The Stranger

No one does the greatest-hits extravaganza like Elvis Costello. In addition to a sturdy band of Imposters, Costello’s 2012 Revolver Tour features the return of the Spectacular Spinning Songbook, an honest-to-God Wheel of Fortune–style contraption emblazoned with song titles drawn from across Costello’s 35-year career and spun by lucky audience members. Whatever song comes up, the band bangs out. No two shows are the same, and all of them are great. (My top mama-needs-a-new-pair-of-shoes song hopefuls: “New Lace Sleeves” [1981], “I Want You” [1986], “Lipstick Vogue” [1978].) (Paramount Theatre, 911 Pine St, www.stgpresents.org, 8 pm, $35.75–$75.75, all ages) by David Schmader

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Honestly, the less you know about The Cabin in the Woods before you watch it, the better off you are. The basics: Sexy young people—a stoner, a jock, a sex kitten, a nerd, and a virgin—take a vacation. Then things go wrong. Lots of things. Everything. Imagine every horror movie you’ve ever seen played on the screen at the same time, and you’re getting warm. But this isn’t some smirky, Scream-style, self-aware cuddlefest—it’s a genuinely scary movie. Toss a delightful performance from Bradley Whitford in there, and you’ve got everything you should know. (See Movie Times) by Paul Constant

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The first thing you see in the group exhibition Making Mends is a cloud rising from gallery floor to ceiling. It’s a mushroom cloud, but it’s so fluffy that it beckons anyway, and when you get close, you see a ladder dangling down, inviting you up as into a tree house. The stated theme of Making Mends is art and healing, so you know that this sculpture (Playhouse, by Dietrich Wegner), despite its darkness and horror, wants to make you feel better. The whole show is like this: an effective invitation to be moved by art’s ability to respond to the awfulness it cannot change. This art is made of sand, feathers, clay, paint, video. The artists are people who are dying soon, or later, or who have gone to war and are making paper out of their uniforms. Don’t skip this show. (Bellevue Arts Museum, 510 Bellevue Way NE, Bellevue, www.bellevuearts.org, 11 am–5 pm, $10) by Jen Graves

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Kouign-amann is a criminally buttery Breton pastry-cake with a sweet and slightly salty caramelized top—where all its butter and sugar crystallize into unholy deliciousness. The decorated French-trained pastry chef David Lebovitz euphemistically describes making kouign-amann as “a bit of a challenge,” with dough that “may be sticky and difficult,” requiring “coaxing”—meaning that normal humans can forget it. Luckily, it’s there for you at Honoré in Ballard, Le Rêve on Queen Anne, and Regent on Capitol Hill. For your asking purposes: It’s “queen ah-MAHN.” It is so, so good. (Various locations, call ahead to avoid disappointment, a few very well-spent dollars) by Bethany Jean Clement

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A prediction: The theater of the (near) future will be excellently written but barely rehearsed one-night performances. Saturday Night Live, basically, but smaller, better, and actually live, not “TV-live.” Sandbox Radio Live is like that: sketches by kick-ass local theater people, including a gloriously moody serial about an exiled angel-detective written by Paul Mullin and starring Charles Leggett. For anyone who’s sat through an episode of SNL and felt let down—and who hasn’t?—check out SRL. (West of Lenin, 203 N 36th St, www.brownpapertickets.com, 8:00 pm, technically free because of idiotic union regulations but bring some bucks to share) by Brendan Kiley

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In the late ’90s, the bizarre and stunning noise-pop of Neutral Milk Hotel conjured two works of fascination that seared themselves forever into a generation of listeners. Shortly after releasing the second, 1998’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, NMH catalyst Jeff Mangum abruptly retired and essentially disappeared. Last year, he returned to the world, and reports of his appearances include words like “riveting,” “eerie,” and “hair-raising.” Sounds like the first time you heard the records. (Moore Theatre, 1932 Second Ave, www.stgpresents.org, 8 pm, $32.50, all ages) by Grant Brissey

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Or, (blast that title!) has a feminist backbone (the lead character is a female spy and playwright in 17th-century England) but is mainly an excuse for shenanigans, all of which are enjoyable. This will be your night at the theater: make-outs, gunplay, screwing, rhyming, cross-gender casting, quick changes, a little historical context, funny accents that don’t grate, an expertly waggled prosthetic ass, and three actors playing a half-dozen characters with the sort of unmitigated glee that makes even a silly and lighthearted production totally worth your time. (Seattle Repertory Theatre, 155 Mercer St, www.seattlerep.org, 7:30 pm, $45) by Anna Minard

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