company. The $50-an-hour lessons begin with simple card and coin tricks, eventually bringing the advanced student to Taylor's specialty, the ol' "cube zag." That's where Taylor sticks knives through his assistant (also his wife). Well, at least it looks that way. "That's the advanced stuff," Taylor says. After three or four lessons, Taylor contends, most students can perform for audiences. They'll need probably $500 for just the beginner's equipment and thousands more for technical tricks. But there are hatfuls of money to be made just in the bar mitzvah market, he says, and the big thing now is corporate events, where magicians make the rounds at company cocktail parties. Soon enough, however, magic may be back to the mainstream. "It's been around for thousands of years, and it's not going away anytime soon," the 65-year-old Taylor says. "It's going to come back before you know it." Maybe Taylor's just the man to pull the profession from his sleeve.

There have been better times for magic, magician Larry Taylor admits. Fewer and fewer people are getting into the business of pulling rabbits out of, well, wherever. So Taylor, who's spent 35 years as a magician in Philadelphia and South Florida, is hoping to teach the next generation. Taylor gives one-on-one magic lessons for kids and soon-to-be pros out of his Boynton Beach magic shop, the South Florida Magic Company. The $50-an-hour lessons begin with simple card and coin tricks, eventually bringing the advanced student to Taylor's specialty, the ol' "cube zag." That's where Taylor sticks knives through his assistant (also his wife). Well, at least it looks that way. "That's the advanced stuff," Taylor says. After three or four lessons, Taylor contends, most students can perform for audiences. They'll need probably $500 for just the beginner's equipment and thousands more for technical tricks. But there are hatfuls of money to be made just in the bar mitzvah market, he says, and the big thing now is corporate events, where magicians make the rounds at company cocktail parties. Soon enough, however, magic may be back to the mainstream. "It's been around for thousands of years, and it's not going away anytime soon," the 65-year-old Taylor says. "It's going to come back before you know it." Maybe Taylor's just the man to pull the profession from his sleeve.

All the political, religious, and legal B.S. (and there sure is a lot of it) aside, 104.1 plays some of the tastiest nuggets of soul, funk, blues, and jazz that can be found on the radio anywhere, let alone this barren wasteland of airwaves ruled by Clear Channel and the FCC. Said to be broadcasting from North Miami, on a clear day the sounds of "the Boss" can be heard north of I-595 and as far west as Sawgrass Mills. One day, it played Miles Davis' Kind of Blue straight through, flipping the vinyl and everything for that authentic cracklin' and poppin' lo-fi experience. You'll hear P-Funk, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, and a plethora of obscure songs straight out of a rare-groove DJ's bag of tricks. It plays few (if any) commercials and broadcasts little inane DJ chatter, excepting the raves and rants of local legend Michael the Black Man. The Boss has no FCC license and borrowed the call letters of a Boston-based station, but it still plays music you just won't hear anywhere else.

All the political, religious, and legal B.S. (and there sure is a lot of it) aside, 104.1 plays some of the tastiest nuggets of soul, funk, blues, and jazz that can be found on the radio anywhere, let alone this barren wasteland of airwaves ruled by Clear Channel and the FCC. Said to be broadcasting from North Miami, on a clear day the sounds of "the Boss" can be heard north of I-595 and as far west as Sawgrass Mills. One day, it played Miles Davis' Kind of Blue straight through, flipping the vinyl and everything for that authentic cracklin' and poppin' lo-fi experience. You'll hear P-Funk, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, and a plethora of obscure songs straight out of a rare-groove DJ's bag of tricks. It plays few (if any) commercials and broadcasts little inane DJ chatter, excepting the raves and rants of local legend Michael the Black Man. The Boss has no FCC license and borrowed the call letters of a Boston-based station, but it still plays music you just won't hear anywhere else. Readers' Choice: WPYM-FM (93.1)

Best Radio Show

Sounds of the Caribbean

WLRN-FM (91.3) Sounds of the Caribbean has been a presence on South Florida's airwaves since 1979, when none other than Bob Marley convinced host Clint O'Neil that he could be an important voice of island culture in Miami, a city that could be called the capital of the Caribbean. Until recently, O'Neil's Monday-through-Friday, late-night broadcasts were supplemented with two weekend editions hosted by Kevin "Ital-K" Smith, but Smith's early Sunday and Monday morning shows were replaced with BBC News by station management in October. It's a shame Smith's quick wit and sharp British accent is no longer heard, but O'Neil is still on from 2 to 7 a.m. Sundays, laying down tracks from nearly every tropical genre, from soca to rocksteady and dancehall through Afro-Cuban. Through the Internet, the station reaches listeners worldwide. The show breaks up the canned chatter and carefully calculated playlists that rule the corporately controlled medium of radio today.

Once upon a time, theater was a crucible through which a society's deepest concerns were given life on-stage. That unquestionably was the case this season when a powerful tale of racial conflict and media manipulation, Permanent Collection, blazed white hot at Florida Stage. The staging was expert, combining a professional acting ensemble, assured direction, and superior production support. But it was this show's fierce emotional and intellectual honesty -- which set up many more questions than answers -- that made for such a memorable, challenging theatrical event.

Once upon a time, theater was a crucible through which a society's deepest concerns were given life on-stage. That unquestionably was the case this season when a powerful tale of racial conflict and media manipulation, Permanent Collection, blazed white hot at Florida Stage. The staging was expert, combining a professional acting ensemble, assured direction, and superior production support. But it was this show's fierce emotional and intellectual honesty -- which set up many more questions than answers -- that made for such a memorable, challenging theatrical event.

Working out of the tiny, bare-bones Sol Theatre, Hooker has managed to stage several strong productions in the past but nothing like this fierce, truthful portrait of lesbian love and courage. Hooker's rock 'em, sock 'em style doesn't fit every show he does, but with Stop Kiss, he found a fine match. Featuring a headlong pace and emotional detail, Hooker's staging made for memorable, high-impact theater that resonated long after the show was over.

Working out of the tiny, bare-bones Sol Theatre, Hooker has managed to stage several strong productions in the past but nothing like this fierce, truthful portrait of lesbian love and courage. Hooker's rock 'em, sock 'em style doesn't fit every show he does, but with Stop Kiss, he found a fine match. Featuring a headlong pace and emotional detail, Hooker's staging made for memorable, high-impact theater that resonated long after the show was over.

In a break from his usual job as producing artistic director of the Palm Beach Dramaworks, Hayes gave an exceptionally well-rendered performance as Norman, the fussy, devoted backstage dresser for a domineering actor. Using a thick Midlands accent and a tentative, repressed physicality, Hayes managed a complete transformation into Norman, whose quiet demeanor masked his wrenching heartbreak. Hayes is currently performing in No Exit, which runs through May 23.

In a break from his usual job as producing artistic director of the Palm Beach Dramaworks, Hayes gave an exceptionally well-rendered performance as Norman, the fussy, devoted backstage dresser for a domineering actor. Using a thick Midlands accent and a tentative, repressed physicality, Hayes managed a complete transformation into Norman, whose quiet demeanor masked his wrenching heartbreak. Hayes is currently performing in No Exit, which runs through May 23.

Clearwood's portrayal of a restless New Yorker who finds herself falling in love with another woman was a significant creative achievement and a highlight of the season. Clearwood not only delivered a totally grounded, honest performance but she had to do so within a mind-boggling, nonlinear narrative, alternating scenes before and after a horrible crime. In so doing, she managed to reveal a fully human heroine -- dazed, confused, hilarious, and heart-breaking.

Clearwood's portrayal of a restless New Yorker who finds herself falling in love with another woman was a significant creative achievement and a highlight of the season. Clearwood not only delivered a totally grounded, honest performance but she had to do so within a mind-boggling, nonlinear narrative, alternating scenes before and after a horrible crime. In so doing, she managed to reveal a fully human heroine -- dazed, confused, hilarious, and heart-breaking.

As a motel manager lost in a life of endless routine, Radosh didn't have much stage time, but she anchored Michael McKeever's tale of love and death. Radosh's attention to character detail gave us a window on a life of quiet desperation suddenly confronting breathless, exhilarating romance. Radosh has delivered consistently solid work in shows all over South Florida but none so effective as this one.

As a motel manager lost in a life of endless routine, Radosh didn't have much stage time, but she anchored Michael McKeever's tale of love and death. Radosh's attention to character detail gave us a window on a life of quiet desperation suddenly confronting breathless, exhilarating romance. Radosh has delivered consistently solid work in shows all over South Florida but none so effective as this one.

The memory of Wade's performance in the Ivan Turgenev classic at the Caldwell Theatre in Boca Raton lingers. As a supercilious Russian aristocrat, he was a model of acting style and craft, balancing superb comedic timing with sudden, unnerving moments of casual cruelty.

The memory of Wade's performance in the Ivan Turgenev classic at the Caldwell Theatre in Boca Raton lingers. As a supercilious Russian aristocrat, he was a model of acting style and craft, balancing superb comedic timing with sudden, unnerving moments of casual cruelty.