The word was out that Margaret Cho would be appearing at the Good Vibrations candy-themed Goodie Shoppe holiday party. It was no surprise, considering the comedian serves on the sex-toy company’s Board of Directors. But we had no idea the lengths she would go to fulfill her role.
I mean, we just thought members of the board went to meetings and complained about falling stock prices.
Here she is showing us her holiday package….
OK OK I know we’re giving the bears a lot of play lately in the clubs section, but the whole bear nightlife thing is truly a phenomenon. There’s all these bear clubs now! Too bad the music lames, in my book — all kinda hi-nrg circuity, but I guess that’s kind of run-off from the whole “we’re fat but macho!” thing. (Fact: bears are big girls. That’s what I love about them. They’re so cute! I’ve slept with ever so many… )
So yes, the big (hahahaha) bear club is Bearracuda and now the extra-machowannabes of the universe — and wonderful, at that. these are hot athletes— SF FOG RUGBY is hosting this weekend. BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!
The Fog invades Bearracuda on Saturday, December 16th @ The Deco Lounge, 510 Larkin at Turk. DJs Underdog and Polar Bear will be spinning tunes. $6 gets you in, with part of the proceeds from the door going to the SF Fog. $2.75 drafts, free massages, rugby players and bears! Festivities run from 10pm to 3am.
From the wobbly pen of Jonathan Beckhardt …
Batten down the hatches! When it’s too dreary to even think of leaving your apartment, curl up with one of these from the Bay Area’s mixiest minds.
The Snovocaine
Crack out this variation on the Liquid Cocaine by bartenders Eric Zsolnay of Kuleto’s Trattoria and Leon Vitakes of Holas, both in Burlingame, at your next Santa-roast (serves 2):
1 oz Bacardi 151
1 oz Goldshlager
2 oz Gin
2 oz half & half
3/4 oz Jagermeister
1 cup of ice
1/4 lemon squeezed
maraschino cherry juice
3 splashes of soda water
In conjunction with an upcoming screening at San Francisco Cinematheque, Nathaniel Dorsky recently discussed his ideas and work with fellow filmmaker Michelle Silva of Canyon Cinema; Canyon is the sole distributor of Dorsky’s exquisite personal films, which are not available on video.
A shorter version of this interview, with introductory notes, can be found within this week’s issue of the Guardian.
Michelle Silva: First I want to ask about your recent book Devotional Cinema. I think it’s some of the most thoughtful and introspective writing on the human experience of cinema and the physical properties we share with the medium — such as our internal visual experience, metaphor, and the art of seeing. What’s great about the book is that it’s accessible to people who aren’t well versed in cinema, but who might be interested in a deeper understanding of their own senses.
Nathaniel Dorsky: The basic ideas for the book were originally formulated because I was hired to teach a course on avant-garde film at UC Berkeley for a semester. I didn’t want to teach a survey course on avant-garde cinema; I didn’t think I could do that with real enthusiasm, I thought it would be a little flat. I decided that what was most interesting to me about avant-garde film — or at least the avant-garde films that I found most interesting — was a search for a language which was purely a filmic language.
Still from Nathaniel Dorsky’s film Threnody
Not something limited to film, but a purely filmic language that also had human value to it. There are various filmmakers who’ve explored human cinema language, or cinema human language, which is something other than using film to replicate a written language form, whether it be the novel or the poem. I was interested in something that was actually intrinsic to the nature of cinema, expressive as cinema, and at the same time expressive of our human needs and human worth.
Tipsy-minded intern Jonathan Beckhardt pulled together some drink recipes for the season ….
For Jews, the only thing worse than getting so lost in moments of extreme immorality that you start begging Jesus for forgiveness, is drinking eggnog. I asked Rabbi Greenfield about this cultural development in the diaspora. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jon” said the learned man. I guess, but at the Beckhardt house, there are only two things grandpa cracks out the belt for: checking out gentiles and the aforementioned eggnog sin. Fortunately, I’ve been cast aside from my family and can now fearlessly experiment with Christian Spiritualism. Thus, I now embark on a new era of enjoyment with these recipes to guide me.
Today in London, Turner Prize nominee Phil Collins held a press conference in which people who’ve appeared on TV discussed their experiences — specifically, how their lives were damaged or altered by their participation in “reality” shows. British newspapers and television are already reporting on the conference, part of the second installment in Collins’s country-hopping series The Return of the Real, and one aspect of his entry in the Tate Britain exhibition.
Phil Collins
Last week, I talked on the phone with Collins, allegedly one of the ten most important artists in the world, according to Flash Art. I know I count him as a current personal favorite, partly due to his Baghdad Screentests (2002), a rare example of Andy Warhol-influenced, attracted but not embedded contemporary reportage. It sets silent video portraits of young men and women to some of Collins’s favorite pop songs, with the pensive men sometimes inspiring swoons ranging from “Well I Wonder” to “I Feel Love.” The relationship between image and sound is a basic and yet rich one: the songs can resonate as personal expression by Collins, as commentary on the oncoming Bush-sanctioned bombing and occupation, and (only perhaps, and if so, only occasionally) as an imagined first-person voicing of the the subjects’ unspoken thoughts. This type of meta-commentary on mediated image dates back to at least 1999 in Collins’s art. That year’s How to Make a Refugee steps into and back from a photo shoot depicting a family from Kosovo.
Replacing the profound stillness of Baghdad Screentests with hired (and increasingly tired) movement, Collins’s answer video to a relevant ’60s film, They Shoot Horses (2004), stages a dance marathon in Ramallah, Palestine; his video triptych from the same year, The Louder You Scream, the Faster We Go, tweaks the music video form by taking artistic license with songs by unsigned acts, turning them into soundtracks for visions of elderly ladies’ dance classes and a hand job update of Warhol’s Blow Job.
Still from dunya dunlemiyor, a video installation by Phil Collins
Our controversial bike-fiend Duncan Davidson on VeloSwap (this Saturday 11/18 at the Concourse)
The VeloSwap PR folks chase the opening zinger “the largest consumer cycling show in the world,” with this dubious enticement: “It is the place to feel the pulse of the cycling community and rub elbows with like minded cyclists.” No doubt said elbows are clad in those weird spandex arm-socks that turn a short sleeve jersey into a long-sleeve. I’m dubious, or maybe just disinterested, because I don’t consider myself a “cyclist.” Don’t get me wrong–I’ve got nine bicycles–everything from BMX race bikes to downhill mountain bikes. I race in four disciplines and ride skateparks and street, plus collect vintage BMX bikes.
But I’m not a cyclist: I’m a biker.
Francis (Cory Knauf) documents his home life — which happens to involve quite a bit of bloody murder — in The Hamiltons.
Yesterday, I posted my interview with Mitchell Altieri, one half of the filmmaking team known as the Butcher Brothers — the Bay Area not-really-brothers (though they are tight-bros-from-way-back-when) responsible for The Hamiltons, described by Altieri as “a horror coming-of-age story.” (More on the film in my entry below). Here, I chew the fat with the other Butcher Brother, inner Sunset resident Phil Flores, who spilled on casting, the true genesis of the Butcher Brothers, and the film’s ending — though any potential spoilers were strictly off the record, of course.
Finally, a horror movie that can be called both subtle (despite gleeful bloodletting) and refreshing. Another Hole in the Head pick The Hamiltons, codirected by the Butcher Brothers (the nom de screen of Bay Area filmmakers Mitchell Altieri and Phil Flores), imagines a family of naughty orphans who just can’t stop themselves from trapping and killing any vaguely expendable human who crosses their path. What makes the Hamiltons different from the Texas Chainsaw fun bunch or Rob Zombie’s skeezy butchers is that they’re just so freaking normal, conducting their nasty business behind a white picket fence in the suburbs.
An early victim (Brittany Daniel) contemplates her basement-bound fate in The Hamiltons.
Straight out of American Beauty is video camera-wielding teenager Francis (Cory Knauf), who embodies that tossed-off Heathers line about teen angst bullshit having a body count. Will the awkward Francis keep it all in the family or will he develop a conscience as a side effect of growing up? And what’s motivating this strange clan’s bloodlust anyway? To say more would spoil the pleasures of The Hamiltons, though it’s safe to say the character-driven film represents the best possible melding of indie-film family drama and splatter cinema.
Recently, I talked with Altieri and Flores, both of whom are understandably excited about the success of their first Butcher Brothers production.
Provocative intern Justin Juul weighs in with a seethingly envious assessment of the latest creation belched forth from the land of Vice:
I wish I had more hands — and the ability to lie through my teeth — so I could give this travel DVD from Vice magazine four thumbs down. These jerk-offs are just too much, man. First they took a crappy Canadian ‘zine and turned it into a pop-culture phenomenon, and then, instead of selling out to the highest bidder, they reinvested their money into other creative outlets. They now have a monopoly on “cool,” with a record label, clothing line, and flawlessly designed website constantly reminding the rest of us how uncool we are in comparison. As if all this weren’t enough, the founders of the Vice empire have recently decided to change their image completely. Their publication, once easily ridiculed as a tragically hip fashion catalog masquerading as a subversive youth culture magazine, has suddenly morphed into a monthly ethnographic study of obscure subcultures with art, music, and fashion coverage thrown in as an afterthought. Those Vice fuckers are always one step ahead of the rest of us — and for that they suck — but put your jealousy aside and check out their newest venture.
Tomorrow night at the Parkway Theater — local writer-director Kevin Hahn premieres his new film Stoner’s Run. Judging by the cover art (below), I assumed it was gonna be in the grand tradition of Up in Smoke or Half-Baked, which is to say, a pot comedy all the way. I’m not sure if it’s a spoiler to tell you that the giant joint never actually makes an appearance.
Before I ever met Darin Klein I used to see him: this cute-hot, friendly-looking, tall skinny guy with eyeliner and tattoos who’d show up and have fun at Q-Tip (Queers Together in Punkness) events back when the Epicenter by 16th and Valencia still existed. Then, as years went by, I’d hear about him: one friend would talk about something Darin had made for her, another about an event Darin put together. Sometime around 2000, Darin threw a one-night show of book arts at New College, and that’s when I knew for sure he did awesome things. Others definitely agree, because some people who took part in that largely buck-for-a-book party have gone on to sell works for hundreds or thousands of dollars (or sell thousands of works).
(Friendly Skies by Young Chung, from Darin Klein’s book/box compilation Exes Editions: Relationships I’ve been in usually ended with a break-up).
Now that I’ve had a few chances to hang out with him, I can say for sure that I admire the damn funny, unpretentious, and whip smart Darin Klein. No one has better stories about mistaking Gwen Stefani for a drag queen or attempting to give Kenneth Anger customer service. He lives in LA now, so I recently emailed him about some of his video curating and book projects, including his most recent compilation, the staple-bound penis art collection Thing.
By G.W. Schulz
The New York Times reported yesterday (and NPR followed up with a little piece) that Google planned to start selling advertisements in the print editions of 50 major newspapers for a test run. Considering the search-engine giant’s business still relies on advertising at the end of the day despite where it’s hunting lately for new investments, it looks like the “do no evil” kingpins of Wall Street are hoping to build an alliance with the old guard of journalism and information dissemination.
According to the Times:
“Advertisers can log into Google’s main advertising system, known as AdWords, and click to go to the newspaper section. They will see a list of the participating papers and the sorts of ads that are available. They can then enter a bid for a certain type of advertisement, specifying the section and date range. Newspapers in turn see these bids and accept the ones they want.”
Hell, maybe we’ll see a full-size Fleshbot ad in the Orange County Register by the end of the Month. Likely not.
Anyway, Google appears to be trying to figure out what to do with its mountains of cash and now globally recognized brand name. They couldn’t throw $1.6 billion at YouTube and its tangle of litigation fast enough.
So, where to next, Google? Selling gorilla graffiti spots on sidewalks?
“I bought it for myself but never used it,” he said. “I was tempted, but I never used it.” – Ex-National Association of Evangelicals prez (and George W. Bush bud) Ted Haggard to reporters regarding his alleged meth use, 11/03/06
That’s kind of like saying he smoked pot but didn’t inhale — except way more hilarious, ain’t it??
If you’re following the absolutely delightful Ted Haggard kerflaffle (sfgate.com has the latest AP story here), have a look at my interview with one of the directors of Jesus Camp, which features jabs at a pre-scandal Haggard (weirdly hammy on-camera, he’s the only featured subject to publicly denounce the film).
Short notice, but what the hell — there’s an awfully cool doc playing tonight and tomorrow at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts on seminal yet underappreciated Boston post-punk band Mission of Burma. Not a Photograph: The Mission of Burma Story, from co-directors David Kleiler, Jr. and Jeff Iwanicki, kicks off as the band is prepping for its first public performance since 1983 — the New York City show that launched their rapturously received 2002 reunion tour.
photo by Kelly Davidson © 2006
With Amores Perros and 21 Grams, director Alejandro González Iñárritu (along with screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga) trademarked his filmmaking style: overlapping storylines and characters connected in seemingly random ways; a technical approach that includes gritty locations and hand-held camerawork; and a Big Theme that overarches all. His latest, Babel (read Dennis Harvey’s Guardian review here), is Iñárritu’s most ambitious effort to date.
Alejandro González Iñárritu with Gael García Bernal on the set of Babel. (Photo: Eniac Martinez)
The cast, which includes Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, and Amores Perros star Gael García Bernal — as well as several non-actors — is enormous, and its multi-layered tales circle the globe, with segments set in California, Mexico, Morocco, and Japan. Iñárritu’s similarly whirlwind tour in support of Babel’s release landed him in San Francisco recently, where I caught up with the Mexico City native for a chat about the film and his career to date.
Miniature candy bars before breakfast, random spashes of fake blood on my Converse, death threats, Misfits on the iPod, Freddy Krueger watch on my wrist … could be any other Tuesday in my life, really. But hot damn, y’all, it’s Halloween!! BOO-ya!
So, I was up late last night chattin’ with Captain Howdy about some of the reasons for the season. The good Cap’n suggested I post some Oct 31-friendly links for your enjoyment. In the interest of keeping my soul out of Pazuzu’s clutches, for the time being anyway, I thought I’d better comply.
Probably the number one question I get asked in life (besides “Yo, Eddy, what the hell is on that sandwich?”) is “What’s your favorite horror film?” My knee-jerk response is, of course, Halloween — I’m obsessed with John Carpenter, Donald Pleasence is nothing but fun to watch, and though I have the entire movie memorized, I never, ever get bored of it.
“The evil is gone from here!”
But every once in awhile — even at this time of year, when all’s I wanna do is mainline candy corn and park my ass at every dang midnite-movie spook show in town, and god bless San Francisco, there’s a living-dead army of ’em — I get the urge to raid my bookshelf for some supplementary reading. Bios of horror filmmakers have always been a favorite. Read one with a gruesome enough cover and you just might discourage that fellow Muni rider from leering at you from across the aisle (no promises, though).
Back in the late ‘90s I lived in Portland for a brief spell. At the time, Old Joy writer Jon Raymond was editing the magazine Plazm, and I contributed some articles on subjects such as a band with a robotic drummer. Occasionally, he and I would have lunch or go to a party or a movie, sometimes with Miranda July, who was just beginning to make short films. Intelligent and easygoing, Raymond was thinking about art and writing in ways that contributed something new to the local culture.
It would be physically impossible to find a cooler film subject than the late Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, the hugely influential and wildly creative artist beloved for his customized cars and monster cartoons (including Rat Fink, born of the SoCal resident’s rejection of Mickey Mouse and all the cookie-cutter mainstreamness represented by the then-brand-new Disneyland).
Ed Roth and car (and model car).
© Sphinx Productions 2005/ Rat Fink name and device are trademarks of Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, Inc.
Canadian director Ron Mann (Grass, Comic Book Confidential) puts a suitably offbeat spin on his doc, Tales of the Rat Fink, integrating Rat Fink vignettes, quirkily animated still photos, a jaunty surf rock soundtrack, and vintage footage into his exploration of Roth’s life, which dovetails with an enjoyable lesson on American hot rod history.
I recently phoned Mann at his Toronto office for a roundabout chat about hot-rodders, rodents, and Roth’s still-potent legacy. And what about those talking cars, anyway?
By Sarah Phelan
Former Biosphere 2 crew member Jane Poynter speaks with a endearing British accent, says “bloody” when she gets excited and believes the two-year-and twenty-minute-long project of which she was part, is “one of the most publicly misunderstood and undervalued projects” of the 20th century.”
Or 21st century, given that the impact of the project—a mini-version of Biosphere 1, or Planet Earth, involving four men and four women isolated in a three-acre glass and steel structure near Tucson—continues to elude people to this very day.
I am beyond tardy with my Vancouver reports. An endless array of office tasks leaves me to merely imagine writing them while (cue violins) riding the bus to or from work.
But an hour or two of “free” time has opened up, and today, as the 25th VIFF winds down, is as good a time as any to talk briefly about this year’s Dragons and Tigers Award for Young Cinema. I spent an extra night in Vancouver last week, a decision that proved fortuitous, because I saw the recently-announced winner and another film singled out for praise — and wound up at an impromptu dinner for the directors of both movies — during my last twelve or so hours in town.
It’s Friday the 13th — just the very day I like to dust off my hockey mask, hustle to the nearest lake, and start spearin’ feckless teenagers with every sharp object my mitts can grab.
Hooray for carnage! Tonight on Starz, the made-for-TV doc Going to Pieces: The Rise and Fall of the Slasher Film machetes its way through the genre.
