The Stranger

Seattle 11-piece Eldridge Gravy and the Court Supreme follow in the uproarious tradition of expansive funk ensembles that have been raising roofs since Nixon was befouling the Oval Office. The seven songs on their Us Is What Time It Is CD flaunt a fleet, fiery funk bolstered by soaring orchestrations, tight arrangements, and groin-grinding rhythms. Vocalist Eldridge Gravy recalls Stevie Wonder's youthful, animated tenor, ably conveying the soulful inspiration upon which these units thrive. Sweet, sweaty times await you. (Tractor Tavern, 5213 Ballard Ave NW, 789-3599. 9:30 pm, $8, 21+.) by Dave Segal

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University Book Store has been selling books for 110 years this year, and to celebrate, they've edited a marvelous little book of 110 local authors writing 110 words (essays, fiction, poetry, comics, sheet music, and recipes) about whatever they'd like. Virtually every Seattle author worth reading is in there (including Stacey Levine, Ivan Doig, Rebecca Hoogs, Cliff Mass, Matt Ruff, and, um, Dan Savage). It's a fun, witty way to celebrate a great bookstore, and this launch party (with free cake and cider) is a perfect excuse to come down and check it out. (University Book Store, 4326 University Way NE, 634-3400. Noon–5 pm, free.) by Paul Constant

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Situated at the northern end of the Ave and semidisguised as a convenience store, Chili's Deli & Mart is one of the few places in Seattle to get southern Indian cuisine—crepelike dosas and doughnutty vada, all served up in a clean, simple dining area reminiscent of a factory break room. If you've never tried southern Indian food, you must, and you should probably start with the masala dosa, a friendly blend of north and south that's essentially the Big Mac of southern India. (Chili's Deli & Mart, 5002 University Way NE, 526-9392. 10 am–9:30 pm.) by David Schmader

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There should be a whole strain of poetry devoted to the lifeguard tower, its spindly architecture propped all the way up there. They're often photographed in romantic shadow, against a setting sun. But L.A. photographer Amir Zaki looks baldly at them, these irregular objects just hanging in the sky. He's digitally manipulated them, but you'd be hard-pressed to say exactly how. Sometimes they glow and face up to the sun like Californians. Sometimes it's foggy and they are spaceships. Sometimes it's gray and cloudy, and they may as well be miniatures marooned in the corner of a Russian factory in winter. (James Harris Gallery, 312 Second Ave S, 903-6220. 11 am–5 pm, free.) by Jen Graves

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So Heath Ledger died. Did you hear? It sucked. Before he died, he acted in half a movie, Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. The movie is more than half good. Parnassus is a baroque, grimy, spectacular, Gilliam-style vision—ladders to the clouds; a lurching, triple-decker Gypsy wagon; Tom Waits as the devil; a magic mirror into Christopher Plummer's brain. You know the type. Ledger is beautiful and dirty. Gilliam's story is visually stunning but conceptually hollow. You should see it anyway. (See Movie Times: thestranger.com/film.) by Lindy West

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You will never see another Electra like Marya Sea Kaminski's Electra. There's not much plot to this version of the Greek ur-Hamlet (a child laments a murdered father and rages against the mother who married his killer), but it takes uncommon guts to digest Kaminski's searing performance. She mourns, yowls, pities, self-pities, and suffers through all the other difficult emotions so hard you'll want to take her home, wrap her in a blanket, and feed her a bowl of soup. The other actors do not—cannot—match the crucible of Kaminksi's performance. But they don't have to. She is all you need. (Seattle Shakespeare Company, Center House Theatre, 733-8222. 7:30 pm, $22–$36. Through Jan 31.) by Brendan Kiley

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