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Last train

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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July 9, 2013

steve@sfbg.com

Last week’s four-day strike by Bay Area Rapid Transit workers dominated the news and made headlines around the country, marking the latest battleground in a national war between public employee unions and the austerity agenda pushed by conservatives and neoliberals.

Of course, that wasn’t how the conflict was framed by BART, most journalists, or even the two BART unions involved, all of whom dutifully reported the details of each sides’ offers and counter-offers, the competing “safety” narratives (new security procedures demands by unions versus spending more on capital improvements than raises), and the strike’s impact on commuters and the local economy.

But once this long-simmering labor standoff seized the attention of a public heavily reliant on BART, fueling the popular anger and resentment increasingly directed at public employee unions in recent years, familiar basic storylines emerged.

At that point, the Bay Area could have been placed in Wisconsin, Ohio, Michigan, or Illinois — the most recent high-profile labor union battlegrounds, with their narratives of greedy public employees clinging to their fully funded pensions and higher than average salaries while the rest of us suffer through this stubbornly lingering hangover from the Great Recession.

Around water coolers and online message boards, there were common refrains: How dare those unions demand the raises that the rest of us are being denied! Pensions? Who has fully funded pensions anymore? Why can’t they just be more realistic?

When Bay Area residents were finally forced to find other ways of getting around, within a transportation system that is already at the breaking point during peak hours thanks to years of austerity budgets and under-investment in basic infrastructure, those seething resentments exploded into outright anger.

And those political dynamics could only get worse in a month. The BART strike could resume full strength on a non-holiday workweek if the two sides aren’t able to come to an agreement before the recently extended contract expires.

This is the Bay Area’s most visible and impactful labor standoff, and it could prove to be a pivotal one for the modern American labor movement.

BART AS BELLWETHER

Chris Daly was a clarion voice for progressive values while serving on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors from 2000-2010. Now, as political director of Service Employee International Union Local 1021, one of the BART unions, he says this standoff is about more than just the issues being discussed at the bargaining table.

“The terms and conditions of workers in the public sector is a buoy for other workers,” Daly told us, explaining how everyone’s wages and benefits tend to follow the gains and setbacks negotiated by unions. “The right understands this, which is why the right has been mercilessly attacking public sector workers.”

Ken Jacobs, chair of the UC Berkeley Labor Center, confirmed that union contracts affect the overall labor market. “When unions improve wages and benefits, it does have a ripple effect,” Jacobs said. He agreed that the outcome at BART could be a bellwether for the question, “As the economy comes back, how much will workers share in that prosperity?”

Demonizing public sector workers as greedy or lazy also serves to undercut the entire labor movement, Daly said, considering that public employees make up a far higher percentage of union members than their private sector counterparts. And during election time, it is union money and ground troops that typically contest wealthy individuals and corporations’ efforts to maintain or expand power.

“Labor is one of the main checks on unbridled corporate power, and public sector unions are the backbone of labor,” Daly told us.

So in that context, BART’s battle is about more than just the wages and benefits of train drivers and station agents, with their average base salary of $62,000, just barely above the area median income, and their demand for raises after accepting wage freezes in recent years.

Daly sees this as part of a much broader political standoff, and he said there are indications that BART management also sees it that way, starting with the $399,000 the transit agency is paying its lead negotiator Thomas Hock, a veteran of union-busting standoffs around the country.

“He has a history of bargaining toward strikes, with the goal of breaking unions,” Daly said, noting that Hock’s opening offer would have taken money from BART employees, with new pension and healthcare contributions outweighing raises. “It was a takeaway proposal when you add it up, while they have a $100 million surplus in their budget and the cost of living in the Bay Area is shooting up.”

But BART spokesperson Rick Rice told us that Hock is simply trying to get the best deal possible for this taxpayer-funded agency, and he denied there is any intention to break the union or connection to some larger anti-worker agenda.

“There is definitely a need to start funding the capital needs of the district,” Rice told us. “I don’t see that we’re pushing an austerity agenda as much as a realistic agenda.”

AUSTERITY AND EXPANSION

But Daly said the very idea that austerity measures are “realistic” excuses the banks and other powerful players whose reckless pursuit of profits caused the financial meltdown of 2008. The underlying expectation is that workers should continue to pay for that debacle, rather than bouncing back with the rebounding economy.

“They get in this austerity mindset, and we see it in every contract we’re negotiating,” Daly said, noting that capital needs and benefits have always needed funding, despite their elevation now as immediate imperatives. “You have good people with good intentions like [BART Board President] Tom Radulovich pushing this austerity mindset.”

Radulovich, a longtime progressive activist, told us he agrees with some of how Daly is framing the standoff, but not all of it. He said that BART is being squeezed into its position by unique factors.

Radulovich said that healthcare and pension costs really are rising faster then ever, creating a challenge in maintaining those benefit levels. And he said that Hock isn’t simply carrying out some larger anti-union agenda. “He’s negotiating what the district wants him to negotiate,” he said.

Radulovich said that while BART’s workers may deserve raises, most of BART’s revenues come from fares. “So it’s taking from workers to give to other workers,” Radulovich said. “It’s a little more complicated because it is a public agency and Chris is aware of that.”

Yet Radulovich acknowledged that BART has opted to pursue an aggressive expansion policy that is diverting both capital and operating expenditures into new lines — such as the East Contra Costa, Oakland Airport, and Warm Springs extensions now underway — rather than setting some of that money aside for workers.

“And for a lot of those, we were being cheered on by the [San Francisco] Labor Council, one of many ironies,” said Radulovich, who favors infill projects over new extensions. “These are some of the conversations I’ve had with labor leaders in the last few weeks, how we think strategically about these things.”

But if BART wanted to defeat the union, it may have miscalculated the level of worker discontent with austerity measures.

“What they didn’t plan on is some high-level Bay Area political pressure,” Daly said, referring to the local uproar over the strike that led Gov. Jerry Brown to send in the state’s two top mediators, who made progress and created a one month cooling off period before the strike can resume.

RETIREMENT SECURITY

One of the hardest issues to overcome in the court of public opinion may be the fully funded pensions of BART employees. “Times are changing, costs are escalating rapidly, and we’re asking for a modest contribution,” Rice said of BART’s demand that employees help fund their pensions.

Daly acknowledges the resentments about the pension issue, even though it was essentially a trap set for public employee unions back in the 1980s, when BART and other public agencies were the ones offering to pay for employee pensions in lieu of raises.

But rather than resenting public employees for having pensions, he said the public should be asking why most workers don’t have retirement security and how to fix that problem.

“At what point do we organize and demand retirement security for all workers?” Daly said, noting that SEIU is now leading that fight on behalf of all workers, not just its members. “What we ought to be talking about is how we restore the social contract.”

Jacobs confirmed that SEIU has indeed been pushing the retirement security issue at the state and federal levels. And it’s a crucial issue, he said, noting that just 45 percent of workers have pensions and that the average retirement savings is just $12,000.

“The retirement problem we have is not the pension crisis, it is the lack of pensions crisis,” Jacobs said.

That’s one reason that he said this standoff has implications that extend far beyond the Bay Area.

“The fight goes beyond these particular workers,” Jacobs said. “It’s an important set of negotiations and an important strike in terms of looking at what happens in this country as the economy improves.”

Daly agrees there’s a lot at stake, for more than just his members.

“Losing on this means we’d be hard pressed to win elsewhere, anytime,” Daly said. “It is important symbolically, and it is important to the strength and morale of the movement.”

Film Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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July 9, 2013

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

Fruitvale Station See “Once Upon a Time in Oakland.” (1:24) California.

Grown Ups 2 Adam Sandler, Kevin James, Chris Rock, and David Spade reunite for another round of dad comedy. (1:42)

How to Make Money Selling Drugs Want to see a deeply thought-provoking, well-made documentary (with commentary by The Wire‘s David Simon, among others) about America’s War on Drugs? Seek out last year’s The House I Live In, and give Matthew Cooke’s more superficial distillation of the same subject (does David Simon ever turn down a talking-head request?) a pass. That’s not to say How to Make Money Selling Drugs is a total fail, but its slick production values and gimmicky premise (complete with video game style “levels” tracing the rise through the drug trade) wear thin after awhile. However, Drugs does offer a lively viewing experience, with an array of colorful characters — former dealers and law enforcement officers, with some celebrities sprinkled in — holding forth on, and sometimes bragging about, how drug empires are built and dismantled. Speaking of celebrities, the film’s biggest coup is an eerie interview with Eminem, in which he candidly discusses the depths of his prescription-drug addiction. It’s a rare moment of killer honesty amid Drugs‘ short-attention-span flash. (1:34) Roxie. (Eddy)

One Track Heart: The Story of Krishna Das Born Jeffrey Kagel, “average neurotic Long Island kid,” the man now known as Grammy nominee Krishna Das underwent a spiritual transformation after trying acid, dropping out of college, meeting Be Here Now author Ram Dass, and becoming a follower of Hindu guru Neem Karoli Baba, a.k.a. Maharaj-ji. A rock ‘n’ roller who declined the chance to join the band that became Blue Oyster Cult, KD’s talents became entwined with his religion years after Maharaj-ji’s death — an emotionally devastating event that led to a brief but raging coke habit. He began performing kirtan, or call-and-response chants, at yoga studios, and (unwittingly or not) became part of a suddenly trendy movement to “make enlightenment accessible,” per the New York Times. Now he’s recorded multiple albums with Rick Rubin and tours the country, playing to rapt audiences at venues as big as the Warfield. Whether or not you can stomach New Age music or philosophy (or share the opinion that Krishna Das once overheard about himself: that he’s “an American burger with Indian ketchup”), Jeremy Frindel’s One Track Heart keeps its running time brief (just over an hour) and avoids deifying its subject — someone who clearly digs the spotlight, but who has also enough done soul-searching to keep his ego mostly in check and a higher power in mind. (1:12) Opera Plaza, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

Pacific Rim Guillermo del Toro directs and co-wrote this sci-fi epic about giant robots (piloted by soldiers, including Charlie Hunnam and Idris Elba) battling giant monsters that suddenly erupt from beneath the ocean. (2:11) Balboa.

Storm Surfers 3D With 3D being slapped indiscriminately on too many interchangeable Hollywood flicks these days, it’s easy to forget that there are some subjects that practically beg for the format. Incredibly, it seems no one thought to make a 3D film about surfing, the sport and spectacle to which stereoscopic cinema is ideally suited. Christopher Nelius and Justin McMillan’s movie (actually the third Storm Surfers entry so far) follows best-friend Australian surfing legends Ross Clarke-Jones and Tom Carroll as, guided by surf forecaster Ben Matson, they race off on short notice to various locations where huge storm-fed waves can be expected. This is risky business, and there’s human interest in the two riders’ different ways of struggling with aging (they’re both nearing 50), possibly mortal danger, and family responsibilities. These way heavily on Carroll; nothing does on Clarke-Jones, who is your basic “fuck it, let’s go” thrill junkie. Their genial personalities help spark what’s otherwise a solid if unremarkable surfing doc — albeit one that does indeed look great in 3D. (1:35) Smith Rafael, Vogue. (Harvey)

ONGOING

Augustine When a 19-year-old Parisian kitchen maid (single-named French musician Soko) has a dramatic seizure during dinner service, she makes for Salpêtrière Hospital, where she becomes the superstar patient of Dr. Charcot (Vincent Lindon) — a real-life 19th century professor and neurologist who later mentored Sigmund Freud. There’s no “talking cure” at work here, though; Augustine’s medical treatment consists mostly of naked poking and prodding, as well as hypnosis-induced episodes of her increasingly sexualized “ovarian hysteria.” The tension builds as Charcot struggles against popular disdain for his methods (read aloud to him from newspapers by his coolly elegant wife), as well as his forbidden attraction to Augustine. Occupying the same moody, sensual milieu as David Cronenberg’s too-talky A Dangerous Method, first-time feature writer-director Alice Winocour approaches her tale of misunderstood madness from a point of view that’s more emotionally-driven, with some subtle feminist undercurrents. Points deducted, though, for some obvious symbolism — like costuming Augustine in a brand-new red dress right after she starts her period for the first time. (1:42) Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

A Band Called Death The most popular feel-good documentary last year was Searching for Sugar Man, Malik Bendjelloul’s film about Rodriguez — a talented singer-songwriter who recorded two major-label albums in the early 1970s and then disappeared from any public view. Unbeknownst to him, the records were a big hit in South Africa, where fans eventually tracked him down and informed him that he was a star. A Band Called Death is a similar story of recognition — delayed so long that the principal vindicated character was no longer alive to enjoy it. Sons of a Detroit Baptist minister, David, Dannis, and Bobby Hackney were enamored with rock music from the time they saw the Beatles play The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964. By 1971 they were calling themselves Rock Fire Funk Express — but exposure to live hard-rock acts like the Who and Alice Cooper convinced them to ditch the funk part completely. Their father’s tragic car-accident death hit all of them hard, but especially guitarist David, who had a spiritual awakening of sorts and insisted their band be named after what he now considered “the ultimate trip”: Death. It seemed a career-killing moniker if ever there was one; nor did the trio’s loud, fast, heavy sound make sense for an African American outfit in a city where Motown ruled. Fast-forward, and Death wasn’t just forgotten; it had never really been noticed. Its only material issue was a self-distributed 1974 single. But three decades later some of its 500 pressings started surfacing on underground DJ’s turntables, rare-record collectors’ wish lists, and on eBay (at $800 a pop). What could be a more fascinating enigma than an unknown African American group making music that was precociously protopunk? A bit overlong, this documentary nonetheless ingratiates with its surprising wealth of home-movie footage, commentary from the very genial Hackney clan, and testimony from latter-day fans like Henry Rollins and Questlove. (1:36) Roxie. (Harvey)

Before Midnight Proving (again) that not all sequels are autonomic responses to a marketplace that rewards the overfamiliar, director Richard Linklater and his cowriters Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke reconnect with the characters Céline and Jesse, whom we first encountered nearly 20 years ago on a train and trailed around Vienna for a night in Before Sunrise, then met again nine years later in Before Sunset. It’s been nine more years since we left them alone in a Paris apartment, Céline adorably dancing to Nina Simone and telling Jesse he’s going to miss his plane. And it looks like he did. The third film finds the two together, yes, and vacationing in Greece’s southern Peloponnese, where the expansive, meandering pace of their interactions — the only mode we’ve ever seen them in — is presented as an unaccustomed luxury amid a span of busy years filled with complications professional and personal. Over the course of a day and an evening, alone together and among friends, the two reveal both the quotidian intimacies of a shared life and the cracks and elisions in their love story. (1:48) Clay. (Rapoport)

The Bling Ring When it was revealed that high schoolers were behind a series of robberies targeting the lavish homes of Hollywood’s famous-for-being-famous types — most notably Paris Hilton — the fallout became fodder for gossip websites like TMZ.com, plus a memorable Vanity Fair article. The latter (recently expanded into a book by author Nancy Jo Sales) is the basis for Sofia Coppola’s new film, a fictionalized take on the crimes. Bored by upper-middle-class lives that leave them with lots of free time and habitually absent parents, a posse of SoCal teens (newcomers Katie Chang and Israel Broussard, and Harry Potter‘s all-grown-up Emma Watson, lead the charge) begin creepy-crawling the homes of Hilton and others, dovetailing their celebrity obsessions with a raging hunger for expensive shit. (Was ever a crime so victimless, one wonders, than a heist perpetrated at the expense of a starlet’s handbag collection, so vast she won’t even notice a few missing Birkins?) Flashing their ill-gotten new clothes, jewelry, and wads of cash in Facebook selfies, the burglars miss the most valuable lesson of all: that the friendships they share are fleeting and meaningless — kind of like fame, kind of like blowing (stolen) money on designer clothes that will soon be out of style. Ironically, with The Bling Ring, Coppola has delivered her least-vapid film since 1999’s The Virgin Suicides; it’s both candy-colored and canny, a cautionary tale that lingers just long enough on its scenes of youthful excess to let you know it’s in on the joke. (1:27) Metreon, Presidio, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Deceptive Practice: The Mysteries and Mentors of Ricky Jay David Mamet fans will recognize Ricky Jay from multiple appearances in the director’s work; he’s also been in films like Boogie Nights and Tomorrow Never Dies (both 1997). But Jay’s true passion is stage magic, specifically card and other sleight-of-hand tricks, performed with a skill so dazzling that it’s tempting to believe he really does have supernatural powers. He’s also a witty, self-deprecating, and sometimes “irascible” (to quote a word used in Molly Bernstein and Alan Edelstein’s doc) character — and has a vast, ever-expanding interest in magic history. Using first-hand interviews, TV and stage-show clips, and some wonderful vintage footage, Deceptive Practice traces Jay’s career (he was a child prodigy in the 1950s, thanks to his supportive grandfather), pausing along the way to pay tribute to the men who influenced him and, in many cases, taught him their top-secret techniques. Throughout, Jay is seen demonstrating his own mind-bending tricks — as “simple” as changing a card’s suit, as elaborate as making it sail across the room and plunge like a knife into a watermelon — although never, of course, revealing how he does it. (1:28) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Despicable Me 2 The laughs come quick and sweet now that Gru (Steve Carell) has abandoned his super-villainy to become a dad and “legitimate businessman” — though he still applies world-class gravitas to everyday events. (His daughter’s overproduced birthday party is a riot of medieval festoonage.) But like all the best reformed baddies, the Feds, or in this case the Anti-Villain League, recruit him to uncover the next international arch-nemesis. Now a spy, he gets a goofy but highly competent partner (Kristen Wiig) and a cupcake shop at the mall to facilitate sniffing out the criminal. This sequel surpasses the original in charm, cleverness, and general lovability, and it’s not just because they upped the number of minion-related gags, or because Wiig joined the cast; she ultimately gets the short end of the stick as the latecomer love-interest (her spy gadgets are also just so-so). However, Carell kills it as Gru 2 — his faux-Russian accent and awkward timing are more lived-in. Maybe the jokes are about more familiar stuff (like the niggling disappointments of family life) but they’re also sharper and more surprising. And though the minions seemed like one-trick ponies in the first film, those gibberish-talking jellybeans outdo themselves in the sequel’s climax. (1:38) Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

Frances Ha Noah Baumbach isn’t exactly known for romance and bright-eyed optimism. Co-writing 2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox with director Wes Anderson is maybe the closest to “whimsy” as he’s ever come; his own features (2010’s Greenberg, 2007’s Margot at the Wedding, 2005’s The Squid and the Whale, 1997’s Mr. Jealousy, and 1995’s Kicking and Screaming) tend to veer into grumpier, more intellectual realms. You might say his films are an acquired taste. But haters beware. Frances Ha — the black-and-white tale of a New York City hipster (Baumbach’s real-life squeeze, Greta Gerwig, who co-write the script with him) blundering her way into adulthood — is probably the least Baumbach-ian Baumbach movie ever. Owing stylistic debts to both vintage Woody Allen and the French New Wave, Frances Ha relies heavily on Gerwig’s adorable-disaster title character to propel its plot, which is little more than a timeline of Frances’ neverending micro-adventures: pursuing her nascent modern-dance career, bouncing from address to address, taking an impromptu trip to Paris, visiting her parents (portrayed by the Sacramento-raised Gerwig’s real-life parents), “breaking up” with her best friend. It’s so charming, poignant, and quotable (“Don’t treat me like a three-hour brunch friend!”) that even those who claim to be allergic to Baumbach just might find themselves succumbing to it. (1:26) Opera Plaza, Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

The Heat First things first: I hated Bridesmaids (2011). Even the BFF love fest between Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig couldn’t wash away the bad taste of another wolf pack in girl’s clothing. Dragging and dropping women into dude-ly storylines is at best wonky and at worst degrading, but The Heat finds an alternate route. Its women are unlikable; you don’t root for them, and you’re not hoping they become princesses because such horrifying awkwardness can only be redeemed by a prince. In Bridesmaids and Heat director Paul Feig’s universe, friendship saves the day. Sandra Bullock is Murtaugh to Melissa McCarthy’s Riggs, with tidy Bullock angling for a promotion and McCarthy driving a busted hoopty through Boston like she’s in Grand Theft Auto. Circumstances conspire to bring them together on a case, in one of many elements lifted from traditional buddy-cop storylines. But! The jokes are constant, pelting, and whiz by like so much gunfire. In one running gag, a low-rung villain’s worst insult is telling the women they look old — but neither character is bothered by it. It’s refreshing to see embarrassment humor, so beloved by chick flicks, get taken down a peg by female leads who don’t particularly care what anyone thinks of them. (1:57) Balboa, Marina, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

I’m So Excited I’m So Excited may be to Pedro Almodóvar what Hairspray (1988) was for director John Waters: a kind of low-intensity, high-fluff gateway drug for a filmmaker who’s otherwise an “acquired taste.” (Note: unlike Hairspray, this is not a family movie.) Almodóvar’s previous pictures were far more explicit about their obsessive thinking: mothers suffered (1999’s All About My Mother); sex was deadly (1990’s Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!) and men were dishonorable (all of them). But in this drug and booze-addled flame-fest, Almodóvar takes one of his lesser themes (the joy of confinement) and transforms a flight from Madrid to Mexico into the funniest soap opera to ever feature cabaret and S&M talk. Early in the flight we learn the landing gear is shot; this means the flight’s dueling pilots have to find a place to host an emergency landing while Europe is on holiday. They anesthetize all of coach (um&ldots;metaphor, anyone?), leaving the rich to bellyache over their lost children, lost happiness, and stubborn virginity. Business class is full of drama queens so the flamboyantly gay attendants spike a cocktail with ecstasy (to make everyone get along) and an orgy ensues, complete with a seemingly victimless rape and multiple change-overs from hetero to homo. Almodóvar does have a knack for make-believe, but his biggest gift for fantasy happens in his stress-free transitions; oh, that coming out could be so liberating — but living in a Catholic country lousy with sexual disorientations, maybe the only place that can happen is at 30,000 feet. (1:35) Piedmont, SF Center. (Vizcarrondo)

The Internship The dirty little secret of the new economy continues to be the gerbil cycle of free/cheap labor labeled “internships” that propels so many companies — be they corporate or indie, digital or print media. But gee, who’s going to see an intern comedy titled The Exploitation, besides me and my local union rep? Instead, spinning off a Vince Vaughn story idea and a co-writing credit, The Internship looks at that now-mandatory time-suck for so many college students through the filter of two older, not-quite-wiser salesmen Billy (Vaughn) and Nick (Owen Wilson) hoping to make that working guy’s quantum leap from watch sales to Google’s Mountain View campus, which director Shawn Levy casts as a bright and shiny workers wonderland with its free spring rolls and lattes, bikes, and napping pods. Departing from reality: the debugging/coding/game-playing/app-making competition that forces Billy and Nick to bond with their team of castoffs (Dylan O’Brien, Tiya Sircar, Tobit Raphael), led by noob manager Lyle (Josh Brener), in order to win a full-time job. Part of the key, naturally, turns out to be a Swingers-like visit to a strip club, to release those deeply repressed nerd sexualities — nothing like a little retrograde sexism to bring a group together. Still, the moment is offset by the generally genial, upbeat attitude brought to The Internship by its lead actors: Nick and Billy may be flubs at physics and clueless when it comes to geek culture, but most working stiffs who have suffered the slings and arrows of layoffs and dream of stable employment can probably get behind the all-American ideals of self-reinvention and optimism about the future peddled in The Internship, which easily slips in alongside The Great Gatsby among this year’s Great Recession narratives. Blink too fast and you might miss the microcameo by Google co-founder Sergey Brin. (1:59) Metreon. (Chun)

Iron Man 3 Neither a sinister terrorist dubbed “the Mandarin” (Ben Kingsley) nor a spray-tanned mad scientist (Guy Pearce) are as formidable an enemy to Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) as Tony Stark himself, the mega-rich playboy last seen in 2012’s Avengers donning his Iron Man suit and thwarting alien destruction. It’s been rough since his big New York minute; he’s been suffering panic attacks and burying himself in his workshop, shutting out his live-in love (Gwyneth Paltrow) in favor of tinkering on an ever-expanding array of manned and un-manned supersuits. But duty, and personal growth, beckon when the above-mentioned villains start behaving very badly. With some help (but not much) from Don Cheadle’s War Machine — now known as “Iron Patriot” thanks to a much-mocked PR campaign — Stark does his saving-the-world routine again. If the plot fails to hit many fresh beats (a few delicious twists aside), the 3D special effects are suitably dazzling, the direction (by series newcomer Shane Black) is appropriately snappy, and Downey, Jr. again makes Stark one of the most charismatic superheros to ever grace the big screen. For now, at least, the continuing Avengers spin-off extravaganza seems justified. (2:06) Metreon. (Eddy)

Kevin Hart: Let Me Explain (1:15) 1000 Van Ness.

The Lone Ranger The biggest strike against The Lone Ranger is one you’ll read about in every review: it’s just a teeny bit racist. Casting Johnny “my great-grandmother was maybe part Cherokee” Depp as a buffoonish Native American is very suspect, especially when casting of Depp is the only reason this Lone Ranger exists. Clearly, he really wanted to play Tonto, and Depp has a way of making his oversized performances the most important thing about whatever film he’s in. Were audiences really screaming out for The Lone Ranger, a rather literal big-screen take on a 1950s TV show with some heavily CG’d train chases added in? Could not $250 million, the film’s reported budget, have been better spent doing something … anything … else? Adding insult to injury, racism isn’t even The Lone Ranger‘s only problem. There’s also its bloated length; its score, which dares to introduce an Ennio Morricone homage into a film Sergio Leone wouldn’t line his gatto‘s litter box with; its waste of some great character actors (Barry Pepper, William Fichtner); its assumption that having random characters ask the Lone Ranger “What’s with the mask?” over and over is the funniest joke ever; and its failure to follow through on its few inventive elements — that herd of Monty Python-inspired rabbits, for example. The question must be posed: if the moral of The Lone Ranger is “greed is bad,” why did El Deppo sign onto this piece of crap in the first place? (2:29) Marina, Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Man of Steel As beloved as he is, Superman is a tough superhero to crack — or otherwise bend into anything resembling a modern character. Director Zack Snyder and writer David S. Goyer, working with producer Christopher Nolan on the initial story, do their best to nuance this reboot, which focuses primarily on Supe’s alien origins and takes its zoom-happy space battles from Battlestar Galactica. The story begins with Kal-El’s birth on a Krypton that’s rapidly going into the shitter: the exploited planet is about to explode and wayward General Zod (Michael Shannon) is staging a coup, killing Kal-El’s father, Jor-El (Russell Crowe), the Kryptonians’ lead scientist, and being conveniently put on ice in order to battle yet another day. That day comes as Kal-El, now a 20-something earthling named Clark Kent (Henry Cavill) — resigned to his status as an outsider, a role dreamed up by his protective adoptive dad (Kevin Costner) — has turned into a bit of a (dharma) bum, looking like a buff Jack Kerouac, working Deadliest Catch-style rigs, and rescuing people along the way to finding himself. Spunky Lois Lane (Amy Adams) is the key to his, erm, coming-out party, necessitated by a certain special someone looking to reboot the Kryptonian race on earth. The greatest danger here lies in the fact that all the leached-of-color quasi-sepia tone action can turn into a bit of a Kryptonian-US Army demolition derby, making for a mess of rubble and tricky-to-parse fight sequences that, of course, will satisfy the fanboys and -girls, but will likely glaze the eyes of many others. Nevertheless, the effort Snyder and crew pack into this lengthy artifact — with its chronology-scrambling flashbacks and multiple platforms for Shannon, Diane Lane, Christopher Meloni, Laurence Fishburne, and the like — pays off on the level of sheer scale, adding up to what feels like the best Superman on film or TV to date — though that bar seems pretty easy to leap over in a single bound. (2:23) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Maniac And it came to pass that William Lustig’s trashy classic Maniac (1980) was remade, with Elijah Wood assuming the role of twisted killer Frank, a role closely associated with its originator, the late, great cult actor Joe Spinell. Lustig is credited with a producing credit on this otherwise largely French effort, directed by Franck Khalfoun and co-written by Alejandre Aja and Grégory Levasseur — who also worked together on the 2006 remake of The Hills Have Eyes. Though it’s set in contemporary Los Angeles (complete with dating websites and cell phones), Maniac is shot to mimic the original film’s late-1970s New York (cabs, deserted subways, grimy streetscapes), with a synth-heavy score enhancing the retro vibe. Frank is still obsessed with mannequins, scalps, and his dead mother, with shades of both Psycho (1960) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991) filtering through. When Frank meets Anna (Nora Arnezeder), a beautiful French photographer whose preferred subject is mannequins, he grows ever more confused — and more violent. The entire movie is shot from Frank’s POV (we see Wood’s face only in mirrors and photographs), an off-putting gimmick that fails to add much in the way of suspense or scares. As for the gore, there’s nothing amid the CG enhancements that matches the work of special effects genius Tom Savini, whose memorable exploding-head scene plays just as repulsively effective in 2013 as it did in 1980. If you really wanna be freaked out by a movie maniac, skip this so-so do-over and spend some quality time with Spinell instead. (1:29) Roxie. (Eddy)

Monsters University Seven-year-old Mike Wazowski is even more adorable than grown-up, Billy-Crystal-voiced Mike Wazowski. It’s a pity, then, that one of the big lessons Monsters University teaches is that the essence of monster-identity is how scary one is. What Mike loses in frightfulness he forcefully recovers in spunk, and after a trip to the scare floor that briskly reminds us the premise of 2001’s Monsters, Inc., mini-Mike becomes the first ever career-driven Pixar character. (For this, I love him.) We all know he eventually becomes a superstar in this scare-powered retro-verse, but first he has to overcome frat boy-inflicted embarrassment and flunk out of school. The most noteworthy thing about Pixar’s first prequel is how very massively its characters fail — it’s a lovely tilt that suggest the greatness of tomorrow begins when you overcome the failures of today. The administrators of Monsters University (in particular Helen Mirren’s dragon-lady Dean) require formal perfection in the scares they grade, but in the world of actual scarers, oddness and difference actually become advantages. It’s all theory but no rulebook. And doesn’t that sound like a good lesson from the studio that once proudly said “story is king,” yet now scrambles to meet Disney’s once-a-year feature demands? Such rigidity comes at a price. (1:50) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

Now You See Me Cheese can be a tough factor to quantify, but you get close to the levels Now You See Me strives for when you picture the hopelessly goofy, tragically coiffed Doug Henning lisping, “It’s magic!” somewhere between Bob “Happy Little Tree” Ross and a rainbow sprinkled with Care Bears. Now You See Me, however, is much less likely to be dusted off and adored by a Bronies-style cult. Four seemingly savvy street and stage magicians (Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Isla Fisher, and Dave Franco) are brought together by tarot card invite by a mysterious host. What follows is a series of corny performances by the crew, now dubbed the Four Horseman, that are linked to a series of Robin Hood-like, or not, thefts. Nipping at their heels are a loudly flustered FBI agent (Mark Ruffalo, working an overcooked Columbo impression), a waifish Interpol detective (Mélanie Laurent, as if slouching through a Sorbonne semester), and a professional debunker (Morgan Freeman, maintaining amusement). In the course of the investigation, the Horsemen’s way-too-elaborate and far-from-apocalyptic illusions are taken apart and at least one vigorously theatrical fight scene takes place — all of which sounds more riveting than what actually transpires under the action-by-the-book watch of director Louis Leterrier, who never succeeds in making the smug, besuited puppets, I mean Horsemen, who strut around like they’re in Ocean’s Eighteen 4D, anything remotely resembling cool. Or even characters we might give a magical rabbit’s ass about. For all its seemingly knowing pokes at the truth behind the curtain, Now You See Me lacks much of the smarts and wit of loving deconstructionists like Penn and Teller —glimmers of which can only be made out in the smirk of Harrelson and the knowing twinkle of Freeman — or even the tacky machismo of Criss Angel, as well as a will to get to a truth behind the mystery. Or is the mystery behind the truth? (1:56) Metreon. (Chun)

Rebels with a Cause The huge string of parklands that have made Marin County a jewel of preserved California coastline might easily have become wall-to-wall development — just like the Peninsula — if not for the stubborn conservationists whose efforts are profiled in Nancy Kelly’s documentary. From Congressman Clem Miller — who died in a plane crash just after his Point Reyes National Seashore bill became a reality — to housewife Amy Meyer, who began championing the Golden Gate National Recreation Area because she “needed a project” to keep busy once her kids entered school, they’re testaments to the ability of citizen activism to arrest the seemingly unstoppable forces of money, power and political influence. Theirs is a hidden history of the Bay Area, and of what didn’t come to pass — numerous marinas, subdivisions, and other developments that would have made San Francisco and its surrounds into another Los Angeles. (1:12) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Star Trek Into Darkness Do you remember 1982? There are more than a few echoes of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan in J. J. Abrams’ second film retooling the classic sci-fi property’s characters and adventures. Darkness retains the 2009 cast, including standouts Zachary Quinto as Spock and Simon Pegg as comic-relief Scotty, and brings in Benedict “Sherlock” Cumberbatch to play the villain (I think you can guess which one). The plot mostly pinballs between revenge and preventing/circumventing the destruction of the USS Enterprise, with added post-9/11, post-Dark Knight (2008) terrorism connotations that are de rigueur for all superhero or fantasy-type blockbusters these days. But Darkness isn’t totally, uh, dark: there’s quite a bit of fan service at work here (speak Klingon? You’re in luck). Abrams knows what audiences want, and he’s more than happy to give it to ’em, sometimes opening up massive plot holes in the process — but never veering from his own Prime Directive: providing an enjoyable ride. (2:07) Metreon. (Eddy)

This Is the End It’s a typical day in Los Angeles for Seth Rogen as This Is the End begins. Playing a version of himself, the comedian picks up pal and frequent co-star Jay Baruchel at the airport. Since Jay hates LA, Seth welcomes him with weed and candy, but all good vibes fizzle when Rogen suggests hitting up a party at James Franco’s new mansion. Wait, ugh, Franco? And Jonah Hill will be there? Nooo! Jay ain’t happy, but the revelry — chockablock with every Judd Apatow-blessed star in Hollywood, plus a few random inclusions (Rihanna?) — is great fun for the audience. And likewise for the actors: world, meet Michael Cera, naughty coke fiend. But stranger things are afoot in This Is the End. First, there’s a giant earthquake and a strange blue light that sucks passers-by into the sky. Then a fiery pit yawns in front of Casa Franco, gobbling up just about everyone in the cast who isn’t on the poster. Dudes! Is this the worst party ever — or the apocalypse? The film — co-written and directed by Rogen and longtime collaborator Evan Goldberg — relies heavily on Christian imagery to illustrate the endtimes; the fact that both men and much of their cast is Jewish, and therefore marked as doomed by Bible-thumpers, is part of the joke. But of course, This Is the End has a lot more to it than religious commentary; there’s also copious drug use, masturbation gags, urine-drinking, bromance, insult comedy, and all of the uber-meta in-jokes fans of its stars will appreciate. (1:46) Four Star, Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio. (Eddy)

20 Feet From Stardom Singing the praises of those otherwise neglected backup vocalists who put the soul into that Wall of Sound, brought heft to “Young Americans,” and lent real fury to “Gimme Shelter,” 20 Feet From Stardom is doing the rock ‘n’ roll true believer’s good work. Director Morgan Neville follows a handful of mainly female, mostly African American backing vocal legends, charts their skewed career trajectories as they rake in major credits and keep working long after one-hit wonders are forgotten (the Waters family) but fail to make their name known to the public (Merry Clayton), grasp Grammy approval yet somehow fail to follow through (Lisa Fischer), and keep narrowly missing the prize (Judith Hill) as label recording budgets shrivel and the tastes, technology, and the industry shift. Neville gives these industry pros and soulful survivors in a rocked-out, sample-heavy, DIY world their due on many levels, covering the low-coverage minis, Concert for Bangladesh high points, gossipy rumors, and sheer love for the blend that those intertwined voices achieve. One wishes the director had done more than simply touch in the backup successes out there, like Luther Vandross, and dug deeper to break down the reasons Fischer succumbed to the sophomore slump. But one can’t deny the passion in the voices he’s chosen to follow — and the righteous belief the Neville clearly has in his subjects, especially when, like Hill, they are ready to pick themselves up and carry on after being told they’re not “the Voice.” (1:30) Metreon, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

Unfinished Song (1:36) Opera Plaza.

The Way, Way Back Duncan (Liam James) is 14, and if you remember being that age you remember the awkwardness, the ambivalence, and the confusion that went along with it. Duncan’s mother (Toni Collette) takes him along for an “important summer” with her jerky boyfriend, Trent (Steve Carell) — and despite being the least important guy at the summer cottage, Duncan’s only marginally sympathetic. Most every actor surrounding him plays against type (Rob Corddry is an unfunny, whipped husband; Allison Janney is a drunk, desperate divorcee), and since the cast is a cattle call for anyone with indie cred, you’ll wonder why they’re grouped for such a dull movie. Writer-directors Nat Faxon and Jim Rash previously wrote the Oscar-winning screenplay for 2011’s The Descendants, but The Way, Way Back doesn’t match that film’s caliber of intelligent, dry wit. Cast members take turns resuscitating the movie, but only Sam Rockwell saves the day, at least during the scenes he’s in. Playing another lovable loser, Rockwell’s Owen dropped out of life and into a pattern of house painting and water-park management in the fashion of a conscientious objector. Owen is antithetical to Trent’s crappy example of manhood, and raises his water wing to let Duncan in. The short stint Duncan has working at Water Wizz is a blossoming that leads to a minor romance (with AnnaSophia Robb) and a major confrontation with Trent, some of which is affecting, but none of which will help you remember the movie after credits roll. (1:42) California, Metreon, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

White House Down Ah, the mid-1990s: a time when two big-budget movies on the same subject were regularly released within months of each other (1997’s Volcano and Dante’s Peak; 1998’s Armageddon and Deep Impact). When a director named Roland Emmerich ascended into the blockbuster pantheon with Independence Day (1996), a film that’s best-remembered for that iconic shot of the White House exploding under alien death rays. The intervening years have seen Emmerich plunge ever-deeper into various flavors of disaster, and White House Down — which reignites that ’90s copycat-rivalry thing by riding the fumes of March’s Olympus Has Fallen — finds its boogeyman in domestic terrorism. It beings on a triumphant day for President James Sawyer (Jamie Foxx), who has just ordered all US troops removed from the Middle East — angering some high-up men in his administration, as well as some ex-military goons with axes of their own to grind. When the White House is compromised, a wannabe Secret Service agent (Channing Tatum), at the Prez’s house for a tour with his precocious daughter, shoulders one-man-army duties. Rockets are launched; there’s a high-speed limo chase across the White House lawn; we learn the truth about Marilyn and JFK; and thanks to evil genius Skip Tyler (Jimmi Simpson), “the greatest hack the world has ever seen” is about to unleash World War III. Yep, that’s right: 17 years after ID4‘s Jeff Goldblum broke into the alien mainframe, thereby saving the White House-less planet, Emmerich has decided that hackers are actually bad guys. It goes with White House Down‘s warning that the enemy is no longer an external threat, but something lurking right under your nose. Better start working out, America — and working on your one-liners. (2:17) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

World War Z Or, Brad Pitt saves the world from undead beings with rotted brains but super-sharp hearing. Somehow, Max Brooks’ innovative multi-character book — written in the form of interviews with survivors of a recent zombie outbreak — becomes by-the-numbers action horror in the hands of director Marc Forster (2008’s Quantum of Solace, a.k.a. that Bond movie nobody remembers), complete with credit sequence filled with real news reports of environmental disasters, global unrest, and even a little shout-out to that guy who ate another guy’s face off last year in Florida. No bath-salt jokes here, though; instead, we have Pitt playing a verrrry serious former UN investigator — former, because he quit to spend more time with his family, a promise he actually considers keeping even when the survival of the world hinges, apparently, on his very specific expertise. He jets around the world (South Korea! Israel! Wales?) in search of a cure, but it’s obvious from the beginning — when he escapes immediate death in the initial rampage with his picture-perfect wife (Mireille Enos) and two daughters — that he’ll eventually suss out a planet-saving solution. (Sorry, but if that’s a spoiler you’ve never seen a movie before.) A few nifty setpieces can’t save World War Z from more or less embodying the descriptor “meh,” with its undynamic 3D, uninspiring CG, and cobbled-together script, complete with reassuring final voice-over. And one more thing: for the love of flesh-ripping gore, can we please make this the last PG-13 zombie movie? (1:56) 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Psychic Dream Astrology: July 10-16, 2013

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July 9, 2013

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July 10-16, 2013

Mercury is Retrograde, so hold off on solidifying major plans and making big purchases, folks.

ARIES

March 21-April 19

Save yourself from yourself! Say “yes” to life and to your self this week. It would be all too easy to fall into stressful feelings that make things more dire than they need to be. Support yourself by taking a solid step back and appraising your situation so you can joyfully participate when you feel ready.

TAURUS

April 20-May 20

Step away from the narratives that are you’re obsessing on, Taurus. You may feel that you’re figuring everything out, but you’ve got a blind spot that that you’re not accounting for. When you see the world through a veil of insecurity you cannot see it clearly. Don’t look for answers, only truth.

GEMINI

May 21-June 21

Practice gratitude, Gemini. Every morning for the next seven days, name six things that you’re grateful for before you get out of bed. In order to expand your life, you need to start at the beginning. Believing in your potential works best when you are able to appreciate the present and build from there.

CANCER

June 22-July 22

Don’t let your fears inform your actions, because that will give them the power to shape your reality. No matter how anxious you get, this is not the week to roll over and give in to your demons. Keep clear in your mind a vision of happiness and make sure that your actions reflect that picture.

LEO

July 23-Aug. 22

You have nothing to worry about, Leo. If you act in integrity with your values you may suffer through some anxiety this week, but it’s likely to be no big deal. Things will get tricky for you if you violate your own code of ethics, though. This is not the week to take shortcuts or act like Robin Hood.

VIRGO

Aug. 23-Sept. 22

Don’t repress your ego drives or to let them run roughshod over your life. Turn your ego into your best friend, or at least let it into your inner circle! Give yourself permission to take up space, to have ambition and to attain your goals. A healthy and integrated ego is an important part of a healthy and integrated Virgo.

LIBRA

Sept. 23-Oct. 22

If you get too big for your britches someone’s gonna want to knock you down a peg, Libra. Embody power as honestly as you can without getting passive aggressive this week. What you may think is an effort to be nice can come across as condescending. Be authentic to avoid power struggles.

SCORPIO

Oct. 23-Nov. 21

Change is in the air, and with Saturn in your neck of the woods you should keep your participation creative and regenerative. Be willing to be changed by your situation and to be true to yourself, even if that takes you down a winding path, pal. You have a lot to learn, and this week can help you learn it.

SAGITTARIUS

Nov. 22-Dec. 21

Stop what you’re doing! No matter how capable you are, you need to slow down and take stock of what’s happening so you can make sure that you’re living up to your commitments. This is not the time to let things slip through the cracks. Finish what you’ve started before you do anything else, Sag.

CAPRICORN

Dec. 22-Jan. 19

The only way for you to thrive and grow is through change. You don’t always get to choose what the shifts in your life will look like, but you needn’t assume it’s bad when change is hoisted upon you. Choose to be a part of things getting better this week. Don’t let fear hold you still in a world in motion.

AQUARIUS

Jan. 20-Feb. 18

Should you find yourself running away you should catch yourself before you get too far. If your primary motives are fear-based this week you’ll end up making things worse. Create space enough to reflect on what you’re going through so that you can consciously move towards someplace better.

PISCES

Feb. 19-March 20

If you persist in looking outside of yourself for answers you will only feel worse. There’s a ton going on right now and only you can know what pace you need to adopt. Protect your emotions from a major crisis of confidence by slowing down and focusing on what you can handle in a healthy way, Pisces.

Jessica Lanyadoo has been a Psychic Dreamer for 18 years. Check out her website at www.lovelanyadoo.com to contact her for an astrology or intuitive reading.

Peeps for keeps

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July 9, 2013

2

culture@sfbg.com

CHOW NOW

Can you believe the Upper Haight — practically a food desert — has a new option for vittles that looks downright promising? Freshly open on Haight Street is the rather darling Sparrow (1640 Haight, SF; sparrowbarandkitchen.com)

It’s got a heated beer garden in back, perfect for that foggy-ass neighborhood, and hello, 14 taps of beer. You’ll find comfort classics, but better, like chicken leg stuffed with quinoa, and a brie-and-bacon grilled cheese with fig jam. The Sparrow peeps are also making ice cream and sorbet in-house for dessert, and the brunch lineup includes quite a few gluten-free choices. Welcome to the neighborhood, little bird. Watch Sparrow’s website for hours, as it’s just nesting in.

The ever-growing taco empire Tacolicious (1548 Stockton, SF. www.tacolicious.com) has opened a new outpost in North Beach, complete with signature touches like vibrant tile, perfectly mixed margaritas, and tasty tacos. The space is bright, airy, and poised to become a popular hangout, especially since the restaurant is open straight through lunch and dinner, so it’s an easy spot to stop by mid-afternoon for an adult beverage and a taco snack. Or keep it under consideration for the next time you’re playing hooky on a sunny afternoon. We’ll never tell. Open daily 11:30am–12am.

Looking for a new place to get your buzz on? (Well, one that isn’t liquor induced.) Head to the new downtown spot Coffee Cultures (225 Bush, SF. www.coffee-cultures.com) for a sip and zip from North Carolina roaster Counter Culture coffee. You’ll also find breakfast pastries, a soft-serve machine, sandwiches and salads at lunchtime, and a cute, hip staff. Open Mon–Fri 6am–6pm.

There’s another coffee kid in town, this time on the border between Bernal and the Mission. It’s Tierra Mia (3188 Mission, SF. www.tierramiacoffee.com), and it’s the first northern location of the Southern California coffee chain. It features Latin American coffee drinks, so you can feel all arriba with a horchata latte or a Cubano con leche. Adelante…. Open daily 6:30am–10pm.

BALLIN’ ON A BUDGET

Valencia Street’s Range (842 Valencia, SF. www.rangesf.com) is celebrating eight years in business, and you, dear drinker and diner, stand to benefit from a couple deals. First, starting July 10th, Range will launch its new “Aperitif Menu,” offered during a new aperitif hour, beginning at 5pm and running until 6pm, every day. You can swing by for some lighter-style cocktails (sherry and vermouth in the house!), plus some $7 bites, like trout rillette, chicken liver mousse, or little gem leaves with San Andreas cheese and lemon-caper vinaigrette. Yeah, sounds like a good kick-off to a summer evening. Bonus: order Range’s lauded, bourbon-based signature Third Rail cocktail for $8 for the month of July. Cheers!

YOU GOTTA EAT THIS

There is a definite art to the breakfast sandwich: the texture of the eggs, the bread (and how it’s toasted), the meaty and cheesy options, and yes, the price. While the McDonald’s Egg McMuffin is a genius pop culture totem, everything inside that muffin is all wrong (don’t make me enumerate why). But Nopa hangout Vinyl Coffee and Wine Bar (359 Divisadero, SF. www.vinylsf.com) makes a rather winning version, and a lot of it is due to the thick, honking, buttery English muffin they use, with a nice crunch of cornmeal. For $3.25, you get a muffin with egg and cheddar, and for just a buck more, you can add bacon or sausage — both available as vegetarian faux meat — or avocado. Back it up with your pick of a Blue Bottle Coffee item (I’m a fan of the Gibraltar myself), and “good” will affix itself to your morning.

Marcia Gagliardi is the founder of the weekly tablehopper e-column; subscribe for more at tablehopper.com. Get her app: Tablehopper’s Top Late-Night Eats. On Twitter: @tablehopper.

Independence movement

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July 9, 2013

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arts@sfbg.com

THEATER/DANCE The crowd outside the Niebyl-Proctor Marxist Library in Oakland was hopping. Fidgeting, really — imperceptibly at first, but soon enough bodies were bouncing and flailing, until the scrum of dancers packed shoulder-to-front-to-back on the sidewalk morphed their collective way through the front door.

June 22 marked one year’s worth of PPP, the monthly performance series instigated by Oakland-based dance collective SALTA. As much a scene as a performance platform, PPP has been building an ethic of serious, unbridled experimentation in a low-key setting where failure is as valid as success, and no one ever encounters a price tag, a door charge, or a gate keeper.

In terms of curation, PPP is equally promiscuous and shrewd, emphasizing a cross-generational perspective. “We try to reach out to people who have paved pathways for us,” says one SALTA member. “And we’ve been a little brazen about cold-emailing, cold-calling people who are in town, like Jeremy Wade.” Meanwhile, PPP has been building a unique audience for contemporary dance-performance and inspiring dialogue about the ethics of art-making in the Bay Area.

As an attribute of its headlong dive into experimentation and openness, PPP never sits still but moves restlessly and freely from one donated space to another. With each space come new networks as well as many PPP diehards. As its members explain, the anniversary installment marked the beginning of a summer hiatus for PPP, so that the collective can better focus on advancing other projects — all geared to creating space, in the widest sense, for dance in Oakland.

SALTA is very much the restive and searching reflection of its monthly series. What began as necessity — a space for dance — has been embraced as ethic. Not that the two were entirely strangers to begin with. As suggested by the conversation below with the members of SALTA (currently seven young women who preferred to speak as members of the collective rather than use their individual names), the realities of dance today imply, more than ever, a confrontation with the values of the dominant culture.

SFBG Which came first, PPP or SALTA, and what’s the relationship?

SALTA It’s funny, we were just talking about this earlier — it’s so confusing!

SALTA I guess we, as a collective, came first.

SALTA And we named that SALTA.

SALTA But the name SALTA didn’t come until after we had the name PPP.

SALTA We all came together in the idea of making space for dance. We were talking a lot about having an actual space and, in the meantime, [we said] let’s do a performance series. So that came second, and then it eclipsed a lot of what we’d been doing. We’re actually going to take a break over the summer and focus on some other stuff.

SALTA We want to have classes, [and start] a dance publication. We want to work on networking. We’ve had some out of town people, but just because the West Coast can be very isolating.

SFBG How did it all start?

SALTA We’re all based in Oakland, and we wanted to have a space for dance to happen here — there are not a lot of venues that are really open for experimental work. That was the big thing: we’re sick of going to San Francisco all the time, and we want to figure out what the community is in Oakland and see what we can build. Something that’s been really cool from the beginning is that a lot of non-dancers come to PPP, a lot of Oakland people who hear about it from different arenas.

SALTA As well as there not being institutions interested in the kind of work we were doing, we were also not interested in institutionalizing art, in the way that it’s done. Also, financially, making it a free event was really important to us as artists and the way we want to make art. Not having to play this whole [“who do you know”] game. It was modeled, or got a lot of guidance from Jmy [Leary] in LA, who started [dance organizers/activists] AUNTS in New York. That’s been a model that we’ve been in dialogue with.

SALTA She’s a mentor of ours, and a benefactor actually, through the Yellow House fund. We originally wanted to create a space here in Oakland similar to Pieter Pasd in LA, but the realities of being who we are as artists and where we are in our lives, as transient people, we thought we’d keep the space moving. We figured out that that worked over the past year.

SFBG I like this ethic of moving around, of asking for a free space each time. It seems a good social ethic to encourage, and it really pushes back against the spirit of the times.

SALTA It’s interesting who said no to the proposal, and who has been really willing to donate space and time — and their art.

SALTA I feel as we continue to exist and assert ourselves into spaces, it opens up more. We have to find a space, ask for a free space, because as dancers we don’t have the resources to be renting all the time. So where there’s this huge scene of First Friday or whatever — “art’s happening all the time in Oakland” — we’re not a part of that. It would be interesting at some point. Well, we WILL be a part of that. [Laughter.] But what does that mean? And how much more legit, in a certain sense, do we have to become? *

For a longer version of this interview, visit www.sfbg.com/pixel_vision; for more information on SALTA, visit www.saltadance.info.

Hey, grill

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July 8, 2013

1

culture@sfbg.com

TABLEHOPPER Let’s celebrate carbs at new (and expanded) bakeries, and dive into Sunday poolside barbecues and spiffy suppers.

CHOW NOW

You have a taste for Frenchie baked goods? Bon. Hightail it over to the French-inspired Le Marais Bakery (2066 Chestnut, SF. www.lemaraisbakery.com) in the Marina. This brand new place is legit: owner Patrick Ascaso is a Paris native, and the bakery is a tribute to the boulangeries he grew up with. (Some guys get all the luck.) You’ll find croissants and French-style levain breads fed daily with natural starter from boulanger Justin Brown, who previously worked at Bien Cuit and Roberta’s in Brooklyn. And since more is more, there’s also a separate pastry program helmed by Phil Ogiela, formerly at Aziza and Presidio Social Club, with desserts like gâteau Basque with cream and apricots, fresh fruit tarts, and madeleines. The place is as good looking as the treats on your plate: Paxton Gate is behind the très charmant design, complete with vintage baking trays functioning as cabinets, light fixtures made from Bundt pans, and a floor featuring tile from the north of France.

More bakery news: the fine folks at Cassava Bakery and Cafe (3519 Balboa, SF. www.cassavasf.com) have reopened — yay! — and it’s even bigger and better than before. They recently finished expanding into the space next door, which means more seating, new dinner hours, and an augmented menu. Have you been there yet? Trust, you should go. Chef Kristoffer Toliao and co-owner Yuka Ioroi are also assembling a wine and beer list, with vino- and vermouth-based cocktails. In the works? This lovable Outer Richmond cafe plans to add a Parisian café–inspired sidewalk patio with heaters and a windshield; wish them luck, or even better, visit the website to see how you can help ’em out.

Since we’re in the neighborhood: fans of the xiao long bao (soup dumplings) and more at Shanghai Dumpling King (3319 Balboa, SF, 415-387-2088) will be happy to know they have reopened after renovations. Mmmm, dumplings.

A couple solid local spots have expanded into second locations: Ramen Underground (22 Peace Plaza, Suite 530, SF. www.ramenunderground.org) on Kearny now has a place in Japantown, in the former Sanuki Udon. And you can now score kati rolls and more at the new Kasa Indian Eatery (1356 Polk, SF. www.kasaindian.com) that just opened on Polk Street, where the relatively short-lived Fourth Wave Coffee was.

BALLIN’ ON A BUDGET

Poolside BBQ. Has a nice ring to it, right? Well, the great minds at Chambers Eat + Drink (601 Eddy, SF. www.chambers-sf.com) and the Phoenix Hotel have launched a new Summer Sunday Series every Sunday from 1pm–6pm. You’ll be able to kick it poolside for brunch (which runs until 2:30pm) and tuck into some barbecue from 2pm–6pm. Chef Trevor Ogden’s varied menu includes classic Southern barbecue dishes like brisket, ribs, and pulled pork, plus grilled burgers, hot dogs, and yakitori skewers (prices range from $7–$12). Throw in some mellow beats and alfresco cocktails, and you’ve got yourself a groovy little scene. And check this: future DJs will include Mark Farina and Afrolicious. Sweet. All we need is a repeat of last weekend’s gorge weather and we’re in business.

YOU GOTTA EAT THIS

While dining at the city’s oh-so-fabulous Quince isn’t within everyone’s reach, the casual offshoot Cotogna (490 Pacific, SF. www.cotognasf.com) next door is certainly more affordable, and just as delicious. But unless you receive the weekly Cotogna newsletter, you may not know about its fab Sunday Suppers ($55 for four courses). The menu changes weekly, featuring ingredients at the height of seasonality. One late spring menu included an extraordinary green gazpacho made with avocado, butter lettuce, and Dungeness crab; fagotelli pasta (go ahead, make jokes) with zucchini and squash blossoms; buttermilk fried rabbit from Devil’s Gulch Ranch; and oven-roasted peaches and lemon verbena ice cream for dessert. Yeah, four courses of hell yes. If you see a menu that sounds good to you, hop to it. Even if you can’t get a reservation, you can probably score seats at the bar and communal table. Buon appetito!

Marcia Gagliardi is the founder of the weekly tablehopper e-column; subscribe for more at tablehopper.com. Get her app: Tablehopper’s Top Late-Night Eats. On Twitter: @tablehopper.

Hi-yo, stinker

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July 5, 2013

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FILM Pop-culture historians who study 2005’s top movies will remember Mr. & Mrs. Smith, the so-so action flick that birthed Brangelina; Batman Begins, which ushered in a moodier flavor of superhero; and Tim Burton’s shrill Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

That last title is of particular interest lately. Not only did Charlie provide grim confirmation that a post-Planet of the Apes (2001) Tim Burton had squandered whatever goodwill he’d built up a decade prior with films like Ed Wood (1994) and Edward Scissorhands (1990), it also telegraphed to the world that Johnny Depp — previously a highly intriguing actor, someone whose cool cred was never in question — was capable of sucking. Hard.

In the years since 2005, Depp hasn’t done much to stamp out those initial flickers of doubt. If anything, he’s fanned ’em into a bonfire. His involvement in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise (which is plodding toward a fifth installment) has taken up most of his schedule, though he’s always willing to don a wacky wig whenever Burton needs him (2007’s Sweeney Todd; 2010’s Alice in Wonderland; 2012’s Dark Shadows). The rest of his post-2005 credits are a mixed bag, mostly best forgotten (ahem, 2010’s The Tourist), though one does stand out for positive reasons: 2011’s animated Rango, a cleverly-scripted tale that reunited Depp with Gore Verbinski, who helmed the first three Pirates movies.

The pair returns to Rango‘s Wild West milieu for The Lone Ranger; certainly there’ll be no Oscars handed out this time, though Razzies seem inevitable. The biggest strike against The Lone Ranger is one you’ll read about in every review: it’s just a teeny bit racist. The casting of the once and future Cap’n Sparrow — who apparently has a blank check at Disney to do any zany thing he wants — as a Native American given to “hey-ya” chants and dead-bird hats is very suspect. Some (white) people might be willing to give this a pass, because it’s always been part of Depp’s celebrity mythology that he’s part Indian. I mean, he totally has a Cherokee warrior inked on his bicep, just below “Wino Forever”!

Mmm-hmm. Let’s go to the source, shall we? Speaking of his heritage in a 2011 interview with Entertainment Weekly, Depp mustered the following: “I guess I have some Native American somewhere down the line. My great grandmother was quite a bit of Native American, she grew up Cherokee or maybe Creek Indian. Makes sense in terms of coming from Kentucky, which is rife with Cherokee and Creek.”

Sounds kinda sketchy, JD. The actor who played Tonto on TV may have been born Harold J. Smith (“Jay Silverheels” was his nom de screen), but he was also raised on Canada’s Six Nations reserve and was the son of a Mohawk tribal chief. So The Lone Ranger TV series, which ran from 1949 to 1957 — and had its share of racial-insensitivity and stereotype-perpetuating issues — was able to cast an actual indigenous person to play Tonto, but 2013’s The Lone Ranger, which elevates Tonto from sidekick to narrator and de facto main character, was not.

In fact, it’s not too far-fetched to assume that the casting of Depp (also credited as an executive producer) is the only reason this Lone Ranger exists. Clearly, he really wanted to play Tonto, and Depp has a way of making his performance the most important thing about whatever film he’s in. Were audiences really screaming out for The Lone Ranger, a rather literal big-screen take on a 1950s TV show with some heavily CG’d train chases added in? Could not $250 million, the film’s reported budget, have been better spent doing something … anything … else?

Obviously “redface” is nothing new in Hollywood. It was frequently deployed in the pre-PC era, as when a white actor played a heroic Native American figure — think Chuck Connors in 1962’s Geronimo. But shouldn’t we have transcended that by now? You’d never see blackface in a film unless it was being used to make a character look ridiculous (2008’s Tropic Thunder), or to make a satirical point, as with 2000’s Bamboozled. Somewhere, Kevin Costner is clutching his Oscars for 1990 post-Western Dances With Wolves — more or less cinema’s biggest mea culpa for all those “the only good Indian is a dead Indian” yarns of the John Wayne era — and weeping.

Tonto isn’t the only Native American character in The Lone Ranger. But the others (none of whom are given names, unless someone was called “set dressing” or “background actor” and I missed it) have a slightly sharper aura of authenticity than Depp, who spends the whole movie caked in either old-age make-up or campy face paint. They are mere plot devices, there to give contemporary audiences a reason to feel outraged when an evil railroad baron lays his tracks through their land and raids their silver mine. “Our time has passed,” an elderly Indian character tells the Lone Ranger (Armie Hammer, whose role literally consists of riding a horse and reacting to Depp’s scenery-chewing buffoonery). “We are already ghosts.”

But back up, kemo sabe. Racism may be The Lone Ranger‘s worst problem, but it’s not the film’s only problem. There’s also its bloated length (nearly three hours); its score, which dares to introduce an Ennio Morricone homage into a film Sergio Leone wouldn’t line his gatto‘s litter box with; its waste of some great character actors (Barry Pepper, William Fichtner); its assumption that having random characters ask the Lone Ranger “What’s with the mask?” over and over is the funniest joke ever; and its failure to follow through on its few inventive elements — that herd of Monty Python-inspired rabbits, for example.

And another thing: if the moral of The Lone Ranger — spelled out with all the delicate subtlety of a fiery train crash — is “greed is bad,” why did El Deppo sign onto this piece of crap in the first place? *

THE LONE RANGER opens Wed/3 in Bay Area theaters.

Political Alerts

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July 3, 2013

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Thursday 4

San Francisco Mime Troupe: Oil and Water Dolores Park, 18thand Dolores, SF. www.sfmt.org. 2pm, free. This free performance by San Francisco’s beloved Mime Troupe actually incorporates two shorter plays, Crude Intentions and Deal with the Devil. Dealing with issues such as climate change, pollution, water scarcity and fossil fuel dependence, the plays involve a poisoned rainforest river, a senator mysteriously murdered in his office and, true to life, an oil refinery ablaze in the Bay Area.

Saturday 6

Laborfest bike tour of historic SF 518 Valencia, SF. (415) 608-9035, www.laborfest.net. noon-4pm, donation suggested. Led by local author and activist Chris Carlsson, this bike tour will delve into San Francisco’s working-class history, featuring stops at landmarks and tales of dozens of epic battles between owners and workers, culminating in the 1934 General Strike and its aftermath. Join this event for a different look at San Francisco labor history and a new perspective on San Francisco.

Sunday 7

Innocent! The case of Mumia Abu-Jamal 518 Valencia, SF. www.laborfest.net. 2-6pm, free. You may or may not know the story behind the campaign to free America’s most famous political prisoner, former Black Panther and revolutionary journalist, Mumia Abu-Jamal. But whatever your level of knowledge, here’s your chance to hear from experts including Rachel Wolkenstein, investigative attorney for Mumia; family spokesperson Bob Wells; Oakland Teachers for Mumia and ILWU organizer Jack Heyman of the San Francisco longshore union on the West Coast port shutdown organized in defense of Mumia.

Walking tour: Empires, Kings, and Labor Cable-car turnaround, Powell and Market, SF. commonwealth1234@yahoo.com, laborfest.net. 11am, free. Join this hour and fifteen minute tour of Union Square and surrounding blocks, where one can learn the history of labor struggles that unfolded in San Francisco. Tour is led by David Giesen.

Monday 8

Chinatown walk Portsmouth Square, Washington near Kearny, SF. www.laborfest.net. 10am, free. Join SF City Guide Mae Schoening in a walk through Chinatown to learn about Chinese labor history in California, where discrimination by governments and unions, sweatshops, housing issues and other problems have shaped experiences throughout the decades. Learn how immigrant labor struggled for fair treatment while mining gold, building railroads, and working in the garment and building trades. Meet inside Portsmouth Square Park in front of Parking Garage Elevators adjacent corner of Walter P. Lum Place and Washington.

So now what?

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July 3, 2013

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EDITORIAL The scene at City Hall on Friday, June 28 could have been a video rewind of 2004’s Winter of Love: a surprise announcement granting same-sex marriage licenses; a breathless rush of couples to the civic altar, led by two brave, symbolic women (lesbian groundbreakers Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon in 2004 and anti-Prop 8 plaintiffs Kris Perry and Sandy Stier in 2013), a city erupting with good will and cheer, dazed by the speed of luck and history. Earlier, Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom, teeth and hair and all, was making grand pronouncements, strutting about like he was mayor of the place again.

Back in 2004, the city was scarred and drained from the first great Internet bust, and still reeling from the losses of AIDS. San Francisco was a mess, but it was starting to recover. People who had been forced to move out by the city’s skyrocketing rents and evictions in the early 2000s were beginning to trickle back in, and many of those beached by the boom’s collapse were turning into the very freaks, artists, and innovators they had helped displace. When Newsom launched SF’s same-sex marriage rebellion, it was an act of great civic uplift, burnishing SF’s progressive image in the eyes of the world, while boosting the city’s self-confidence. (Not to mention its economy, which benefited greatly from the wedding explosion.)

The act also burnished Newsom’s own reputation. Previously reviled for his “Care Not Cash” policies that demonized the poor and homeless, a significant percentage of LGBTQ people among them, he was suddenly a posterboy for civil rights. Now of course, San Francisco is supposedly on the arc of an economic boom, skyrocketing evictions included, and not in the dregs of a bust. So it was with a regretful shudder that we noticed some more ominous similarities between 2004 and 2013.

A week before this year’s Pride, and right before the wave of marriage elation overtook the festivities, the city’s homeless census was released. Out of the total count of 6,436 homeless people, a figure emerged that stunned many: 29 percent of 1000 people specifically asked identified themselves as LGBTQ, and it’s assumed that the actual percentage of queer homeless people is in fact higher, due to factors like closeting and mental health. A large portion of LGBTQ homeless are youth, still drawn here by San Francisco’s promise of inclusion and shelter from abusive and rejective backgrounds.

While the city celebrates the achievement of grand ideals of equality, we are failing the very people for whom those ideals may be most valuable. Currently, Dolores Street Services, along with help from Sup. David Campos and the city’s “homeless czar” Bevan Dufty, is working towards the building of a 24-bed shelter specific aimed to service LGBTQ homeless people. But that’s just a drop in the bucket. We need much more.

Now that DOMA has been overturned and Prop. 8 kicked to the curb, there’s a lot of discussion about what the powerful, energized “gay lobby” should take on next. Righting the horrible Supreme Court decision gutting the Voting Rights Act and achieving marriage equality in 37 more states are valiant, necessary goals. But turning toward the actual problems in our own backyard is another imperative.

As the Pride celebration in the Civic Center was winding down on the evening of Sunday, June 30, a group of young women emerged seemingly out of nowhere among the trash-strewn streets and beeping trucks being loaded with the party’s massive detritus. The women quietly dispersed among the leftover crowd, hauling sacks of bread on their shoulders. They made their way toward those lying on the street or huddled in doorways, distributing loaves in a matter-of-fact manner to people in need. It was a perfect reminder of the real spirit of Pride — an inclusivity that benefits all, empowered by actions on a one-to-one, human scale.

Parents, behind bars

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July 3, 2013

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By Ross Mirkarimi

OPINION Nearly 50 percent of the 2.7 million people incarcerated in US prisons and jails are mothers and fathers. In San Francisco, about 40 percent of the prisoners are parents. For their children, the punishment does not fit the crime.

Federal and state recidivism registers at 78 percent; locally the rate is 65 percent and dropping. If we’re serious about breaking the cycle of incarceration, we must get serious about restoring the family ties of the incarcerated.

Studies support what common sense suggests — strengthening the parent-child bond reduces recidivism. It also reduces the prospect that children of the incarcerated are more likely to violate the law. While maintaining appropriate safety and legal protocols, the San Francisco Sheriff’s Department is reexamining policies that invariably damage or strain relationships between an inmate parent and child, starting with birth. In honor of Mother’s Day, on May 9, the Community Works Jail Arts Program, with our department, converted the lobby of the SF women’s jail into a temporary gallery of art created by incarcerated and formerly incarcerated mothers.

That provided a warm environment to announce a policy first in California: The Birth Justice Project, designed to affirm the reproductive rights of all incarcerated women and provide prenatal and postpartum care during the transformative experience of pregnancy, birth and parenthood. With the stewardship of Dr. Carolyn Sufrin, an OB/GYN from UCSF, along with the Department of Public Health, Zellerbach Foundation, and our volunteer doulas (professional birth assistants), we’re radically distancing ourselves from the barbaric attitude of 33 states that still shackle women during labor. Rather, we seek to nurture the inimitable bond between mother and child.

While most jails and prisons shun a lactation policy, we’ve unveiled our pro-lactation program. Breast pumps, refrigeration, and delivery are provided around the clock, facilitated by our jail health professionals. While the arcane national practice is to separate baby and mother after the third day of birth, we’re working to maintain the connection. If we can’t do it through diversion (alternatives to incarceration), then we’ll continue to assess our facility in allowing mother and baby to stay together. I look forward to promoting breast feeding in San Francisco’s jails.

For children of incarcerated parents, the absence of a mother is the loss of a primary caregiver. Ninety percent of incarcerated fathers in the US report that while away, their children live with the child’s mother. In contrast, only 28 percent of incarcerated mothers report that their children live with their father. Routinely, her children are cared for by a grandparent or relative — and about 11 percent are placed in foster care. Many children are bounced from caregiver to caregiver during their parent’s incarceration.

These disruptions to a child’s life negatively affect their social and mental development. Acknowledging the sense of disconnection experienced by children whose parents are incarcerated also means we must grapple with the emotional poverty that increases the likelihood of criminal behavior. In San Francisco, we’re taking steps to bridge this disconnection by reforming visitation policies to facilitating regular contact between children and incarcerated parents.

The people in our jails will eventually be released and will return to communities that historically have been underserved. We’re trying to intensify resources toward exit planning for newly incarcerated parents and guardians. Depending on individuals cases, that could include a regiment of parenting classes, substance abuse and mental health treatment, domestic violence counseling, reunification counseling for parent and child, reading and writing comprehension, high school completion, life skills such as financial literacy, and vocational training.

Many people don’t know what the Sheriff’s Department does or the difference between us and the SFPD; we’ve launched a monthly e-newsletter to keep the public informed. To sign up or contact us at: Ross.Mirkarimi@SFgov.org

Ross Mirkarimi is sheriff of San Francisco

Wedding bells and Pride protests

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July 3, 2013

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rebecca@sfbg.com ; steve@sfbg.com

The city of San Francisco was a complete whirlwind from June 26 to June 30. First came the historic Supreme Court ruling that ended the ban on same-sex marriage in California and struck down the discriminatory Defense of Marriage Act. The historic decision, handed down just before the city’s Pride festivities got underway and as a rare heat wave gripped the city, unleashed widespread celebration June 26, culminating with a rally and dance party in the streets of the Castro.

The Supreme Court ruled that the Defense of Marriage Act, which denies federal recognition of same-sex marriage, “is unconstitutional as a deprivation of the equal liberty of persons that is protected by the Fifth Amendment.” According to the majority opinion, “DOMA’s principal effect is to identify a subset of state sanctioned marriages and make them unequal.”

Hollingsworth v. Perry, the Prop 8 case, was dismissed on standing due to the fact that the State of California refused to defend it in court. That meant the previous ruling invalidating Prop 8, by Judge Vaughan Walker and upheld by the Ninth Circuit Court, was upheld.

City Hall was totally packed at 7am when the Court convened, with hordes of journalists, gay and lesbian couples, and sign-wielding activists in the crowd. Cheers erupted when the decision was announced striking down DOMA. When the Prop 8 statement came down, the room went nuts.

“It feels good to have love triumph over ignorance,” said Mayor Ed Lee, who joined Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom in escorting a fragile Phyllis Lyon down the stairway. When Lyon married the late Del Martin, they became the first same-sex couple to get legally married in California in 2004.

“San Francisco is not a city of dreamers, but a city of doers,” Newsom said. “Here we don’t just tolerate diversity, we celebrate our diversity.” He thanked City Attorney Dennis Herrera and others who’d contributed to the fight to for marriage equality. “It’s people with a true commitment to equality that brought us here.”

When Herrera took the podium, he turned to Newsom, and said, “Now you can say, ‘Whether you like it or not!'” — a joking reference to Newsom’s same-sex marriage rallying cry, which some blamed for boosting the anti-same-sex marriage cause. “We wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for Gavin Newsom’s leadership,” Herrera continued. “I remember in 2004 when people were saying it was too fast, too soon, too much.” Herrera also pledged to continue the fight that began here in City Hall more than nine years ago: “We will not rest until we have marriage equality throughout this country.”

Later that afternoon, clergy from a variety of faiths including Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and the Church of Latter Day Saints gathered on the steps of Grace Cathedral on Nob Hill for a buoyant press conference to celebrate the court’s rulings.

“For 20 years I’ve been marrying gay and lesbian couples, because in the eyes of God, that love and commitment was real, even when it wasn’t in the eyes of the state,” said Rabbi Michael Lerner of the Beyt Tikkun Synagogue. “We as religious people have to apologize to the gay community,” he added, for religious texts that gave opponents of gay marriage ammunition to advance an agenda of discrimination.

He added that the take-home message of the long fight for marriage equality is, “don’t be ‘realistic.’ Thank God the gay community vigorously fought for the right to be married — because they were not ‘realistic,’ the reality changed. Do not limit your vision to what the politicians and the media tell you is possible.”

Mitch Mayne introduced himself as “an openly gay, active Mormon,” which is significant since the Mormon Church was a major funder of Prop 8. He called it “one of the most un-Christlike things we have ever done as a religion,” but noted that the sordid affair had brought on “a mighty change in heart from inside the Mormon community, with greater tolerance than ever before,” with many Mormons going out and marching in solidary with gay and lesbian couples, he said.

Then on June 28, earlier than expected, the County Clerk started issuing same-sex marriage licenses. Kris Perry and Sandy Stier, plaintiffs in the case against Prop. 8, became the first of dozens of happy couples to be married at City Hall that evening, and the marriages continued in the days that followed.

And as if that weren’t enough excitement, it all happened before the weekend, when Pride festivities got underway. This year featured not only the official Pride parade and myriad performances, but also an “Alternative to Pride Parade,” signifying that a radical Pride-questioning movement has been reawakened in San Francisco.

“Have you had enough with the poor political choices of some community leaders that claim to represent you? Are you over the over-corporatizing of SF Pride? Or just tired of the same old events that don’t reflect who you are, and how you want to celebrate your queer pride?” organizers wrote in a statement announcing the event.

The parade itself, meanwhile, also featured some dissenters. The third annual Bradley Manning Support Network contingent swelled in ranks this year, due to the political maelstrom touched off when the Pride Board rescinded Manning’s appointment as Grand Marshal.

The Bradley Manning Support Network contingent attracted more than 2,000 supporters who marched to show solidarity with the openly gay whistleblower, comprising the largest non-corporate contingent in the Parade. Former military strategist Daniel Ellsberg, who leaked secret government documents known as the Pentagon Papers to the press in 1971, donned a pink boa and rode alongside his wife, Patricia, in a pick-up truck labeled “Bradley Manning Grand Marshal.” Patricia told the Bay Guardian, “There is something about the energy and triumph of this beautiful event … Just as the gays have made a tremendous difference with marriage, we have to do the same with wars and aggression” in U.S. foreign policy.

Pride’s legal counsel, Brooke Oliver — who resigned over the Pride Board’s handling of the Manning debacle — marched along with the Bradley Manning contingent. Bevan Dufty, former SF Supervisor and now the mayor’s point person on homelessness, stepped down as a Grand Marshal, also because of the Pride Board’s actions, but didn’t march with the contingent.

Nor were the Bradley Manning supporters the only protest contingent to take part in the parade. A group seized the opportunity to make a political statement by marching with a faux Google bus, an action meant to call attention to gentrification and evictions in San Francisco. They rented a white coach and covered it with signs printed up in a similar font to Google’s corporate logo, proclaiming: “Gentrification & Eviction Technologies (GET) OUT: Integrated Displacement and Cultural Erasure.”

Some trailed the faux Google bus with an 8-foot banner depicting a blown-up version of an Ellis Act evictions map. Others donned red droplets stamped with “evicted” to signify Google map markers, while a few toted suitcases to represent tenants who’d been sent packing. However, their ranks were thin in comparison with the parade contingents surrounding them, which included crowds of workers representing eBay, DropBox, and, of course, Google — the largest corporate contingent in the parade.

“The organizers of this anti-gentrification and displacement contingent are not ‘proud’ that folks are being kicked out of this city that was once their refuge,” organizers of the faux Google bus contingent wrote in a press statement. “The 2013 SF Homeless Count and Survey shows that 29 percent of the city’s homeless population is ‘LGB and other.’ The Castro is experiencing the highest number of evictions in the city. Meanwhile, the SF Pride Parade is becoming as gentrified as SF. This group is calling on Pride to remember its roots.”

Hungry for reform

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July 3, 2013

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news@sfbg.com

Sitawa Jamaa is among the thousands of California inmates who, two years ago this summer, took part in the largest prison hunger strike in US history to protest harsh conditions and their invisibility to those outside prison walls.

Now, Jamaa and other prisoners are about to launch another hunger strike to highlight the system’s unfulfilled promises and the persistence of inhumane conditions.

The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) counted 6,000 prisoners throughout the state who refused food over several weeks in July 2011. During a follow-up strike that September, the number of prisoners missing meals swelled to 12,000, according to the federal receiver who was appointed by the courts to oversee reforms in the system. At least one inmate starved to death.

As one of four inmates who call themselves the Short Corridor Collective, Jamaa was a key organizer of the hunger strike. The group of inmates drafted a list of core demands calling for the strike when they weren’t met.

That was no easy task for Jamaa, who has spent most of the last 28 years alone in a windowless, 8-by-10 foot concrete cell in Pelican Bay State Prison, a supermax facility not far from the Oregon border, where some 1,200 men are held in similar conditions.

Inmates held in solitary confinement (in government lingo: “Segregated Housing Units”, or “SHU” for short) aren’t supposed to communicate with each other, verbally or through the mail. But they were able to organize with the help of their lawyers, who they are allowed to communicate with, and prison reform advocates outside.

Jamaa and other inmates are planning to launch a second hunger strike on July 8. The Short Corridor Collective has drafted a list of 45 demands, reflecting concerns ranging from inadequate health care to extreme solitary confinement—conditions that prison advocates characterize as cruel and unusual punishment.

The list is an extension of the five initial demands that Pelican Bay inmates presented in 2011 before initiating a hunger strike. Most of those demands were never met, or they were met only with lip service, leading prisoners back to where they started.

CONFINEMENT AS TORTURE

High on the list are concerns about conditions in the SHU, the amount of time prisoners can be made to spend in isolation, and the public’s inability to monitor the situation.

“I feel dead. It’s been 13 years since I have shaken someone’s hand and I fear I’ll forget the feel of human contact,” Pelican Bay prisoner Luis Esquivel told attorneys with the Center for Constitutional Rights in an interview.

Along with Jamaa and others, Esquivel is a plaintiff in a lawsuit against the state of California that would effectively cap the time someone can spend in solitary confinement to 10 years.

“The hunger strike is an extreme act,” says Terry Kupers, a Piedmont-based psychology professor and clinical psychiatrist who has testified before the California State Assembly on long-term solitary confinement. “It’s very dangerous, and you can die. So when a group of prisoners go on hunger strike, it means they’ve exhausted all ways of expressing themselves and having their demands considered. And that’s very much the case here—some of these guys have been in SHU for 30 or 40 years.”

Kupers believes solitary confinement in California prisons violates the 8th Amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment, a view echoed by activists who’ve launched a statewide effort called the Stop the Torture Campaign.

United Nations Special Rapporteur Juan Méndez, an expert on torture, has called for a ban on solitary confinement where inmates are kept in isolation for 22 hours a day or more, saying the practice should only be used in very exceptional circumstances and for short time periods.

The CDCR has made some concessions and reforms since the 2011 hunger strikes, but critical issues have gone unaddressed. In Pelican Bay’s SHU, the men are now allowed beanie caps for when it gets cold. They can now have wall calendars to track time and bring a human touch to their surroundings.

Some prisoners have received exercise equipment, such as a handball or pull-up bar. Each year, they now have permission to have one photograph of themselves taken to send to family members, and prison administrators have signaled that they are looking into extending Pelican Bay’s visitation hours.

But more pressing issues have yet to be resolved, so the prisoners who drafted the 45 demands are resorting to starvation once again, despite official statements that it will do little to improve their conditions.

“Negotiation is something the department does not do,” says Terry Thornton, a spokesperson for CDCR. But the department has met periodically with a mediation team, consisting of lawyers and prison activists, who have communicated the inmates’ concerns and gone over their demands with prison authorities.

RESISTING REFORM

In 2002, the state of California was sued, and lost, in an 8th Amendment class-action lawsuit: Plata v. Davis. The federal judge overseeing the case called the medical treatment in California prisons “horrifying,” sinking “below gross negligence to outright cruelty,” ordering improved treatment and reductions in severe prison overcrowding.

A court-appointed doctor found that out of 193 deaths over the course of one year, 34 were “probably preventable,” but medical staff gave “well below even minimal standards of care.” Eleven years later, the state is still under federal receivership, until it can show that conditions have actually improved.

Court-appointed consultant Dr. Raymond Patterson wrote his 14th annual assessment report last April, blaming high suicide rates behind bars on a lack of “adequate assessment, treatment or intervention.” After it was released, he quit the post in frustration, writing: “It has become apparent that continued repetition of these recommendations would be a further waste of time and effort.”

So inmates are taking in upon themselves to accomplish what the courts and consultants have failed to do: reform conditions in the prisons.

As happened in 2011, in spite of what is planned to be a peaceful protest, prisons housing strikers will be, according to Thornton, on “modified program” (or “lockdown,” as prisoners call it). Generally, that means inmates aren’t allowed to leave their cells, even to shower.

New regulations created after the 2011 strikes call for no visits for striking prisoners, and for their canteen food to be confiscated. In addition, “inmate(s) identified as strike leaders, instrumental in organizing, planning, and perpetuating a hunger strike, shall be isolated from non-participating inmates.”

Since March of this year, the Guantanamo Bay prisoner hunger strike has made news around the world for highlighting alleged violations of international law. There, when a striker goes below 85 percent Ideal Body Weight, regulations dictate that he or she be shackled to a chair, fitted with a mask, and have tubes inserted through their nostrils into their stomachs for up to two hours at a time.

That didn’t happen in California back during the 2011 strikes, but the Division of Correctional Health Care Services devotes five pages of its policy handbook to outlining specific instructions for dealing with hunger strikers, including transfers to prison medical facilities where they could potentially be force-fed, another practice the UN regards as torture.

Prisoners and activists believe the policy was instituted as preemptive attack on the upcoming hunger strike. “We are concerned that, under the pretext of ‘welfare’ checks, prisoners are being harassed, targeted, and deprived of sleep as the date of planned hunger strikes and work stoppages approaches,” said Isaac Ontiveros of the Prisoner Hunger Strike Solidarity group. “Whatever the case, new CDCR Secretary Jeffery Beard has an opportunity to avoid the strike and begin to undo the indescribable harm that the California prison system has caused.”

DANGEROUS ASSOCIATIONS

Problems associated with solitary confinement are closely connected to CDCR’s most commonly used tool for sending prisoners like Jamaa into the SHU: the controversial “gang validation” process.

Once an inmate is listed in prison records as a gang member, he or she loses multiple rights on the assumption that they’re a threat to the order of the prison. With no disciplinary write-ups since 1995, Jamaa would have been eligible for parole in 2004, except for the gang validation that led to his indefinite SHU sentence.

Getting pegged as a member of a gang can happen easily. Guards can write prisoners up for anything from the possession of artwork deemed to be gang-related, to information obtained from confidential informants whose claims prisoners often aren’t allowed to refute and whose identities remain unknown to the targeted prisoners.

Last year, in the wake of hunger strikes, CDCR announced a “complex retooling” of the gang validation practices. The so-called Step Down process, created in conjunction with the Department of Homeland Security, is meant to transition inmates out of gangs over the course of four years, with privileges gained over that time.

It might be the most significant of the reforms that followed the last hunger strike, but prisoners and their advocates criticize it as too lengthy of a process, subject to the arbitrary whims of the correctional officers overseeing a given prisoner. In fact, they say it may widen the definition of who counts as a gang member.

Manuel Sanchez, who is participating in the Step Down program at Corcoran State Prison, wrote in a letter that he is “seriously considering returning to SHU, where I’d be less harassed and I’d get more yard access more consistently.”

Compounding the problems in the prisons is a lack of transparency and public accountability.

“It’s like mentioning July 8 is anathema,” says San Francisco Bay View Editor Mary Ratcliff, whose African American-focused newspaper has been a CDCR censorship target.

From January to April of this year, Ratcliff said papers were being returned from Pelican Bay undelivered because they included articles about the hunger strikes, representing “material inciting participation in a mass disturbance,” and “a serious threat to the safety and security” of the prison, according to CDCR Administrator R.K. Swift.

“I think it’s remarkable that hunger strikes are considered a ‘disturbance,'” says Ratcliff. “A disturbance is supposed to mean a fight—something that threatens people. A hunger strike is a threat to no one except the people who are participating in it.”

Just as inmates can’t get news from the outside, they are also walled off from journalists who might cover them and the conditions they live in.

Since 1996, the CDCR has limited reporters to only interviewing prisoners they’ve selected. Last September, Governor Jerry Brown vetoed legislation that would have opened up media access to the prisons. “Giving criminals celebrity status through repeated appearances on television will glorify their crimes and hurt victims and their families,” he wrote, citing the media spectacle around Charles Manson.

But activists say the nearly $2 million Brown received from the California Correctional Peace Officers Association (CCPOA) during his successful bid for governor in 2010 had more to do with it than infamous serial killers.

Assembly member Tom Ammiano, who authored the most recent bill, stressed that “Press access isn’t just to sell newspapers. It’s a way for the public to know that the prisons it pays for are well-run. I invite the governor to visit the SHU to see for himself why media access is so important.”

DRASTIC MEASURES

Last time around, Jamaa lost 19 pounds. Deprived of sunlight, the Oakland-born man has developed melanin and vitamin D deficiencies that have lightened his normally dark brown skin. He suffers stomach problems and swollen thyroid glands that he didn’t have before prison. Starvation is a possibly lethal proposition. “Make no mistake, none of us wants to die. But we are prepared to, if that’s what it takes to force a real reform,” he and other strike leaders wrote in a statement last December. Jamaa’s sister, Marie Levin, who has organized monthly vigils for the strikers at Oakland’s monthly First Fridays/Art Murmur event, is worried about how her brother’s body will cope this time around. “It’s something that we as family members don’t want them to have to experience again,” she notes with anxiety. Yet both the prisoners and their advocates on the outside say they can’t simply let dehumanizing conditions in California’s prison system continue indefinitely. “I think things have changed, but not substantially in terms of actual conditions,” Kupers argues. “What is changed is the CDCR had to recognize the strikers, and conceded some of the things. And subsequently, the various prisoner groups have come together and made a commitment not to have violence between groups inside the prisons. This is huge advancement.” But unless all 45 demands are met, they say the strike will commence July 8. For now, Jamaa and others are readying their bodies for hunger, for a cause they believe goes far beyond prison walls. “Know this,” he wrote from SHU, words that needed to be smuggled out through unconventional means to get around an official wall of silence. “I am a … Prisoner of War, and I serve the interest of all people.”

Diversity in motion

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July 3, 2013

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arts@sfbg.com

DANCE Last weekend, World Arts West’s San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival closed out four almost completely sold-out weekends of performances. It is tempting to take this 35-year-old celebration for granted. Yet despite universal accolades, excellent audiences, a steadily improving roster of artists, an increase in live music, and ever-better production values, EDF still does not receive the support it deserves.

Consider this: according to its own numbers, EDF’s budget this year was two-thirds of what it was five years ago. Foundation and corporate support is down, between 30 and 50 percent. This time around, even Grants for the Arts — a stalwart champion of the festival since the beginning — had to cut its contribution by close to 20 percent.

Add to these challenges the fact that in 2011, due to the complications of the Doyle Drive construction, EDF lost its home at the Palace of Fine Arts. The much smaller Lam Research Theater at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts cannot make up the lost ticket sales.

Of course, in these mean and lean times, all the arts suffer. But other institutions of similar size, track record, and scope have endowments that help tie them over. Not EDF. It’s paycheck to paycheck. One reason for EDF’s survival, however, is that the biggest supporters of the arts have always been the artists themselves. Most of this year’s 500 dancers and musicians performed for free. (Their companies get a small stipend.)

So perhaps it’s appropriate to give a small bouquet to these eminent artists who may have come from places most of us will never visit — 19 countries on five continents — but are bringing to both fellow dancers and audiences their perspectives on what dance can tell us about being human.

While the Palace’s loss deprived EDF of its preferred stage, spreading the dance to different venues was a successful experiment. On June 7, a free, mid-day gala opening rocked the rotunda at San Francisco City Hall; the following day, Charya Burt’s reimagining of sculptor Auguste Rodin’s 1906 encounter with classical Cambodian dance brought East and West together at the Legion of Honor Museum’s jewel box theater. Later in the festival, one could walk across the lawn at Yerba Buena Gardens, where Patrick Makuakane was teaching light-hearted contemporary hula — and then, at YBCA, watch Halau o Keikiali’i present dignified re-interpretations of sacred Hawaiian rituals, offering an inkling of the complexities of culturally-specific dance.

EDF presents cultural traditions that range from high classicism (Chinese Performing Arts of America) to folkloric community celebrations (Lowiczanie Polish Folk Ensemble). But the fest also embraces change within continuity. It gives newcomers a chance, and welcomes re-interpretations of the past.

Nine of this year’s 33 participants made their EDF debuts. Among them were Colectivo Anqari, which charmed with an urban reinterpretation of popular dance from the Andes in which the men both danced and played the pan pipes. The women’s contribution almost looked like an afterthought. Ceremonially stepping dancers, drummers, and a flute player from Ensohza Minyoushu performed Sansador from Northern Japan, its high degree of formality leavened by a leaping masked “spirit.” Antoine Hunter’s short Risk showed a fascinating mix of jazz and sign language by this deaf dancer. High fives, however, must go to the two dozen youngsters of Mona Khan Company Emerging Performers. Their rousing, Bollywood-inspired Jalsa showed them to be disciplined, tough, and exuberant.

A relatively recent phenomenon is dancers and companies who rethink their heritage and reframe it into the kind of individual expression that Western art encourages. Charya Burt is one of them. Another is La Tania Baile Flamenco, whose Tierra translated the quintessential male farruca into a women’s dance. The trio became a striking expression of female power — rigorous and utterly convincing. Solo artist Oreet incorporated modern and ballet vocabulary into her spunky belly dancing, making it a decidedly contemporary expression of womanhood.

I do find it problematic, however, that dance from Mexico — there are over two dozen folklórico groups in the Bay Area — inevitably is represented by suites that are happy, fast, and loud. Surely there are more varied ways to showcase that culture’s rich variety of traditions.

The Palace of Fine Arts is scheduled to re-open in 2015. The people at World Arts West would like the complex to become a center for art and culture from around the globe. Sounds like a good idea to me.

Live to tell

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July 3, 2013

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arts@sfbg.com

FILM The most popular feel-good documentary last year was Searching for Sugar Man, Malik Bendjelloul’s film about the somewhat mysterious Rodriguez — a talented singer-songwriter who recorded two major-label albums in the early 1970s, attracted no notice whatsoever, then disappeared from any public view. Unbeknownst to him (or to his bank account, since the royalties seem to have vanished more completely than he did), the records were a big hit in South Africa, where fans eventually tracked him down and informed him that he was, well, a star. So, decades after falling into obscurity, he was playing before large audiences he’d never known he had, and (via the film) getting new ones.

Sugar Man made you wonder how many other such stories might be waiting to be excavated. We’ve probably all seen or heard acts that deserved some commercial success, but never got close to it. More than ever, the musical mainstream seems more about marketing a package than promoting genuine, idiosyncratic talent. And examples of the latter slip through the cracks all the time, hopefully getting re-discovered later — for instance Nick Drake, sainted godhead of sensitive singer-songwriters, was barely a blip on the public-awareness horizon during his life. It was only after he’d died that the cult, and record sales, began to swell.

A Band Called Death is a similar story of recognition delayed so long that the principal vindicated character was no longer alive to enjoy it. Sons of a Detroit Baptist minister, David, Dannis, and Bobby Hackney were enamored with rock music from the time the family sat down to watch the Beatles play The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964. By 1971 they were calling themselves Rock Fire Funk Express — but exposure to live hard-rock acts like the Who and Alice Cooper convinced them to ditch the funk part completely. Their father’s tragic death (he was killed by a drunk driver while taking an injured coworker to the hospital) hit all of them hard, but especially guitarist David, who had a spiritual awakening of sorts and insisted their band be named after what he now considered “the ultimate trip:” Death.

It seemed a career-killing moniker if ever there was one. (Though by 1983 Orlando’s death metal pioneers would have no trouble using the same name.) Nor did the trio’s loud, fast, heavy sound — their rehearsals drove the neighbors nuts — make sense for an African American outfit in a city where Motown ruled. Though their parents had always encouraged them, nearly everyone else took a “Why are you playing that white boy music?” stance. Nonetheless, they found a supporter at local studio-music publisher Groovesville Records, recorded some tracks, and shopped them around to every imaginable label here and abroad. After innumerable rejections, they seemingly hit the jackpot with Columbia Records prez Clive Davis, who was eager to sign them … if they’d just change that name. As the band’s “visionary,” however, David Hackney was unwilling to budge on his total “concept.” The offer was withdrawn.

Defeated and exasperated, the brothers accepted a relative’s invite to stay with him in Burlington, Vt., and wound up relocating there — but when they put up Death posters around town, the unamused local cops assumed this was some sort of gang-activity threat. That was the last straw; Dave reluctantly agreed on a name change, to the 4th Movement. In that form they played some gigs and recorded a couple albums — but their new, more overtly spiritual emphasis didn’t play well with rock audiences who really didn’t want to flick their Bics to lyrics about Jesus Christ.

A man with a plan — but no backup plan — Dave eventually slunk back to Detroit, and was dismayed when his brothers moved on musically, experiencing some success with a reggae band called Lambsbread. Death wasn’t just forgotten; it had never really been noticed. Its only material issue was a self-distributed 1974 single of “Politicians in My Eyes” b/w “Keep on Knockin'” that had scored just token local radio play. But three decades later some of its 500 pressings started surfacing on underground DJ’s turntables, rare-record collectors’ wish lists, and on eBay (at $800 a pop). What could be a more fascinating enigma and find than an unknown African American group making music that was precociously protopunk (with some psych influences) well before even the Ramones’ first album in ’76?

Eventually the surviving members saw their ancient masters released at last, and toured clubs as a reformed Death with Lambsbread’s guitarist taking cancer-felled Dave’s place. It was all made sweeter by the fact that three of Bobby’s sons now had their own band, named Rough Francis after their late uncle’s last recording pseudonym.

A bit overlong, the documentary nonetheless ingratiates with its surprising wealth of home-movie footage, commentary from the very genial Hackney clan, and testimony from latter-day fans like Henry Rollins, Jello Biafra, Kid Rock, and Questlove.

A BAND CALLED DEATH opens Fri/5 at the Roxie Theater.

On the Cheap

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July 3, 2013

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On the Cheap listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com.

WEDNESDAY 3

“Fuck the Fourth Sale” AK Press Warehouse, 674-A 23rd St, Oakl; www.akpress.org. 4-8pm, free. Need a little inspiration to face tomorrow’s flag-waving masses? The publisher of anarchist and radical books opens up its warehouse for it annual summer sale: 25 percent off everything, plus a sale table of tomes going for $1-5.

“Salsa in the Square” Union Square between Post, Geary, Powell, and Stockton, SF; www.ybgf.org. 2-4pm, free. Cuban-born, Bay Area-based Fito Reinoso brings the party to Union Square in conjunction with the Yerba Buena Gardens festival and Union Square Live.

THURSDAY 4

Fourth of July at the Berkeley Marina 201 University, Berk; www.anotherbullwinkelshow.com. Noon-10pm, free. Doesn’t get more American than pony rides for kids, but Berkeley throws down the gauntlet with even more fun stuff: performances by the Blue Yonders, the John Brothers Piano Company, juggling and magic acts, and more, plus arts and crafts, dragon boats, and (obviously) fireworks.

Fourth of July at Pier 39 SF; www.pier39.com. Noon, free. If you dare to surf the crowds of tourists, turn up early in the day for kid rockers WJM (noon-2pm) and 1980s cover band Tainted Love (4-7pm). The reason for the season starts booming in the sky around 9:30pm, so get yourself situated at your favorite viewing spot and pray to the weather gods that fog doesn’t hide the whole show.

FRIDAY 5

“Oakland Art Murmur First Friday Gallery Walk” Various venues, Oakl; www.oaklandartmurmur.org. 6-9pm, free. Galleries and mixed-use art spaces in Oakland’s downtown, uptown, and Jack London Square areas open for evening hours; visit the event website for a map of venues.

SATURDAY 6

“Beast Crawl” Various uptown venues, Oakl; beastcrawl.weebly.com. 5-9pm, free. This second annual literary festival boasts the participation of over 140 writers at 26 venues (bars, galleries, cafés, etc.) Plan your crawl (and don’t miss any must-see readings) by picking up a map on “leg one” of the event (5-6pm).

SUNDAY 7

Poetry Unbound Art House Gallery and Cultural Center, 2905 Shattuck, Berk; (510) 472-3170. 5pm (sign-up; reading begins at 5:15pm), $5-10 donation (no one turned away for lack of funds). Wordsmiths John Curl, Clara Hsu, and Eanlai Cronin read, followed by a brief open mic.

TUESDAY 9

“Carol Tarlen Tribute” City Lights Books, 261 Columbus, SF; www.citylights.com. 7pm, free. Laborfest 2013 hosts this celebration of the release of Every Day Is an Act of Resistance: Selected Poems by Carol Tarlen, with Aggie Falk, Jack Hirschman, David Joseph, and others reading work by the late activist, a longtime North Beach resident.

Nina Schuyler Booksmith, 1644 Haight, SF; www.booksmith.com. 7:30pm, free. The NorCal author reads from her latest, The Translator, about a woman who forgets her native language after a head injury and can understand only Japanese.

Get trashed

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July 3, 2013

3

emilysavage@sfbg.com

MUSIC During high school one day in a sleepy Marin County enclave, Tina “Boom Boom” Lucchesi went to a local record shop where Erik Meade of Jackson Saints and the Pukes worked, and he put on a Redd Kross album. “Total obsession,” Lucchesi says now, a few decades later, from her punky, vintage-filled Peewee’s Playhouse home in Oakland. “He was playing the Teen Babes from Monsanto record, and I was like, I’m going to buy that — and I did.”

This week, Lucchesi’s early 1990s-born wild surf-punk group the Trashwomen will play alongside Redd Kross for the first time ever, during the two-day slackfest Burger Boogaloo (Sat/6-Sun/7, noon-9pm, $25/day. Mosswood Park, 3612 Webster, Oakl., www.burgerboogaloo.com). The Boogaloo, a yearly collaboration between Orange County, Calif. label and shop Burger Records, and East Bay promoters Total Trash Booking, is known for bringing an eclectic, sometimes manic mix of surf, punk, garage, doo-wop, and retro rock’n’roll acts commonly associated with both organizers.

This year, for the first time, it’s all outdoors, and the headliners are impressive: Redd Kross, Jonathan Richman, the Zeroes, the Oblivions, Fuzz, the Trashwomen. The rest of the lineup is too, including Audacity, Mean Jeans, Shannon and the Clams, Mikal Cronin, Guantanamo Baywatch, and more.

The Trashwomen immediately stuck out in the stellar lineup, mostly because the other groups are all active bands. The Trashwomen haven’t played together in four years (during a brief reunion for Budget Rock in ’08), and before that, they’d been broken up since ’97. So why now?

For Total Trash’s Marc Ribak, the choice was obvious. “In the Total Trash babe bible, Trashwomen rank number one!”

But for said babes, it was all about Redd Kross. “Redd Kross is playing! We’re all big fans, so we were like,’we’ve got to do it!'” says drummer Lucchesi, sitting on a teal patterned couch in her home next to bassist Danielle “Lead Pedal” Pimm, and guitarist Elka “Kitten Kaboodle” Zolot.

Though they also mention getting stoked to see Mexican punk legends the Zeros, and Portland, Ore. sloppy surf-rock group Guantanamo Baywatch.

“We’ve gotten a lot of offers, but we all have busy lives. There was a time when we were doing it but then you know, it kind of fizzled out,” she adds. “In the early ’90s, when the garage thing was so great in San Francisco, we played with the Mummies, the Phantom Surfers, Supercharger, we all played together. And then it just kind of died out, and we did get sick of it, and each other. But it’s fun, I like getting together and playing with these guys once in awhile.”

While their initial run ended in ’97, the group left a lasting impression on future generations of San Francisco garage groups, particularly girl groups, which has surprised Zolot. “I have my Instagram, and a lot of young bands that are still in high school [post on there] like ‘oh I look up to you,’ ‘you inspire me to write music and be a girl on guitar,’ and I’m like, how did you even hear about us? It’s cool, but sometimes it shocks me that young people know who we are.”

It’s a combination of sound, style, and era that carries on the Trashwomen torch. Likely the Internet accessibility of music had a hand in it too. The music itself, on albums like debut ’93 record Spend the Night with the Trashwomen (Estrus), is a raucous jumble of raunchy original garage anthems (“Cum on Baby,” “I’m Trash”), syrupy rock’n’roll numbers (“Daddy Love”), and surf-punk covers of rare ’60s gems like the Fender Four’s “Mar Guya” and Starfire’s “Space Needle.”

The aesthetic was based in high camp and cheap glamour — also seen on the cover of Spend the Night with the Trashwomen, the trio lounging in bed together, dolled up and looking tough in leopard print bras, red lace crop tops, and black babydoll dresses.

“It came from a lot of pin-up stuff and ’60s go-go girls. We wanted to have a weird persona, I think, like Russ Meyer bad girls,” Lucchesi says.

The group was known to play live in matching outfits, often trashy lingerie. “I don’t know if you’ll see us wearing lingerie on stage again though,” Zolot says.

Though Lucchesi and Pimm do mysteriously mention possible planned outfits for Burger Boogaloo, noting that they’re working on a little something.

“There may be just a little flair,” Pimm says with a laugh.

“No bikinis though!” Zolot again reminds everyone.

The three have an easy rapport, which Pimm says took only about 22 years to master. Each time they get back together in Lucchesi’s garage, it’s like starting over fresh, but the songs eventually come rumbling back to them, she says. They’ve been practicing for about two months this time around, going back through the classic tracks, with no intention of writing new ones. “I get disappointed when I see an older band and they don’t play much of their stuff that we all grow up with,” Zolot says. Everyone nods in agreement.

The group originally came together fresh out of high school. Lucchesi and Pimm had gone to school together in Corte Madera and both moved to San Francisco at age 18, where they met Elka. She’d grown up in Los Angeles, and moved to SF, forming the psychobilly group Eightball Scratch.

The Trashwomen were supposed to be a one-off Trashmen cover band for a New Year’s party at a long-gone venue called the Chameleon, kicking off 1992 in surf garage style. The idea was masterminded by Mike Lucas from the Phantom Surfers, then a popular local surf band.

For NYE, they learned a handful of Trashmen songs, got drunk, and played the set twice.

“After that, people kept calling, so we realized, we better write a bunch of songs,” Zolot says.

Since she’d been in Eightball Scratch, she’d already been playing punk and rockabilly guitar parts, so she continued to do so in the Trashwomen, adding even more surfy reverb.

She’s been playing music since before she can remember, and as a teenager was influenced by the Go-Go’s. “I’d listen to the Go-Go’s and pretend I was on stage.”

“I think every girl did that when that album came out,” says Lucchesi, who since the Trashwomen has gone on to front a dozen bands, including the Bobbyteens. “The Ramones definitely got me more into guitar. Every day after work I would just come home and play to the tape.”

Their personal influences all seem to overlap with those creepy-sexy goth punks, the Cramps. “All the great punk stuff, and new wave, all that stuff was happening. We were lucky we got to see it,” Lucchesi says. Putting on a mock cranky-old-lady accent she adds, “Kids today, they don’t kno-ow.”

In the early days of the Trashwomen, the threesome often played the Chameleon (in the space formerly known as Chatterbox and which is now Amnesia), and also the Purple Onion, frequently popping up at lesbian nights at clubs, warehouse parties, or underground house shows. They once wore bras scrawled with the word “Feminist” to the Faster Pussycat lesbian night at FireHouse 7 in Oakland. Often, fights would break out at their shows at the Purple Onion, just the high drama of the scene.

They also once played Bimbo’s, opening up for Nina Hagen, and they flew to New York to play CBGBs, which was monumental for all three. The day after the show, they went to Coney Island, ate hot dogs, and rode the Cyclone — on which Zolot severely injured her back; she has yet to go on a rollercoaster since. They were also heckled along the boardwalk, Pimm says. “Some of the girls at Coney Island, they were like, ‘excuse me, B-52s!'”

The band also toured Europe and Japan briefly, playing alongside its Japanese equivalent, the 5.6.7.8’s.

“The Germany shows were weird,” Pimm says. “We played somewhere in East Berlin, and all these metalheads walked in and we were like, ‘this is our audience? They’re going to hate us!’ The crowd ended up not letting the Trashwomen leave the stage, standing up front with folded arms, begging them to play more.

From all the stories, it seems like an aggressive, wildly exciting time for the band, but it’s easy to see why it eventually fizzled. Lucchesi has gone on to form acts like the aforementioned Bobbyteens, and is also currently in two-person garage-punk band Cyclops with her boyfriend Jonny Cat, and Midnite Snaxxx, with former Bay Guardian staffer Dulcinea Gonzalez. She also runs Down at Lulu’s a little vintage shop and hair salon in Oakland she opened seven years back with Seth Bogart, a.k.a. Hunx, and now runs solo.

Pimm too opened a salon, Marquee, last year in Oakland, near 1-2-3-4 Go! Records.

Zolot works in catering at wineries in the Napa area, dressing like a pin-up girl and shucking oysters with a mobile oyster bar, and also does photography. She’s not currently in another band, but says she has some secret music projects in the works.

“We didn’t even know that!” Lucchesi says when Zolot reveals this.

“It’s not the same style as people would expect, so I don’t talk about it much,” Zolot says.

“I want to know — is it hip-hop?” Lucchesi jokes.

“No! That’s for Tasha, she’s got that covered,” Zolot says, speaking of her daughter, Natassia Zolot, a.k.a rapper Kreayshawn. (Kreay can be heard at age five screaming the lead on the Trashwomen single “Boys Are Toys.”)

“That’s for the younger generation,” Pimm says.

Film Listings

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July 3, 2013

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

Augustine When a 19-year-old Parisian kitchen maid (single-named French musician Soko) has a dramatic seizure during dinner service, she makes for Salpêtrière Hospital, where she becomes the superstar patient of Dr. Charcot (Vincent Lindon) — a real-life 19th century professor and neurologist who later mentored Sigmund Freud. There’s no “talking cure” at work here, though; Augustine’s medical treatment consists mostly of naked poking and prodding, as well as hypnosis-induced episodes of her increasingly sexualized “ovarian hysteria.” The tension builds as Charcot struggles against popular disdain for his methods (read aloud to him from newspapers by his coolly elegant wife), as well as his forbidden attraction to Augustine. Occupying the same moody, sensual milieu as David Cronenberg’s too-talky A Dangerous Method, first-time feature writer-director Alice Winocour approaches her tale of misunderstood madness from a point of view that’s more emotionally-driven, with some subtle feminist undercurrents. Points deducted, though, for some obvious symbolism — like costuming Augustine in a brand-new red dress right after she starts her period for the first time. (1:42) Opera Plaza, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

A Band Called Death See “Live to Tell,” this issue. (1:36) Roxie.

Deceptive Practice: The Mysteries and Mentors of Ricky Jay David Mamet fans will recognize Ricky Jay from multiple appearances in the director’s work; he’s also been in films like Boogie Nights and Tomorrow Never Dies (both 1997). But Jay’s true passion is stage magic, specifically card and other sleight-of-hand tricks, performed with a skill so dazzling that it’s tempting to believe he really does have supernatural powers. He’s also a witty, self-deprecating, and sometimes “irascible” (to quote a word used in Molly Bernstein and Alan Edelstein’s doc) character — and has a vast, ever-expanding interest in magic history. Using first-hand interviews, TV and stage-show clips, and some wonderful vintage footage, Deceptive Practice traces Jay’s career (he was a child prodigy in the 1950s, thanks to his supportive grandfather), pausing along the way to pay tribute to the men who influenced him and, in many cases, taught him their top-secret techniques. Throughout, Jay is seen demonstrating his own mind-bending tricks — as “simple” as changing a card’s suit, as elaborate as making it sail across the room and plunge like a knife into a watermelon — although never, of course, revealing how he does it. (1:28) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

Despicable Me 2 The laughs come quick and sweet now that Gru (Steve Carell) has abandoned his super-villainy to become a dad and “legitimate businessman” — though he still applies world-class gravitas to everyday events. (His daughter’s overproduced birthday party is a riot of medieval festoonage.) But like all the best reformed baddies, the Feds, or in this case the Anti-Villain League, recruit him to uncover the next international arch-nemesis. Now a spy, he gets a goofy but highly competent partner (Kristen Wiig) and a cupcake shop at the mall to facilitate sniffing out the criminal. This sequel surpasses the original in charm, cleverness, and general lovability, and it’s not just because they upped the number of minion-related gags, or because Wiig joined the cast; she ultimately gets the short end of the stick as the latecomer love-interest (her spy gadgets are also just so-so). However, Carell kills it as Gru 2 — his faux-Russian accent and awkward timing are more lived-in. Maybe the jokes are about more familiar stuff (like the niggling disappointments of family life) but they’re also sharper and more surprising. And though the minions seemed like one-trick ponies in the first film, those gibberish-talking jellybeans outdo themselves in the sequel’s climax. (1:38) Four Star, Presidio, Shattuck. (Vizcarrondo)

I’m So Excited I’m So Excited may be to Pedro Almodóvar what Hairspray (1988) was for director John Waters: a kind of low-intensity, high-fluff gateway drug for a filmmaker who’s otherwise an “acquired taste.” (Note: unlike Hairspray, this is not a family movie.) Almodóvar’s previous pictures were far more explicit about their obsessive thinking: mothers suffered (1999’s All About My Mother); sex was deadly (1990’s Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!) and men were dishonorable (all of them). But in this drug and booze-addled flame-fest, Almodóvar takes one of his lesser themes (the joy of confinement) and transforms a flight from Madrid to Mexico into the funniest soap opera to ever feature cabaret and S&M talk. Early in the flight we learn the landing gear is shot; this means the flight’s dueling pilots have to find a place to host an emergency landing while Europe is on holiday. They anesthetize all of coach (um&ldots;metaphor, anyone?), leaving the rich to bellyache over their lost children, lost happiness, and stubborn virginity. Business class is full of drama queens so the flamboyantly gay attendants spike a cocktail with ecstasy (to make everyone get along) and an orgy ensues, complete with a seemingly victimless rape and multiple change-overs from hetero to homo. Almodóvar does have a knack for make-believe, but his biggest gift for fantasy happens in his stress-free transitions; oh, that coming out could be so liberating — but living in a Catholic country lousy with sexual disorientations, maybe the only place that can happen is at 30,000 feet. (1:35) SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

Kevin Hart: Let Me Explain The comedian (2012’s Think Like a Man) performs in this concert film, shot at Madison Square Garden during his 2012 stand-up tour. (1:15)

The Lone Ranger See “Hi-Yo, Stinker.” (2:29) Marina.

Maniac And it came to pass that William Lustig’s trashy classic Maniac (1980) was remade, with Elijah Wood assuming the role of twisted killer Frank, a role closely associated with its originator, the late, great cult actor Joe Spinell. Lustig is credited with a producing credit on this otherwise largely French effort, directed by Franck Khalfoun and co-written by Alejandre Aja and Grégory Levasseur — who also worked together on the 2006 remake of The Hills Have Eyes. Though it’s set in contemporary Los Angeles (complete with dating websites and cell phones), Maniac is shot to mimic the original film’s late-1970s New York (cabs, deserted subways, grimy streetscapes), with a synth-heavy score enhancing the retro vibe. Frank is still obsessed with mannequins, scalps, and his dead mother, with shades of both Psycho (1960) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991) filtering through. When Frank meets Anna (Nora Arnezeder), a beautiful French photographer whose preferred subject is mannequins, he grows ever more confused — and more violent. The entire movie is shot from Frank’s POV (we see Wood’s face only in mirrors and photographs), an off-putting gimmick that fails to add much in the way of suspense or scares. As for the gore, there’s nothing amid the CG enhancements that matches the work of special effects genius Tom Savini, whose memorable exploding-head scene plays just as repulsively effective in 2013 as it did in 1980. If you really wanna be freaked out by a movie maniac, skip this so-so do-over and spend some quality time with Spinell instead. (1:29) Roxie. (Eddy)

The Way, Way Back Coming-of-age comedy about a 14-year-old (Liam James) who strikes up an unlikely friendship with the manager of the local water park (Sam Rockwell). (1:42)

ONGOING

Before Midnight Proving (again) that not all sequels are autonomic responses to a marketplace that rewards the overfamiliar, director Richard Linklater and his cowriters Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke reconnect with the characters Céline and Jesse, whom we first encountered nearly 20 years ago on a train and trailed around Vienna for a night in Before Sunrise, then met again nine years later in Before Sunset. It’s been nine more years since we left them alone in a Paris apartment, Céline adorably dancing to Nina Simone and telling Jesse he’s going to miss his plane. And it looks like he did. The third film finds the two together, yes, and vacationing in Greece’s southern Peloponnese, where the expansive, meandering pace of their interactions — the only mode we’ve ever seen them in — is presented as an unaccustomed luxury amid a span of busy years filled with complications professional and personal. Over the course of a day and an evening, alone together and among friends, the two reveal both the quotidian intimacies of a shared life and the cracks and elisions in their love story. (1:48) Piedmont, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Rapoport)

The Bling Ring When it was revealed that high schoolers were behind a series of robberies targeting the lavish homes of Hollywood’s famous-for-being-famous types — most notably Paris Hilton — the fallout became fodder for gossip websites like TMZ.com, plus a memorable Vanity Fair article. The latter (recently expanded into a book by author Nancy Jo Sales) is the basis for Sofia Coppola’s new film, a fictionalized take on the crimes. Bored by upper-middle-class lives that leave them with lots of free time and habitually absent parents, a posse of SoCal teens (newcomers Katie Chang and Israel Broussard, and Harry Potter‘s all-grown-up Emma Watson, lead the charge) begin creepy-crawling the homes of Hilton and others, dovetailing their celebrity obsessions with a raging hunger for expensive shit. (Was ever a crime so victimless, one wonders, than a heist perpetrated at the expense of a starlet’s handbag collection, so vast she won’t even notice a few missing Birkins?) Flashing their ill-gotten new clothes, jewelry, and wads of cash in Facebook selfies, the burglars miss the most valuable lesson of all: that the friendships they share are fleeting and meaningless — kind of like fame, kind of like blowing (stolen) money on designer clothes that will soon be out of style. Ironically, with The Bling Ring, Coppola has delivered her least-vapid film since 1999’s The Virgin Suicides; it’s both candy-colored and canny, a cautionary tale that lingers just long enough on its scenes of youthful excess to let you know it’s in on the joke. (1:27) Metreon, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

The East In Zal Batmanglij and Brit Marling’s powerful second film collaboration (Batmanglij directs, and the pair co-wrote the screenplay, as in 2011’s Sound of My Voice), Marling plays Sarah, an intelligence agent working for a private firm whose client list consists mainly of havoc-wreaking multinationals. Sarah, presented as quietly ambitious and conservative, is tasked by the firm’s director (Patricia Clarkson) with infiltrating the East, an off-the-grid activist collective whose members, including Benji (Alexander Skarsgård), Izzy (Ellen Page), and Doc (Toby Kebbell), bring an eye-for-an-eye sensibility to their YouTube-publicized “jams.” Targeting an oil company responsible for a BP-style catastrophe, they engineer their own spill in the gated-community habitat of the company’s CEO, posting a video that juxtaposes grisly images of oil-coated shorebirds and the unsettling sight of gallons of crude seeping through the air-conditioning vents of a tidy McMansion. A newspaper headline offers a facile framework for understanding their activities, posing the alternatives as “Pranksters or Eco-Terrorists?” But as Sarah examines the gut-wrenching consequences of so-called white-collar crime and immerses herself in the day-to-day practices of the group, drawn in particular to the charismatic Benji, the film raises more complex questions. Much of its rhetorical force flows from Izzy, whom Page invests with a raw, anguished outrage, drawing our sympathies toward the group and its mission of laying bare what should be unbearable. (1:56) California, Piedmont. (Rapoport)

Epic (1:42) Metreon.

Fast and Furious 6 Forget the fast (that’s understood by now, anyway) — part six in this popcorny series is heavy on the “furious,” with constant near-death stunts that zoom past irrational and slam into batshit crazy. Agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) lures the gang out of sunny retirement to bust a fast driver with a knack for strategy and an eye on world domination. Sure, Ludacris jokes their London locale doesn’t mean they’re in a Bond movie, but give cold-blooded Luke Evans some time and he’ll work his way up to antagonizing 007. Shaw (Evans) is smaller than our hero Toretto (Vin Diesel), but he’s convincing, throwing his King’s English at a man whose murky dialect is always delivered with a devilish baritone. If Shaw’s code is all business, Toretto’s is all family: that’s what holds together this cast, cobbled from five Fast and Furious installments shot all over the world. Hottie Gal Gadot (playing Sung Kang’s love interest) reassures Han (Kang) mid-crisis: “This is what we are.” It’s not for nothing the gang’s main weapon is a harpoon gun that, once shot, leaves an umbilicus from the shooter to whatever’s in the crosshairs. That’s Torreto for you. Meanwhile, the villain’s weapon is a car with a spatula-like front end, that flips cars like pancakes. The climactic battle on a cargo plane has to give a face time to every member of the eight-person team, so naturally they shot it on the world’s longest runway. Of course the parade features less car porn than previous editions but it’s got a wider reach now — it’s officially international intrigue, not just fun for gearheads. For my money, it’s some of the best action in theaters today. Stick around for the inevitable sequel-suggesting coda during the credits. (2:10) Metreon. (Vizcarrondo)

Fill the Void Respectfully rendered and beautifully shot in warm hues, Fill the Void admirably fills the absence on many screens of stories from what might be considered a closed world: the Orthodox Hasidic community in Israel, where a complex web of family ties, duty, and obligation entangles pretty, accordion-playing Shira (Hada Yaron). An obedient daughter, she’s about to agree to an arranged marriage to a young suitor when her much-loved sister (Renana Raz) dies in childbirth. When Shira’s mother (Irit Sheleg) learns the widower Yochay (Yiftach Klein) might marry a woman abroad and take her only grandchild far away, she starts to make noises about fixing Shira up with her son-in-law. The journey the two must take, in possibly going from in-laws to newlyweds, is one that’s simultaneously infuriating, understandable, and touching, made all the more intimate given director Rama Burshtein’s preference for searching close-ups. Her affinity for the Orthodox world is obvious with each loving shot, ultimately infusing her debut feature with a beating heart of humanity. (1:30) Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

Frances Ha Noah Baumbach isn’t exactly known for romance and bright-eyed optimism. Co-writing 2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox with director Wes Anderson is maybe the closest to “whimsy” as he’s ever come; his own features (2010’s Greenberg, 2007’s Margot at the Wedding, 2005’s The Squid and the Whale, 1997’s Mr. Jealousy, and 1995’s Kicking and Screaming) tend to veer into grumpier, more intellectual realms. You might say his films are an acquired taste. But haters beware. Frances Ha — the black-and-white tale of a New York City hipster (Baumbach’s real-life squeeze, Greta Gerwig, who co-write the script with him) blundering her way into adulthood — is probably the least Baumbach-ian Baumbach movie ever. Owing stylistic debts to both vintage Woody Allen and the French New Wave, Frances Ha relies heavily on Gerwig’s adorable-disaster title character to propel its plot, which is little more than a timeline of Frances’ neverending micro-adventures: pursuing her nascent modern-dance career, bouncing from address to address, taking an impromptu trip to Paris, visiting her parents (portrayed by the Sacramento-raised Gerwig’s real-life parents), “breaking up” with her best friend. It’s so charming, poignant, and quotable (“Don’t treat me like a three-hour brunch friend!”) that even those who claim to be allergic to Baumbach just might find themselves succumbing to it. (1:26) Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

The Great Gatsby Every bit as flashy and in-your-face as you’d expect the combo of “Baz Luhrmann,” “Jazz Age,” and “3D” to be, this misguided interpretation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic tale is, at least, overstuffed with visual delights. For that reason only, all the fashion-mag fawning over leading lady Carey Mulligan’s gowns and diamonds, and the opulent production design that surrounds them, seems warranted. And in scenes where spectacle is appropriate — Gatsby’s legendary parties; Tom Buchanan’s wild New York romp with his mistress — Luhrmann delivers in spades. The trade-off is that the subtler aspects of Fitzgerald’s novel are either pushed to the side or shouted from the rooftops. Leonardo DiCaprio, last seen cutting loose in last year’s Django Unchained, makes for a stiff, fumbling Gatsby, laying on the “Old Sports” as thickly as his pancake make-up. There’s nothing here so startlingly memorable as the actor and director’s 1996 prior collaboration, Romeo + Juliet — a more successful (if still lavish and self-consciously audacious) take on an oft-adapted, much-beloved literary work. (2:22) Metreon. (Eddy)

The Heat First things first: I hated Bridesmaids (2011). Even the BFF love fest between Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig couldn’t wash away the bad taste of another wolf pack in girl’s clothing. Dragging and dropping women into dude-ly storylines is at best wonky and at worst degrading, but The Heat finds an alternate route. Its women are unlikable; you don’t root for them, and you’re not hoping they become princesses because such horrifying awkwardness can only be redeemed by a prince. In Bridesmaids and Heat director Paul Feig’s universe, friendship saves the day. Sandra Bullock is Murtaugh to Melissa McCarthy’s Riggs, with tidy Bullock angling for a promotion and McCarthy driving a busted hoopty through Boston like she’s in Grand Theft Auto. Circumstances conspire to bring them together on a case, in one of many elements lifted from traditional buddy-cop storylines. But! The jokes are constant, pelting, and whiz by like so much gunfire. In one running gag, a low-rung villain’s worst insult is telling the women they look old — but neither character is bothered by it. It’s refreshing to see embarrassment humor, so beloved by chick flicks, get taken down a peg by female leads who don’t particularly care what anyone thinks of them. (1:57) Marina, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

Hey Bartender Hey, have you heard of this trendy thing called craft cocktails? Be warned, sophisticated San Francisco drinkers: Douglas Tirola’s upbeat documentary mentions our fair city in passing only a handful of times; instead, it concentrates on New York City’s relatively recent “cocktail revolution,” interviewing movers and (literal) shakers on the scene while giving a brief history of cocktails in America (again, with an emphasis on NYC). Hey Bartender‘s focal points are well-chosen studies in contrast: ex-Marine Scott — tattooed and scrupulously mustached — who’s working his way up the ranks at hipster lounge Employees Only; and middle-aged Steve, who runs a struggling blue-collar bar just outside the city and is slowly coming around to the idea of adding fancier drinks to his menu. Though dive-bar denizens may roll their eyes at some of Hey Bartender‘s more pretentious trappings (the movie doesn’t mention it, but drinks at Employees Only are in the $15-16 range), it does make the case that today’s superstar “mixologists” deserve just as much recognition as superstar restaurateurs. And the film has a point: can a Top Chef spinoff for bartenders be that far off? (1:32) Roxie. (Eddy)

The Internship The dirty little secret of the new economy continues to be the gerbil cycle of free/cheap labor labeled “internships” that propels so many companies — be they corporate or indie, digital or print media. But gee, who’s going to see an intern comedy titled The Exploitation, besides me and my local union rep? Instead, spinning off a Vince Vaughn story idea and a co-writing credit, The Internship looks at that now-mandatory time-suck for so many college students through the filter of two older, not-quite-wiser salesmen Billy (Vaughn) and Nick (Owen Wilson) hoping to make that working guy’s quantum leap from watch sales to Google’s Mountain View campus, which director Shawn Levy casts as a bright and shiny workers wonderland with its free spring rolls and lattes, bikes, and napping pods. Departing from reality: the debugging/coding/game-playing/app-making competition that forces Billy and Nick to bond with their team of castoffs (Dylan O’Brien, Tiya Sircar, Tobit Raphael), led by noob manager Lyle (Josh Brener), in order to win a full-time job. Part of the key, naturally, turns out to be a Swingers-like visit to a strip club, to release those deeply repressed nerd sexualities — nothing like a little retrograde sexism to bring a group together. Still, the moment is offset by the generally genial, upbeat attitude brought to The Internship by its lead actors: Nick and Billy may be flubs at physics and clueless when it comes to geek culture, but most working stiffs who have suffered the slings and arrows of layoffs and dream of stable employment can probably get behind the all-American ideals of self-reinvention and optimism about the future peddled in The Internship, which easily slips in alongside The Great Gatsby among this year’s Great Recession narratives. Blink too fast and you might miss the microcameo by Google co-founder Sergey Brin. (1:59) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

Iron Man 3 Neither a sinister terrorist dubbed “the Mandarin” (Ben Kingsley) nor a spray-tanned mad scientist (Guy Pearce) are as formidable an enemy to Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) as Tony Stark himself, the mega-rich playboy last seen in 2012’s Avengers donning his Iron Man suit and thwarting alien destruction. It’s been rough since his big New York minute; he’s been suffering panic attacks and burying himself in his workshop, shutting out his live-in love (Gwyneth Paltrow) in favor of tinkering on an ever-expanding array of manned and un-manned supersuits. But duty, and personal growth, beckon when the above-mentioned villains start behaving very badly. With some help (but not much) from Don Cheadle’s War Machine — now known as “Iron Patriot” thanks to a much-mocked PR campaign — Stark does his saving-the-world routine again. If the plot fails to hit many fresh beats (a few delicious twists aside), the 3D special effects are suitably dazzling, the direction (by series newcomer Shane Black) is appropriately snappy, and Downey, Jr. again makes Stark one of the most charismatic superheros to ever grace the big screen. For now, at least, the continuing Avengers spin-off extravaganza seems justified. (2:06) Metreon. (Eddy)

Laurence Anyways Xavier Dolan’s latest is yet another gorgeously-designed love story; it fits perfectly alongside his extremely personal I Killed My Mother (2009) and the devastating Heartbeats (2010). Although some critics have suggested that this young director needs to hire an editor (Laurence Anyways clocks in at two hours and 48 minutes), I would argue that this epic, gender-bending love story needed to take its stylized time to achieve what most films never do: humanize a transgendered lead character. Melvil Poupaud (Raúl Ruiz’s favorite ingénue) is stunning as Laurence; as his longtime lover, Fred, Suzanne Clément performs with a guttural passion that should keep audiences glued to the screen. For those willing to accept a decade’s worth of hypnotic set and costume designs (the film spans 1989-1999); cryptic character development; a crew of campy castaways; and an electric, eclectic soundtrack (Depeche Mode, Celine Dion), Laurence Anyways is well worthy of its epic running time. Could this be the film that elevates Canada’s best-kept secret to being the leader of a post-gender film movement that’s just about to explode? (2:48) Metreon. (Jesse Hawthorne Ficks)

Man of Steel As beloved as he is, Superman is a tough superhero to crack — or otherwise bend into anything resembling a modern character. Director Zack Snyder and writer David S. Goyer, working with producer Christopher Nolan on the initial story, do their best to nuance this reboot, which focuses primarily on Supe’s alien origins and takes its zoom-happy space battles from Battlestar Galactica. The story begins with Kal-El’s birth on a Krypton that’s rapidly going into the shitter: the exploited planet is about to explode and wayward General Zod (Michael Shannon) is staging a coup, killing Kal-El’s father, Jor-El (Russell Crowe), the Kryptonians’ lead scientist, and being conveniently put on ice in order to battle yet another day. That day comes as Kal-El, now a 20-something earthling named Clark Kent (Henry Cavill) — resigned to his status as an outsider, a role dreamed up by his protective adoptive dad (Kevin Costner) — has turned into a bit of a (dharma) bum, looking like a buff Jack Kerouac, working Deadliest Catch-style rigs, and rescuing people along the way to finding himself. Spunky Lois Lane (Amy Adams) is the key to his, erm, coming-out party, necessitated by a certain special someone looking to reboot the Kryptonian race on earth. The greatest danger here lies in the fact that all the leached-of-color quasi-sepia tone action can turn into a bit of a Kryptonian-US Army demolition derby, making for a mess of rubble and tricky-to-parse fight sequences that, of course, will satisfy the fanboys and -girls, but will likely glaze the eyes of many others. Nevertheless, the effort Snyder and crew pack into this lengthy artifact — with its chronology-scrambling flashbacks and multiple platforms for Shannon, Diane Lane, Christopher Meloni, Laurence Fishburne, and the like — pays off on the level of sheer scale, adding up to what feels like the best Superman on film or TV to date — though that bar seems pretty easy to leap over in a single bound. (2:23) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Monsters University Seven-year-old Mike Wazowski is even more adorable than grown-up, Billy-Crystal-voiced Mike Wazowski. It’s a pity, then, that one of the big lessons Monsters University teaches is that the essence of monster-identity is how scary one is. What Mike loses in frightfulness he forcefully recovers in spunk, and after a trip to the scare floor that briskly reminds us the premise of 2001’s Monsters, Inc., mini-Mike becomes the first ever career-driven Pixar character. (For this, I love him.) We all know he eventually becomes a superstar in this scare-powered retro-verse, but first he has to overcome frat boy-inflicted embarrassment and flunk out of school. The most noteworthy thing about Pixar’s first prequel is how very massively its characters fail — it’s a lovely tilt that suggest the greatness of tomorrow begins when you overcome the failures of today. The administrators of Monsters University (in particular Helen Mirren’s dragon-lady Dean) require formal perfection in the scares they grade, but in the world of actual scarers, oddness and difference actually become advantages. It’s all theory but no rulebook. And doesn’t that sound like a good lesson from the studio that once proudly said “story is king,” yet now scrambles to meet Disney’s once-a-year feature demands? Such rigidity comes at a price. (1:50) 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki, Vogue. (Vizcarrondo)

Much Ado About Nothing Joss Whedon (last year’s The Avengers) shifts focus for a minute to stage an adaptation of the Shakespeare comedy, drawing his players from 15 years’ worth of awesome fantasy/horror/sci-fi TV and film projects. When the Spanish prince Don Pedro (Reed Diamond) pays a post-battle visit to the home of Leonato (Clark Gregg) with his officers Claudio (Fran Kranz) and Benedick (Alexis Denisof), Claudio falls for Leonato’s daughter, Hero (Jillian Morgese), while Benedick falls to verbal blows with Hero’s cousin Beatrice (Amy Acker). Preserving the original language of the play while setting his production in the age of the iPhone and the random hookup, Whedon makes clever, inventive use of the juxtaposition, teasing out fresh sources of visual comedy as well as bringing forward the play’s oddities and darker elements. These shadows fall on Beatrice and Benedick, whose sparring — before they succumb to a playfully devious setup at the hands of their friends — has an ugly, resentful heat to it, as well as on Hero and Claudio, whose filmy romance is unsettlingly easy for their enemies, the malevolent Don John (Sean Maher) and his cohorts, to sabotage. Some of Acker and Denisof’s broader clowning doesn’t offer enough comic payoff for the hammy energy expenditure, but Nathan Fillion, heading up local law enforcement as the constable Dogberry, delivers a gleeful depiction of blundering idiocy, and the film as a whole has a warm, approachable humor while lightly exposing “all’s well that ends well”‘s wacky, dysfunctional side. (1:49) Albany, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, SF Center. (Rapoport)

Now You See Me Cheese can be a tough factor to quantify, but you get close to the levels Now You See Me strives for when you picture the hopelessly goofy, tragically coiffed Doug Henning lisping, “It’s magic!” somewhere between Bob “Happy Little Tree” Ross and a rainbow sprinkled with Care Bears. Now You See Me, however, is much less likely to be dusted off and adored by a Bronies-style cult. Four seemingly savvy street and stage magicians (Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Isla Fisher, and Dave Franco) are brought together by tarot card invite by a mysterious host. What follows is a series of corny performances by the crew, now dubbed the Four Horseman, that are linked to a series of Robin Hood-like, or not, thefts. Nipping at their heels are a loudly flustered FBI agent (Mark Ruffalo, working an overcooked Columbo impression), a waifish Interpol detective (Mélanie Laurent, as if slouching through a Sorbonne semester), and a professional debunker (Morgan Freeman, maintaining amusement). In the course of the investigation, the Horsemen’s way-too-elaborate and far-from-apocalyptic illusions are taken apart and at least one vigorously theatrical fight scene takes place — all of which sounds more riveting than what actually transpires under the action-by-the-book watch of director Louis Leterrier, who never succeeds in making the smug, besuited puppets, I mean Horsemen, who strut around like they’re in Ocean’s Eighteen 4D, anything remotely resembling cool. Or even characters we might give a magical rabbit’s ass about. For all its seemingly knowing pokes at the truth behind the curtain, Now You See Me lacks much of the smarts and wit of loving deconstructionists like Penn and Teller —glimmers of which can only be made out in the smirk of Harrelson and the knowing twinkle of Freeman — or even the tacky machismo of Criss Angel, as well as a will to get to a truth behind the mystery. Or is the mystery behind the truth? (1:56) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Chun)

Rebels with a Cause The huge string of parklands that have made Marin County a jewel of preserved California coastline might easily have become wall-to-wall development — just like the Peninsula — if not for the stubborn conservationists whose efforts are profiled in Nancy Kelly’s documentary. From Congressman Clem Miller — who died in a plane crash just after his Point Reyes National Seashore bill became a reality — to housewife Amy Meyer, who began championing the Golden Gate National Recreation Area because she “needed a project” to keep busy once her kids entered school, they’re testaments to the ability of citizen activism to arrest the seemingly unstoppable forces of money, power and political influence. Theirs is a hidden history of the Bay Area, and of what didn’t come to pass — numerous marinas, subdivisions, and other developments that would have made San Francisco and its surrounds into another Los Angeles. (1:12) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Somm First-time filmmaker Jason Wise follows four wine-obsessed men (including three from the Bay Area) on their quest to become Master Sommeliers. Their genial rivalry — the stuffiest member of the quartet is nicknamed “Dad” — somewhat offsets the immense pressure they’re under, though every guy turns into Rain Man when he starts ID-ing each unmarked glass, detecting subtle yet highly specific aromas like “sage, truffle, wet forest floor, decaying dried red rose petals,” “a freshly opened can of tennis balls,” and (in the weirdest example) “grandma’s closet.” It’s an insular, elite world, but Wise’s camera gets right to the front lines as the candidates prep for the grueling, multi-day test, interviewing the long-suffering spouses of the candidates (one of whom ruminates on the grossness of “spit buckets” left behind after late-night tasting marathons). As the day of reckoning looms, the tension mounts along with the piles of flash cards — but the friendships and good humor remain, even after the results are revealed. (1:33) Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Star Trek Into Darkness Do you remember 1982? There are more than a few echoes of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan in J. J. Abrams’ second film retooling the classic sci-fi property’s characters and adventures. Darkness retains the 2009 cast, including standouts Zachary Quinto as Spock and Simon Pegg as comic-relief Scotty, and brings in Benedict “Sherlock” Cumberbatch to play the villain (I think you can guess which one). The plot mostly pinballs between revenge and preventing/circumventing the destruction of the USS Enterprise, with added post-9/11, post-Dark Knight (2008) terrorism connotations that are de rigueur for all superhero or fantasy-type blockbusters these days. But Darkness isn’t totally, uh, dark: there’s quite a bit of fan service at work here (speak Klingon? You’re in luck). Abrams knows what audiences want, and he’s more than happy to give it to ’em, sometimes opening up massive plot holes in the process — but never veering from his own Prime Directive: providing an enjoyable ride. (2:07) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

This Is the End It’s a typical day in Los Angeles for Seth Rogen as This Is the End begins. Playing a version of himself, the comedian picks up pal and frequent co-star Jay Baruchel at the airport. Since Jay hates LA, Seth welcomes him with weed and candy, but all good vibes fizzle when Rogen suggests hitting up a party at James Franco’s new mansion. Wait, ugh, Franco? And Jonah Hill will be there? Nooo! Jay ain’t happy, but the revelry — chockablock with every Judd Apatow-blessed star in Hollywood, plus a few random inclusions (Rihanna?) — is great fun for the audience. And likewise for the actors: world, meet Michael Cera, naughty coke fiend. But stranger things are afoot in This Is the End. First, there’s a giant earthquake and a strange blue light that sucks passers-by into the sky. Then a fiery pit yawns in front of Casa Franco, gobbling up just about everyone in the cast who isn’t on the poster. Dudes! Is this the worst party ever — or the apocalypse? The film — co-written and directed by Rogen and longtime collaborator Evan Goldberg — relies heavily on Christian imagery to illustrate the endtimes; the fact that both men and much of their cast is Jewish, and therefore marked as doomed by Bible-thumpers, is part of the joke. But of course, This Is the End has a lot more to it than religious commentary; there’s also copious drug use, masturbation gags, urine-drinking, bromance, insult comedy, and all of the uber-meta in-jokes fans of its stars will appreciate. (1:46) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, Shattuck. (Eddy)

20 Feet From Stardom Singing the praises of those otherwise neglected backup vocalists who put the soul into that Wall of Sound, brought heft to “Young Americans,” and lent real fury to “Gimme Shelter,” 20 Feet From Stardom is doing the rock ‘n’ roll true believer’s good work. Director Morgan Neville follows a handful of mainly female, mostly African American backing vocal legends, charts their skewed career trajectories as they rake in major credits and keep working long after one-hit wonders are forgotten (the Waters family) but fail to make their name known to the public (Merry Clayton), grasp Grammy approval yet somehow fail to follow through (Lisa Fischer), and keep narrowly missing the prize (Judith Hill) as label recording budgets shrivel and the tastes, technology, and the industry shift. Neville gives these industry pros and soulful survivors in a rocked-out, sample-heavy, DIY world their due on many levels, covering the low-coverage minis, Concert for Bangladesh high points, gossipy rumors, and sheer love for the blend that those intertwined voices achieve. One wishes the director had done more than simply touch in the backup successes out there, like Luther Vandross, and dug deeper to break down the reasons Fischer succumbed to the sophomore slump. But one can’t deny the passion in the voices he’s chosen to follow — and the righteous belief the Neville clearly has in his subjects, especially when, like Hill, they are ready to pick themselves up and carry on after being told they’re not “the Voice.” (1:30) Metreon, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

Unfinished Song (1:36) Albany.

White House Down Ah, the mid-1990s: a time when two big-budget movies on the same subject were regularly released within months of each other (1997’s Volcano and Dante’s Peak; 1998’s Armageddon and Deep Impact). When a director named Roland Emmerich ascended into the blockbuster pantheon with Independence Day (1996), a film that’s best-remembered for that iconic shot of the White House exploding under alien death rays. The intervening years have seen Emmerich plunge ever-deeper into various flavors of disaster, and White House Down — which reignites that ’90s copycat-rivalry thing by riding the fumes of March’s Olympus Has Fallen — finds its boogeyman in domestic terrorism. It beings on a triumphant day for President James Sawyer (Jamie Foxx), who has just ordered all US troops removed from the Middle East — angering some high-up men in his administration, as well as some ex-military goons with axes of their own to grind. When the White House is compromised, a wannabe Secret Service agent (Channing Tatum), at the Prez’s house for a tour with his precocious daughter, shoulders one-man-army duties. Rockets are launched; there’s a high-speed limo chase across the White House lawn; we learn the truth about Marilyn and JFK; and thanks to evil genius Skip Tyler (Jimmi Simpson), “the greatest hack the world has ever seen” is about to unleash World War III. Yep, that’s right: 17 years after ID4‘s Jeff Goldblum broke into the alien mainframe, thereby saving the White House-less planet, Emmerich has decided that hackers are actually bad guys. It goes with White House Down‘s warning that the enemy is no longer an external threat, but something lurking right under your nose. Better start working out, America — and working on your one-liners. (2:17) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

World War Z Or, Brad Pitt saves the world from undead beings with rotted brains but super-sharp hearing. Somehow, Max Brooks’ innovative multi-character book — written in the form of interviews with survivors of a recent zombie outbreak — becomes by-the-numbers action horror in the hands of director Marc Forster (2008’s Quantum of Solace, a.k.a. that Bond movie nobody remembers), complete with credit sequence filled with real news reports of environmental disasters, global unrest, and even a little shout-out to that guy who ate another guy’s face off last year in Florida. No bath-salt jokes here, though; instead, we have Pitt playing a verrrry serious former UN investigator — former, because he quit to spend more time with his family, a promise he actually considers keeping even when the survival of the world hinges, apparently, on his very specific expertise. He jets around the world (South Korea! Israel! Wales?) in search of a cure, but it’s obvious from the beginning — when he escapes immediate death in the initial rampage with his picture-perfect wife (Mireille Enos) and two daughters — that he’ll eventually suss out a planet-saving solution. (Sorry, but if that’s a spoiler you’ve never seen a movie before.) A few nifty setpieces can’t save World War Z from more or less embodying the descriptor “meh,” with its undynamic 3D, uninspiring CG, and cobbled-together script, complete with reassuring final voice-over. And one more thing: for the love of flesh-ripping gore, can we please make this the last PG-13 zombie movie? (1:56) California, Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy) *

Music Listings

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July 3, 2013

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WEDNESDAY 3

ROCK

Bottom of the Hill: 1233 17th St., San Francisco, 621-4455. Face to Face, Teenage Bottlerocket, Blacklist Royals, Joshua Black Wilkins, 8 p.m., $20–$25.

Brick & Mortar Music Hall: 1710 Mission, San Francisco, 800-8782. Jaill, Cosmonauts, Disappearing People, Scraper, DJ Joel Gion, 9 p.m., $8–$10.

El Rio: 3158 Mission, San Francisco, 282-3325. The Shape, Pharaohs, After, 8 p.m., $5.

Elbo Room: 647 Valencia, San Francisco, 552-7788. POW!, Mane, Generation Loss, 9 p.m., $5.

Hemlock Tavern: 1131 Polk, San Francisco, 923-0923. Bob Log III, The Okmoniks, Los Vincent Black Shadows, 8:30 p.m., $12–$15.

The Independent: 628 Divisadero, San Francisco, 771-1420. The Revivalists, Finish Ticket, 8 p.m., $13–$15.

The Knockout: 3223 Mission, San Francisco, 550-6994. The Boars, Whoosie What’s It’s, 9:30 p.m.

Milk Bar: 1840 Haight, San Francisco, 387-6455. Down Dirty Shake, We Are the Men, Void Boys, Open Bar: The Band, DJ Moses, 8 p.m., $2.

DANCE

1015 Folsom: 1015 Folsom St., San Francisco, 431-1200. Pantyraid (MartyParty & Ooah), An-Ten-Nae, UltraViolet, WolfBitch, Le Portal, Dov, Jocelyn, Releece, Mihkal, Shawna, 10 p.m., $20–$25 advance.

Cafe Du Nord: 2170 Market, San Francisco, 861-5016. Frankmusik, Ride the Universe, Love Charisse, 9:30 p.m., $8–$10.

The Cafe: 2369 Market, San Francisco, 621-4434. “Sticky Wednesdays,” w/ DJ Mark Andrus, 8 p.m., free.

Cat Club: 1190 Folsom, San Francisco, 703-8964. “Bondage A Go Go,” w/ DJs Damon, Tomas Diablo, & guests, 9:30 p.m., $5–$10, www.bondage-a-go-go.com.

The Cellar: 685 Sutter, San Francisco, 441-5678. “Eye Candy Wednesdays,” 9 p.m., free.

Club X: 715 Harrison, San Francisco, 339-8686. “Electro Pop Rocks: EPR Hearts ‘Murica,” 18+ dance party with B33son, Jays One, Harris Pillton, Drrn, Non Sequitur, M3rc, more, 9 p.m., $10–$20, www.facebook.com/ElectroPopRocks.

F8: 1192 Folsom St., San Francisco, 857-1192. “Housepitality,” w/ Derrick Carter, Miguel Solari, Tyrel Williams, Mike Bee, Joel Conway, 9 p.m., www.housepitalitysf.com.

Harlot: 46 Minna, San Francisco, 777-1077. “Qoöl,” 5 p.m., www.qoolsf.com.

Infusion Lounge: 124 Ellis, San Francisco, 421-8700. “Indulgence,” 10 p.m., www.sebastienpresents.com.

Lookout: 3600 16th St., San Francisco, 703-9751. “What?,” 7 p.m.

MatrixFillmore: 3138 Fillmore, San Francisco, 563-4180. “Innov8,” 8 p.m.

Monarch: 101 6th St., San Francisco, 284-9774. “Soul Phunktion,” w/ resident DJs Kimmy Le Funk, Primo, and M3, 9 p.m.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Booty Call,” w/ Juanita More, Joshua J, guests, 9 p.m., $3, www.bootycallwednesdays.com.

Ruby Skye: 420 Mason, San Francisco, 693-0777. Independence Eve Party with Manufactured Superstars, Trevor Simpson, The Schmidt, 18+ event, 9 p.m., $20 advance.

HIP-HOP

Double Dutch: 3192 16th St., San Francisco, 503-1670. “Cash IV Gold,” w/ DJs Kool Karlo, Roost Uno, and Sean G, 10 p.m., free, cash4goldsf.tumblr.com.

Mezzanine: 444 Jessie, San Francisco, 625-8880. “Cream of Beat,” w/ DJs Mind Motion, Ivan, Rolo 1-3, Dark Money, Apollo, Fuze, D-Sharp, Big Von, Shortkut, 4Real, and more, 9 p.m., $20.

Skylark Bar: 3089 16th St., San Francisco, 621-9294. “Mixtape Wednesday,” w/ resident DJs Strategy, Junot, Herb Digs, & guests, 9 p.m., $5, www.myspace.com/seguepresents.

ACOUSTIC

Brick & Mortar Music Hall: 1710 Mission, San Francisco, 800-8782. Fruition, 7 p.m., free.

Cafe Divine: 1600 Stockton, San Francisco, 986-3414. Craig Ventresco & Meredith Axelrod, 7 p.m., free.

Fiddler’s Green: 1333 Columbus, San Francisco, 441-9758. Terry Savastano, Every other Wednesday, 9:30 p.m., free/donation, www.terrysavastano.com.

Plough & Stars: 116 Clement, San Francisco, 751-1122. Jeanie & Chuck’s Bluegrass Country Jam, First Wednesday of every month, 9 p.m., free.

Rickshaw Stop: 155 Fell, San Francisco, 861-2011. Kacey Johansing, Farallons, Assateague, 8 p.m., $10.

JAZZ

Amnesia: 853 Valencia, San Francisco, 970-0012. Gaucho, Eric Garland’s Jazz Session, Dink Dink Dink, 7 p.m., free, www.gauchojazz.com.

Burritt Room: 417 Stockton St., San Francisco, 400-0555. Terry Disley’s Rocking Jazz Trio, 6 p.m., free.

Club Deluxe: 1511 Haight, San Francisco, 552-6949. The Techtonics, Every other Wednesday, 8:30 p.m., free.

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. Charles Unger Experience, 7:30 p.m., free.

Le Colonial: 20 Cosmo, San Francisco, 931-3600. The Cosmo Alleycats featuring Ms. Emily Wade Adams, 7 p.m., free.

Oz Lounge: 260 Kearny, San Francisco, 399-7999. Hard Bop Collective, 6 p.m., free.

Rasselas Ethiopian Cuisine & Jazz Club: 1534 Fillmore, San Francisco, 346-8696. M.B. Hanif & The Sound Voyagers, 8 p.m.

Revolution Cafe: 3248 22nd St., San Francisco, 642-0474. Michael Parsons Trio, Every other Wednesday, 8:30 p.m., free/donation.

Savanna Jazz Club: 2937 Mission, San Francisco, 285-3369. “Cat’s Corner,” 9 p.m., $10.

Top of the Mark: One Nob Hill, 999 California, San Francisco, 616-6916. Ricardo Scales, Wednesdays, 6:30-11:30 p.m., $5.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Suzanna Smith, 7:30 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

Bissap Baobab: 3372 19th St., San Francisco, 826-9287. Timba Dance Party, w/ DJ WaltDigz, 10 p.m., $5.

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. Cha-Ching, First Wednesday of every month, 9 p.m., 9pm, 673-8000.

Cafe Cocomo: 650 Indiana, San Francisco, 824-6910. “Bachatalicious,” w/ DJs Good Sho & Rodney, 7 p.m., $5–$10.

Casa Sanchez: 2778 24th St., San Francisco, 282-2400. Urban Deportation Benefit Concert for Encantada Gallery, w/ music by the Mission District Latin Jazz All Stars, plus spoken word by Roberto Hernandez, Carlos Baron, and Alejandro Murguía, 6 p.m., $10.

Make-Out Room: 3225 22nd St., San Francisco, 647-2888. “Frigo-Bar,” international dance party with DJs 2shy-shy & Melt w/U, 8 p.m., free.

Pachamama Restaurant: 1630 Powell, San Francisco, 646-0018. “Cafe LatinoAmericano,” 8 p.m., $5.

Union Square Park: 333 Post, San Francisco, 831-2700. Dalia Marina, 12:30 p.m., free; Fito Reinoso, 6 p.m., free.

BLUES

Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 292-2583. Ian Seagal, 8 & 10 p.m., $15.

SOUL

The Cellar: 685 Sutter, San Francisco, 441-5678. “Color Me Badd,” w/ DJ Matt Haze, Wednesdays, 5-9 p.m.

Lexington Club: 3464 19th St., San Francisco, 863-2052. “Secret Lovers,” w/ DJs Ponyboy, Lil MC, Katie Duck, and Durt, First Wednesday of every month, 9 p.m., free.

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. Johnny Britt, 8 p.m., $19.

THURSDAY 4

ROCK

El Rio: 3158 Mission, San Francisco, 282-3325. Eighth Annual El Rio Big Time Freedom Festival, w/ Golden Void, Wild Eyes, Bobb Saggeth, Couches, Upside Drown, 3 p.m., $8.

Hemlock Tavern: 1131 Polk, San Francisco, 923-0923. Apopka Darkroom, Peace Creep, C-Minus, plus free BBQ starting at 1 p.m., 5 p.m., $5.

The Knockout: 3223 Mission, San Francisco, 550-6994. Creative Adult, Cat Party, The New Flesh, 10 p.m., $7.

DANCE

Abbey Tavern: 4100 Geary, San Francisco, 221-7767. DJ Schrobi-Girl, 10 p.m., free.

Aunt Charlie’s Lounge: 133 Turk, San Francisco, 441-2922. “Tubesteak Connection,” w/ DJ Bus Station John, 9 p.m., $5–$7.

The Cafe: 2369 Market, San Francisco, 621-4434. “¡Pan Dulce!,” 9 p.m., $5, www.clubpapi.com.

Cat Club: 1190 Folsom, San Francisco, 703-8964. “All ’80s Thursdays,” w/ DJs Damon, Steve Washington, Dangerous Dan, and guests, 9 p.m., $6 (free before 9:30 p.m.), www.facebook.com/pages/Thursday-nights-at-Cat-Club/191272240888168.

The Cellar: 685 Sutter, San Francisco, 441-5678. “XO,” w/ DJs Astro & Rose, 10 p.m., $5, www.facebook.com/PartyXO.

Club X: 715 Harrison, San Francisco, 339-8686. “The Crib,” 9:30 p.m., $10, 18+, www.thecribsf.com.

Elbo Room: 647 Valencia, San Francisco, 552-7788. “Afrolicious,” w/ DJs Pleasuremaker, Señor Oz, and live guests, 9:30 p.m., $5–$7, afrolicious.org.

The EndUp: 401 Sixth St., San Francisco, 646-0999. EDMSF Thursdays, 10 p.m., $10 (free before midnight).

F8: 1192 Folsom St., San Francisco, 857-1192. “Beat Church,” w/ resident DJs Neptune & Kitty-D, First Thursday of every month, 10 p.m., $10, www.facebook.com/beatchurch.

Infusion Lounge: 124 Ellis, San Francisco, 421-8700. “I Love Thursdays,” 10 p.m., $10.

Madrone Art Bar: 500 Divisadero, San Francisco, 241-0202. “Night Fever,” 9 p.m., $5 after $10 p.m.

MatrixFillmore: 3138 Fillmore, San Francisco, 563-4180. “Fusion,” w/ DJ Big Bad Bruce, 9 p.m., $5.

Mighty: 119 Utah, San Francisco, 762-0151. “Ritual,” w/ Irie Cartel & guests, 10 p.m., $5–$10, https://www.facebook.com/RitualSF.

Monarch: 101 6th St., San Francisco, 284-9774. “Lights Down Low: Body High Fourth of July Takeover,” w/ Jerome LOL, Samo Sound Boy, DJ Funeral, Joaquin Bartra, 10 p.m., $10–$15 advance.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Throwback Thursday,” w/ DJ Jay-R, 9 p.m., free.

Raven: 1151 Folsom St., San Francisco, 431-1151. “1999,” w/ VJ Mark Andrus, 8 p.m., free, www.facebook.com/1999sf.

Rickshaw Stop: 155 Fell, San Francisco, 861-2011. “Popscene,” w/ Giraffage, Mister Lies, Bobby Browser, Popscene DJs, 9:30 p.m., $13–$15, www.popscene-sf.com.

Ruby Skye: 420 Mason, San Francisco, 693-0777. “Awakening,” w/ Ummet Ozcan, 9 p.m., $15–$20 advance.

Temple: 540 Howard, San Francisco, 978-9942. “Solid,” w/ DJ Hero, Kimba, Josh Camacho, Sychosis, 10 p.m., $10.

The Tunnel Top: 601 Bush, San Francisco, 722-6620. “Tunneltop,” DJs Avalon and Derek ease you into the weekend with a cool and relaxed selection of tunes spun on vinyl, 10 p.m., free.

Underground SF: 424 Haight, San Francisco, 864-7386. “Bubble,” 10 p.m., free, https://www.facebook.com/LowerHaightbubble.

Vessel: 85 Campton, San Francisco, 433-8585. “Le Cinéma,” w/ Charles Feelgood, DJ Mes, Jazz-E, 10 p.m., $15–$25.

HIP-HOP

Eastside West: 3154 Fillmore, San Francisco, 885-4000. “Throwback Thursdays,” w/ DJ Madison, 9 p.m., free.

John Colins: 138 Minna, San Francisco, 512-7493. “The Premiere,” video hip-hop party with VDJ T.D. Camp, First Thursday of every month, 9 p.m., $5.

The Parlor: 2801 Leavenworth, San Francisco, 775-5110. “Locals Night Out,” w/ DJ Illy D, 9 p.m., free.

Skylark Bar: 3089 16th St., San Francisco, 621-9294. “Peaches,” w/lady DJs DeeAndroid, Lady Fingaz, That Girl, Umami, Inkfat, and Andre, 10 p.m., free, https://www.facebook.com/pages/Peaches-Lady-DJ-Party/187432938362.

ACOUSTIC

Amnesia: 853 Valencia, San Francisco, 970-0012. Misisipi Mike & The Midnight Gamblers, First Thursday of every month, 9 p.m.

Musicians Union Local 6: 116 Ninth St., San Francisco, 575-0777. San Francisco Singer-Songwriters’ Workshop, hosted by Robin Yukiko, First Thursday of every month, 6:30 p.m., $25 (free for AFM members), www.meetup.com/sfsingersongwritersworkshop.

JAZZ

Blush! Wine Bar: 476 Castro, San Francisco, 558-0893. Doug Martin’s Avatar Ensemble, 7:30 p.m., free, www.dougmartinguitar.com.

Bottle Cap: 1707 Powell, San Francisco, 529-2237. The North Beach Sound with Ned Boynton, Jordan Samuels, and Tom Vickers, 7 p.m., free.

Club Deluxe: 1511 Haight, San Francisco, 552-6949. Michael Parsons, 8:30 p.m., free.

Le Colonial: 20 Cosmo, San Francisco, 931-3600. Steve Lucky & The Rhumba Bums, 7:30 p.m.

The Royal Cuckoo: 3202 Mission, San Francisco, 550-8667. Chris Siebert, 7:30 p.m., free.

Savanna Jazz Club: 2937 Mission, San Francisco, 285-3369. Savanna Jazz Jam with Eddy Ramirez, 7:30 p.m., $5.

Top of the Mark: One Nob Hill, 999 California, San Francisco, 616-6916. Stompy Jones, 7:30 p.m., $10.

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. NaJe, in Yoshi’s lounge, First Thursday of every month, 6:30 p.m., free.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Anne O’Brien, First Thursday of every month, 7:30 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

Bissap Baobab: 3372 19th St., San Francisco, 826-9287. “Pa’Lante!,” w/ Juan G, El Kool Kyle, Mr. Lucky, 10 p.m., $5.

Pachamama Restaurant: 1630 Powell, San Francisco, 646-0018. “Jueves Flamencos,” 8 p.m., free.

Rasselas Ethiopian Cuisine & Jazz Club: 1534 Fillmore, San Francisco, 346-8696. Latin Breeze, 8 p.m.

Verdi Club: 2424 Mariposa, San Francisco, 861-5048. The Verdi Club Milonga, w/ Christy Coté, DJ Emilio Flores, guests, 9 p.m., $10–$15, www.christycote.com.

REGGAE

Pissed Off Pete’s: 4528 Mission St., San Francisco, 584-5122. Reggae Thursdays, w/ resident DJ Jah Yzer, 9 p.m., free.

BLUES

Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 292-2583. Todd Wolfe, 6:30 & 10:30 p.m., $15.

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. Bohemian Knuckleboogie, 7:30 p.m., free.

Lou’s Fish Shack: 300 Jefferson St., San Francisco, 771-5687. Willie G, 8:30 p.m.

FUNK

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. “Funk the Fourth,” w/ The Bernie Worrell Orchestra, 8 p.m., $24.

FRIDAY 5

ROCK

Bottom of the Hill: 1233 17th St., San Francisco, 621-4455. Beta State, Back Pocket Memory, The Material, Fighting the Villain, 8:30 p.m., $10–$12.

Cafe Du Nord: 2170 Market, San Francisco, 861-5016. Human Animation Lab, Scarlet Stoic, Abatis, Station & The Monster, 9:30 p.m., $10.

Elbo Room: 647 Valencia, San Francisco, 552-7788. Federale, Cellar Doors, DJ Joel Gion, 9:30 p.m., $7–$10.

Hemlock Tavern: 1131 Polk, San Francisco, 923-0923. Inferno of Joy, Vans, Pony Fight, 9:30 p.m., $7.

The Independent: 628 Divisadero, San Francisco, 771-1420. Rubblebucket, DRMS, 9 p.m., $15.

Slim’s: 333 11th St., San Francisco, 255-0333. Intronaut, Scale the Summit, Castle, 9 p.m., $15.

DANCE

1015 Folsom: 1015 Folsom St., San Francisco, 431-1200. “Free-Did-It,” w/ Goldie, Ryan Hemsworth, Groundislava, D33J, Nick Melons, Bachelors of Science, DJ Dials, Tchphnx, 10 p.m., free with RSVP, bit.ly/FreeDidIt.

Amnesia: 853 Valencia, San Francisco, 970-0012. “Brass Tax,” w/ resident DJs JoeJoe, Ding Dong, Ernie Trevino, Mace, First Friday of every month, 10 p.m., $5, brasstax.samo.org.

Cafe Flore: 2298 Market, San Francisco, 621-8579. “Kinky Beats,” w/ DJ Sergio, 10 p.m., free, www.sergioaudio.com.

The Cafe: 2369 Market, San Francisco, 621-4434. “Boy Bar,” w/ DJ Matt Consola, 9 p.m., $5, www.guspresents.com/events-2/boy-bar.

Cat Club: 1190 Folsom, San Francisco, 703-8964. “Strangelove: Military Fashion Show,” w/ DJs Tomas Diablo, Joe Radio, Xander, and Fact.50, 9:30 p.m., $7 ($3 before 10 p.m.), www.strangelovesf.com.

The Cellar: 685 Sutter, San Francisco, 441-5678. “F.T.S.: For the Story,” 10 p.m.

DNA Lounge: 375 11th St., San Francisco, 626-1409. “Universe,” 18+ dance party with Frank Nitty, Jays One, Krishna, Harris Pilton, Carlos Alfonzo, Non Sequitur, Cereal Killer, Vano, Sound It Out, Novaspace, Kongee, Ruccus, B_Han, 9 p.m., $5–$15.

The EndUp: 401 Sixth St., San Francisco, 646-0999. “Fever,” 10 p.m., free before midnight.

F8: 1192 Folsom St., San Francisco, 857-1192. “Vintage,” w/ DJ Toph One & guests, 5 p.m., free.

The Grand Nightclub: 520 4th St., San Francisco, 814-3008. “We Rock Fridays,” 9:30 p.m.

Infusion Lounge: 124 Ellis, San Francisco, 421-8700. “Escape Fridays,” 10 p.m., $20, sf.infusionlounge.com.

Lookout: 3600 16th St., San Francisco, 703-9751. “HYSL,” 9 p.m., $3, https://www.facebook.com/THATISDOPE.

Madrone Art Bar: 500 Divisadero, San Francisco, 241-0202. “Dirty Rotten Dance Party,” w/ Kap10 Harris, Shane King, guests, First Friday of every month, 9 p.m., $5.

MatrixFillmore: 3138 Fillmore, San Francisco, 563-4180. “F-Style Fridays,” w/ DJ Jared-F, 9 p.m.

Mezzanine: 444 Jessie, San Francisco, 625-8880. “Future Fridays,” w/ Proxy, Jacques Lu Cont, DJ MyKill, MPHD, 9 p.m., $17.

Mighty: 119 Utah, San Francisco, 762-0151. “Low End Theory,” w/ Aceyalone, Eprom, Azizi Gibson, Natasha Kmeto, Dot, more, 10 p.m., $15–$20, www.lowendtheoryclub.com.

Monarch: 101 6th St., San Francisco, 284-9774. Christian Loeffler, Portable Sunsets, 10 p.m., $12.50–$20 advance, www.blasthaus.com.

Otis: 25 Maiden, San Francisco, N/A. “Femme Fatale,” w/ DJs Loryn, Denise, and Didje Kelli, 9 p.m., $5 (free before 11 p.m.).

Powerhouse: 1347 Folsom, San Francisco, 552-8689. “Nasty,” First Friday of every month, 10 p.m., $5.

Public Works: 161 Erie, San Francisco, 932-0955. “Future Perfect: PAN Label Showcase,” w/ Bill Kouligas, Lee Gamble, Heatsick, NHK’Koyxen, 9 p.m., $10–$15 advance, https://www.facebook.com/FuturePerfectSF; Rob Garza, Afrolicious DJs, Peter Blick, 9:30 p.m., $12–$20.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Pump: Worq It Out Fridays,” w/ resident DJ Christopher B, 9 p.m., $3.

Ruby Skye: 420 Mason, San Francisco, 693-0777. Crookers, 9 p.m., $25–$40 advance.

Slate Bar: 2925 16th St., San Francisco, 558-8521. “Haçeteria,” w/ C.L.A.W.S., plus DJs Jason P, Smac, Tristes Tropiques, and Nihar, 10 p.m., $5, https://www.facebook.com/haceteria.

Supperclub San Francisco: 657 Harrison, San Francisco, 348-0900. “The Shindig,” w/ Dulce, Jimmy Bell, Alchemind, OneMoHit, 404, 10 p.m., $10 advance.

Underground SF: 424 Haight, San Francisco, 864-7386. “Bionic,” w/ Joshua Iz, Nikola Baytala, Tyrel Williams, Jason Greer, 10 p.m., $5, https://www.facebook.com/bionicsf.

Vessel: 85 Campton, San Francisco, 433-8585. PeaceTreaty, 10 p.m., $10–$30.

Wish: 1539 Folsom, San Francisco, 278-9474. “Bridge the Gap,” w/ resident DJ Don Kainoa, Fridays, 6-10 p.m., free, www.hawtmusic.com; “Depth,” w/ resident DJs Sharon Buck & Greg Yuen, First Friday of every month, 10 p.m., free.

HIP-HOP

Brick & Mortar Music Hall: 1710 Mission, San Francisco, 800-8782. Skywalkers (Boac & Sunspot Jonz), Pep Love, Okwerdz, Dirtbag Dan, Knobody, Hazel Rose, Rey Resurreccion, Farid Xan, 9 p.m., $8–$10.

EZ5: 682 Commercial, San Francisco, 362-9321. “Decompression,” Fridays, 5-9 p.m.

Nickies: 466 Haight, San Francisco, 255-0300. “First Fridays,” w/ The Whooligan & Dion Decibels, First Friday of every month, 11 p.m., free.

ACOUSTIC

Plough & Stars: 116 Clement, San Francisco, 751-1122. The Up and Down, 9 p.m.

The Sports Basement: 610 Old Mason, San Francisco, 437-0100. “Breakfast with Enzo,” w/ Enzo Garcia, 10 a.m., $5, www.enzogarcia.com.

St. Cyprian’s Episcopal Church: 2097 Turk, San Francisco, 567-1855. First Fridays Song Circle, First Friday of every month, 7 p.m., $5–$10, cyprianscenter.org/arts.

JAZZ

Beach Chalet Brewery & Restaurant: 1000 Great Highway, San Francisco, 386-8439. Johnny Smith, 8 p.m., free.

Bird & Beckett: 653 Chenery, San Francisco, 586-3733. Don Prell’s SeaBop Ensemble, First Friday of every month, 5:30 p.m., free.

Bottle Cap: 1707 Powell, San Francisco, 529-2237. Terry Disley, 5:30 p.m., free.

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. Charles Unger Experience, 7:30 p.m., free.

Savanna Jazz Club: 2937 Mission, San Francisco, 285-3369. Savanna Jazz Trio, 7 p.m., $5.

Top of the Mark: One Nob Hill, 999 California, San Francisco, 616-6916. Black Market Jazz Orchestra, 9 p.m., $10.

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. Larry Carlton Quartet, 8 & 10 p.m., $25–$32.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Joyce Grant, 8 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

Cafe Cocomo: 650 Indiana, San Francisco, 824-6910. Taste Fridays, featuring local cuisine tastings, salsa bands, dance lessons, and more, 7:30 p.m., $15 (free entry to patio), www.tastefridays.com.

The Emerald Tablet: 80 Fresno St., San Francisco, 500-2323. Guatam Tejas Ganeshan, 8 p.m., free.

Little Baobab: 3388 19th St., San Francisco, 643-3558. “Paris-Dakar African Mix Coupe Decale,” 10 p.m.

Pachamama Restaurant: 1630 Powell, San Francisco, 646-0018. Cuban Night with Fito Reinoso, 7:30 & 9:15 p.m., $15–$18.

REGGAE

Gestalt Haus: 3159 16th St., San Francisco, 655-9935. “Music Like Dirt,” 7:30 p.m., free.

Showdown: 10 Sixth St., San Francisco, 255-7920. “How the West Was Won,” w/ Nowtime Sound, First Friday of every month, 10 p.m., free, https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nowtime-Sound/112557594575.

BLUES

Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 292-2583. Big Daddy Cade & The Blues Masters, 8 & 10 p.m., $20.

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. Bill Phillippe, 6 p.m., free.

Lou’s Fish Shack: 300 Jefferson St., San Francisco, 771-5687. Bobbie Webb, 8:30 p.m.

FUNK

Amnesia: 853 Valencia, San Francisco, 970-0012. Swoop Unit, First Friday of every month, 6 p.m.

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. Wicked Mercies, Groove 8, DJ K-Os, 9:30 p.m., $10 advance.

Make-Out Room: 3225 22nd St., San Francisco, 647-2888. “Loose Joints,” w/ DJs Centipede, Damon Bell, & Tom Thump, 10 p.m., $5, www.tomthump.com.

SOUL

Edinburgh Castle: 950 Geary, San Francisco, 885-4074. “Soul Crush,” w/ DJ Serious Leisure, 10 p.m., free, www.djseriousleisure.com.

The Knockout: 3223 Mission, San Francisco, 550-6994. “Oldies Night,” w/ DJs Primo, Daniel, Lost Cat, friends, First Friday of every month, 10 p.m., $5, www.facebook.com/groups/39432821853.

SATURDAY 6

ROCK

Bender’s: 806 S. Van Ness, San Francisco, 824-1800. Horror-X, RocketShip RocketShip, 10 p.m., $5, https://www.facebook.com/SubliminalSF.

Brick & Mortar Music Hall: 1710 Mission, San Francisco, 800-8782. Callow, Sunbeam Rd., 9 p.m., $10–$12.

Cafe Du Nord: 2170 Market, San Francisco, 861-5016. Miles Schon Band, HIJK, David Luning, 7:30 p.m., $10.

Hemlock Tavern: 1131 Polk, San Francisco, 923-0923. Skunks, Feelings, Low Magic, 9:30 p.m., $6.

The Independent: 628 Divisadero, San Francisco, 771-1420. White Denim, Coo Coo Birds, 9 p.m., $15–$17.

Rickshaw Stop: 155 Fell, San Francisco, 861-2011. The Love Dimension, Zodiac Death Valley, The Lotus Moons, DJ Duke of Windsor, 8 p.m., $10.

Thee Parkside: 1600 17th St., San Francisco, 252-1330. Needles, La URSS, Neon Piss, Street Eaters, 9 p.m., $8.

DANCE

Cafe Flore: 2298 Market, San Francisco, 621-8579. “Bistrotheque,” w/ DJ Ken Vulsion, 8 p.m., free.

Cat Club: 1190 Folsom, San Francisco, 703-8964. “Leisure,” w/ DJs Aaron, Omar, & Jetset James, First Saturday of every month, 10 p.m., $7, www.popscene-sf.com.

DNA Lounge: 375 11th St., San Francisco, 626-1409. “Bootie S.F.,” w/ DJs Faroff, Entyme, John!John!, Fox, Kool Karlo, and Jay-R, 9 p.m., $10–$15, www.bootiesf.com.

The EndUp: 401 Sixth St., San Francisco, 646-0999. “Play,” w/ Joel Mull, Luke Hess, Bob Five, Michael Perry, 10 p.m., $15–$20 (free before 11 p.m.).

Infusion Lounge: 124 Ellis, San Francisco, 421-8700. “Volume,” First Saturday of every month, 10 p.m., $10–$20.

The Knockout: 3223 Mission, San Francisco, 550-6994. “Debaser: Fourth of July Indie Battle,” American indie vs. British indie dance party with DJs EmDee and Jamie Jams, 10 p.m., $5 (free before 11 p.m. if wearing flannel), https://www.facebook.com/debaser90s.

Lookout: 3600 16th St., San Francisco, 703-9751. “Bounce!,” 9 p.m., $3.

Madrone Art Bar: 500 Divisadero, San Francisco, 241-0202. “The Prince & Michael Experience,” w/ DJs Dave Paul & Jeff Harris, First Saturday of every month, 9 p.m., $5, www.bombhiphop.com/PvsM.html.

Mighty: 119 Utah, San Francisco, 762-0151. “Wicked: Return of the Prodigal Sons — 22-Year Showdown,” w/ DJs Garth, Jenö, Markie, and Thomas (continues until 7 a.m.), 10 p.m., $20–$25, wicked22.eventbrite.com.

OMG: 43 6th St., San Francisco, 896-6374. “OMG So Tasty: Dance Party for the Gay and Sexy,” 9 p.m., $10 (free with RSVP), omgsotasty.eventbrite.com.

Project One: 251 Rhode Island, San Francisco, 465-2129. “Rhythm,” w/ Mauricio Aviles, Franky Boissy, Alix Alvarez, 9 p.m., $5 before 10:30 p.m.

Public Works: 161 Erie, San Francisco, 932-0955. “Deep Blue: Leftroom Label Showcase,” w/ Laura Jones, Matt Tolfrey, DJ Rooz, DJ Bo (in the main room), 9:30 p.m., $13–$20.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Homo Erectus,” w/ DJs MyKill & Dcnstrct, First Saturday of every month, 9 p.m., $5, www.clubhomoerectus.com.

Ruby Skye: 420 Mason, San Francisco, 693-0777. Ken Loi, Nick G, 9 p.m., $20 advance.

The Stud: 399 Ninth St., San Francisco, 863-6623. “Go Bang!,” w/ DJs Tim Zawada, Chris Orr, Steve Fabus, and Sergio Fedasz, 9 p.m., $7 (free before 10 p.m.), www.gobangsf.com.

Temple: 540 Howard, San Francisco, 978-9942. Suns of Temple, DJ Oons, Kid Alien, Miki Taka, Glitch Report, Hordes, Shizloh, Mr. Kitt, A2D, 10 p.m., $20.

Underground SF: 424 Haight, San Francisco, 864-7386. “Push the Feeling,” w/ Woolfy (DJ set), Bruse, Yr Skull, Epicsauce DJs, 9 p.m., $6, https://www.facebook.com/pushthefeeling.

HIP-HOP

John Colins: 138 Minna, San Francisco, 512-7493. “N.E.W.: Never Ending Weekend,” w/ DJ Jerry Ross, First Saturday of every month, 9 p.m., free before 11 p.m.

Slate Bar: 2925 16th St., San Francisco, 558-8521. “Touchy Feely,” w/ The Wild N Krazy Kids, First Saturday of every month, 10 p.m., $5 (free before 11 p.m.).

Slim’s: 333 11th St., San Francisco, 255-0333. Kottonmouth Kings, X Clan, Imperial Soundclash (Dog Boy & DJ Bobby B), 9 p.m., $21.

ACOUSTIC

Atlas Cafe: 3049 20th St., San Francisco, 648-1047. Craig Ventresco & Meredith Axelrod, Saturdays, 4-6 p.m., free.

Make-Out Room: 3225 22nd St., San Francisco, 647-2888. Zachary Cale, Colossal Yes, 7:30 p.m., $8.

Plough & Stars: 116 Clement, San Francisco, 751-1122. “Americana Jukebox,” w/ The Dull Richards, 9 p.m., $6–$10, www.shelbyashpresents.net/americanaJukebox/americanaJukebox.html.

Revolution Cafe: 3248 22nd St., San Francisco, 642-0474. Seth Augustus, First Saturday of every month, 9 p.m., free/donation.

JAZZ

Center for New Music: 55 Taylor St., San Francisco, 275-2466. Josh Berman & Friends, 7:30 p.m., $8–$12.

Club Deluxe: 1511 Haight, San Francisco, 552-6949. Saturday Afternoon Jazz, w/ Danny Brown, Danny Grewen, Eugene Warren, & Beth Goodfellow, 4:30 p.m., free.

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. Bill “Doc” Webster & Jazz Nostalgia, 7:30 p.m., free.

Rasselas Ethiopian Cuisine & Jazz Club: 1534 Fillmore, San Francisco, 346-8696. The Robert Stewart Experience, 9 p.m., $7.

Savanna Jazz Club: 2937 Mission, San Francisco, 285-3369. Savanna Jazz Trio, 7 p.m., $5.

Sheba Piano Lounge: 1419 Fillmore, San Francisco, 440-7414. Charles Unger Experience, First Saturday of every month, 8 p.m.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Hubert Emerson, 8 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

1015 Folsom: 1015 Folsom St., San Francisco, 431-1200. “Pura,” 9 p.m., $20, www.puraclub.com.

Little Baobab: 3388 19th St., San Francisco, 643-3558. “Paris-Dakar African Mix Coupe Decale,” 10 p.m.

Make-Out Room: 3225 22nd St., San Francisco, 647-2888. “El SuperRitmo,” Latin dance party with DJs Roger Mas & El Kool Kyle, 10 p.m., $5.

Neck of the Woods: 406 Clement St., San Francisco, 387-6343. “Night of Passion,” w/ Viola Jemchug, DJ Bantik, 9 p.m.

Pachamama Restaurant: 1630 Powell, San Francisco, 646-0018. Peña Eddy Navia & Pachamama Band, 8 p.m., free.

Porto Franco Art Parlor: 953 Valencia, San Francisco, 826-2526. Tangonero, 8 p.m., $25.

Yerba Buena Gardens: Fourth St. & Mission, San Francisco, 284-9589. “Accordion Daze,” w/ Big Lou’s Dance Party, La Familia Peña-Govea, The Gonifs, noon, free.

REGGAE

The Riptide: 3639 Taraval, San Francisco, 759-7263. Riptide Ninth Annual Birthday Party with the Titan Ups, 9 p.m., free.

BLUES

Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 292-2583. Big Daddy Cade & The Blues Masters, 7:30 & 10 p.m., $20.

Lou’s Fish Shack: 300 Jefferson St., San Francisco, 771-5687. Nat Bolden, 8:30 p.m.

EXPERIMENTAL

Adobe Books: 3130 24th St., San Francisco, 864-3936. Soundwave ((6)) SonicLAB: AudioBus — Mission Creek, A roving tour of the neighborhood where the long-lost Mission Creek once ran, with narration and sounds by Andrew McKinley, Jeff Ray, and Jorge Bachmann, 8 & 9 p.m., $16, projectsoundwave.me-di-ate.net.

FUNK

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. Steppin’, July 6-7, noon, free.

SOUL

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. “Soul Train Revival,” w/ “Ziek” McCarter & The Soul System, 9:30 p.m., $10 advance.

El Rio: 3158 Mission, San Francisco, 282-3325. “Hard French,” w/ DJs Carnita & Brown Amy, First Saturday of every month, 2 p.m., $7, www.hardfrench.com.

Elbo Room: 647 Valencia, San Francisco, 552-7788. “Saturday Night Soul Party,” w/ DJs Lucky, Phengren Oswald, & Paul Paul, First Saturday of every month, 10 p.m., $10 ($5 in formal attire), www.totalshutdown.com/SOULNIGHT/.

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. Teedra Moses, 8 & 10 p.m., $23–$28.

SUNDAY 7

ROCK

Bottom of the Hill: 1233 17th St., San Francisco, 621-4455. You Are Plural, Wild Ones, Li Xi, 9 p.m., $8.

BrainWash Cafe & Laundromat: 1122 Folsom, San Francisco, 861-3663. Really Realtors, Daniel Ouellette & The Shobijin, Silke Berlinn & The Addictions, 6 p.m., free.

DNA Lounge: 375 11th St., San Francisco, 626-1409. Monsters Scare You, Speaking the King’s, Set to Reflect, 7 p.m., $10–$12.

El Rio: 3158 Mission, San Francisco, 282-3325. Roland, bWrek, Skyscraper Mori, 8 p.m., $6.

Hemlock Tavern: 1131 Polk, San Francisco, 923-0923. Twin Steps, Hausu, FF, 8:30 p.m., $7.

Thee Parkside: 1600 17th St., San Francisco, 252-1330. Lenz, Pure Bliss, Tiaras, ProFan DJs, 8 p.m., $6.

DANCE

The Cellar: 685 Sutter, San Francisco, 441-5678. “Replay Sundays,” 9 p.m., free.

The Edge: 4149 18th St., San Francisco, 863-4027. “’80s at 8,” w/ DJ MC2, 8 p.m.

The EndUp: 401 Sixth St., San Francisco, 646-0999. “T.Dance,” 6 a.m.-6 p.m.; “BoomBox,” First Sunday of every month, 8 p.m.; “Sunday Sessions,” 8 p.m.

F8: 1192 Folsom St., San Francisco, 857-1192. “Stamina Sundays,” w/ DJs Lukeino, Jamal, and guests, 10 p.m., free, www.staminasundays.com.

Holy Cow: 1535 Folsom, San Francisco, 621-6087. “Honey Sundays,” w/ Honey Soundsystem & guests, 9 p.m., $5, www.honeysoundsystem.com.

The Knockout: 3223 Mission, San Francisco, 550-6994. “Sweater Funk,” 10 p.m., free, www.facebook.com/sweaterfunk.

Lookout: 3600 16th St., San Francisco, 703-9751. “Jock,” Sundays, 3-8 p.m., $2.

Otis: 25 Maiden, San Francisco, N/A. “What’s the Werd?,” w/ resident DJs Nick Williams, Kevin Knapp, Maxwell Dub, and guests, 9 p.m., $5 (free before 11 p.m.), www.werd-sf.com.

The Parlor: 2801 Leavenworth, San Francisco, 775-5110. DJ Marc deVasconcelos, 10 p.m., free.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Gigante,” 8 p.m., free.

Temple: 540 Howard, San Francisco, 978-9942. “Sunset Arcade,” 18+ dance party with bar games and video arcade, 7 p.m., $5, www.facebook.com/ElectroPopRocks.

HIP-HOP

El Rio: 3158 Mission, San Francisco, 282-3325. “Swagger Like Us,” First Sunday of every month, 3 p.m.

Skylark Bar: 3089 16th St., San Francisco, 621-9294. “Shooz,” w/ DJ Raymundo & guests, First Sunday of every month, 10 p.m., free.

ACOUSTIC

Bazaar Cafe: 5927 California, San Francisco, 831-5620. Bugs in Costumes, First Sunday of every month, 6 p.m., free.

Club Deluxe: 1511 Haight, San Francisco, 552-6949. Musical Mayhem with the Dimestore Dandy, 5:30 p.m., free, www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=147309448667349.

The Lucky Horseshoe: 453 Cortland, San Francisco. Sunday Bluegrass Jam, 4 p.m., free; The Cherry Pickers, 8 p.m.

Milk Bar: 1840 Haight, San Francisco, 387-6455. Parlor Tricks, Skidanenko-Green Bluegrass Duet, 4 p.m., free.

Neck of the Woods: 406 Clement St., San Francisco, 387-6343. “iPlay,” open mic with featured weekly artists, 6:30 p.m., free, https://www.facebook.com/neckofthewoods.openmic.

Plough & Stars: 116 Clement, San Francisco, 751-1122. Seisiún with Marla Fibish, 9 p.m.

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church: 1755 Clay, San Francisco. “Sunday Night Mic,” w/ Roem Baur, 5 p.m., free, www.facebook.com/SundayNightMic.

JAZZ

Amnesia: 853 Valencia, San Francisco, 970-0012. Kally Price Old Blues & Jazz Band, First Sunday of every month, 9 p.m., $5.

Club Deluxe: 1511 Haight, San Francisco, 552-6949. Jay Johnson, 9 p.m., free.

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. Bill “Doc” Webster & Jazz Nostalgia, 7:30 p.m., free.

Madrone Art Bar: 500 Divisadero, San Francisco, 241-0202. “Sunday Sessions,” 10 p.m., free.

Musicians Union Local 6: 116 Ninth St., San Francisco, 575-0777. Noertker’s Moxie, Architect/Enchantress, 7:30 p.m., $8–$10.

Revolution Cafe: 3248 22nd St., San Francisco, 642-0474. Jazz Revolution, 4 p.m., free/donation.

The Royal Cuckoo: 3202 Mission, San Francisco, 550-8667. Lavay Smith & Chris Siebert, 7:30 p.m., free.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Barbara Ochoa, 7:30 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

Atmosphere: 447 Broadway, San Francisco, 788-4623. “Hot Bachata Nights,” w/ DJ El Guapo, 5:30 p.m., $10 ($15–$20 with dance lessons), www.hotbachatanights.com.

Bissap Baobab: 3372 19th St., San Francisco, 826-9287. “Brazil & Beyond,” 6:30 p.m., free.

Oasis Bar & Grill: 401 California Ave., San Francisco, 765-1900. “El Vacilón,” 4 p.m., $10.

Thirsty Bear Brewing Company: 661 Howard, San Francisco, 974-0905. “The Flamenco Room,” 7:15 & 8:30 p.m.

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. Trio Voronezh, 7 p.m., $24–$40.

REGGAE

Elbo Room: 647 Valencia, San Francisco, 552-7788. “Dub Mission,” w/ DJs Sep, Green B, and Daneekah, 9 p.m., $6 (free before 9:30 p.m.), dubmissionsf.com.

BLUES

Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 292-2583. Big Daddy Cade & The Blues Masters, 7 & 9:30 p.m., $20.

Revolution Cafe: 3248 22nd St., San Francisco, 642-0474. HowellDevine, 8:30 p.m., free/donation.

The Saloon: 1232 Grant, San Francisco, 989-7666. Blues Power, 4 p.m.

Sheba Piano Lounge: 1419 Fillmore, San Francisco, 440-7414. Bohemian Knuckleboogie, 9 p.m., free.

COUNTRY

The Riptide: 3639 Taraval, San Francisco, 759-7263. “The Hootenanny West Side Revue,” First Sunday of every month, 7:30 p.m., free, https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Hootenanny-West-Side-Revue-First-Sundays/341248372565054.

Tupelo: 1337 Green St., San Francisco, 981-9177. “Twang Sunday,” 4 p.m., free.

FUNK

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. Steppin’, July 6-7, noon, free.

SOUL

Boom Boom Room: 1601 Fillmore, San Francisco, 673-8000. “Deep Fried Soul,” w/ DJs Boombostic & Soul Sauce, 9:30 p.m., $5.

Delirium Cocktails: 3139 16th St., San Francisco, 552-5525. “Heart & Soul,” w/ DJ Lovely Lesage, 10 p.m., free, www.facebook.com/heartandsoulsunday.

MONDAY 8

ROCK

Cafe Du Nord: 2170 Market, San Francisco, 861-5016. Kelly Jones, The Real Numbers, The Corner Laughers, Melanie Penn, 7:30 p.m., $10–$12.

The Independent: 628 Divisadero, San Francisco, 771-1420. The Oblivians, Musk, Midnite Snaxxx, Primitive Hearts, 8 p.m., $25.

DANCE

DNA Lounge: 375 11th St., San Francisco, 626-1409. “Death Guild,” 18+ dance party with DJs Decay, Joe Radio, Melting Girl, & guests, 9:30 p.m., $3–$5, www.deathguild.com.

Playland Bar: 1351 Polk St., San Francisco, 440-7529. “Nightcall,” w/ DJs Don Lynch & Scotty Fox, 9 p.m., free.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Wanted,” w/ DJs Key&Kite and Richie Panic, 9 p.m., free.

Underground SF: 424 Haight, San Francisco, 864-7386. “Vienetta Discotheque,” w/ DJs Stanley Frank and Robert Jeffrey, 10 p.m., free.

ACOUSTIC

Amnesia: 853 Valencia, San Francisco, 970-0012. The Pick Bluegrass Jam, Second Monday of every month, 6 p.m., free, www.thepicksf.com/jam.aspx; Toshio Hirano, Second Monday of every month, 9 p.m., free, www.toshiohirano.com.

The Chapel: 777 Valencia St., San Francisco. Jeffrey Lewis with Jaimee Garbacik, Odawas, live music + non-fiction lit reading, 9 p.m., $12.

The Chieftain: 198 Fifth St., San Francisco, 615-0916. The Wrenboys, 7 p.m., free.

Fiddler’s Green: 1333 Columbus, San Francisco, 441-9758. Terry Savastano, 9:30 p.m., free/donation, www.terrysavastano.com.

Hotel Utah: 500 Fourth St., San Francisco, 546-6300. Open mic with Brendan Getzell, 8 p.m., free.

Osteria: 3277 Sacramento, San Francisco, 771-5030. “Acoustic Bistro,” 7 p.m., free, www.kcturnerpresents.com.

JAZZ

Le Colonial: 20 Cosmo, San Francisco, 931-3600. Le Jazz Hot, 7 p.m., free.

Rasselas Ethiopian Cuisine & Jazz Club: 1534 Fillmore, San Francisco, 346-8696. Open Mic Jazz Jam with Tod Dickow, 8 p.m.

The Union Room at Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 931-6012. “The Session: A Monday Night Jazz Series,” pro jazz jam with Mike Olmos, 7:30 p.m., $12.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Nora Maki, 7:30 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

Elbo Room: 647 Valencia, San Francisco, 552-7788. “Balkan Brass & Eastern Grüve,” w/ DJ Baron Von East-Infection, 9 p.m., $3, https://www.facebook.com/BALKANBRASSANDEASTERNGROOVE.

REGGAE

Skylark Bar: 3089 16th St., San Francisco, 621-9294. “Skylarking,” w/ I&I Vibration, 10 p.m., free.

BLUES

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. Bohemian Knuckleboogie, 7:30 p.m., free.

The Saloon: 1232 Grant, San Francisco, 989-7666. The Bachelors, 9:30 p.m.

SOUL

Madrone Art Bar: 500 Divisadero, San Francisco, 241-0202. “M.O.M. (Motown on Mondays),” w/ DJ Gordo Cabeza & Timoteo Gigante, 8 p.m., free, www.motownonmondays.com.

TUESDAY 9

ROCK

Bottom of the Hill: 1233 17th St., San Francisco, 621-4455. Mad Caddies, Flexx Bronco, The Breaks, 9 p.m., $15–$18.

Cafe Du Nord: 2170 Market, San Francisco, 861-5016. Gentlemen Hall, Nova Albion, Rin Tin Tiger, 9 p.m., $7.

The Chapel: 777 Valencia St., San Francisco. Deep Time, Dylan Shearer, 9 p.m., $12.

The Knockout: 3223 Mission, San Francisco, 550-6994. Los Headaches, Machos Borrachos, The Lost Luvs, The Shanghais, DJ Phil In, 9:30 p.m., $7.

DANCE

Aunt Charlie’s Lounge: 133 Turk, San Francisco, 441-2922. “High Fantasy,” w/ DJ Viv, Myles Cooper, & guests, 10 p.m., $2, www.facebook.com/highfantasy.

The Independent: 628 Divisadero, San Francisco, 771-1420. Future Bible Heroes, Luxury Liners, 8 p.m., $15.

MatrixFillmore: 3138 Fillmore, San Francisco, 563-4180. “TRL,” w/ DJ Big Bad Bruce, 10 p.m.

Q Bar: 456 Castro, San Francisco, 864-2877. “Switch,” w/ DJs Jenna Riot & Andre, 9 p.m., $3.

Underground SF: 424 Haight, San Francisco, 864-7386. “Shelter,” 10 p.m., free, www.facebook.com/shelter.sf.

Wish: 1539 Folsom, San Francisco, 278-9474. “Tight,” w/ resident DJs Michael May & Lito, 8 p.m., free.

HIP-HOP

Double Dutch: 3192 16th St., San Francisco, 503-1670. “Takin’ It Back Tuesdays,” w/ DJs Mr. Murdock and Roman Nunez, Second Tuesday of every month, 10 p.m., free.

Skylark Bar: 3089 16th St., San Francisco, 621-9294. “True Skool Tuesdays,” w/ DJ Ren the Vinyl Archaeologist, 10 p.m., free, www.trueskool.com.

ACOUSTIC

Bazaar Cafe: 5927 California, San Francisco, 831-5620. Songwriter-in-Residence: Alan Monasch, 7 p.m. continues through July 30.

Bottle Cap: 1707 Powell, San Francisco, 529-2237. Craig Ventresco, 7 p.m.

Plough & Stars: 116 Clement, San Francisco, 751-1122. Seisiún with Barry O’Connell & Vinnie Cronin, 9 p.m.

JAZZ

Beach Chalet Brewery & Restaurant: 1000 Great Highway, San Francisco, 386-8439. Gerry Grosz Jazz Jam, 7 p.m.

Burritt Room: 417 Stockton St., San Francisco, 400-0555. Terry Disley’s Rocking Jazz Trio, 6 p.m., free.

Cafe Divine: 1600 Stockton, San Francisco, 986-3414. Chris Amberger, 7 p.m.

Club Deluxe: 1511 Haight, San Francisco, 552-6949. Eugene Warren Trio, 8:30 p.m., free.

Jazz Bistro At Les Joulins: 44 Ellis, San Francisco, 397-5397. M.B. Hanif & The Sound Voyagers, 7:30 p.m., free.

Oz Lounge: 260 Kearny, San Francisco, 399-7999. Emily Hayes & Mark Holzinger, 6 p.m., free, www.emilyhayes.com.

Revolution Cafe: 3248 22nd St., San Francisco, 642-0474. West Side Jazz Club, 5 p.m., free.

Verdi Club: 2424 Mariposa, San Francisco, 861-5048. “Tuesday Night Jump,” w/ Stompy Jones, 9 p.m., $10–$12, www.tuesdaynightjump.com.

Yoshi’s San Francisco: 1330 Fillmore, San Francisco, 655-5600. Tommy Igoe Big Band, 8 p.m., $22.

Zingari: 501 Post, San Francisco, 885-8850. Sherri Roberts, 7:30 p.m., free.

INTERNATIONAL

Bissap Baobab: 3372 19th St., San Francisco, 826-9287. “Underground Nomads,” w/ rotating resident DJs Cheb i Sabbah, Amar, Sep, and Dulce Vita, 10 p.m., $5, https://www.facebook.com/UndergroundNomads.

The Cosmo Bar & Lounge: 440 Broadway, San Francisco, 989-3434. “Conga Tuesdays,” 8 p.m., $7–$10.

REGGAE

Milk Bar: 1840 Haight, San Francisco, 387-6455. “Bless Up,” w/ Jah Warrior Shelter Hi-Fi, 10 p.m., www.jahwarriorshelter.com.

BLUES

Biscuits and Blues: 401 Mason, San Francisco, 292-2583. Tia Carroll & Hard Work, 8 & 10 p.m., $15.

Rasselas Ethiopian Cuisine & Jazz Club: 1534 Fillmore, San Francisco, 346-8696. Bohemian Knuckleboogie, 8 p.m., free.

EXPERIMENTAL

Center for New Music: 55 Taylor St., San Francisco, 275-2466. sfSoundSalonSeries, w/ Michal Rataj, Andy Claussen’s Wishbone Project, 7:49 p.m., $7–$10, www.sfsound.org/series.

Hemlock Tavern: 1131 Polk, San Francisco, 923-0923. Night Worship, A.C. Way, 8:30 p.m., $7.

FUNK

Madrone Art Bar: 500 Divisadero, San Francisco, 241-0202. “Boogaloo Tuesday,” w/ Oscar Myers & Steppin’, 9:30 p.m., $2, https://www.facebook.com/events/213988081953274.

SOUL

Make-Out Room: 3225 22nd St., San Francisco, 647-2888. “Lost & Found,” w/ DJs Primo, Lucky, and guests, 9:30 p.m., free, 647-2888.

Stage Listings

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Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com.

THEATER

OPENING

Chance: A Musical Play About Love, Risk, and Getting it Right Alcove Theater, 415 Mason, Fifth Flr, SF; www.thealcovetheater.com. $40-60. Previews Fri/5-Sat/6, 8pm. Opens Sun/7, 5pm. Runs Thu-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 3pm); Sun, 5pm. Through July 28. New Musical Theater of San Francisco presents Richard Isen’s world premiere work inspired by the writings of Oscar Wilde.

Oil and Water This week: Dolores Park, 18th St and Dolores, SF; www.sfmt.org. Free. Thu/4, 2pm. Also Peacock Meadow, Golden Gate Park, SF; www.sfmt.org. Free. Sat/6, 2pm. Also Washington Square Park, Columbus at Union, SF; www.sfmt.org. Free. Sun/7, 2pm. Also Mitchell Park, South Field, 600 E. Meadow, Palo Alto; www.sfmt.org. Tue/9, 7pm. Free. At various NorCal venues through Sept. 2. The San Francisco Mime Troupe presents its 54th annual summer season; this year’s performance is comprised of two one-act musicals about corporations and the environment: Crude Intentions and Deal With the Devil.

ONGOING

Abigail’s Party San Francisco Playhouse, 450 Post, SF; www.sfplayhouse.org. $30-100. Wed/3-Thu/4, 7pm; Fri/5-Sat/6, 8pm (also Sat/6, 3pm). Although it’s tempting to compare Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party to Edward Albee’s rancorous Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Abigail‘s escalating nastiness skews emphatically British, giving it as much in common with televised exports such as Fawlty Towers and the Ricky Gervais version of The Office. As with these, the humor in Abigail’s Party is of the bleakest and cruelest kind, and there are moments when the five Americans onstage don’t quite convey the wit that lurks beneath the ire, but when they do the results are hysterical and uncomfortable in equal measure. Though the party we witness is not Abigail’s (she’s having a teenage house party next door, the music of which keeps throbbing through the walls of Bill English’s attractively-appointed set) the adults-only cocktail party is just as awkward as any high school mixer. Hosted by the fiercely self-absorbed Beverly (Susi Damilano) and her obnoxiously classist husband Laurence (Remi Sandri), the guest list includes the mousy Angela (Allison Jean White), her monosyllabic husband Tony (Patrick Kelley Jones), and Abigail’s ill-at-ease mum, Susan (Julia Brothers), who’s agreed to keep out of the house during her daughter’s wild soiree. The acting — as well as Brendan Aanes’ sound design, Jacqueline Scott’s props, and Tatjana Genser’s costuming — is pitch perfect, but unless you haven’t already been to enough bad parties, you might find it difficult to sit through this one. If you do, don’t be surprised if you find yourself secretly envying Laurence by the end of the play — at least he finds a way out. (Gluckstern)

Betrayal Phoenix Theatre, 414 Mason, Sixth Flr, SF; www.offbroadwaywest.org. $40. Thu-Sat, 8pm. Through July 20. Off Broadway West Theatre Company performs Harold Pinter’s out-of-sequence drama about an unfaithful married couple.

Can You Dig It? Back Down East 14th — the 60s and Beyond Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $15-50. Sat, 8:30pm; Sun, 7pm. Through Aug 25. Solo performer Don Reed returns with a prequel to his autobiographical coming-of-age hits, East 14th and The Kipling Hotel.

Dark Play, or Stories for Boys Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; www.theexit.org. $5-20. Fri-Sat, 9pm. Through July 13. Do It Live! Productions offers a steadily engrossing production of this slippery play from Chicago playwright Carlos Murillo, wherein a less-then-trusty teenage narrator, Nick (a clever, tightly wound, darkly charming Will Hand), addicted to “making shit up,” recounts his fateful internet-baiting of a fellow teen upon whom he had become fixated. As the unwitting object of Nick’s desire, sweet guy Adam (Adam Magil) gets pulled into an online love affair with Rachel (Amy Nowak), his first love, and — as fate and Nick would have it — Nick’s sister. But Rachel exists only online. And her equally fantastical evil stepdad (Nathan Tucker) soon intercedes, throwing Nick and Adam closer together. All of this disembodied desire floating around the ether leads to a physical climax even Freud might find a bit much, but the way there proves increasingly tense and interesting — if also a little frustrating itself at times in some strained plot points and, especially, its overwrought psychopathologizing of homoerotic desire. (Erik LaDue’s awkward set design also takes a little getting over.) But despite various flaws, the story intrigues, thanks to the solid performances from director Logan Ellis’s sure cast. Tucker and Kelly Rauch are dependable throughout in a varied range of sharp and often hilarious supporting roles. Nowak’s take on the vital (albeit imaginary) teen heroine is refreshingly straightforward. And Hand, while slightly slower to catch fire, ends up a persuasively complex figure at the center of it all. (Avila)

Foodies! The Musical Shelton Theater, 533 Sutter, SF; www.foodiesthemusical.com. $30-34. Fri-Sat, 8pm. Open-ended. AWAT Productions presents Morris Bobrow’s musical comedy revue all about food.

God of Carnage Shelton Theater, 533 Sutter, SF; www.sheltontheater.com. $26-38. Thu-Sat, 8pm. Through Sept 7. Shelton Theater peforms Yasmina Reza’s award-winning play about class and parenting.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch Boxcar Theatre, 505 Natoma, SF; www.boxcartheatre.org. $27-43. Thu-Sat, 8pm. Open-ended. John Cameron Mitchell’s cult musical comes to life with director Nick A. Olivero’s ever-rotating cast.

In A Daughter’s Eyes Brava Theater Center, 2781 24th St, SF; www.brava.org. $15. Thu-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 3pm. Through July 14. Brava! For Women in the Arts and Black Artists Contemporary Cultural Experience presents the West Coast premiere of A. Zell Williams’ tale of two women: the daughter of a man on death row, and the daughter of the man he’s been convicted of killing.

Sex and the City: LIVE! Rebel, 1760 Market, SF; trannyshack.com/sexandthecity. $25. Wed, 7 and 9pm. Open-ended. It seems a no-brainer. Not just the HBO series itself — that’s definitely missing some gray matter — but putting it onstage as a drag show. Mais naturellement! Why was Sex and the City not conceived of as a drag show in the first place? Making the sordid not exactly palatable but somehow, I don’t know, friendlier (and the canned a little cannier), Velvet Rage Productions mounts two verbatim episodes from the widely adored cable show, with Trannyshack’s Heklina in a smashing portrayal of SJP’s Carrie; D’Arcy Drollinger stealing much of the show as ever-randy Samantha (already more or less a gay man trapped in a woman’s body); Lady Bear as an endearingly out-to-lunch Miranda; and ever assured, quick-witted Trixxie Carr as pent-up Charlotte. There’s also a solid and enjoyable supporting cast courtesy of Cookie Dough, Jordan Wheeler, and Leigh Crow (as Mr. Big). That’s some heavyweight talent trodding the straining boards of bar Rebel’s tiny stage. The show’s still two-dimensional, even in 3D, but noticeably bigger than your 50″ plasma flat panel. Update: new episodes began May 15. (Avila)

So You Can Hear Me Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $15-50. Thu-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 5pm. Through July 20. A 23-year-old with no experience, just high spirits and big ideals, gets a job in the South Bronx teaching special ed classes and quickly finds herself in over her head. Safiya Martinez, herself a bright young woman from the projects, delivers this inspired accounting of her time not long ago in perhaps the most neglected sector of the public school system — a 60-minute solo play that makes up for its relatively slim plot with a set of deft, powerful, lovingly crafted characterizations. These complex portraits, alternately hysterical and startling, offer their own moving ruminations on a violent but also vibrant stratum of American society, deeply fractured by pervasive poverty and injustice and yet full of restive young personalities too easily dismissed, ignored, or crudely caricatured elsewhere. An effervescent, big-hearted, and very talented performer, Martinez’s own bounding personality and contagious passion for her former students (as complicated as that relationship was), makes this deeply felt tribute all the more memorable. (Avila)

Steve Seabrook: Better Than You Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $15-50. Sat, 8:30pm. Extended through August 24. Self-awareness, self-actualization, self-aggrandizement — for these things we turn to the professionals: the self-empowerment coaches, the self-help authors and motivational speakers. What’s the good of having a “self” unless someone shows you how to use it? Writer-performer Kurt Bodden’s Steve Seabrook wants to sell you on a better you, but his “Better Than You” weekend seminar (and tie-in book series, assorted CDs, and other paraphernalia) belies a certain divided loyalty in its own self-flattering title. The bitter fruit of the personal growth industry may sound overly ripe for the picking, but Bodden’s deftly executed “seminar” and its behind-the-scenes reveals, directed by Mark Kenward, explore the terrain with panache, cool wit, and shrewd characterization. As both writer and performer, Bodden keeps his Steve Seabrook just this side of overly sensational or maudlin, a believable figure, finally, whose all-too-ordinary life ends up something of a modest model of its own. (Avila)

Tinsel Tarts in a Hot Coma: The Next Cockettes Musical Hypnodrome, 575 10th St, SF; www.thrillpeddlers.com. $30-35. Thu-Sat, 8pm. Extended through July 27. Thrillpeddlers and director Russell Blackwood continue their Theatre of the Ridiculous series with this 1971 musical from San Francisco’s famed glitter-bearded acid queens, the Cockettes, revamped with a slew of new musical material by original member Scrumbly Koldewyn, and a freshly re-minted book co-written by Koldewyn and “Sweet Pam” Tent — both of whom join the large rotating cast of Thrillpeddler favorites alongside a third original Cockette, Rumi Missabu (playing diner waitress Brenda Breakfast like a deliciously unhinged scramble of Lucille Ball and Bette Davis). This is Thrillpeddlers’ third Cockettes revival, a winning streak that started with Pearls Over Shanghai. While not quite as frisky or imaginative as the production of Pearls, it easily charms with its fine songs, nifty routines, exquisite costumes, steady flashes of wit, less consistent flashes of flesh, and de rigueur irreverence. The plot may not be very easy to follow, but then, except perhaps for the bubbly accounting of the notorious New York flop of the same show 42 years ago by Tent (as poisoned-pen gossip columnist Vedda Viper), it hardly matters. (Avila)

The World’s Funniest Bubble Show Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $8-50. Sun, 11am. Through July 21. Louis “The Amazing Bubble Man” Pearl returns after a month-long hiatus with his popular, kid-friendly bubble show.

BAY AREA

Dear Elizabeth Berkeley Rep’s Roda Theatre, 2015 Addison, Berk; www.berkeleyrep.org. $24-77. Wed/3 and Sun/7, 2 and 7pm; Fri/5-Sat/6, 8pm (also Sat/6, 2pm). Berkeley Rep performs Sarah Ruhl’s play written in the form of letters between Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell.

George Gershwin Alone Berkeley Repertory Theatre, Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison, Berk; www.berkeleyrep.org. $29-77. Wed/3 and Sun/7, 2 and 7pm; Fri/5-Sat/6, 8pm (also Sat/6, 2pm). Hershey Felder stars in his celebration of the music and life of composer George Gershwin.

Sea of Reeds Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby, Berk; www.shotgunplayers.org. $20-35. Previews Wed/3-Thu/4, 8pm. Opens Fri/5, 8pm. Runs Wed-Thu, 7pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 5pm. Through Aug 18. Josh Kornbluth’s brand new comedy — it involves atheism, oboes, and the Book of Exodus — opens at Shotgun Players “before it goes on Torah.”

Superior Donuts Pear Avenue Theatre, 1220 Pear, Mtn View; www.thepear.org. $10-30. Wed/3 and Thu-Sat, 8pm (no show Thu/4); Sun, 2pm. Through July 14. Pear Avenue Theatre performs Tracy Letts’ comedy about the redemptive power of friendship.

This Is How It Goes Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; www.auroratheatre.org. $32-60. Tue and Sun, 7pm (also Sun, 2pm); Wed-Sat, 8pm. Extended through July 28. An awkward love triangle between former high school classmates gets the caustic Neil LaBute treatment in Aurora Theatre Company’s production of This is How it Goes. Not content to merely skewer the familiar battles between the sexes, LaBute further prods his captive audience with the big stick of race relations, and the often unacknowledged prejudices that lurk in the hearts of men. And women. There are no innocents in this play, though each character certainly has moments where they play upon audience sympathies, only to betray them a few inflammatory lines later. As the marriage between the successful yet self-conscious African American alpha male Cody (Aldo Billingslea) and his neurotically placating Caucasian wife Belinda (Carrie Paff) erodes, the mostly affable (and former fat kid) “Man” (Gabriel Marin) insinuates himself in the middle of their troubled relationship, obviously still carrying the torch for Belinda he did 15 years ago — as well as the same wary animosity an unpopular kid carries for the star of the track team, in this case, Cody. All three actors do a very good job of shape-shifting between their middle-class Jekyll and Hyde selves, assisted in part by Marin’s amiable asides, which don’t so much lull the audience as tease them with the idea that things are about to get better, when they can only get worse. (Gluckstern)

PERFORMANCE/DANCE

Caroline Lugo and Carolé Acuña’s Ballet Flamenco Peña Pachamama, 1630 Powell, SF; www.carolinalugo.com. July 13, 21, and 27, 6:15pm. $15-19. Flamenco performance by the mother-daughter dance company, featuring live musicians.

“Comedy Returns to El Rio” El Rio, 3158 Mission, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Mon/8, 8pm. $7-20. With Eve Meyer, Johan Miranda, Kate Willett, Sammy Obeid, and Lisa Geduldig.

“Mission Position Live” Cinecave, 1034 Valencia, SF; www.missionpositionlive.com. Thu, 8pm. Ongoing. $10. Stand-up comedy with rotating performers.

“Performance Making Showcase” Z Space, 450 Florida, SF; www.zspace.org. Sat/6, 7:30pm. Free. Work created by participants in the University of Chichester (UK)’s Performance Making Institute.

“Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance” Performances: African American Art and Culture Complex, 762 Fulton, SF; www.queerrebels.com. Fri/5-Sat/6, 8pm. $15-20. Films: New Parkway, 474 24th St, Oakl; www.queerrebels.com. Sun/7, noon. $7-10. The National Queer Arts Festival presents this showcase of queer black performers, plus films by and about the same.

“Randy Roberts: Live!” Alcove Theater, 414 Mason, Ste 502, SF; www.thealcovetheater.com. July 9, 16, and 23, 9pm. $30. The famed female impersonator takes on Cher, Better Midler, and other stars.

Red Hots Burlesque El Rio, 3158 Mission, SF; www.redhotsburlesque.com. Wed, 7:30-9pm. Ongoing. $5-10. Come for the burlesque show, stay for OMG! Karaoke starting at 8pm (no cover for karaoke).

“San Francisco Magic Parlor” Chancellor Hotel Union Square, 433 Powell, SF; www.sfmagicparlor.com. Thu-Sat, 8pm. Ongoing. $40. Magic vignettes with conjurer and storyteller Walt Anthony.

“Union Square Live” Union Square, between Post, Geary, Powell, and Stockton, SF; www.unionsquarelive.org. Through Oct 9. Free. Music, dance, circus arts, film, and more; dates and times vary, so check website for the latest.

“Yerba Buena Gardens Festival” Yerba Buena Gardens, Mission between 3rd and 4th Sts, SF; www.ybgfestival.org. Through Oct 15. Free. This week: “Accordion Daze,” Sat, noon-3. *

Psychic Dream Astrology: July 3-9, 2013

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July 3-9, 2013

Be patient with miscommunications and crossed wires ’cause Mercury is retrograde till the 20th, y’all.

ARIES

March 21-April 19

You need to change, Aries. Don’t change because there’s anything wrong with you — you’re perfect! Change because you want to, because it’s time that you let go of some old, outworn ways of being. You are on the verge of something greater than you are able to understand right now. Be a part of it.

TAURUS

April 20-May 20

Kindness will best pave roads in all directions before you, Taurus. No matter how nervous or upset you get, this is not the time to lash out at folks. Be tolerant and generous with yourself and others this week. If you assume the worst you’re investing your precious energy in unwanted negative outcomes.

GEMINI

May 21-June 21

Patience and perseverance alone will guide you through the anxieties that this Mercury retrograde may bring. Things are not as they appear, Twin Star, so making plans based on what you see or assuming you understand what you’re being shown is not well starred. Stay centered and simplify your life this week.

CANCER

June 22-July 22

Life is like ice cream; no matter how delicious it is, eating it too quickly or enjoying too much of it will make you sick. Jupiter just entered your sign and that means you are capable of great growth and expansion. If you try to do too much you’ll end up messing things up, though, Moonchild.

LEO

July 23-Aug. 22

You don’t need to know what’s coming, or to even understand everything that is at hand, but you do need to cope to the best of your ability. This week you are not meant to be perfect, Leo, only to try and embody all the strength and candor your sign is known for. Don’t rush the unknowable.

VIRGO

Aug. 23-Sept. 22

Making peace with crappy things is not meant to depress you. It is meant to liberate you from the belief that there is “good” or “bad” experience; there’s not. It’s all just experience, if you allow it. Don’t get so fixated on your narratives that you make this story worse than it needs to be. Be interested in how your life is developing.

LIBRA

Sept. 23-Oct. 22

Trust your instincts, Libra. This is an important time to be self–reliant because you need to assert yourself dramatically forward, and if you cant trust yourself, who can you trust? Keep your feet on the ground and your head screwed on tight as you challenge yourself beyond your comfort zone.

SCORPIO

Oct. 23-Nov. 21

You simply don’t have enough knowledge to make an informed decision, Scorpio. No matter how impatient you’re feeling you should strive to have more data to work with before you make a call. Whether that requires introspection, research, or dialogue, you should never take shortcuts in a Mercury Retrograde week.

SAGITTARIUS

Nov. 22-Dec. 21

Did you know that it was a Sagittarius that invented the fine art of putting ones’ foot in ones’ own mouth? Its true. It’s also true that you need to avoid perfecting that craft this week, no matter how motivated you feel, or how passionately you believe that you’re right. Don’t push others; let them come when they’re ready.

CAPRICORN

Dec. 22-Jan. 19

In order to win the game you have to be prepared to play, Cappy. There’s no possibility to succeed in your relationships if you don’t put yourself out there and take risks. If you never let people in, you’ll never know what could’ve been. This week is all about being present and willing, in spite of your fears.

AQUARIUS

Jan. 20-Feb. 18

No matter how much drama is around you, this is the time to stay true to yourself. It’s also time to be willing to change. The key is to transform in ways that feel creative and lead you to somewhere better instead of just running away from pain. Don’t escape hardship; carve a new path, Aquarius.

PISCES

Feb. 19-March 20

There’s no need to make any sweeping judgments this week, Pisces. You are being shown different sides of people than you’ve seen before, but that doesn’t mean that what you knew yesterday is no longer true. Integrate all you are being shown and revise your opinions as needed.

Jessica Lanyadoo has been a Psychic Dreamer for 18 years. Check out her website at www.lovelanyadoo.com to contact her for an astrology or intuitive reading.

Rep Clock

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Schedules are for Wed/2-Tue/9 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double and triple features marked with a •. All times pm unless otherwise specified.

ARTISTS’ TELEVISION ACCESS 992 Valencia, SF; www.atasite.org. $6-10. Directing Dissent (Hamacher, 2013), Sat, 8.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $8.50-13. •Jaws (Spielberg, 1975), Wed, 2:15, 7, and Rocky (Avildsen, 1976), Wed, 4:35, 9:25. •Josie and the Pussycats (Elfont and Kaplan, 2001), Fri, 7:30; Velvet Goldmine (Haynes, 1998), Fri, 9:30; Wild in the Streets (Shear, 1968), Fri, 11:59. “Scary Cow Independent Film Festival,” Sat, 3. This event, $10-25; visit www.scarycow.com for more details. “50th Anniversary Restoration:” Cleopatra (Mankiewicz, 1963), Sun, 2, 7.

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $6.75-$10.25. Fill the Void (Burshtein, 2012), call for dates and times. Frances Ha (Baumbach, 2012), call for dates and times. Rebels With a Cause (Kelly, 2012), call for dates and times. 20 Feet From Stardom (Neville, 2013), call for dates and times. Augustine (Winocour, 2012), July 5-11, call for times.

CLAY 2261 Fillmore, SF; www.landmarktheatres.com. $10. “Midnight Movies:” Mr. Hush (Madison, 2011), Fri, midnight. Hosted by Miss Misery.

“FILM NIGHT IN THE PARK” This week: Creek Park, 400 Sir Francis Drake, San Anselmo; www.filmnight.org. Free (donations appreciated). Super 8 (Abrams, 2011), Fri, 8; Return of the Jedi (Marquand, 1983), Sat, 8.

NEW PARKWAY 474 24th St, Oakl; www.thenewparkway.com. Free. “First Friday Shorts,” featuring short films made by local youth, Fri, 6.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “A Call to Action: The Films of Raoul Walsh:” Sailor’s Luck (1933), Fri, 7; Me and My Gal (1932), Fri, 8:40. “A Theater Near You:” Port of Shadows (Carné, 1938), Sat, 6:30; Kuroneko (Shindo, 1968), Sat, 8:30. “Castles in the Sky: Masterful Anime from Studio Ghibli:” Pom Poko (Takahata, 1994), Sun, 4:30.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $6.50-11. Hey Bartender! (Tirola, 2013), Wed-Thu, 7, 9:15. Ain’t In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm (Hatley, 2013), Wed, 7:15, 9:15. A Band Called Death (Covino and Howlett, 2013), July 5-11, 7, 9. Maniac (Khalfoun, 2012), July 5-11, 7:15, 9:15.

VICTORIA 2961 16th St, SF; teatrofrida.eventbrite.com/#. $12-35. “Fiestas Fridas:” •Frida: Naturaleza Viva (1984), and The Life and Death of Frida Kahlo as told to David and Karen Crommie (1966), Sat, 5. Followed by “Somos Frida,” a performance showcase. *

Mz. America

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SUPER EGO I am absolutely exhausted from having to take in so many BART-strike refugees, caught by surprise on the empty platforms, in their platforms, right after Pride. I personally feel like a very glamorous Ellis Island for ill-informed East Bay drag queens, a beacon of hungover light. Give me your sequined, your glittered, your plumped-out, pumped-up, spandex-slathered asses yearning to breathe free. Now quit hogging my bathroom. It ain’t summer ’til you’ve rolled over on a bed of flung-off lucite heels!

Also auguring our summer here in the Bay: the yearly return of that most excellent, most original psychedelic rave crew, Wicked, shoring us up with another installment of its 22-year-old-party. Now, like a superdupermoon appearance or a strange blast of humidity, it’s an annual all-nighter portal to post-solstice revelry.

“Return of the Prodigal Sons” is the theme this time around, with original acid house royalty Garth, Jenö, Thomas, and Markie burning up the decks. (Yes, they’re British, but on a full moon at Baker Beach in 1991, they scruffed up the American rave scene and stayed.) The last such gathering was an uncanny hoot — who knew light streamed into Mighty at dawn? — and a classic-and-newbie club meet like no other. Let’s do this.

WICKED Sat/6, 10pm-7am, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

DERRICK CARTER

The Chi-Town master of boogaloo house brings his impeccable selections and cute sense of humor to the Housepitality party. For any of you (me!) ticked off we missed his semi-surprise appearance at a certain SF party a couple months ago, well here we go.

Wed/3, 9pm, $5 before 11 p.m., $10 after. f8, 1192 Folsom, SF. www.housepitalitysf.com

WUMPSKATE

Look, I know it’s in San Jose, but how could I not clue you into the Bay’s biggest goth rollerskating party, celebrating its fourth anniversary? That’s right. Goth. Roller. Skating. Party.

Wed/3, 10pm, $10. 397 Blossom Hill Rd., San Jose. www.facebook.com/wumpskatesfbay

CREAM OF BEAT REUNION

Seventeen years of pure hip-hop brilliance from this crew, which basically includes a who’s-who of 1990s turntable pyrotechnics: Shortkut, Apollo, Mind Motion, Rolo 1-3, Ivan, Fuze, D-Sharp … oh, and special guests Special Ed and The Whoridas(!) Shot callin’, big ballin’ — literally.

Wed/3, 9pm, $20. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

BODY HIGH

Color-saturated, bass-rumbling label Body High-mates Jerome LOL (he basically exploited that eerie, over-stimulated post-Tumblr aesthetic first) and Samo Sound Boy come up from LA to the Lights Down Low party for a sight, sound, and all other things spectacular.

Thu/4, 10pm-3am, $20. Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF. www.monarchsf.com

BIONIC (RE)LAUNCH

Look, I’m not trying to make you feel old with all these reunions, etc. Especially not when they’re as fresh as this. SF’s longest-running techno weekly disappeared for a minute right before 222 Hyde shut down earlier this year. Now, it’s back where it all started, UndergroundSF, formerly, infamously known as The Top — only now it’s every Friday, rather than (much messier) Sundays. With Nikola Baytala, Joshua Iz, Tyrel Williams, and Jason Greer.

Fri/3, 9pm, $5. UndergroundSF, 424 Haight, SF.

OLDIES NIGHT

Oh, let’s just rock the fuck out, shall we? For America. DJ Primo and Lost Cat’s awesome regular party gives you scratchy, classic, 7″ soul, doo wop, and garage.

Fri/5, 9pm, $2–$4. The Knockout, 3223 Mission, SF. www.theknockoutsf.com

PAN

Very cool all-night showcase for this young Berlin electronic label that takes experiment, sound art, and techno-futurism as a given. With founder Bill Kouligas, Lee Gamble, Heatsick, and NHK’Koxygen performing.

Fri/5, 9pm-late, $10–$20. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

CHARLIE HORSE: RIOT GHHHOUL

The hilarious monthly bargain-bin punk rock drag show takes on riot grrrl, but with zombies. Who knows what the hell will result? Plus one: the place is always packed with alternative hotties.

Sat/6, 9:30pm, $5. SF Eagle, 398 12th St., SF. www.sf-eagle.com

WOOLFY

The chill and spacey disco wiz’s recent post-punky popper “Junior’s Throwing Craze” would not leave my head earlier this year — hear him channel your subconscious genre mashups at the monthly Push the Feeling party, now on Saturdays.

Sat/6, 9pm, $6. UndergroundSF, 424 Haight, SF. www.epicsauce.com

SWAGGER LIKE US

Happy first birthday to the daytime party that helped revive queer hip-hop for a new generation. It’s also probably the most diverse experience you’ll have in these crazy SF times. Fight the blandening! Twerk for your gay life.

Sun/7, 3pm-8pm, $5–$8. El Rio, 3158 Mission, SF. www.facebook.com/swaggerlikeussf

New Zealand’s Cup

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July 3, 2013

7

news@sfbg.com

A few weeks ago I was walking down the dock in the marina where I live, in Wellington, New Zealand, when I passed a woman and a young boy. I’d never seen them before, which is uncommon here in this municipal marina — about 100 boats — in a small suburb of the country’s capital.

The boy was walking from berth to berth pointing out certain rig and hull features and expounding on them as only a future aficionado can. “Lots of different boats, huh?” I asked as I passed.

“Different than America,” he confirmed in an accent the same as mine.

The kid is sharp, I thought, or maybe it’s just obvious, even to an eight-year-old from Chicago. The New Zealand sailing scene is vastly different than its American counterpart, which is not to say there’s no comparing — they’re not exactly navigating carved logs with gunnysack sails down here.

But the boats in my marina are, in fact, mostly homebuilt from steel, cement, aluminum, and wood. They appear a motley crew compared to the cookie-cutter production fiberglass Beneteaus, Catalinas, and Hunters, with their identical pacific blue sail covers lined up in San Francisco’s South Beach Marina.

In New Zealand, a boat is rarely a status symbol — it’s part of the middle-class way of life, the home base for holidays and weekend fishing trips and lots and lots of competitive racing. If I’ve noticed one thing since I arrived in this country (aboard a sailboat, after leaving San Francisco and my job as a Bay Guardian staff writer), it’s that every little harbor town has a yacht club and an awful lot of Kiwis own boats — and they sail the shit out of them.

Which is part of the reason why the New Zealand government is willing to invest NZ$36 million (US$27 million) to compete in the 34th America’s Cup against some of the richest men in the world in a race that has become so elite there’s barely any competition.

Small as the field is, Emirates Team New Zealand (ETNZ) is quickly shaping up to be the team to beat if you’re on a high-speed, air-catching AC72 catamaran. If they succeed, it will show that developing an America’s Cup team doesn’t have to come from having deep pockets in your Nantucket Red pants — it comes from having the sport ingrained in your culture, filtered through affordable local boat clubs, city-run facilities, volunteer programs, publicly accessible shorefronts, and an innovative marine industry.

In fact, without New Zealand’s maritime way of life, Larry Ellison wouldn’t have much of a team: of the 27 sailors and management crew aboard Oracle, a third are Kiwis. Another third are Australians. If you count Ellison, there are only three Americans aboard. Just one of them — tactician and grinder John Kostecki — grew up sailing on San Francisco Bay.

Ellison’s boat is mostly a Kiwi production, too — the fixed-wing sails and structural components for Oracle’s two AC72s were made in New Zealand, as were the boats, sails, and rigs for ETNZ and Luna Rossa. The only other syndicate competing, Sweden’s Artemis, in the wind since the death of crewmember Andrew Simpson, is the outlier, but they still have eight New Zealanders on board.

America’s Cup is looking more and more like it owes a lot to New Zealand. Is the Cup doing as much for San Francisco as it is for this little island nation, with a population just a tenth of California’s?

“If it wasn’t called Team New Zealand, we wouldn’t get a lot out of it,” says Sven Pannell, a competitive dinghy racer and employee of the economic development agency Grow Wellington. “The numbers of boat builders, carbon fabricators, sail makers, yacht designers coming out of New Zealand are the reason we’re still at the top of the global game. If we can bring the Cup home that means a lot for our country.”

It may also save America’s Cup from becoming even more out of touch with reality.

IT’S THE CULTURE, STUPID

It’s June 8, summer in San Francisco but winter in Wellington. The first race of the 2013 Winter Series at Evans Bay Boat Club hits hypothermic seas beneath steely overcast skies and 20-30 knots of wind — “perfect conditions,” one sailor enthuses. Tame, actually, for Wellington. A week ago, wind blew out the fifth story windows of a building downtown.

Sven Pannell has just finished racing a 12-foot skiff, a super lightweight, often homebuilt boat that probably originated in Australia and is almost exclusively raced in the Southern Hemisphere, though an 18-foot version will be showcased in San Francisco this September alongside the America’s Cup finals. Weighing about 100 pounds, with no class restrictions on sail area, they rooster-tail around Wellington harbor, bow high, barely in the water. They seem to require a similar caliber of nerve as the AC72s.

Which Pannell, who won today, evidently has. He grew up sailing as a kid, as did his crew, Craig Anderson. Neither of them can think of anyone who didn’t get into sailing as a child.

“A lot of people around the world think yachting is a well-heeled sport, but not in New Zealand,” he says. “There’s a reason that half those [America’s Cup] boats are full of Kiwis and Aussies. Go out and see the number of eight-year-olds in Optis in all kinds of weather here. A high number of people sailing at that age creates a deep pool of sailors in demand.”

“America’s Cup is about stretching the limits, but it starts here, when you’re eight years old,” he adds.

Eager to get out of the icy Antarctic wind, I enter the boat club where about 35 people are gathered at the bar, buzzing from adrenalin, barefoot and wet from spray or capsizes, gripping ginger beers and green bottles of Steinlager, the Budweiser of New Zealand. It’s a humble looking crowd — no flash gear or cashmere.

I’m introduced to Mike Rhodes, 26, wearing a blue sweatshirt and camo pants. He’d love to race an America’s Cup boat, but he also satisfies himself with a 12-foot skiff, which he stripped and rebuilt, fashioning the stainless steel fittings himself — he’s a sheet metal worker.

“New Zealand sailing is all about learning and moving forward,” he says. “The boats we’re sailing are always changing. We have set rules for weight, width, and length. After that it’s wide open. You can put up as much rig as you can handle. We went out in 50 knots last weekend. It was insane. We probably had boat speeds of 30 knots.”

The speed and innovations are what appeal to Rhodes and also connect to the America’s Cup, which has been an historic proving ground for leaps forward in boat design. “Who thought New Zealand could make the boat fly first?” he says of ETNZ’s proficiency at foiling the AC72 — going so fast the hull actually lifts off the water.

We’re soon joined by Laura Hutton, a 30-year-old from Cape Cod. She’s raced dinghies, coached and taught sailing for years. Now a speech therapist, she moved to New Zealand three months ago and immediately hooked into the local yachting scene. It’s palpably different than what she’s used to in the States. Here, she says, “It’s a lot more laid back. It’s more inclusive than exclusive. I used to go to events at New York Yacht Club in Newport and I felt so uncomfortable there. It’s the most elite, snobby place.”

“You can’t get coaching in the US unless you’re part of a yacht club or go to a school with a racing team,” she adds, and there’s often a huge cost to enter the sport. “Here, I can join the local yacht club for $35 a month,” she deadpans.

I spend more money riding the bus, I tell her, but I wouldn’t in San Francisco, where it’s cheap to catch a bus but where most people rarely board boats.

The American yacht club tradition has a certain “if you have to ask how much it costs, you can’t afford it” attitude. Ellison is one of 300 members of Golden Gate Yacht Club, official host for the Cup. Its neighbor, St. Francis Yacht Club, 2,300 strong, also has a role in the festivities. Both are exclusive, members-only clubs and neither would tell me what their members pay for the club’s privileges.

However, they’re officially nonprofit organizations and filings with the IRS show St. Francis made nearly $13 million in 2011. Golden Gate Yacht Club took home $660,000 the same year. Ironically, both clubs are on public lands, leased from San Francisco’s Recreation and Parks Department for $231,125 and $64,000 annually respectively.

Both clubs run learn-to-sail programs for kids — $350 for St. Francis and $200 for GGYC — which seem affordable, but what’s the next step? Joining the club, but apparently it’s too rude to query the price.

By contrast, Wellington’s Evans Bay Boat Club charges NZ$281 (US$210) to join and Royal Port Nicholson Yacht Club, which is a sister club to St. Francis, costs NZ$160 (US $120). The Bay Area is lucky — Berkeley and Treasure Island both have affordable clubs, however one could argue that if St. Francis and GGYC are on public lands, they should be paying more in dues to the city.

If there’s a posh club in Auckland, it’s ETNZ’s home — the Royal New Zealand Yacht Squadron. “But it’s a Kiwi version of posh, nothing like some of the yacht clubs I have been to in places like England, where women aren’t allowed to order drinks at the bar,” says Ben Gladwell, a journalist for Boating New Zealand who will be racing an 18 foot skiff in San Francisco in a regatta concurrent with the Cup finals. “At the Squaddy, there are obviously rules, like no cell phones, and dress codes and such like, but the fees are still only a few hundred dollars per year and it is much more inclusive than other yacht clubs around the world.”

Gladwell explored the health of New Zealand’s sailing culture in a story called “State of the Racing Nation” for Boating New Zealand. He found that although there is a drop-off in interest during university years, many yacht clubs have created partnerships to keep kids in the sport, there are mobile learn-to-sail units roaming the country, and lots of accessible city-run programs for kids. Couple that with low lifetime fees to stay in the sport and you see healthy clubs like Evans Bay, where people of all ages are out racing every weekend, all year round.

“Having so many people involved in sailing is a major reason we are successful,” he says. “Children are introduced to it at such a young age…by the time they come to competing at youth international regattas, they are hugely experienced and winning becomes a habit.”

“AMERICA’S CUP IS NOW NEW ZEALAND’S CUP”

In 1995, when Black Magic smoked Dennis Connor’s Stars and Stripes in a five-race shut-out, commentator Peter Montgomery famously quipped “America’s Cup is now New Zealand’s cup,” a line that’s gone down in Kiwi history like the “I have a dream” speech.

For the first time, the Auld Mug would be defended in New Zealand. Back then, Auckland’s Viaduct Harbor probably looked a lot like parts of San Francisco’s waterfront does today — dilapidated piers and old industrial buildings crumbling on their pilings. It would cost of NZ$58 million (US$29 million at the time) to dredge the harbor and spruce up the waterfront for the Cup.

The city made its money back. Hosting for two years, in 2000 and 2003, brought NZ$1 billion (US$500 million, at the time) in economic benefits to the country, about 85 percent of that going to Auckland’s local businesses, mostly from visiting megayachts and the services required for the nine syndicates that competed — twice as many as are in San Francisco today.

And Auckland made a lot less than the US$900 million predicted for San Francisco, already trimmed from the US$1.4 billion initially estimated. What the city actually gains from the $22.5 million investment they’ve been forced to make remains to be seen. Meanwhile, Auckland continues to benefit from the race.

It’s been estimated that the four Cup contenders have collectively spent half a billion on their campaigns and a decent chunk of that has been in Auckland, particularly during the AC72 design, build, and testing phases. Already, taxes paid by ETNZ employees amount to NZ$22.4 million (US$16.5 million). That doesn’t include the employee payroll taxes of all the businesses doing Cup-related activity, like the boat builders, riggers, and sailmakers.

ETNZ CEO Grant Dalton has netted sponsorships from more than 100 companies and argues that the Cup efforts have kept many marine businesses afloat that would have otherwise shuttered. Kiwis have not been immune to the world financial situation: the high New Zealand dollar hurting exports and the NZ$30 billion (US$22.5 billion) price tag for the February 2011 Christchurch earthquake have stressed the country’s coffers.

Because of that, funding ETNZ has been as contentious here as hosting Ellison’s party has been to San Franciscans. The agreement was signed in 2007 by a Labour Party-led government and when National Party’s John Key won the Prime Minister’s seat in 2008, he looked into breaking the contract, a move supported by other parties. “Funding the America’s Cup is surely a ‘nice to have’, rather than essential spending, in the current economic climate,” said Green Party co-leader Metiria Turei at the time.

The government was advised they’d still be legally on the hook for the money if they broke the contract, so ETNZ proceeded, but proof of economic return was a contingency and Dalton has taken pains to keep the public good in the conversation, a sharp contrast to Ellison’s attitude toward San Francisco. Dalton has said if New Zealand wins, the world should expect a sharp scaling back of costs. “We stand for nationality rule and we stand for real budget numbers that real people can raise,” he has said.

There’s definitely a sense that this could be New Zealand’s last chance to bring the Auld Mug home. If they don’t, the America’s Cup also loses. Who else will save it from American-style exclusiveness?

Transforming Pride in our schools

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June 27, 2013

1

By Anayvette Martinez

OPINION During Pride, San Francisco is overflowing with LGBT community events, vibrant energy, and rainbow flags. But how do we as a city celebrate diversity and teach each other about the practice of allyship during the rest of the year, especially in our schools where youth are growing and developing?

Imagine a school where LGBTQQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, questioning) and ally youth are leaders in creating environments where all students can thrive — a school where students who bully are not punished, but taught how to become allies. Imagine LGBTQQ youth every day leading their classmates with the support of school staff trained in LGBTQQ youth inclusion and their family members knowledgeable of LGBTQQ issues.

Now stop imagining: LYRIC’s new School-Based Initiative is making it happen, with programs in Everett Middle School, Buena Vista Horace Mann, and Balboa High — and soon, hopefully, more.

LYRIC (the Lavender Youth Recreation and Information Center) knows school communities can’t be transformed unless every potential ally is engaged, trained, and empowered. It takes more than a one-time discussion or film screening. Our seminars for students, professional development series for entire school staffs, and workshops for families reach deep into the classroom, into the schoolyard, and into students’ homes.

In the most recent student survey results released by the San Francisco Unified School District (SFUSD), 33 percent of LGB students and almost half of transgender students report skipping school because they feel unsafe. Twenty-two percent of LGB students report receiving mostly F grades, while only 1% of their heterosexual peers say the same. More than 1,000 LGBT SFUSD students reported attempting suicide. Our LGBTQQ students deserve more.

Through LYRIC’s new initiative, we’re creating the school communities many of us longed for when we were young, giving LGBTQQ students today what most of us didn’t have. This work takes all of us.

LYRIC’s work in schools comes from a very personal place for me as a second-generation queer Latina. As a youth, I had a difficult time navigating the San Francisco school system. I struggled to accept my own identity because I didn’t see myself reflected or celebrated in my community. This resulted in years of anger displacement, which led me to transfer in and out of multiple middle schools.

As an adult, I worked at Horace Mann Middle School in the Mission (now Buena Vista Horace Mann). I saw how important it is for students to not only feel safe in their schools but to feel celebrated for being who they are. It became apparent to me that there needed to be a deep and intentional intervention.

I found in LYRIC an organization that shared my vision for school inclusion and transformation. We began the process of building a new model by talking directly with students, school staff, and families about what they needed to see change. As the director of LYRIC’s School-Based Initiative, I have seen first-hand how a holistic model transforms schools into safer and more inclusive communities.

I am blessed to be a queer mother of color to Lupita, 8, and Diego, 6. The work I do today through LYRIC’s School-Based Initiative is not only about my past experience as a queer youth, but also about creating the kind of world I want my kids to grow up in. We all have a role in making sure our school communities are safe and accepting places where LGBTQQ youth — where all youth — can be proud.

Stay in touch with LYRIC at www.facebook.com/LYRIC.LavenderYouth, and see how you can help.

Anayvette Maria Martinez is LYRIC’s School-Based Initiative director.

Print sections as they appeared in the early 2010s

Print Sections

BART AS BELLWETHER

AUSTERITY AND EXPANSION

RETIREMENT SECURITY

CHOW NOW

BALLIN’ ON A BUDGET

YOU GOTTA EAT THIS

CHOW NOW

BALLIN’ ON A BUDGET

YOU GOTTA EAT THIS

Saturday 6

Sunday 7

Monday 8

CONFINEMENT AS TORTURE

RESISTING REFORM

DANGEROUS ASSOCIATIONS

DRASTIC MEASURES

DERRICK CARTER

WUMPSKATE

CREAM OF BEAT REUNION

BODY HIGH

BIONIC (RE)LAUNCH

OLDIES NIGHT

PAN

CHARLIE HORSE: RIOT GHHHOUL

WOOLFY

SWAGGER LIKE US

IT’S THE CULTURE, STUPID

“AMERICA’S CUP IS NOW NEW ZEALAND’S CUP”