It’s Halloween season at last, a time of year when San Francisco really shines, despite the encroaching autumnal shortening of days. In fact, during the day, it’s almost hard to remember that it’s October at all, what with all of those music and street festivals soaking up the rays, but once night falls, it belongs very definitely to darker entertainments, a realm in which San Francisco excels. One of the season’s most reliable harbingers are the Thrillpeddlers and their patented evenings of Grand Guignol spectacle, Shocktoberfest!
Since 1999, Shocktoberfest has become part of the definition of Halloween in San Francisco, a ritual gathering ground for freaks, geeks, and ghouls. And although Thrillpeddlers have become synonymous with their glittery Theatre of the Ridiculous remounts in recent years, it’s their epic Grand Guignol revivals that first defined the tenebrous thrills being peddled, albeit combined with a playful wink. Shocktoberfest fare has always included bloody murder ballads and bawdy Victorian sex farces on one bill, usually four to five in an evening, and in addition to remounting classic Grand Guignol plays translated from the original French, they also recruit local playwrights to pen more contemporary pieces in the same throbbing vein.
Opening this year’s Shocktoberfest with a fleshy wallop, A Visit to Mrs. Birch and the Young Ladies of the Academy (Scene One), features not Mrs. Birch so much as her namesake discipline, meted out with great relish to a peeping maid (Julia McArthur) by a troupe of naughty schoolgirls. “That sheds some light on the Victorian psyche,” comments director Russell Blackwood drolly as he introduces the centerpiece play, Jack the Ripper.
Originally written in 1934 by André de Lorde and Pierre Chaine, the play manages to do in 45 minutes what 125 years worth of speculation has failed to do — solve the mysterious 1888 serial killing spree in London’s Whitechapel district. Norman Macleod as the overwhelmed Scotland Yard inspector, Smithson, cuts a jaded world-weary figure, desperate at all costs to capture the elusive killer, and Bruna Palmeiro plays the tough and terrified bait for his Ripper trap, Jenny Wickers, with trembling conviction and unfortunate consequences.
De Lorde’s London is a shadowy world of amoral men and monsters, with very little separating them, shrouded by the fog that obscures their most violent actions from the watchful eyes of the streets. Embodying aspects of each, John Flaw’s misunderstood yet unrepentant Jekyll and Hyde persona wears menace like an overcoat even when stripped to his long johns and trussed up in a straitjacket, insisting to the end that it’s not his fault, a touch of humanizing vulnerability.
After a sexy, slapstick song-and-dance routine Salome, penned by Scrumbly Koldewyn and directed by Noah Haydon (who also plays sinuous Salome), the evening ends with frequent Thrillpeddlers collaborator Rob Keefe’s The Wrong Ripper. Set in San Francisco during the headline-grabbing trials of alleged killer Theodore Durrant (who was eventually convicted and hanged despite his assertions of innocence), the story is as much a comment on sensation-seeking journalism as on serial murder, and how each shape our particular world view.
Side plots involving hot girls (Noah Haydon, Tina Sogliuzzo, Bruna Palmiero) pining for Durrant (Kai Brothers), an adorably schlubby cat burglar (John Flaw) and his haunted girlfriend (Julia McArthur), and an earnest young beat cop (TJ Buswell) afraid of the dark, tug the play in multiple directions, some more fully realized than others, but a signature blood-soaked plot device hearkens back to the Grand Guignol’s brutally naturalistic roots, and as always, the lights-out finale provides the oddience with a chance to scream out loud, a reviving release.
Through Nov. 23, Thu-Sat, 8pm, $30-35 Hypnodrome 575 10th Street, SF www.thrillpeddlers.com
The go-to joke is that Alex “Koshka” Verbitsky claimed the Dirtbag Challenge — held Sun/13 at the end of Quesada Ave. — for Moldova. His 1969 CB 450 build took home not only the Coolest Bike title as voted by the fellow builders, but also the People’s Choice Award. His build was inspired by old-fashioned board-track racers, taking chopping back to its roots in the 1910s and ’20s.
Builder brothers Chris and Dan Faulkner came with two very cool bikes. Chris’ bike, the cleverly titled “Cherry Pauper,” was made from a 1976 Kawasaki for about $130. The bike completed the run to and from Pescadero, and did reliable burn-outs well into the evening. Dan’s bike made tricky use of flag colors. With its blue frame and red-and-white tank and fender, it looked like the Captain America bike from one side, but could be seen clearly as the Rising Sun flag of military Japan from the other.
Nick Murphy, from Portland, Ore., chopped a rare, automatic-transmission bike called a Hondamatic. In Pescadero, Murphy presumed his throttle cable would snap before the ride was over. But the bike held out, making it to Alice’s Restaurant and back, even though it behaved sporadically, chugging along at a snail’s pace one moment, ripping and snorting ahead the next. “There was no plan,” said Murphy. “Those carbs are doing their own thing.”
Builder Mike Finley brought a plywood-clad monstrosity all the way from San Diego. Built from a 1989 Suzuki “500 something” that had been sitting around, it looked akin to a cardboard rocket ship. Fishtailing precariously at high-speeds, the bike won the coveted Gulu Award for most lunatic bike.
Kyle Cannon showed up on a heavily chopped Kawasaki that was unrecognizable from the large sport bike it once was. The bike his son started with friends didn’t quite make it. “I wasn’t going to do it for them,” said Cannon, still proud of the young group. “We’ll finish it, though.”
Josh Stine’s bike developed electric issues on the ride but still received the Founder’s Choice Award.
Casey Anderson showed up with a picture of the bike he was working on. Oddly, he dropped out for the opposite reason of most: his build went too well. Not wanting to mess anything up, he decided not to rush things. (After looking at the photo, I couldn’t blame him.)
Julian Farnam’s futuristic bike earned the title of Craftiest, evoking compliments of symmetry, welding, and cohesive design. Turk’s thick-wheeled, sidecar “Death Racer” would have given Farnam a run for his welding, if not for one small issue. “It won’t go straight,” said Turk. “I pitched it just leaving the shop. I haven’t got to wring it out, yet.”
Brian Wright took home the Too Fuckin’ Pretty award with his sparkly, green 1981 Kawasaki KZ 650. “I’ve got an unfair advantage,” admitted Wright. “I’m retired.”
Emily Wakeman and company earned themselves “The Jake” prize for a bike that should never have set out, yet somehow completed the ride. You could tell if you were catching up to Wakeman on the ride because the smoke got thicker. She was well protected from all but the most cancer-seeking and masochistic of tailgaters.
In between the burnouts, volunteer rock bands played in the blistering sun. Butt Problems thrashed out a song about GG Allin’s dick. It was fairly well received and yielded comments from the other bands. “Butt Problems stole our idea,” said Baroness Eva Von Slut.
“I love playing the Dirtbag,” said Nate von Wahnsinn of the White Barons. “I get to play outside while people fuck around with motorcycles? Are you kidding me?”
The event was capped by “Mini Mad” Mike Cook, a stuntman from Oklahoma. He rode through two flaming walls on a mini dirtbike or pitbike.
Poll Brown led the ride in his signature black-and-white striped sweater. He and Dirtbag doc director Paolo Asuncion were hanging out, talking and filming. “We’ve got other things going on,” said Brown. “I can’t tell you about them just now though.”
If you’ve ever found yourself waiting for the 16 Express on the corner of Fell and Gough, then it’s easy to bet you’ve swiveled around on that red bench to peer through the glass wall of the charcuterie and butcher shop behind, where ruby-colored sausages, pâtés, smoked ham, bacon and meatloaf show off their curves inside a refrigerated display. Unthinkingly, you’ll have walked in.
The Hayes Valley location of the Fatted Calf Charcuterie — the store also has a Napa outpost and a weekly presence at the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market — sells a plethora of coveted artisanal delights as well, like hard cheese, house-pickled beets, dried beans, and impeccable pastas. Among the sandwiches, the coffee-bourbon barbeque pulled pork sandwich contains a moist piquancy, while the toasty Croque Monseiur, dripping of Mornay sauce and overlaid with squiggles of cured ham, is worth missing the next bus for. (Grab an extra napkin — these beasts invariably fall apart in your hands and lap.)
You can’t take the entire shop with you, but luckily owners Taylor Boetticher and Toponia Miller just published their first cookbook, In the Charcuterie (Ten Speed Press, 2013), which reads like a whole world of meat — one I’ve become enamored with, after making the Flaky Leaf Lard Biscuits. I caught up with Boetticher before the couple left on a promotional trip, asking him about their journey in charcuterie.
SF Bay GuardianWhat draws you to charcuterie in particular?
Taylor Boetticher I started making charcuterie when I began working at Cafe Rouge in Berkeley in 1999, and it drew me in almost instantly. I think a large part of what I liked about it was that I was doing this while working behind the meat counter, so I had a really good connection with everyone who was buying the food we were making. It’s different in that sense than working in a restaurant kitchen, you never really interact much with the people you’re cooking for even if you’re in an open kitchen.
When you’re getting feedback about a terrine or a new bacon cure two or three days after you introduce it, it enables you to really get a good sense of what’s working and what isn’t. What continues to draw me to charcuterie is that, at this point, I’m lucky enough to not only work with my wife but with a wildly talented group of individuals whose sole interest is in making the best food we can make… That and the growing interest on the part of the general public make what we do really rewarding. Not much feels better than when a customer comes back in and tells you that you had a part in one of the best dinner parties they’ve ever thrown.
SFBG In the Charcuterie is comprehensive, enlightening, and I’ll admit, a little daunting. Who did you write this book for?
TB Thanks! We wrote this book for anyone who’s a little curious about making the most out of the meat they buy and cook, from enthusiastic novices to seasoned professionals. Our goals with this book are to inspire confidence in people when they set out to make something and give them a comprehensive set of basics which will make every bite count.
SFBG Where in your book do you recommend a new-to-meat home cook should begin?
TB I’d start with the 5 Spice Baby Back Ribs or the Gingery Braised Duck Legs. Both use relatively common cuts (chicken legs are just as awesome if you don’t have access to duck legs) but with exceptionally flavorful treatments that aren’t very complicated. They’re both good examples of how to take a very straightforward cut and really make it sing.
SFBG The book mentions a trip to Spain, Portugal, France, and Italy. How does travel inspire your work?
TB A huge part of travel for us has always been about seeing what and how other people eat, and the role that food plays in different cultures. It’s one of the few things that everyone does and shares. Travel for us is both relaxing and invigorating, just like it is for most people. Wherever we go, we try and keep open minds and eat what everyone else is eating. It’s good to just go with the flow. A lot of time we’ll try different versions of things we’ve been making already, which is always cool. It doesn’t necessarily mean you have to go back and change it immediately when that happens.
I think one of the most exciting things in food right now is the idea that it’s good to know how something is made in its place of origin but not have to be a slave to authenticity. Like with our pulled pork sandwich — I’ve had a lot of them, all over the country. Some are better than others, but I have zero interest in arguing with anyone about the “right” way to do it. Is it tasty? Do you and your guests like it? Those are more important than any pedigrees, in my opinion.
SFBG What is your favorite aspect or variety of charcuterie to make?
TB Tough choice. Right now it’s our brined and smoked meats — we’ve been playing around with a couple new holiday hams that I’m really enjoying. I’ll just say this — when your big experiment of the week is getting a bourbon/honey/gelée glazed smoked ham nailed down 100 percent, it’s a pretty good job overall.
SFBG What is your personal favorite recipe in the book — or what do you crave for your next meal?
TB Errr, it’s probably the meat loaf. I really love that damn recipe.
SFBGDo you have a personal philosophy on eating animals?
TB My personal philosophy on eating animals is pretty simple: make it count. There’s no such thing as cheap meat, and we have a responsibility to make the most out of anything, especially something with a heartbeat, that’s grown for food. I’d love to completely get away from factory farms in this country and have meat animals be more a part of where they started — on farms as part of a program of crop rotation and land management.
Lots has been written about the politics and money involved that make it hard for farmers to do just that, but anything that grows with fresh air, sunshine, room to move around, and good food and water is going to be healthier. And tastier. This is indisputable.
SFBG What is your number one, most essential advice to home cooks on charcuterie?
TB Start small.
SFBG What’s next for the two of you?
TB We’re doing some travel to promote the book on the East Coast and through Texas, then holiday madness will be upon us. In January, we’re hoping to take a vacation. It’s been a pretty busy year.
First things first: do not pass go or collect your turkey leg until you’ve seen Escape From Tomorrow, the shot-secretly-at-Disney sci-fi drama that will, in fact, blow your mind. Dennis Harvey’s review here. (Speaking of mind-blowing, have you seen Gravity yet? If not, why are you still reading this? Why aren’t you rushing to the theater RIGHT NOW?)
Elsewhere this week: two powerful tales of survival are told in doc The Summit and Paul Greengrass’ Captain Phillips, which stars Tom Hanks and will make you glad your job doesn’t require you to traverse pirate-infested shipping lanes. My reviews of both here.
We’ve also got the latest exploitation-fan catnip from Robert Rodriguez, Machete Kills, starring Danny Trejo (fantasy role-swap: Danny Trejo as Captain Phillips), a comedy in which Amy Poehler plays Adam Scott’s stepmother, a Twilight-informed Shakespeare flick, and more. Read on!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axFqZUkO5tw
A.C.O.D. When happy-go-lucky Trey (Clark Duke) announces rather suddenly that he’s getting married, cranky older bro Carter (Adam Scott), the Adult Child of Divorce of the title, is tasked with making peace between his parents (Richard Jenkins and Catherine O’Hara). Trouble is, they haaaate each other (Jenkins: “If I ever see that woman, I’m gonna kick her in the balls”) — or so Carter thinks, until he discovers (to his horror) that there’s long-dormant passion lurking beneath all the insults. He also discovers that he was part of a book about kids of divorce written by a nutty PhD (Jane Lynch), and is drawn into her follow-up project — through which he meets fellow A.C.O.D Michelle (Jessica Alba, trying way too hard as a bad girl), a foil to his level-headed girlfriend (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). As the life he’s carefully constructed crumbles around him, Carter has to figure out what really matters, blah blah. Stu Zicherman’s comedy (co-scripted with Ben Karlin; both men are TV veterans) breaks no new ground in the dysfunctional-family genre — but it does boast a cast jammed with likable actors, nimble enough to sprinkle their characters’ sitcom-y conflicts with funny moments. Amy Poehler — Scott’s Parks and Recreation boo — is a particular highlight as Carter’s rich-bitch stepmother, aka “the Cuntessa.” (1:27) (Cheryl Eddy)
The Inevitable Defeat of Mister and PeteJennifer Hudson, Jordin Sparks, and Anthony Mackie play the grown-ups and assorted parental figures in this drama about two young boys coming of age in New York City. George Tillman, Jr. (2009’s Notorious; 2000’s Men of Honor) directs. (2:00)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sjnoJE30LM
Machete Kills Herewith we have the first sequel to a film (2010’s Machete) spawned from a fake trailer (that appeared in 2007’s Grindhouse). Danny Trejo’s titular killer has been tasked by the POTUS (Charlie Sheen, cheekily billed by his birth name, Carlos Estevez) to take down a Mexican madman (Demian Bechir) who’s an enemy of both his country’s drug cartels and the good ol’ USA. But it’s soon revealed (can you have plot spoilers in a virtually plotless film?) that the real villain is weapons designer Voz (Mel Gibson), a space-obsessed nutcase who’d fit right into an Austin Powers movie. The rest of Machete Kills, which aims only to entertain (with less social commentary than the first film), plays like James Bond lite, albeit with a higher, bloodier body count, and with famous-face cameos and jokey soft-core innuendos coming as fast and furious as the bullets do. As always, Trejo keeps a straight face, but he’s clearly in on the joke with director Robert Rodriguez, who’d be a fool not to continue to have his exploitation cake and eat it too, so long as these films — easy on the eyes, knowingly dumb, and purely fun-seeking — remain successful. (1:47) (Cheryl Eddy)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EF7IPYNElKA
Mother of George Fashion photographer and music video director Andrew Dosunmu’s second feature opens with one of the most rapturous setpieces in recent cinematic memory: a wedding ceremony and banquet in Brooklyn’s Nigerian expat community so sensuously rich it washes over the viewer like a scented bath. Afterward, restauranteur Adoydele (Isaach De Bankole) and his younger immigrant bride Adenike (Danai Gurira) live in a connubial bliss increasingly compromised by the pressure on her to bear children. When that doesn’t happen, it could be either party’s biological “fault;” but tradition and an imperious mother-in-law (Bukky Ajayi) place blame firmly on Adenike’s shoulders, till the latter considers a desperate, secret solution to the problem. Like Dosunmu and his cinematographer Bradford Young’s 2011 prior feature Restless City, this followup is so aesthetically transfixing (not least its Afropop soundtrack) you can easily forgive its lack of equally powerful narrative impact. Someday they’ll make a movie that works on both levels — but meanwhile, Mother of George is gorgeous enough to reward simply as an object of sumptuous beauty. (1:47) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Harvey)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auGUm2r0cLs
Muscle Shoals Hard on the heels of Dave Grohl’s Sound City comes another documentary about a legendary American recording studio. Located in the titular podunk Northern Alabama burg, Fame Studio drew an extraordinary lineup of musicians and producers to make fabled hits from the early 1960s through the early ’80s. Among them: Percy Sledge’s “When a Man Loves a Woman,” a slew of peak era Aretha Franklin smashes, the Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar,” and those cornerstones of Southern rock, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Freebird” and “Sweet Home Alabama.” Tales of how particular tracks came about are entertaining, especially when related by the still-lively likes of Etta James, Wilson Pickett, and Keith Richards. (Richards is a hoot, while surprisingly Mick Jagger doesn’t have much to say.) Director Greg Camalier’s feature can be too worshipful and digressive at times, and he’s skittish about probing fallouts between Fame’s founder Rick Hall and some long-term collaborators (notably the local in-house session musicians known as the Swampers who were themselves a big lure for many artists, and who left Fame to start their own successful studio). Still, there’s enough fascinating material here — also including a lot of archival footage — that any music fan whose memory or interest stretches back a few decades will find much to enjoy. (1:51) (Dennis Harvey)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mu-lMzHSNNk
Romeo and JulietEvery director sees the star-crossed lovers differently: Zefferelli’s apporach was sensuous, while Luhrmann’s was hip. Carlo Carlei, director of the British-Swiss-Italian production hitting theaters this week, is so hamstrung by the soapy mechanics of the Twilight series and the firmament of high school productions he fails to add much vision — what he does instead is pander to tweens as much as possible. Which means tweens might like it. Hailee Steinfeld makes Juliet’s foolishness seem like the behavior of a highly functional teenager, while Douglas Booth’s chiseled Romeo can’t help resembling a cheerful Robert Pattinson. Juliet’s maid has never been more memorable than Leslie Mansfield and Paul Giamatti is occasionally not self-consciously Paul Giamatti as the cunning friar. Yet the syrupy score is miserably persistent, and the sword fights are abundant and laughable. Tybalt (Gossip Girl’s Ed Westwick) leads a group that walks in slo-mo, hats flopping behind them. Carlei wrongheadedly stages the double suicide to resemble Michelangelo’s Pietà, but Romeo and Juliet aren’t martyrs for our fantasies, they’re the Adam and Eve of young love. Cinematic adaptations should remind you they’re original, but this Romeo and Juliet simply doesn’t know how. (1:58) (Sara Maria Vizcarrondo)
Paul Greengrass‘ latest action film, Captain Phillips, stars Tom Hanks as an American cargo-ship captain taken hostage by Somali pirates. This based-on-true-events tale also stars newcomer Barkhad Abdi as pirate leader Muse. It opens tomorrow — but today, read on for more intel from my recent interview with Greengrass when he stopped by San Francisco to promote the film.
(Note: this interview was conducted as part of a “roundtable” that featured other journalists.)
Paul Greengrass, who is known for his use of handheld camera (or “shaky cam”) in films like 2004’s The Bourne Supremacy, 2007’s The Bourne Ultimatum, and 2006’s Flight 93, discusses handheld cameras, which leads into an overview of his own philosophy of filmmaking — and praise for Hanks’ towering lead performance.
“If you try and make films in an authentic way — if you’re on a ship, ships rock around. And they’re small spaces. If you’ve ever been on a lifeboat, Jesus Christ. I mean, it’s like the worst Disney ride you could possibly imagine. So how do you shoot on a lifeboat, and keep it steady? It’s impossible. It’s not like I’m sitting there, going like that [mimes shaking a camera]. In fact, all of the time, I’m saying, ‘Keep it steady!’
If you want to be in a real space, and you want the images that you’re capturing to authentically arise out of the environment you’re shooting in — so, if you’re running it’s going to feel like what it feels to run. If you’re in a lifeboat, it’s gonna feel like you’re [at sea]. It’s a fundamental tenant of cinematic simplicity. I think shaky-cam is ineffective when [filmmakers use it] when they don’t need to do it, and it’s just some kind of stylistic tic that in a general sense is meant to mean immediacy when it actually doesn’t. It’s like a fashion accessory. But actually you’re not developing moments. You’re not capturing detail. It’s just a jarring mess.
The faster-moving your sequence, the more intensely complicated and simultaneous your action is, the more imperative it is upon you as a director to render detail. Detail is what gives you acceleration. It’s when you are able to show an audience detail — it’s like hop scotching, when you’re moving from step to step to step, but sure-footedly, with each footfall landing on significant detail that each leads to the next, to the next, so you get a sense of acceleration and focus. Whereas that [mimes shaking a camera] gives you lack of focus, because it’s generalized. What is that motion? Who’s doing what? You’ve got to be inside the action and your filmmaking must unlock the inner dynamics in a way that’s clear.
That takes a number of things: an intense amount of planning, absolute attention to detail while you’re shooting, moment by moment, that you’ve got this moment and you’ve got this particular piece. It requires a supremely rigorous process of editing. And last, but most importantly, you’ve always got to [know that] what all this action, whatever it’s conveying is, it’s got to convey character. And the character’s got to involve your point of view.
That’s abstract, but what I mean is, when you’re a young filmmaker — unless you’re a genius, and there are some filmmakers who are just geniuses, though they’re few and far between — you want to be a craftsman. You want to learn your craft and develop a point of view, because point of view has to do with your experiences in life, and your sense of maturity, and the inner confidence that comes slowly. It’s hard-won. You’ve gotta say, ‘What is the song that only I can sing? What is the film that only I can make? Why is that? What is it that I want to say?’ Crucially, you have to find what it is that you don’t know, that the film is going to be an exploration of.
So if you take [Captain Phillips], for instance, you’ve got a very simple, unbelievably dramatic but stark, simple story. It takes place on the high seas on the far-flung edge of the global economy, which is what the shipping lanes are. Four desperate young men, armed to the teeth, attacking a US-flagged container ship, taking the captain and a bunch of his guys hostage on the bridge while the rest of the crew hide. They manage to take one of the kidnappers hostage themselves and they do an exchange, but the pirates double-cross them and take the captain. They make for Somalia, but before they get to Somalia, the US Navy intercepts them. That’s the story! It’s almost old-fashioned in its simplicity. Staggeringly stark.
What does it mean? I don’t know. But that’s why we made the film. If we render this with as much authenticity as we can, we’ll find out what it means. That’s your point of view. And all of that maelstrom of action in the film gets you to that final scene in the infirmary, because only then do you see the fragility of humanity. I think that’s the brilliance of Tom Hanks in this film, because he takes you on that journey every step of the way. And you end up in that little tiny room, and what you see is, and what you feel — I think you feel it with him, because it’s quite an emotional moment.
That’s what you couldn’t have found out [about Phillips’ story] from the news, because you’re looking at it from the outside. You could only find it by being in it. It’s what gives you a deep engagement with the character, and I think — and I’m being biased — it’s one of those great, great performances. Because this man of few words, working man — my father was a merchant marine, which is one of the reasons I made this film; I know what those guys are like — goes through this extraordinary experience, and the audience goes along with him.”
Who would have thought a self-described theater nerd, narcoleptic comedy queen would win it all in Season 5 of RuPaul’s Drag Race? Anyone watching the season could have told you as much, especially after sweet, talented Seattle queen Jinkx Monsoon took on legendary Jackie O relative/documentary subject Little Edie Beale during the “Snatch Game” episode.
Her vivid, spot-on Little Edie drawl, mannerisms, and makeup made Monsoon a shoe-in for the episode winner at least, even though “Snatch Game” impressions usually lean heavily toward over-the-top pop star and actress imitations.
That’s not to say Monsoon’s not an actress — she’s a star of theater, having performed in a handful of colorful productions including her own two-person play, The Vaudevillians. And she’ll bring those sharp acting chops and glamorous old-fashioned movie star style to the Peaches Christ arena this weekend with two shows and showings of the original Grey Gardens (1975) documentary.
I spoke with Monsoon from her hotel room in San Francisco about her lifelong love of Little Edie, RuPaul’s Drag Race drama, her underdog status, and that “water off a duck’s back” thing:
SFBGHow’s the planning going for Return to Grey Gardens?
Jinkx Monsoon It’s wonderful. It’s a combination between your typical drag show and a theater show. I like bringing theater to drag and vice versa. And Peaches is so good at this formula, she had everything planned before I even got here, so it’s been really well-structured and it’s going super well.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypK1MVEB7Dw
SFBGCan you tell me about what’s going to happen in the show? I know Peaches always does a different twist on things.
JM In the show, Peaches and I are playing ourselves 40 years from today. So the idea is that we got together on Oct. 12, 2013 and we’re going to do the Grey Gardens show and then he kind of just kept me there and we’ve stayed in the theater, doing the show for 40 years, even though people stopped coming. And we kind of degraded into the characters. We did the show so much that we became just like Big Edie and Little Edie. So the show’s set in the future as if we’ve been doing this for 40 years and have warped into the actual characters. So we have a Big Edie/Little Edie dynamic, even though we’re still Peaches Christ and Jinkx Monsoon.
SFBG Have you ever done a longer form portrayal of Little Edie before, beyond “The Snatch Game” episode of Rupaul’s Drag Race?
JM This will be the longest I’ve been in character of Little Edie. I’ve played her a lot in cabaret shows and variety shows and stuff where one of my acts that night will be a whole like, Little Edie portion of the show but I’ve always dreamed of doing Grey Gardens the musical, and this is the closest I’ve gotten so far, so I’m really, really excited.
SFBGDid you realize during the filming of Drag Race that your portrayal of Little Edie would be such a sensation when it aired? JM Absolutely not. I knew the queens on the show who didn’t who Little Edie was, they were going to have to eat their words later. I knew that fans of the show were going to know who Little Edie was. I think it was the Drew Barrymore movie that kind of revitalized the Beale sensation. So I became more confident about doing it on the show.
But I had no idea that the response America would have. It was so far spanning. The YouTube videos of Grey Gardens online went up several thousand views, and the DVD sales of the documentary went up; I got added to her Wikipedia page!
I mean, Little Edie has been a huge inspiration and gay icon for me since I was like, 17. And never did I think I’d get to be so closely associated with her in this way. It’s really a huge honor. It’s a little surreal but it’s wonderful. [Laughs].
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VANq1NDFgrc
SFBGWhat was it about her that so captivated you?
JM I just love how eccentric she is. I love people who have created their own way of doing things. And it’s like, I think I can just appreciate the world she built for herself and her circumstances and constraints.
I first was introduced to Grey Gardens through the musical, being a musical theater nerd myself. And I didn’t know the back-story behind it. But the music really got to me and made me love the story right away. And then when I watched the documentary I realized it was 10 times deeper than I even understood. She reminds me so much of me.
When I watch her in the documentary, I feel like that’s exactly what I did my whole life. When I feel like a loner and when I was keeping it to myself — I mean I knew my whole life that I was gay but I knew at an early age that it “wasn’t normal” so I kept it to myself. But at an early age I would play dress up and wrap blankets around me and I was always putting on little shows for the video cameras. She just reminded me so much of the kind of person I’ve always been in my private life. SFBGSo she was one of the people who influenced the character of Jinkx Monsoon — who were some other inspirations?
JM I based Jinkx Monsoon a lot on my mother. The whole idea with Jinkx Monsoon is that she’s a middle aged single mother, failed actress, and she has a gay son and he takes her out to the gay bars and she’s every gay boy’s favorite party mom. So I based it off Stifler’s mom played by Jennifer Coolidge and Peggy Bundy and my favorite female comedians have had a huge influence on my comedy and performance style: Sarah Silverman, Maria Bamford, Lucille Ball, Madeline Kahn, Carol Burnett. So it’s a huge range of different inspirations and then of course, my personal life experience. SFBG What made you want to try out for Drag Race?
JM I’d been a fan of Drag Race and watched every episode religiously with my friends. Everyone who knew me insisted on me auditioning and every year I said I didn’t want to do it because I didn’t think it was the kind of environment, competition for a drag queen like me, a high-concept character actor like myself. And then when I saw Sharon Needles go on [Season 4], I felt like the show was started to become more all-inclusive and that the audience was starting to respect a wider variety of drag and different interpretations of the art form. So that was the motivation to audition for Season 5.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddvWmdbGNN0
SFBGHow much creative editing was there, or were you really the underdog all through filming?
JM I’ve just always been kind of the odd one out in a room full of drag queens…I learned drag in an all-ages gay nightclub when I was like, 15 to about 20. I participated in the shows and did a lot of work at this nightclub in Portland, Oregon. So I knew a lot about traditional drag but when I went to college I kind of changed my focus and made it much more theater-oriented and character-oriented.
And so I spent a lot of time working in burlesque and cabaret and I hadn’t worked with drag queens for a long time when I went on the show. So I think the underdog aspect comes more from the fact that I was just..I didn’t know all the same lingo, I didn’t know how to interact with a lot of those girls, and I’m just kind of eccentric myself. I think some of the girls were irritated that the person they thought was too kooky was succeeding on the show.
SFBGHow does it feel then to come out on top after all that, when such a part of your identity has been as an outsider?
JM For me, the coolest thing about it, and what I’ve found talking to my audience on the road, is that it just goes to show that you can’t discredit someone just because you don’t understand them.
I feel like the judges were always getting my jokes and my sense of humor and the work I was doing even when my fellow competitors didn’t see it as a threat. When I decided to do Little Edie, a lot of those girls thought that was going to be what sent me home because I was portraying a character that wears a headscarf instead of a wig and doing all these eccentric things and they didn’t understand it. But I was confident that the judges and audience would. And that was kind of the theme for the whole series. And I think it was cool for the fan base to see someone who was so ridiculed turn the tables on everyone and take them by surprise.
SFBG Where did that “water off a duck’s back” phrase that you repeated so often during judging come from?
JM One of my best friends in Seattle, her name is Robbie Turner, she’s another performer. I was working a lot in cabaret and burlesque but then I’d also do a couple of drag and variety shows, and when I was having trouble with other drags queens giving me a hard time because I was the “new girl” on the scene in Seattle and they were getting upset.
A lot of drag queens were kind of mean to me in Seattle because they felt like I came out of nowhere and started working everywhere. But I’d been doing drag as long as any of them [in Portland]. And so my friend Robbie Turner was always like, “just let it be water off a duck’s back.”
I never really made it my mantra until I was on that [Drag Race] runway and after the first two times of being ridiculed by Michelle Visage from head to toe, I just started saying it to myself because I had to remind myself: these are opinions and the best way to get ahead in this competition is to take in the critiques and incorporate them into my work so that I’m constantly evolving and growing.
So “water off a duck’s back” was less about ignoring what they were saying, it was more about taking it in and letting anything that felt like a personal attack or purely negative or negative thoughts it would generate in my own head — the self-doubt and insecurity — to let that all go and just take what I can from all the notes.
Return to Grey Gardens With Jinkx Monsoon, Peaches Christ, Mink Stole Sat/12, 3 and 8pm, $25 Castro Theatre 429 Castro, SF www.castrotheatre.com
A look behind the scenes of the recently released Dirtbag by Vargas Films, and a sneak peak at the bikes being built for this year’s Dirtbag Challenge. Check out the full article on the Challenge, coming up Sun/13, here.
UPDATE: Check out Sam Devine’s report back and photos from Dirtbag 2013 here!
It’s a Bird…It’s a Plane…It’s Superman flies again.
It’s been 75 years since Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster began developing their most enduring creation, Superman, a character who would go on to change the shape of pop culture forever. The first bona-fide comic book superhero, the spandex-clad refugee from outer space inspired whole universes of imitators, each more improbable and yet strangely influential than the next, and our collective fascination for the modern pantheons of nigh-invincible beings remains virtually unabated, as one glance at a list of blockbuster movies starring caped crusaders and misunderstood mutants can attest.
While superheroes might mean big business in the movies, aside from the infamous (albeit income-generating) debacle that is Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark, they’ve only rarely ventured to Broadway, and here again, was Superman the pioneer. A (very) minor Broadway hit in its day, the goofy 60s-era It’s a Bird…It’s a Plane…It’s Superman channels the campy vibe of Adam West’s Batman and the relentless cheeriness of an Archie comic. Newly revived by 42nd Street Moon in honor of Superman’s 75th anniversary on earth, the musical is as clean-scrubbed as the titular role, whom mere mortals sometimes exasperatedly refer to as an overgrown “Boy Scout,” recalling times of more innocent entertainment if not actual innocence.
42nd Street Moon embraces this innocence with playful flair. The costume palette (designed by Felicia Lilienthal) appears to have been lifted straight from Warren Beatty’s 1990 Dick Tracy film, and the cartoon-panel backdrop (courtesy of Alvin Shiu) from a book of Lichtenstein prints. At strategic moments, giant word balloons and cardboard computers crowd the stage, and our hero frequently demonstrates his flying “prowess” by leaping clumsily into the wings. Even the villains turn out to be, if not exactly sympathetic, good comic relief, and their sinister goal is not so much to take over the planet so much as to take Superman, representative of perfection, down a notch, the preferred pastime of the small-minded.
Probably best not to dwell on the outdated gender roles that punctuate much of the action, a regrettable by-product of those “innocent” times, but at least the primary criminal mastermind of the show is not only female but also a mad scientist, Dr. Agnes Sedgwick (Darlene Popovic), proving, however thinly, that there is more to the double-chromosomed life than pining for the unattainable as does Lois Lane (Jen Brooks) or soothing the inflated egos of megalomaniacal employers as does glamorous office flirt, Sydney (Safiya Fredericks).
Lucas Coleman as Clark Kent/Superman plays his dual characters with an eager beaver likability, and a humanizing streak of self-doubt that ties both of his identities together just as surely as the single spit curl that dangles across his brow. His arch-nemesis Max Mencken (Brent Schindele) practically steals the show on the strength of his bright yellow loafers and hoofing technique alone, but his last moment of would-be glory is appropriately deflated (kids, crime doesn’t pay, and neither does petty spite!) and it’s all’s-well-that-ends-well for our underrooed protagonist, his best girl, and even for the second-tier criminal element, the hilariously inept Grimaldi family, who make tracks back to the Mamma-land before you can say arrivederci. Sure you could tap into a similar zeitgeist with a stack of Silver-age comics, but comics won’t sing to you. That’s a unique angle that 42nd Street Moon has totally got covered.
It’s a Bird…It’s a Plane…It’s Superman
Through Oct. 20, $25-$75 Eureka Theatre 215 Jackson, SF www.42ndstmoon.org
The 36th Mill Valley Film Festival opened last night and runs through Oct. 13, filling the North Bay’s travel-worthy venues (the Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center is the main one) with must-see films. Check out our recs here, and read on for short takes on Hollywood’s offerings, including the season’s must-see sci-fi film.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8Gi-ow4hr0
Blind Detective Johnnie To’s latest makes its local debut as part of the San Francisco Film Society’s “Hong Kong Cinema” series, hot on the heels of his Drug War, which had a theatrical run earlier this year. Blind Detective shares Drug War’s crime theme and moody palette, but it also has — whimsy alert! — an accordion-inflected score. The cute quotient is further upped by Andy Lau and Sammi Cheng, who’ve been frequently paired in To’s lighter fare (perhaps most memorably in 2001’s Love on a Diet, which attired its attractive stars in fat suits). Lau plays a former cop who left the force after losing his vision, yet continues to solve crimes (in pursuit of reward money) using, among other unorthodox methods, his superior sense of smell. Cheng plays a scrappy policewoman who admires his investigative skills and asks him to track down a long-lost childhood friend. He agrees, but not before slyly tricking her into helping him pursue lucrative paydays on unrelated cases. Lau’s wannabe-Sherlock antics and Cheng’s lovelorn flailings wear thin after two-plus hours, but Blind Detective still manages to entertain despite its odd blend of broad comedy and serial-killer thrills. (2:10) Vogue. (Cheryl Eddy)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiTiKOy59o4
Gravity “Life in space is impossible,” begins Gravity, the latest from Alfonso Cuarón (2006’s Children of Men). Egghead Dr. Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) is well aware of her precarious situation after a mangled satellite slams into her ship, then proceeds to demolition-derby everything (including the International Space Station) in its path. It’s not long before she’s utterly, terrifyingly alone, and forced to unearth near-superhuman reserves of physical and mental strength to survive. Bullock’s performance would be enough to recommend Gravity, but there’s more to praise, like the film’s tense pacing, spare-yet-layered script (Cuarón co-wrote with his son, Jonás), and spectacular 3D photography — not to mention George Clooney’s warm supporting turn as a career astronaut who loves country music almost as much as he loves telling stories about his misadventures. (1:31) (Cheryl Eddy)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnJIA7oqqcM
The Institute In 2008, mysterious flyers began popping up around San Francisco that touted esoteric inventions such as “Poliwater” and the “Vital-Orbit Human Force Field” and included a phone number for the curiously-monikered Jejuene Institute. On the other side of the phone line, a recording would direct callers to a Financial District office building where they would undergo a mysterious induction process, embarking on an epic, multi-stage, years-long alternate reality game, designed primarily to reveal the magic in the mundane. In Spencer McCall’s documentary The Institute, viewers are introduced to the game in much the same way as prospective inductees, with few clues as to what lies in store ahead. A handful of seemingly random interviewees offer a play-by-play recap of their own experiences exploring rival game entities the Jejune Institute and Elsewhere Public Works Agency — while video footage of them dancing in the streets, warding off ninjas, befriending Sasquatches, spelunking sewers, and haunting iconic Bay Area edifices gives the viewer a taste of the wonders that lay in store for the intrepid few (out of 10,000 inductees) who made it all the way to the end of the storyline. Frustratingly, however, at least for this former inductee, McCall’s documentary focuses on fleshing out the fictions of the game, barely scratching the surface of what must surely be an even more intriguing set of facts. How did a group of scrappy East Bay artists manage to commandeer an office in the Financial District for so long in the first place? Who were the artists behind the art? And where am I supposed to cash in these wooden “hobo coins” now? (1:32) New Parkway, Roxie. (Nicole Gluckstern)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgPjt_BRLvY
Parkland Timed to tie in with the 50th anniversary of the JFK assassination, writer-director Peter Landesman’s sprawling ensemble drama takes that tragedy as its starting point and spirals outward, highlighting ordinary folks who were caught up in the drama’s aftermath by virtue of their jobs or circumstance. There’s a lot going on here, with a huge cast of mostly-recognizable faces (Billy Bob Thornton as Secret Service Agent Forest Sorrells; Paul Giamatti as amateur filmmaker Abraham Zapruder; Ron Livingston as an FBI agent; hey, there’s Oscar winner Marcia Gay Harden in two scenes as a stern nurse!), but the events depicted are so familiar that the plot never becomes confusing. Landesman — who favors scenes of breakneck-paced action punctuated by solemn moments of emotion — might’ve done better to narrow his focus a bit, perhaps keeping just to the law-enforcement characters or to Lee Harvey Oswald’s family (James Badge Dale plays his shell-shocked brother, while Jackie Weaver hams it up as his eccentric mother). But paired with 2006’s Bobby, Parkland — named for the hospital where both JFK and Oswald died — named for the hospital where both JFK and Oswald died — could make for an interesting, speculative-history double-feature for Camelot buffs. That said, Oliver Stone fans take note: Parkland is strictly Team Lone Gunman. (1:33) (Cheryl Eddy)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L2INdFpHPpQ
Runner Runner Launching his tale with a ripped-from-the-headlines montage of news reports and concerned-anchor sound bites, director Brad Furman (2011’s The Lincoln Lawyer) attempts to argue his online-gambling action thriller’s topicality, but not even Anderson Cooper can make a persuasive case for Runner Runner’s cultural relevance. Justin Timberlake plays Richie Furst, a post-2008 Wall Street casualty turned Princeton master’s candidate, who is putting himself through his finance program via the morally threadbare freelance gig of introducing his fellow students to Internet gambling. Perhaps in the service of supplying our unsympathetic protagonist with a psychological root, we are given a knocked-together scene reuniting Richie with his estranged gambling addict dad (John Heard). By the time we’ve digested this, plus the image of Justin Timberlake in the guise of a grad student with a TAship, Richie has blown through all his savings and, in a bewildering turn of events, made his way into the orbit of Ben Affleck’s Ivan Block, a shady online-gambling mogul taking shelter from an FBI investigation in Costa Rica, along with his lovely adjutant, Rebecca (Gemma Arterton). Richie’s rise through the ranks of Ivan’s dodgy empire is somewhat mysterious, partly a function of the plot and partly a function of the plot being piecemeal and incoherent. The dialogue and the deliveries are also unconvincing, possibly because we’re dealing with a pack of con artists and possibly because the players were dumbfounded by the script, which is clotted with lines we’ve heard before, from other brash FBI agents, other sketchily drawn temptresses, other derelict, regretful fathers, and other unscrupulous kingpins. (1:31) (Lynn Rapoport)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXKogr0O-Zc
We Are What We AreThe title of Jim Mickle’s latest film sums up the attitude of the Parker family: We Are What We Are. We eat people. Our human-flesh cravings go back generations. Over the years, our dietary habits have become our religion. And that’s just the way it is — until teen sisters Iris (Ambyr Childers) and Rose (Julia Garner) start to have some doubts. As We Are (a remake of Mexican director Jorge Michel Grau’s 2010 film) begins, the girls’ mother has suddenly died amid a punishing rainstorm — and their grief-stricken Dad (Bill Sage) has become awfully twitchy. As the local police, a suspicious doctor (Michael Parks), and a curious neighbor (Kelly McGillis) begin to poke into their business, the Parkers prep for “Lambs Day,” a feast that most definitely involves whoever is chained up in the basement. Though not all of the dots connect in the Parkers’ elaborate backstory (how do Mom and Dad have an obscure variation on mad-cow disease if they’re only eating man-meat once a year?), We Are still offers a refreshing change from indie horror’s most recent common denominators — no found-footage tricks here. The last-act dinner scene is required viewing for any self-respecting cannibal-flick connoisseur. Check out my interview with director Mickle here. (1:45) (Cheryl Eddy)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rwr-U1z1F60
When Comedy Went to School This scattershot documentary by Ron Frank and Mevlut Akkaya is about two big subjects — the Catskill Mountains resorts that launched a couple generations of beloved Jewish entertainers, and mid-to-late 20th century Jewish comedians in general. There’s a lot of overlap between them, but the directors (and writer Lawrence Richards) can’t seem to find any organizing focus, so their film wanders all over the place, from the roles of resort social directors and busboys to clips from History of the World Part I (1981) and Fiddler on the Roof (1971) to the entirely irrelevant likes of Larry King. That said, there’s entertaining vintage performance footage (of Totie Fields, Woody Allen, etc.) and interview input from the still-kicking likes of Sid Ceasar, Jackie Mason, Mort Sahl, Jerry Stiller, and Jerry Lewis. For some this will be a welcome if not particularly well crafted nostalgic wallow. For others, though, the pandering tone set by one Lisa Dawn Miller’s (wife of Sandy Hackett, who’s son of Buddy) cringe-worthy opening rendition of “Make ‘Em Laugh” — to say nothing of her “Send in the Clowns” at the close — will sum up the pedestrian mindset that makes this doc a missed opportunity. (1:23) (Dennis Harvey)
Every time I told people that Lav Diaz’s Norte, the End of History(Philippines) was my favorite film of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, I would watch their eyes glaze over and their body start shifting as if to say, “Yes … but what else?” Perhaps the title suggests something long, slow-moving, and attempting to end their history? Perhaps they had only heard about its four-hour running time? While all of the previous statements are probably true, what I want to stress is that this film about a group of existentialist 20-somethings encapsulates why I fell in love with cinema in the first place.
There are no movie stars in the cast, and no way to quickly sum up the plot. Due to the film’s running time, the viewer physically experiences what the film’s conflicted main character Fabian is struggling with. While many TIFF audiences seemed to complain and make snarky one-liners after pretty much all of the star-studded premieres that I attended, that wasn’t the case here; Norte mesmerizes with its inventiveness and harrowing character arcs.
And yet it seems people are refusing to make the time to experience it. Neil Young of the Hollywood Reporter wrote “Diaz is apparently incapable of conveying the passage of time, instead [he] must simply inflict it.”
Personally, I learned volumes from this film, about the state of present-day rural Philippines; about Dostoevsky, Diaz’s favorite writer; about the 1890s Philippine Revolution against the Spanish. I tend to become emotionally wrecked when I watch a Diaz film; in Norte, Sid Lucero’s portrayal of a law school drop-out brought up some very deep, dark personal feelings.
But most importantly, Lav Diaz creates cinema that gets me up early in the morning. So please, Mr. Diaz: keep “inflicting” me.
Ficks’ Picks: Top 12 of TIFF 2013
1. Lav Diaz’s Norte, the End of History (Philippines) 2. Pawel Pawlikowski’s Ida (Poland) 3. Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave (UK) 4. Kim Ki-duk’s Moebius (South Korea) 5. Stephanie Pray/Pacho Velez’s Manakamana (USA/Nepal) 6. Tsai Ming-liang’s Stray Dogs (Taiwan) 7. John Turturro’s Fading Gigolo (USA). 8. Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Like Father, Like Son (Japan) 9. Jeremy Saulnier’s Blue Ruin (USA) 10. Abdellatif Kechiche’s Blue is the Warmest Color (France) 11. Claire Denis’ Bastards (France) 12. Ben Rivers/Ben Russell’s A Spell to Ward Off the Darkness (Estonia/France)
Since practically every single calendar day of the year has been appropriated by some cause or another (in this month alone we celebrated Labor Day, Patriot Day, National IPA Day, National Seat Check Day, World Rabies Day, and National Grandparents Day, to say nothing of Suicide Prevention Week, Constitution Week, and National Emergency Preparedness Week), it can be hard to keep them all straight. But one week that stands out, at least for myself is Banned Books Week (Sept 22-28), a 30 year-old tradition spearheaded by the American Library Association.
A celebration of free speech and the free exchange of ideas, especially in regards to minors and schoolchildren, Banned Books Week events range from readings to panel discussions to virtual “hangouts” across the nation. And lest you think that banned books are an anachronism of unenlightened school boards past, consider this list of the most challenged books of 2012, which includes such well-known works of obscenity such as Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, Toni Morrison’s Beloved, and the gleefully irreverent Captain Underpants series. Lists like these are practically an invitation to read, and the persistence of certain books such as Brave New World, The Chocolate War, and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings on the list over the past 10 years only speak to their enduring ability to provoke, to embolden, and to inform.
Since the single best way to celebrate Banned Books Week is solitary in nature, I opted for the second-best way, which was to head over to the Emerald Tablet for their flagship reading series: “Under the Influence.” Not a celebration of Banned Books per se, what “Under the Influence” offers is a mash-up of influential works alongside works written that were somehow inspired by them. In last Friday’s edition, excerpts of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Paula Vogel, William S. Burroughs, and Maggie Nelson were presented side by side with essays, poems, and plays about deserts, identity, pending apocalypse, and fibromyalgia, speaking less perhaps to the manufactured exile created by banning books, but instead to literature’s overarching resilience and penchant for freedom.
Colleen Hubbard was first, and immediately won me over by reading an excerpt from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Wind, Sand and Stars (Reynal and Hitchcock, 1939), and then an excerpt of her own writing about Denmark’s Råbjerg Mile, the largest Wanderdüne in Northern Europe. The next reader, Abe Becker, read an excerpt from Paula Vogel’s Desdemona (Dramatists Play Service, 1994) with a friend filling in the role of Desdemona while he took on Emilia, her maid. His work that was inspired by Vogel was also a play: a retelling of the play-outside-the-play in Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, in which local drunk Christopher Sly is taken in by an aristocrat to be made sport of, performed by a cast of three volunteer readers.
Clint Flippen read excerpts from notable banned book Naked Lunch (Grove Press, 1962), by William S. Burroughs, then proceeded to read poems of his own that flirted with that enduring obsession we have with the apocalypse while likening the destruction of ant farms to that of destroying whole civilizations — certainly an accurate observation from the POV of the ants. Wrapping it up was Amy Berkowitz, who channeled Maggie Nelson, first in a few excerpts from her short prose meditations on a color, “Bluets” (Wave Books, 2009), and then delved into a piece of her own entitled “Tender Points,” about living with fibromyalgia.
Co-created-and-curated by local literary wrangler Evan Karp, the event’s comfy living room vibe was that of anything goes, and past readings have included influential works such as films, songs, and Shakespeare (see Becker) along with the usual prose. Last Friday of the month at 7:30, if you’d like to check it out. Snacks are provided, and donations cheerfully accepted.
“Under the Influence” The Emerald Tablet 80 Fresno St, SF (415) 500-2323 www.emtab.org
A Spell to Ward Off the Darkness (Estonia/France) is the first collaboration between experimental filmmakers Ben Rivers and Ben Russell — and man oh man, was it music to my eyes. Structured into three segments (comparisons to Kelly Reichardt’s 2006 Old Joy are inevitable), this experimental documentary is uniquely personal, to the point of leaving many audience members at a loss for words, for better or worse.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9NA4R9-GH4
Showcasing Robert A.A. Lowe (also known as experimental musician Lichens) adds a curious ingredient to the mix, making this film a must-see for modern music aficionados. A big-screen viewing is essential, for the soundtrack and sound design alone.
It seems that the controversy behind the making of Cannes sensation Blue is the Warmest Color (France) has, thus far, overshadowed the film itself. There is a level of audacity coming from cinephiles these days that upsets me to no end. Case in point: while standing in line for Abdellatif Kechiche’s three hour-plus epic, two middle-aged women spoke in detail not only about the film’s improvised sex scenes, but specific controversial moments that they already knew were going to “make the film feel contrived.” (Apparently, overhearing spoilers from people who haven’t actually seen the film they’re spoiling is the new making-up-your-mind-about-a-film-before-you’ve-even-seen-it.) Blue is the Warmest Color will viscerally remind audiences of their own relationships — specifically if there’s been one they went “all in” on. The film’s two leads, Léa Seydoux and Adèle Exarchopoulos, who were awarded the Palme d’Or along with director Kechiche (a first for Cannes) for their daring and relentless performances. Like Derek Cianfrance’s Blue Valentine (2010), the feelings achieved during the film are much more important than any discussion about what happens in the film. These rare treats are about more than explicit sex — and watching them may help you with bigger questions like “where life has taken you” vs. “where you want to be.”
Speaking of spoilers: just because Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave (UK) has been anointed an early Oscar favorite doesn’t mean you need to bust out your reactionary backlash grumblings just yet. In fact, I recommend you go see it as soon as possible to avoid learning too much about it in advance (it’s out locally Nov. 1 — same day as Blue is the Warmest Color, as it turns out).
Comparisons to other recent, similarly themed Oscar winners will understandably be made, but this is Steve McQueen and Chiwetel Ejiofor’s film. I was so engrossed in it that I didn’t even realize until later that the film’s composer — Hans Zimmer — was one of my favorites of all time. Go see it, wipe away the tears, start talking about it. And then go see it again.
Batman, super dog Rowdi, Supergirl, and Green Man were among the costumed characters photographer Amanda Rhoades caught at the Fourth Annual Superhero Street Fair last weekend in San Francisco.
On a bright and sweaty Sunday afternoon in San Francisco, photographer Amanda Rhoades caught all the seasoned practioners and curious amateurs, the live whippings and leather-wrapped beauties of this year’s Folsom Street Fair.
Intrepid filmgoer Jesse Hawthorne Ficks’ reports from the 2013 Toronto International Film Festival continue this week. Stay tuned for more posts, including Jesse’s upcoming list of his top 12 films from the fest!
From director David Gordon Green, gothic Texan tale Joe gives Nicolas Cage a showy role, in the manner of Werner Herzog’s Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call — New Orleans (2009). Luckily Joe turns out to be a rambling bundle of fun, thanks in no small part to Cage’s typically uneven (yet always hypnotic) performance. That said, the film earned some glaringly obvious comparisons to Jeff Nichols’ Mud (2012), including the casting of teen actor Tye Sheridan, who plays a similar role in both films.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIwzTUzmXto
Another gothic tale, this time from Virginia: it’s very important to keep your eyes glued to the screen throughout Jeremy Saulnier’s Blue Ruin. This modern-day Western captures the genre’s grittiest glory by way of contemporary conflicts, with a cast led by Macon Blair. His physical and emotional transformation is one that few performances this year will rival.
Director Saulnier now has two gritty little ditties to his name this year, following up his cinematography credit on I Used to Be Darker, which screened at Sundance in the NEXT category. Blue Ruin reminds me of what John Carpenter was doing 35 years ago with Assault on Precinct 13 (1976). His characters live and breathe and their driving motivations are the stuff that genre audiences can really dig their fingers into. Let’s hope Saulnier is able to make a few more low-budget films before Hollywood snatches him up to make a superhero blockbuster. (And I bet he’ll do a smash-up job if he does.)
For this week’s longer reviews, check out Dennis Harvey’s take on the doc Inequality for All, and my chat with Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammett in honor of the band’s new 3D IMAX concert film, Metallica: Through the Never. Read on for short takes galore!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUiuzXP41aY
Baggage Claim Robin Thicke may be having the year of a lifetime, but spouse Paula Patton is clearly making a bid to leap those “Blurred Lines” between second banana-dom and Jennifer Aniston-esque leading lady fame with this buppie chick flick. How competitive is the game? Patton has a sporting chance: she’s certainly easy on the eyes and ordinarily a welcome warm and sensual presence as arm candy or best girlfriend — too bad her bid to beat the crowd with Baggage Claim feels way too blurry and busy to study for very long. The camera turns to Patton only to find a hot, slightly charming mess of mussed hair, frenetic movement, and much earnest emoting. I know the mode is single-lady desperation, but you’re trying too hard, Paula. At least the earnestness kind of works — semi-translating in Baggage Claim as a bumbling ineptitude that offsets Patton’s too-polished-and-perfect-to-be-real beauty. After all, we’re asked to believe that Patton’s flight attendant Montana can’t find a good man, no matter how hard she tries. That’s the first stretch of imagination, made more implausible by pals Sam (Adam Brody) and Janine (singer-songwriter Jill Scott), who decide to try to fix her up with her old high-flying frequent-flier beaus in the quest to find a mate in time for her — humiliation incoming — younger sister’s wedding. Among the suitors are suave hotelier Quinton (Djimon Hounsou), Republican candidate Langston (Taye Diggs), and hip-hop mogul Damon (Trey Songz), though everyone realizes early on that she just can’t notice the old bestie (Derek Luke) lodged right beneath her well-tilted nose. Coming to the conclusion that any sane single gal would at the end of this exercise, Patton does her darnedest to pour on the quirk and charm — and that in itself is as endearing as watching any beautiful woman bend over backwards, tumbling as she goes, to win an audience over. The strenuous effort, however, seems wasted when one considers the flimsy material, played for little more than feather-light amusement by director-writer David E. Talbert. (1:33) (Kimberly Chun)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzkAFDwllPQ
Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2 The sequel to the 2009 animated hit based on the children’s best-seller promises the introduction of “mutant food beasts,” including “tacodiles” and “shrimpanzees.” (1:35)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuPXDuqicmo
Don Jon Shouldering the duties of writer, director, and star for the comedy Don Jon, Joseph Gordon-Levitt has also picked up a broad Jersey accent, the physique of a gym rat, and a grammar of meathead posturing — verbal, physical, and at times metaphysical. His character, Jon, is the reigning kingpin in a triad of nightclubbing douchebags who pass their evenings assessing their cocktail-sipping opposite numbers via a well-worn one-to-10 rating system. Sadly for pretty much everyone involved, Jon’s rote attempts to bed the high-scorers are spectacularly successful — the title refers to his prowess in the art of the random hookup — that is, until he meets an alluring “dime” named Barbara (Scarlett Johansson), who institutes a waiting period so foreign to Jon that it comes to feel a bit like that thing called love. Amid the well-earned laughs, there are several repulsive-looking flies in the ointment, but the most conspicuous is Jon’s stealthy addiction to Internet porn, which he watches at all hours of the day, but with a particularly ritualistic regularity after each night’s IRL conquest has fallen asleep. These circumstances entail a fair amount of screen time with Jon’s O face and, eventually, after a season of growth — during which he befriends an older woman named Esther (Julianne Moore) and learns about the existence of arty retro Swedish porn — his “Ohhh…” face. Driven by deft, tight editing, Don Jon comically and capably sketches a web of bad habits, and Gordon-Levitt steers us through a transformation without straining our capacity to recognize the character we met at the outset — which makes the clumsy over-enunciations that mar the ending all the more jarring. (1:30) (Lynn Rapoport)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1TDTv_tGd8
Enough Said Eva (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) is a divorced LA masseuse who sees naked bodies all day but has become pretty wary of wanting any in her bed at night. She reluctantly changes her mind upon meeting the also-divorced Albert (James Gandolfini), a television archivist who, also like her, is about to see his only child off to college. He’s no Adonis, but their relationship develops rapidly — the only speed bumps being provided by the many nit-picking advisors Eva has in her orbit, which exacerbate her natural tendency toward glass-half-empty neurosis. This latest and least feature from writer-director Nicole Holofcener is a sitcom-y thing of the type that expects us to find characters all the more adorable the more abrasive and self-centered they are. That goes for Louis-Dreyfus’ annoying heroine as well as such wasted talents as Toni Colette as her kvetching best friend and Catherine Keener as a new client turned new pal so bitchy it makes no sense Eva would desire her company. The only nice person here is Albert, whom the late Gandolfini makes a charming, low-key teddy bear in an atypical turn. The revelation of an unexpected past tie between his figure and Keener’s puts Eva in an ethically disastrous position she handles dismally. In fact, while it’s certainly not Holofcener’s intention, Eva’s behavior becomes so indefensible that Enough Said commits rom-com suicide: The longer it goes on, the more fervently you hope its leads will not end up together. (1:33) (Dennis Harvey)
Haute Cuisine Director and co-writer Christian Vincent’s unassuming ode to French food takes for granted that we’re here to learn about the life, joys, and preoccupations of a working female chef, regardless of politically correct concerns (dig that foie gras reference) or gossipy tendencies. Precisely encapsulating a very un-haute attitude that falls in line with its mild-mannered protagonist, Haute Cuisine breaks its cool only when the country’s head of state comes into view or a testosterone-y rival pulls a power play. As the movie opens, Hortense Laborie (Catherine Frot) is hard at work at a far humbler job — cooking fine food for the rough crowd of workers at the Alfred Faure base in Antarctica while dismissing the attentions of a visiting video crew. Flashback to the story they’re hot to uncover, as the country innkeeper, farmer, and cooking teacher is swept off her feet by none other President François Mitterrand, not for romance but to make home-cooked regional food for his personal meals. The halls of power — and Hortense’s passage through the labyrinthian bureaucracy and pecking order — threaten to blot out the identity of the little cook from the country, but she holds her own in her chaste relationship with Mitterrand as she coaxes him to let her source directly from farmers and producers. However, the mostly one-way, closed relationship between the two can’t last forever. Haute Cuisine doesn’t attempt to reinvent the wheel — much as Hortense would never claim to tweak her beloved St. Honoré —and it generally refrans from looking much deeper into its main character beyond what Frot offers in her acutely telling looks and her playful give-and-take with sous chef Nicholas (Arthur Dupont). But it does gently draw the food lover and the more oblivious eater alike into its spell, with a soupçon of tasteful, and tasty-looking, food porn and its obvious respect for chefs who are dedicated to giving pleasure to those they serve. (1:35) Opera Plaza. (Kimberly Chun)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fBkfXvhzTE
Inuk Though the Greenlandic-language Inuk takes its name from its troubled Inuit protagonist, ice is arguably its central character. And the lyrical sweep and striking beauty of the icy expanses in Uummannaq Bay and Nuuk, Greenland, threaten to upstage the adventure story at Inuk’s heart. Seeking refuge from his alcoholic mother and her abusive friends and escaping into hip-hop, the teenage Inuk (Gaaba Petersen) has been found battered and sleeping his car far too often, so he’s taken to a in the north by teacher and foster care worker Aviaaja (Rebekka Jorgensen) to learn about the old ways of hunters and an ancient wisdom that is melting away with the polar icecap. A journey by dogsled with local hunters turns into a rite of passage when bear hunter Ikuma (Ole Jørgen Hammeken) takes Inuk under his damaged wing and attempts to reconnect him to his heritage. “The ice is no place for attitude,” he declares, as Inuk makes foolish choices, kills his first seal, and learns the hard way about survival north of the Arctic Circle. You can practically feel the freezing cold seeping off the frames of this gorgeous-looking film — a tribute to director Mike Magidson and his crew’s skills, even when the overt snow-blinding symbolism blots out clarity and threatens to swallow up Inuk. (1:30) Roxie. (Chun)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hteIj01zyo
“Millie Perkins in the Exploitation Cinema of Matt Cimber” Millie Perkins was a successful 20-year-old model with no acting experience when she made her film debut in 1959’s The Diary of Anne Frank, playing the title role. But her mainstream Hollywood career almost immediately foundered and soon she was playing much less angelic roles in B-movies — among them several subsequently cult-worshipped Monte Hellman films and the 1968 AIP counterculture-nightmare hit Wild in the Streets. In the mid-1970s she made two back-to-back movies for Italian exploitation maestro Matt Cimber (aka Thomas Vitale Ottaviano), who a decade earlier had briefly been married to Jayne Mansfield. The Film on Film Foundation is screening rare 35mm prints of both in this one-night tribute bill. The better known of the duo, The Witch Who Came From the Sea (1976), is a bizarre psychochiller in which Perkins gets one hell of a role as SoCal cocktail waitress Molly, who seems normal enough (if a tad taciturn) but is prone to irrational rages, blackouts, drinking binges, indiscriminate pill-popping, and … murder, though we (and she) aren’t always sure whether her crimes are real or delusional. While Witch has gained some critical appreciation in recent years, the prior year’s Lady Cocoa (also released, even more improbably, as Pop Goes the Weasel) remains obscure — a late addition to the early ’70s blaxploitation craze with “First Lady of Las Vegas” Lola Falana in a non-singing role as a tough jailbird who gets a 24-hour pass to testify against her evil thug ex-boyfriend — or at least try to, if his goons (including NFL Hall of Famer “Mean” Joe Greene) don’t snuff her first. Perkins has a supporting role as one half of an alleged honeymooning couple who aren’t quite as harmless as they seem. Perhaps overwhelmed by the challenge of topping these two films, Perkins was inactive for several years afterward, then found herself welcomed back to Hollywood via numerous roles in TV movies and big-screen ones, plus recurring roles on primetime soap Knots Landing and the 1990 miniseries Elvis (as the King’s mom). Roxie. (Dennis Harvey)
On the Job Filipino director Erik Matti’s gritty crime thriller has such a clever hook that Hollywood is already circling it for a remake. No shock there. It is surprising, however, that On the Job is based on true events, in which prisoners were temporarily sprung to work as hired guns for well-connected politicos. (Kinda genius, if you think about it.) The big-screen version has veteran inmate Tang (Joel Torre) dreading his imminent parole; he’d rather have the steady income from his grisly gig than be unable to provide for his wife and daughter. As he counts down to his release, he trains volatile Daniel (Gerald Anderson) to take his place. Poking around on the other side of the law are world-weary local cop Acosta (Joey Marquez) and hotshot federal agent Francis (Piolo Pascual), who reluctantly team up when a hit cuts close to home for both of them. The case is particularly stressful for Francis, whose well-connected father-in-law turns out to be wallowing in corruption. Taut, thrilling, atmospheric, and graphic, On the Job makes up for an occasionally confusing storyline by offering bang-up (literally) entertainment from start to finish. Groovy score, too. (2:00) Metreon. (Cheryl Eddy)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99XxMLgE3AM
Out in the DarkMeeting in a Tel Aviv gay bar, Nimr (Nicholas Jacob) and Roy (Michael Aloni) are instantly smitten with each other, though there’s much dividing them. Roy is a Jewish lawyer working at his father’s high-end firm, while the former is a Palestinian graduate psychology student who’s lucky just to get a temporary travel pass so he can take one prestigious course at an Israeli university. Even this small liberty brings him trouble, as his increasingly fanatical older brother considers any contact with Israelis borderline traitorous to their homeland and to conservative Muslim values. Needless to say, Nimr is not “out” to his family — and even though Roy is, his parents’ “tolerance” proves superficial at best. The men’s relationship soon runs into considerable, even life-imperiling difficulty from various political, cultural, religious and personal conflicts. Director and co-writer Michael Mayer’s first feature isn’t the first screen love story between star-crossed Israelis and Palestinians (or even the first gay one). It can be a bit clumsy and melodramatic, but nonetheless there’s enough chemistry between the leads and earnest urgency behind the issues addressed to make this a fairly powerful story about different kinds of oppression. (1:36) Elmwood. (Dennis Harvey)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_u3FODrenM
Rush Ron Howard’s Formula One thriller Rush is a gripping bit of car porn, decked out with 1970s period details and goofily liberated camera moves to make sure you never forget how much happens under (and around, and on top of) the hood of these beastly vehicles. Real life drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda (played by Chris Hemsworth and Daniel Brühl, respectively) had a wicked rivalry through the ’70s; these characters are so oppositional you’d think Shane Black wrote them. Lauda’s an impersonal, methodical pro, while Hunt’s an aggressive, undisciplined playboy — but he’s so popular he can sway a group of racers to risk their lives on a rainy track, even as Lauda objects. It’s a lovely sight: all the testosterone in the world packed into a room bound by windows, egos threatening to bust the glass with the rumble of their voices. I’m no fan of Ron Howard, but maybe the thrill of Grand Theft Auto is in Rush like a spirit animal. (The moments of rush are the greatest; when Lauda’s lady friend asks him to drive fast, he does, and it’s glorious.) Hunt says that “being a pro kills the sport” — but Howard, an overly schmaltzy director with no gift for logic and too much reliance on suspension of disbelief, doesn’t heed that warning. The laughable voiceovers that bookend the film threaten to sink some great stuff, but the magic of the track is vibrant, dangerous, and teeming with greatness. (2:03) (Sara Maria Vizcarrondo)
For many Bay Area homebrewers, Richmond neighborhood shop San Francisco Brewcraft is the main brewing hub. It’s where newbies pick up their kits and learn to brew, and seasoned veterans return for more tips, recipes, and grains.
And the stern but friendly, no bullshit leader of that guild was Griz (aka Greg Miller), a homebrewing expert and beloved teacher. Griz, who long suffered from diabetes and last year was diagnosed with cancer, passed away in his sleep last Monday, Sept. 23.
He’s survived by his wife Barbara and his dog, Louie, along with the employees and friends of Brewcraft.
Fellow Brewcraft employee Andre Sanchez tells me, “People have been coming through [the store], it’s been a huge outpouring of condolences for Griz.”
Griz took over Brewcraft in the late ‘90s and has taught the free homebrewing class there ever since, until he got too sick to come in. “He’s taught not only amateur homebrewers who now have become semi-pro to pro brewers throughout the entire Bay Area, but this whole craft brewing explosion that happened in the mid-2000s, we felt it here in the shop of course and Griz was a big part of teaching a lot of the brewers that came through.”
Sanchez notes that the San Francisco Brewers Guild will be making special beers in honor of Griz — using old-school recipes — but the details are in the works as of press time.
And local homebrewers have also been coming in to Brewcraft with Griz’s old recipes in hand, to gather the materials to brew their own batches in honor of the legend.
The San Francisco Homebrewers Guild posted a tribute to Griz, whom they describe as a brewer-philosopher, and also included some of his best quotes (below):
“He left us not only with many great memories, but with loads of fantastic quotes about how you shouldn’t be ‘anal retentive’ when you brew (a little funnier than the old ‘don’t worry, relax, have a homebrew’ quote, if you ask me), ‘you can’t brew a lager,’ and how it was good and comforting to be connected to a craft that mankind had been undertaking for thousands of years, ‘but turn off your goddamn cell phone before you start because it’s a creative artistic endeavor…where you can iron yourself out.’”
Griz’s coworkers are working on plans for a celebration of his life. Bay Guardian readers will note a reference to Griz and Brewcraft in recent Beer & Wine cover story, “We Built a Monster Kegerator.”
Brewcraft is located at 1555 Clement, SF. For more information visit www.sfbrewcraft.com.
For a taste of what Griz was like, see the video below:
Swedish auteur Lukas Moodysson is back and he may have just created one of the most riotous punk rock extravaganzas ever. We Are the Best!(Sweden/Denmark) played to packed houses throughout the entire Toronto International Film Festival, creating an astounding word of mouth buzz.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfPytPjV1xc
While the film takes place in the early 1980s, I never felt like the movie was attempting to represent the entire era. In fact, Moodysson’s film (which is based on wife Coco Moodysson’s graphic novel) allows the all-grrrl band to blossom into real-life punk rockers. Evoking passionate punk portrayals like Times Square (1980) and Ladies & Gentleman, The Fabulous Stains (1981), which he was unaware of until I interviewed him, this coming of age drama seems to capture Stockholm circa 1982 in perfect detail.
The soundtrack was a major part of discussion during the Q&A, becoming the perfect entry point for those of us desiring an history lesson on the Swedish punk scene. But what I found most exciting about We Are the Best! is its approach to gender roles, as its young female characters attempt to cast aside pressures to look pretty. Either way, Moodysson has created a film just as enjoyable as his debut feature, 1998’s Show Me Love. It has the potential to become a worldwide hit in the same vein as Trainspotting (1996) and Run Lola Run (1999).
Elsewhere, Maneesh Sharma’s latest romantic comedy A Random Desi Romance(India) is cause for quite a celebration! This Hindi musical, which runs two and a half hours, feels like a major shift in the mainstream Bollywood system.
Not only are there no classic “hunk” characters, but stars Parineeti Chopra and Vaani Kapoor have quite progressive attitudes toward love and life that typically I have only seen in Indian films made outside the country. The leading male is no slouch either, played purposefully awkwardly by Sushant Singh Rajput. The characters are wrapped up in a surprisingly consistent story that critic Danny Bowes called “the best romantic comedy made anywhere in the world for 2013.”
The surprise crowd-pleaser of TIFF 2013 was John Turturro’s Fading Gigolo (US). Showcasing Woody Allen in a rare acting-only role, this surprisingly romantic tale about a man in his mid-50s (played by writer-director Turturro) is as charmingly hilarious as it is deftly dramatic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqGDBnYU6rA
The inspired casting choice gives the 78-year-old director (whose own classic works were clearly an influence on Turturro) one of the funniest roles of the year. Amid a notable supporting cast (Sharon Stone, Sofia Vergara, and Liev Schreiber), it’s Vanessa Paradis (Patrice Leconte’s 1999 The Girl on the Bridge) who will truly make your heart skip a beat. Turturro’s refreshing blend of classical romance, modern art, and Jewish culture feels completely out-of-step with most movies being made these days — making it a film I could have easily watched again as soon as it was over.
Kelly Reichardt’s Night Moves (US) starts out wonderfully strong, with an intense plot-driven premise led by the always hypnotic Peter Sarsgaard. Note I said “plot-driven.” Visually-oriented dramas like Old Joy (2006), Wendy and Lucy (2008), and Meek’s Cutoff (2010) are Reichardt and screenwriter Jon Raymond’s signature, and with those films they’ve set the bar sky-high. Night Moves‘ more traditional structure may mean it has mainstream potential; the film has already drawn comparisons to Zal Batmanglij’s recent The East.
Though I tried to set any reservations aside (is Jesse Eisenberg really ready to carry a film like this?), I found myself wishing that Reichardt hadn’t deviated from the style of her previous films. Fortunately, Pawel Pawlikowski’s Ida (Poland) filled the void. The film picked up TIFF’s International Federation of Film Critics (FIPRESCI) award for Special Presentations, and rightfully so.
The director of the memorable My Summer of Love (2004) roots his latest in a formalistic aesthetic, complete with a 1.37 aspect ratio and a profoundly striking black and white palette. While dreary in its location, this character study of a woman in search of her own identity is anything but colorless. As I’ve warned with other films in my TIFF diary — stay away from plot overviews of this film. Just know that Ida has the power to affect you. If you see it playing at a film festival near you, buy your tickets in advance. This is the quiet jewel of 2013.
Jesse Hawthorne Ficks returns, and this time he’s got the genre goods! Check back for more of his 2013 Toronto International Film Festival coverage, coming soon!
Mike Flanagan’s evil–mirror flick Oculus (US) received first runner-up for “Best Midnight Movie,” which now seems appropriate since James Wan’s recent Insidious: Chapter 2 basically uses the same flashback structure (to much stronger effect.) Still, Flanagan (2011’s Absentia) is a young director worth keeping an eye on.
Eli Roth’s latest direct-to-streaming effort The Green Inferno (US) pays homage to Ruggero Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust (1980) with some of the most deliciously disgusting violence seen onscreen in quite some time. Like Nicolás López’s Aftershock (2012), which Roth wrote, produced, and starred in, Inferno has a wonderful B-movie quality that will probably prevent it from achieving mainstream success. (Splatter fiends, however, are in for a treat.)
But it was Kim Ki-duk’s jaw-dropping, toe-squinching, stomach-churning Moebius (South Korea) that had me gasping for air throughout its entire 89 minutes. The film combines everything that you have learned to love about Kim Ki-duk’s style — ranging from his initial splash The Isle (2000) to Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring (2003) and 3 Iron (2004) — and then doubles it. Whatever you do, DO NOT READ ANY SPOILING REVIEWS of this film. Know that if you are into transgressive art-horror films, this is the kind of movie to stay up late for.
Elsewhere, Koyaanisqatsi (1982) director Godfrey Reggio presented the world premiere of his newest experimental documentary Visitors (USA) — complete with a new score performed live by Philip Glass and the Toronto Symphony, and a Q&A mediated by Steven Soderbergh (who supposedly has watched Visitors six times already).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8gGZMiTL7w
However, the similarly bold Under the Skin (UK), from director Jonathan Glazer, baffled TIFF-goers so much that I heard close to half a dozen audience members complaining at how obtuse and confusing it was. One such remark (“The most expensive student film ever made!”) made me ponder the ever-widening gap between abstract visual filmmaking and mainstream “art” cinema.
Glazer’s previous works, the scrumptious Sexy Beast (2000) and the underrated Birth (2004), both seemed to satisfy even the most finicky film snob. So what is it about Under the Skin that is so intangible? (The fact that it’s been compared to Shane Carruth’s most recent visual poem Upstream Color could help designate which side of the argument you stand on.)
Even haters can’t argue with the stellar performance by star Scarlett Johansson. That said, while Johansson shared how difficult it was for her to overcome her anxiety about the film’s nude scenes, I was most intrigued by Glazer’s nervous behavior in the moments before the screening. He even felt it necessary to “help us,” and explained that the film aims to probe our world from a distant perspective.
I wonder if Yoko Ono’s 25-minute short Fly (1970) — which involves a naked woman and a very curious fly — seems even more relevant now, for it too attempted to expand the consciousness of its viewers. I will be very curious to see how Under the Skin fares commercially. If it connects with the right audience, it has the power to truly affect moviegoers, especially those looking for alternative types of moving images.
Theater artists reflect on life on the road in this final dispatch from the 2013 fringe festival circuit.
One of the most interesting aspects of the North American fringe festival circuit is the way it makes touring with a piece of theater an accessible proposition to even typically penniless performers. It hearkens back to an era when dozens of theater companies sent themselves on cross-country tours in much the same manner as punk bands or circuses (the San Francisco Mime Troupe and the Independent Eye among them), a rite of literal passage that seems quite out of reach for most theater-makers today. This means that despite its traditional, lottery-based programming, a penchant for kingmaking still pervades the Fringe, and certain prolific artists can become as rock stars, circumventing the lottery odds by booking themselves into unofficial venues as in Edinburgh, capturing oddience attention from year to year.
One of the biggest “rock stars” of the Fringe is Canadian solo artist TJ Dawe, whose shows are both personal and cerebral, exploring themes such as bodily functions, the war of the genders, figures of influence, and more recently, the spiritual and medicinal implications of ayahuasca. He also directs and dramaturges for other artists, most notably perhaps for Charles Ross in his highly physical, fanboy homages One Man Star Wars Trilogy and the One Man Lord of the Rings Trilogy.
For a draw like Dawe, touring the circuit has its clear benefits. “I quit my day job in May 2001,” he explains in a recent email exchange. Still, success doesn’t come without hard work. Dawe estimates that he’s performed over 700 shows throughout the years, and due to his many collaborations with other Fringe artists, is often attached to multiple shows in one season, including a record six in 2008. But even with a modicum of off-season success (including a recent movie made of a play he co-wrote in 2003: The “F” Word), Dawe admits that Fringe stardom rarely translates to mainstream success.
“Life after the Fringe more often consists of people hanging up their Fringe capes and playing the game as actors, writers, and directors generally do: audition, submit scripts, network in the theater community, apply for grants, hope for the best.”
Artistically speaking, the circuit offers an attractive alternative. “Instead of waiting to get cast, you cast yourself. Instead of waiting to be programmed into a theater’s season, you program yourself into a tour. The tour kicks you into shape in terms of getting you coming back with something new. Pretty soon you’ve built up a body of work and developed your own voice as a writer and performer.”
For less-established artists, a way to maximize opportunity is to apply for a long-shot spot in the official CAFF touring lottery, the winners of which can build their tours around the host cities of their choice. Two of this year’s winners had San Francisco connections: clown conservatory alumnus, juggler Aji Slater and puppeteer Zeb L. West, a graduate of SF State. Both have generally positive things to say about the experience, though neither walked away with much in the way of profit (“We merely didn’t lose as much money as we could’ve,” quips Slater). But it was the artistic rewards of the Fringe that each prefers to speak to.
“One of the best things about the Fringe is being around so many creative, incredibly talented people,” Slater asserts. “I dare anyone in the arts to do a Fringe tour and not come back energized to create. Even if zero people had come to see our show, it would be incredibly successful for this jolt of excitement and passion for our craft.”
Via email, West succinctly echoes both Dawe’s passion for the independence afforded the Fringe artist as well as Slater’s enthusiasm for the energizing effects of the more communal aspects of the circuit.
“The Fringe is a great way to get your own weird and wonderful original work out to a broad audience,” he writes. “And if you have a good show, you can fund a tour doing your own stuff. That’s a unique thing at the do-it-yourself scale. The most rewarding part is easily the camaraderie that forms with other touring artists. It makes what might be a lonely job feel like a community of gypsy dream-chasing theater people!”
The theme, chosen by outgoing monarchs Paloma Volare and Moses “Moe Jo” Garcia is “Dancing With the Czars at the Ice Castle.” I exchanged emails with Moe Jo about the theme, the Council, and the Grand Ducal mission:
SFBGTell us a little about the Grand Ducal Council and what you do. MOE JO The San Francisco Council of Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses, Inc., also known as the San Francisco Ducal Council, was founded in 1972 to provide diverse areas of the San Francisco community with charitable and personal support, and has positively affected hundreds of people and groups that may be overlooked by other fundraising organizations. The Ducal Council receives no support from government resources, and depends on fundraisers such as this event (the coronation), and donations from individuals and business.
SFBGDo you feel like you and Paloma accomplished what you set out to do during your reign? MOE JO Absolutely, when we first started this reign back in September 2012 we both wanted to reach out even more to parts of the community that previously we barely had touched. We had a plan to reach out to the Latino and Transgender communities, plus we wanted to educate the LGBT community even more on what the Grand Ducal Council of San Francisco is all about. I truly believe that we did accomplish those goals. Furthermore, we reached out to new people and as a result we have four or more new members that hold permanent titles (Royal Daddy’s Boy, Royal Baby Boy and Girl, Mr. Royal Bunny, etc.).
SFBGCan you tell me a bit about the Coronation? The theme intrigues me! What can we expect? Is there anything super-special for the 40th year? MOE JO “Coronation XL (40): Dancing With the Czars at the Ice Castle” will be a celebration of what the Grand Ducal Council of San Francisco is all about… Diversity! We will be celebrating all cultures and different countries that we represent. The audience will be taken to a place where Royalty, fashion, and glamor will be showcased. There will be several surprises during coronation, and the only way anyone will experience them is if they attend this wondrous event!
SFBGObviously the death of Jose, Empress I affected the Council. Will there be a special tribute? MOE JO Most definitely, we will have a memorial at the entrance of the ballroom with an oversized picture and beautiful red roses surrounding it. We have also included a special page in our coronation book where we have placed individuals who we have lost in the past year to let them know that although they are gone, they will never be forgotten.
SFBGWill you miss wearing your crown and cape? Or do you get to keep them? MOE JO Having a crown for the year was very nice. Although the crown was never the main point of the reign, it sure felt good to wear it from time to time. Unfortunately, we do not get to keep the crown: on the night of coronation, I will be crowning the new Grand Duke so the crown I wore this year I will be placing it on his head. I can honestly say I will not miss the crown, I did everything in my power to raise a lot of money and we raised over $53,000 for local charities. I worked hard and did all I could, and I am very proud of this great achievement… A crown? I am sure I will purchase one down the road… 🙂
Grand Ducal Coronation XL (40): Dancing With the Czars at the Ice Castle
Jesse Hawthorne Ficks watched 33 films at the 2013 Toronto International Film Festival, and we’ll be sharing his impressions chunk by chunk. Stay tuned for more!
A Touch of Sin (China/Japan) is the latest thoughtful triumph for Jia Zhangke, the king of China’s sixth-generation filmmaking. This time around, his suffering, disaffected characters are entangled in an even more violent environment than in previous outings Unknown Pleasures (2002), The World (2004), and Still Life (2006).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUkFnXd0qHo
The film’s cyclical themes only become apparent as the viewer falls deeper and deeper into each character’s predicaments. This is a filmmaker at the top of his game. Thankfully, Japanese auteur Takeshi Kitano continues to produce his modern masterpieces.
With ‘Til Madness Do Us Part (Hong Kong/France/Japan), Wang Bing has produced yet another psychological tour de force that manages to slowly creep under your skin and attack your central nervous system. It’s a direct-cinema doc that places the viewer on one floor of an overcrowded asylum.
The film is oddly constructed, with purposeful editing that inspired some audience walkouts. The monotony of the patients’ lives becomes so recognizable that it might make you lose track of your own mind and body. While Madness is quite a bit shorter than Wang’s 2003 magnum opus West of the Tracks (which clocks in at nine hours), Madness’ nearly four-hour running time only amplifies the intentionally uncomfortable viewing experience. See this on a big screen at all costs.
Claire Denis is back with yet another stunning work of art. Bastards (France) finds Denis yet again exploring the conflict of isolation versus intimacy, enhanced by Agnès Godard’s scintillating cinematography and brooding tracks by Stuart A. Staples’ Tindersticks.
What makes Denis’ films so exciting is her steadfast storytelling. As with Beau Travail (1999) and The Intruder (2004), my interpretations of Bastards‘ events were redesigned at every turn, forcing me to become an even more active participant then when the film began. Vincent Lindon (of Emmanuel Carrère’s haunting 2005 La moustache) gives a memorably desperate performance as he dashes from one self-destructive disaster to the next, similar to Isabelle Huppert in White Material (2009). Underground filmmakers of the early 1960s may have called it “Baudelairean cinema,” but this just happens to be the way Claire Denis sees the world. And thank the film gods for that.
Now in its 11th year, Portland, Ore.’s Time-Based Art Festival is fall’s major performance festival to the north (almost simultaneous with REDCAT’s Radar LA, the major festival to the south). Mounted annually by the Portland Institute for Contemporary Art (PICA), TBA has become something of a pilgrimage site for Bay Area artists and audiences, judging by the number of familiar faces onstage and off both this year and last.
PICA’s artistic director, Angela Mattox, has something to do with this. As the former performing arts programmer at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, Mattox (now in her second year at PICA) retains strong ties to Bay Area artists. Other likely factors include the relative proximity and general cultural appeal of Portland (an increasing refuge to artists and others pushed out of San Francisco by gentrification), not to mention the scandalous lack of any Bay Area performance festival of comparable scope.
The first week’s worth of work sampled at TBA this year (the festival ran from September 12 to 22) included a wide-ranging and astute blend of local, national, and international work. Among the higher-profile events was an evening of haute-cabaret, featuring Meow Meow and Thomas M. Lauderdale (the latter of Portland’s Pink Martini) backed by the Oregon Symphony. Set in the rococo Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, it offered a crowd-pleasing balance of the high-class and ribald, a tightrope walk that Meow Meow (stage name of celebrated Australian actress and cabaret star Melissa Madden Gray) pulled off with consummate skill and unflappable, zany charm.
But the most impressive work featured far more modest production values. There was Still Standing You, for example, by Campo (i.e., Belgian artist-dancer Pieter Ampe and Portuguese artist-dancer Guilherme Garrido), a visceral and physically punishing duet exploring the fantasies, phantasms, and limits of masculinity and their own male heterosexual relationship, which enthralled a large audience for over an hour with little more than the clothes on, and subsequently off, their backs.
Ampe and Garrido, naked for most of the piece, square off in boyish and frankly hilarious postures of potency and aggression, brazenly manipulating each other’s genitals or folding their bodies into intimately abstract geometries. The latter moments, quiet and sure, were the most beautiful and thematically promising. But while the piece charms (especially through its teasing familiarity with the audience and the strength of the artists’ palpable bond), it ultimately remains a bit too comfortably within the gendered field it proposes to explore.
Two other standout pieces of a packed week both tackled time in the broadest and most intimate of senses. Nearly simultaneous with the 40th anniversary of September 11, 1973 — the date of the US-backed military coup that overthrew the country’s elected government and ushered in 17 years of bloody dictatorship under General Augusto Pinochet — TBA premiered Lola Arias‘ The Year I Was Born. Comprised of a motley cast of 11, mostly non-professional actors who were all children in the Pinochet era, this dynamic and rousing work of documentary theater (modeled on Arias’ earlier work with the children of the dictatorship in her native Argentina in the 1970s–80s) offers perspectives and opportunities that only time can bring — a generational assessment as family history and youthful rebellion.
On a protean set that makes choice use of the drab institutional furnishings of a public school class room, the performers conflate childhood memories (several of them as the children of families in exile) and the headlines of the day into an episodic narrative that frequently becomes a good-natured clash among peers of varying class and political backgrounds, half-invested and half-critical of their individual patrimonies and deeply skeptical of their collective one.
In its combination of distance and intimacy, and in its messy familial and social relationships, The Year I Was Born resists the grim binaries of the political crisis itself and its immediate aftermath, opening up a space for dialogue, humor, complexity, and conciliatory feeling, without the need for a simple moral or compromise. History rolls on, and the show — filled with laughter, surges of passion, and cool detachment — affirms both our agency and ambivalence about it all.
TBA also offered the world premiere of ADULT, a highly kinetic and wildly imaginative duet by well known San Francisco-based choreographers and performers Laura Arrington and Jesse Hewit. This complex, at times willfully obscure piece deserves a longer treatment elsewhere, but it was without doubt one of the more original and productively difficult, divisive pieces caught all week. Setting the audience in a corner of the cavernous Con Way warehouse (the hub of the festival this year) and looking outward into a vast, dimly lit and unadorned expanse, the first half of the piece plunges us into a viscerally dynamic exploration of fears around death and dying, only to turn things around in the second half — literally so, coaxing the audience with a tray of whiskey and breakfast cereals into helping reorder the seating to face a makeshift stage against the far wall.
The piece then proceeds in a gorgeously erratic and precise play with entropy and order, in which Arrington and Hewit alternately share space and cede ground to one another amid garish lighting and costumes and blurring lines in every direction — not least in the gendered dynamics of their intense, compassionate, and multifarious relationship. Through it all, a sideways glance at history and mortality (flagged at one point by canny evocation of W.H. Auden’s Musée des Beaux Arts) dissolves in halting, unexpected ways into a serene pause, a loving regard between two unstable bodies in ecstatic motion.
