‘IN FULL VIEW’ “Please be advised,” a sign warns, “that many of the works in this show are fragile and hard to see.” In other words, the pieces in this sly exhibition—from Carl Andre’s glass rods and Fred Sandback’s yarn to Maurizio Cattelan’s pigeons—are hiding in plain sight. The barely-there art includes Ricci Albenda’s portals, Andrea Zittel’s porthole, Tom Friedman’s pellets, Karin Sander’s white wallpaper swatch, and Christopher Chiappa’s Taurus gas tank lid. Never mind that Nathan Coutts’s Untitled (Semen) is actually just epoxy. Charles Ray’s Rotating Circle is still thrilling. THROUGH SEPTEMBER 13, Andrea Rosen, 525 West 24th Street, 212-627-6000. (Levin)


ALICIA SANCHEZ & CO. /EL TEATRO DE MOVIMIENTO For the second year, the Latino Cultural Festival commissions new work, this time Mexican choreographer Sánchez’s Fuera de Tiempo, translated as Out of Synch, to music by Alejandra Hernández. Sánchez’s contemporary troupe, founded in 1993, makes its New York debut with this and another repertory work, Entre Tu, Yo, y Los Otros (Between You, Me, and the Others). WEDNESDAY AT 7, Queens Theatre in the Park, Flushing Meadows Corona Park, Queens, 718-760-0064. (Zimmer)

‘LINCOLN CENTER OUT OF DOORS’ This free outdoor festival moves ahead full steam, with Noche Flamenca, an intimate, Barcelona-based ensemble, Thursday morning and Friday evening, the Paul Taylor Dance Company performing distinguished new dances and an old favorite Tuesday and next Wednesday at 8, and a bunch of other multinational dance events earlier in the day at various locations on the plazas. Check the dance listings for full details; for the evening shows, pack a picnic and arrive really early to claim seats with decent views. For big stars like Taylor, it gets so crowded that people climb the nearby trees. THURSDAY, TUESDAY, AND AUGUST 13 AT 8, Damrosch Park Bandshell, Lincoln Center, 63rd Street near Amsterdam Avenue, 212-875-5766, (Zimmer)


‘CHINATOWN’ Casting a pre-superstar Jack Nicholson as a down-market Sam Spade and the director of The Maltese Falcon as depravity incarnate, Roman Polanski’s best film is regarded as both the first neo-noir and the last “studio picture.” It doesn’t update the hard-boiled genre so much as beat it senseless and then dump it somewhere in the wilds of Greek tragedy. OPENS FRIDAY, THROUGH AUGUST 14, Film Forum, 209 West Houston Street, 212-727-8110. (Winter)

‘PUMP UP THE VOLUME’ Beating up on the usual flock of seagulls in the Pioneer’s ongoing ’80s series, this impassioned bit of teen-pop revolution—directed by youth-flick empath Allan Moyle and actually from 1990—remains irresistible without the aid of nostalgic irony. Christian Slater’s logorrheic pirate-radio DJ harkens back to Lenny Bruce and the Jack Nicholson of The King of Marvin Gardens, and the kid-revolt sentiments are timeless, situating the film in a lineage that spans Rebel Without a Cause and If . . . to ’80s time-warp pinnacle and the Pioneer’s own midnight-movie champ, Donnie Darko. SUNDAY THROUGH TUESDAY, Pioneer Theater, 155 East 3rd Street, 212-254-3300. (Lim)

‘THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES: A TRIBUTE TO BOB HOPE’ A belated 100th birthday celebration now shifted into posthumous tribute, this 13-feature series showcases Hope’s brilliant WW II-era golden age. Not to be missed are the three Hope/Crosby/Lamour Road pictures (Road to Singapore, Road to Utopia, and gag masterwork Road to Morocco), which today play like laddish proto-Farrelly escapades, complete with extreme political incorrectness. Also featured are the Frank Tashlin-scripted Paleface pictures, and wolf-meets-girl gems like My Favorite Blonde. OPENS FRIDAY, THROUGH AUGUST 14, Walter Reade Theater, 165 West 65th Street, 212-875-5600. (Halter)


‘BLACK AUGUST’ For the sixth summer in a row, the raptivists at the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement present “Black August,” a fundraiser featuring hip-hop’s higher minds. Talib Kweli is a couple of hit singles away from a Roc-A-Fella deal—Jiggaman himself blessed the remix to “Get By,” one of this year’s standout records. And speaking of the Roc, word is they may be interested in putting out the dead prez album so unceremoniously dropped by Columbia. Wise move: It’s a banger. Erykah Badu is also performing, and Common is nowhere in sight, lending credence to the rumors of their recent split. Also: the always incendiary Boots Riley (from the Coup) and crunchy siren Goapele. SUNDAY AT 8, Brooklyn Café, 147 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn, 866-757-6795. (Caramanica)

BOB DYLAN & HIS BAND At the Garden last November, neither hills nor dales nor half-empty house got in the way of a masterful show by a guardian of the tradition, which is how the leader now rightfully presents himself. I gather he’s still covering Warren Zevon’s “Mutineer” if not George Harrison’s “Something,” which were both highlights, as was a dumb one from Empire Burlesque. And midsized venues are where he shines. TUESDAY AT 8, THROUGH AUGUST 14, Hammerstein Ballroom, 311 West 34th Street, 212-279-7740. (Christgau)

HANK JONES Reserve now, read later. The troops will be out in force on Monday to pay respects to Mr. J on the occasion of his 85th b-day, including Clark Terry, Oscar Peterson, Kenny Barron, McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones, Jimmy Heath, Barry Harris, Cedar Walton, Dave Holland, Jon Faddis, Marian McPartland, Candido, James Williams, Ray Barretto, Freddie Cole—you get the idea. If you can’t make it, you get a whole week, beginning Tuesday, to hear the great man lead a quintet with Frank Wess and Benny Powell, plus singer Betsyann Faiella (new to me) in a tribute to Sinatra. For a preview, don’t miss the CD reissue of The Trio (Chiaroscuro), one of his very best. MONDAY AND TUESDAY AT 8 AND 10:30, THROUGH AUGUST 17, Blue Note, 131 West 3rd Street, 212-475-8592. (Giddins)

MYA+VANESSA CARLTON+TWEET Whoops, there goes my Girl Scout uniform! If you’re female and 17, you know this bill has your mood ring on orange alert. With all that proto-Ashanti grooming and a marmalade vox, Mya has got enough B-list jeep jams under her belt now to headline, and keyb-spaz Vanessa Carlton has churned out more diary pop than a season of MTV Diary. And Tweet might be running on soul-hop fumes, but I bet those fumes mix perfectly with Gap Scents. With Lucy. THURSDAY AT 6:15, Rumsey Playfield, Central Park, mid-park, at 72nd Street, 212-360-CPSS. (Sinagra)

LIZ PHAIR All right, Ms. Pop Queen, Ms. Shitloads of Money, Ms. I’m Gonna Turn My Back on Every Recent College Graduate Who Ever Jerked Off Thinking About Me. If you’re such a big star, how come you’re playing the Bowery? Can’t quite fill the Garden, huh? Sure I’m gonna be there, only no more Mr. Nice Guy. That’ll be me yelling “Show us your tits” in the back. SUNDAY AT 10, Bowery Ballroom, 6 Delancey Street, 212-533-2111. (Christgau)

IGGY POP & THE STOOGES+SONIC YOUTH With Bob Hope gone, the Igster may be the hardest-working linksman left in the entertainment business. No matter how negligible his output for the last 20 years has been, he always puts out for shows, and here he’s back with his old crew, who helped to foment his greatest howls, for a reunion even more surprising to see than most of the other recent (pre-) punk legends. If their recent Cali show is any indication, this should be a goddamn barn burner and then some. While thousands of neo-garage groups should also show up to pay homage, our legendary art-punk quintet should do fine. FRIDAY AT 8, Jones Beach Theater, 1000 Ocean Parkway, Wantagh, New York, 516-221-1000. (Gross)

SONNY ROLLINS Pack up your troubles and get as close to the source as you can—the elation is more contagious that way. This is an essential New York experience and all they’re asking is a $10 donation; the Hamptons have nothing to compete with. SATURDAY AT 7, Rumsey Playfield, Central Park, mid-park, at 72nd Street, 212-360-CPSS. (Giddins)

‘VANS WARPED TOUR’ Say what you will about the “Warped Tour”—that it represents corporate punk at its worst, that the bands all sound the same—and you may be right, but you probably aren’t a 14-year-old who lives in your combat boots. For the festival’s target audience, however, all that matters is seeing as many bands as possible, and maybe living out the fantasy described in Blink 182’s “The Rock Show” of finding true teenage punk-rock love. With the Ataris, Dropkick Murphys, Glassjaw, Rancid, the Used, Pennywise, Less Than Jake, Poison the Well—and that’s just one of six stages. SATURDAY AT NOON, Randalls Island, 212-307-7171. (Phillips)


‘PROTEST’ This shrewd, timely show is a reminder, says the gallery, that organized protest “is as much a part of the American spirit” as the events that prompt it. That point is made simply and effectively through 34 black-and-white images of, among other things, a KKK cross burning, civil rights marchers knocked down by fire hoses, and anti-war and gay-lib demonstrators. Martin Luther King, Allen Ginsberg, and Malcolm X are all here, but anonymous resistance—exemplified by that solitary man standing in front of a row of tanks in Tiananmen Square—is the show’s driving force. THROUGH AUGUST 26, Pace/MacGill Gallery, 32 East 57th Street, 212-759-7999. (Aletti)

TOMOKO SAWADA Sawada’s first American solo show couldn’t be more winning. Like Cindy Sherman, she uses herself as an infinitely malleable subject, first in a series of 400 black-and-white photo-booth portraits, each of which finds Sawada radically, comically transformed—into a nerd, a flirt, a nymphet, a hag, a blond, a brunet. These miniatures face off with a group of 30 garishly colored studio portraits (each with a heart-shaped lighting effect) of Sawada posing as a potential bride in an arranged marriage. Pert and pliant, satirically submissive, she becomes a Japanese everywoman, almost vanishing in the process. THROUGH SEPTEMBER 6, Zabriskie Gallery, 41 East 57th Street, 212-752-1223. (Aletti)


‘NEW YORK INTERNATIONAL FRINGE FESTIVAL’ What’s born on August 8, constantly changes its shape, and has more pairs of eyes than you can count? That’s right, the “Fringe Festival” is here again, to liven up the downtown heat with nearly 204 productions from 10 countries and 15 U.S. states. Since Urinetown climbed successfully to Broadway, this year’s roster is naturally heavy on musicals, including a murder-mystery tuner, Suspect; one about Providence’s much convicted pol, “Buddy” Cianci; one entirely in verse, Kirk Wood Bromley’s Lost; and two straightforwardly titled Meaningless Sex and Slut. Post-9-11 America is clearly this year’s dominant theme, with works like Civil Liberties, Windows on the World, expat/inferno, and Freedom of Speech jockeying for audiences with American Fabulous, American Mouth, and God Bless Americana. As usual, there’s no quality guarantee, but a good chaotic time should be had by all. OPENS FRIDAY, THROUGH AUGUST 29, various venues, 212-279-4488, (Feingold)


BRIAN GAGE+SETH TOBOCMAN+SABRINA JONES+FLY Slave rebellions, corporate brainwashing, deceitful dictators—sound like your average bedtime story? It’s not. Delightfully disguised as a children’s book, Gage’s Amazing Snox Box depicts a futuristic (or is it circa 1933?) dystopia, featuring what may be the vilest culprit in the screwing of the working class and puppeteering of American thought: television. Gage moderates a panel of political cartoonists including Seth Tobocman, creator of the fabulously titled You Don’t Have to Fuck People Over to Survive. WEDNESDAY AT 7, Housing Works Used Book Café, 126 Crosby Street, 212-334-3324. (Russell)

HARVEY PEKAR Who is Harvey Pekar? The underground comics legend is or has been a file clerk at the VA hospital in Cleveland, a jazz aficionado and record hustler, a Rust Belt flaneur, a cantankerous guest on Letterman, a cancer survivor, a husband three times over, a guardian of a teenage girl, a loser, a mensch. And now he is on the verge of being something else: a movie star. Pekar comes to town to celebrate the release of the new film American Splendor (which took the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance) and the publication of an omnibus version of two previous anthologies. MONDAY AT 7, Barnes & Noble, 675 Sixth Avenue, 212-727-1227. (Park)