Christopher Borrelli is a general assignment features reporter and columnist whose wide range of subjects includes art curators, shadow puppet theater companies, acclaimed authors, acclaimed cartoonists, video games, Godzilla, hand dryers, toast, Netflix, location scouts, arts panels and people who hoard copies of “Jerry Maguire.” Before joining the Tribune in 2008 he was the film critic at the Toledo Blade and worked at the movie magazine Premiere. He grew up in Rhode Island and lives in Rogers Park.
To find the latest performance piece by the rising experimental dance company Khecari — "rhymes with 'treachery,'" explains founder Jonathan Meyer — go to West Rogers Park on the Far North Side. Specifically, Indian Boundary Park on Lunt Avenue, an oasis of green hemmed in by...
Until recently, I was a voting member of the James Beard Foundation, which gives out a number of highly valued annual awards to chefs and restaurants. But I was not a very active member, and certainly, while eating out, that membership never came up. Restaurants never seemed particularly aware:...
As Thomas Wolfe once wrote (and I believe I'm accurate here): You can go home again despite the fact your new sitcom on Fox just pulled a 0.7/2 rating among viewers 18 to 49, attracting 1 million fewer eyeballs than your lead-in, a "Family Guy" repeat. Of course, Thomas Wolfe also (and...
The first thing to know about "Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich: Homage to Photographic Masters," the new exhibition opening at the Catherine Edelman Gallery in River North on Saturday, is that the artists mean it.
Billy DuBose, of Elmhurst, does not make a particularly gargantuan impression. He is 31, of medium height and modest build. His hair is thinning into Louis C.K. tufts. He has an unassuming air, works as a marketing assistant at National Lift Truck, his father's forklift business in Franklin...
Martin Amis walked slowly onto the auditorium stage of the Francis W. Parker School in Lincoln Park and stared grimly into the audience. He looked the part of the austere British novelist: gray suit, blue dress shirt, no tie, white hair swept back in thin humps, a rictus of dyspepsia. Donna...
Near the end of Christopher Nolan's "Interstellar," as this vast science fiction blockbuster-to-be neared its third hour, the floodgates burst: My chin quivered (check), tear ducts filled (check), cheeks grew warmer (check). And yup, I cried. Sneaking a peek behind myself, film publicists cried...
The scariest room in the Field Museum just might be a back room full of flesh-eating beetles, used by the museum to prepare bones for research.