It's tough being outré these days.
Out There, Walker Art Center's annual performance series that adds a little heat to the Twin Cities' live-entertainment options each January, is by definition meant to challenge mores, flout convention and skirt the edges of good taste. But in a world where what once was weird now seems normal, Out There has shifted gears a bit with acts intended to provoke thought, and mix stage and screen art in new ways, more than deliver the same old shock.
The four shows in this year's series, which begins Thursday, have a couple of elements tying them together, said Walker performing arts curator Philip Bither.
"Each show takes a different tack toward what theater is today, how it still has the ability to surprise," said Bither, who sees 150 to 200 shows annually in his quest to keep the Walker's live offerings fresh. "Each one also has real heart, a deep connection to humanity."
The first week's presentation, "RoosevElvis" (Jan. 7-9), pairs larger-than-life American he-men of very different natures and reputations — Teddy Roosevelt and Elvis Presley — in what Bither calls "a gender-bending reflection on what America stands for, both an embrace and a critique."
Presented by the Team, which performed at the Walker several years ago, the story takes the ghosts of Elvis and Teddy on an imaginary trip from the Badlands to Graceland while sparring over the soul of a meatpacker. We have to admit, it's unlikely anyone has combined these particular scenarios before.
Next comes an experiment from Daniel Fish, a multimedia artist with traditional theatrical training who is receiving much buzz in New York (Jan. 14-16).
You might think that of all the modern literary giants whose work should be read silently to oneself rather than aloud to a crowd, David Foster Wallace would be near the top. But Fish, with the permission of the late writer's estate, mixes recordings of Wallace himself with actors reading from his most loved works (including "Brief Interviews With Hideous Men" and "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again") and 3,000 flying tennis balls to great effect, Bither said.