The Stranger

The Messenger—a commendably understated Iraq war picture about a two-man "casualty notification team" tasked with delivering bad news to unsuspecting families—is a subtle, honest affair, with funny moments matching painful ones pound for pound. Will Montgomery (a bulked-up Ben Foster) is a freshly returned vet, injured in the eyeball, assigned to casualty-notification service with Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson and his greatness and his very weird head). The two are on call, ready to ruin lives at a moment's notice. "There's no such thing as a satisfied customer," says Stone, with brutal military efficiency. Ha-ha... ha? (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/film.) by Lindy West

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Five or six Christmases ago, John Osebold—the bandleader of "Awesome"—realized he was cash-poor but rich in songs, and recorded an album in his bedroom as his present to people. He's maintained the tradition, festooning his "December" albums with audio samples from the previous year (Osebold gets weirder phone messages than most folks) and cameo appearances by friends playing banjo, drums, trumpet, etc. The December songs are mostly happy and bouncy and show off Osebold's complicated, geometric guitar phrasing. Tonight, Osebold and Kirk Anderson—the drummer of "Awesome"—will show some old stock footage and play from past December albums because "the new album," Osebold says, "has become unplayable. Oopsie." (Northwest Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave, www.nwfilmforum.org. 11 pm, $9.) by Brendan Kiley

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For years, the internationally beloved Seattle drag treasure Dina Martina—she of the car-wreck makeup, hell-screech singing voice, and whopping camel toe—has given godless freaks a reason to look forward to Christmas. This year is no exception, as Dina and her longtime pianist (and Stranger Genius) Chris Jeffries bring their 2009 holiday show to Re-bar. Expect light blasphemy, bold mindfucks, and a sweet, gooey center. (Re-bar, 1114 Howell St, www.rebarseattle.com. 2 pm, $20, 21+.) by David Schmader

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Hank Stuever's new book, Tinsel, documents three consecutive Christmases in the upper-middle-class Texas town of Frisco, including a woman who decorates McMansions for $150 an hour, a man whose overly decorated home is a YouTube sensation, and other ghastly holiday monstrosities. But maybe, Stuever convincingly argues, all this commercial excess is "more historically appropriate" than a pious, Christian Christmas. Stuever's clear-eyed examination of America in holiday orgy–mode is energetic, acerbic, and informative. (Elliott Bay Book Company, 101 S Main St, 624-6600. 7 pm, free.) by Paul Constant

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Cherie Priest blows up Seattle real good in her new sci-fi novel, Boneshaker. It's a steampunk alternate-reality thriller. (Nerd-to-English translation: While our fair city is festooned with blimps in Boneshaker—which is, of course, totally fucking awesome—we are also plagued by air pirates and zombielike creatures named Rotters.) Local author Priest knows how to bring the fun to science fiction, and Boneshaker zips along like a smart, seductive summer blockbuster. That the main character is the kind of smart, ass-kicking heroine you rarely see anchoring such an adventure is merely a happy bonus. (Third Place Books, 17171 Bothell Way NE, 366-3333. 7 pm, free.) by Paul Constant

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For a tiny segment of the world's music lovers, drones are as essential as oxygen. While many find this minimal, seemingly static style somnolent, true drone-oisseurs exalt it as the ultimate expression of sonic transcendence. Gregg Kowalsky proved his mettle with 2006's Through the Cardial Window, a nutritious aural soup of guitar, violin, melodica, and field recordings. With this year's Tape Chants, Kowalsky feeds the sounds of shruti box, gongs, and percussion through a cassette recorder, forging intimate, whorling sine-wave symphonies. It's pure bliss. (Josephine, 608 NW 65th St, www.myspace.com/thejosephine. 9 pm.) by Dave Segal

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