SFBG Blogs

Stuck inside of Toronto with the movie blues again

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Day Five of the Toronto International Film Festival: I had to make a Bob Dylan pun above because today I saw I’m Not There, Todd Haynes’ tribute to the star (focusing on the young, exciting, pre-Victoria’s Secret sellout years, thankfully). There’s a lot going on here — I’m sure you’ve already heard about the gimmick of having several different actors play Dylan or Dylanesque characters. It makes for a fascinating comment on perceptions of stardom and celebrity — and art, I guess — with stirring music (duh), contrasting visual textures, and some random cameos by an enormous cast (David Cross as Allen Ginsberg — works for me). A few moments felt transcendent (Cate Blanchett was my favorite Dylan); others felt clipped from A Mighty Wind. This was maybe the only movie at the festival where I got that overwhelming, I’m-enveloped-by-this-film feeling … which is not to say I was one hundred percent in love with it. But it was plenty stirring.

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Just like a … woman?

Meanwhile, unless something bedazzles me during my half-day tomorrow, I think I’m ready to declare my personal best-of-fest.
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Six Years after 9/11, my son is off to Iraq

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By Sarah Phelan

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My son leaving Oakland Airport on his way to Iraq

Six years ago, when the first planes hit the World Trade Center, I never imagined that my son would end up being deployed to Iraq as part of Bush’s 2007 troop surge. I also never imagined that there was a connection between 9/11 and Iraq. That’s because there wasn’t one, even though Bush kept trying to make one, and can now claim that Al Qaeda is in Iraq–even though he won’t explain his own role in creating a vacuum in Iraq, which Al Qaeda and other faith-based militias have since filled. But enough about Bush.

My son was 14 years old in 2001 and already showing interest in all things military, despite or perhaps because of, my own peacenik tendencies. But as I watched horrific images of the towers burning and imploding in New York, I had no inkling of the personal price that Bush’s warmongering was going to cost my family on the West Coast, or the losses that the people of this nation and Iraq would start to endure within two years of the 9/11 attacks.

But within weeks of those attacks, I did get my first clue of Bush’s takeover plans for Iraq when I interviewed a former UN ambassador to Iraq, a weapons inspector, and an activist who delivered medicine to Iraqis in defiance of US sanctions during the 1990s.

These three experts on Iraq warned that Bush was serious about invading Iraq, a country they said was broken from years of sanctions and not home to weapons of mass destruction—though Saddam Hussein’s pride would not allow him to admit as much to the US and the rest of the world .

In the ensuing years, I saw the claims of these three experts being proven right, and those of Bush’s experts being proven wrong, over and over again. And yet, once the invasion was in full force, opposition to Bush’s illegal invasion was successfully framed by his spin meisters as “opposition to our troops”.

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The “Stop the War” sticker came first, then the “Army Mom” sticker. And then is a yellow ribbon on the side bumper, of my car too. Proving that you can support the troops and oppose the war on Iraq all at the same time

Want to know a secret? Stating the obvious, namely that US military intervention can’t solve Iraq’s civil war. But stating this stark truth won’t endanger our troops, nor will it dishonor them or their families. It will endanger the credibility of all those who peddled the war and have still not taken ownership for misleading the public.

LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!

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I knew there had to be a silver lining to the predictable cavalcade of hate for B_____y S____a’ VMA performance: it’s providing Chris Crocker with his biggest crossover to date.

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He brings it, too, seizing the moment to let us all know what the title “Gimme More” is about and to show why Perez Hilton is worse than Paris Hilton. What in tarnation has the 21st century answer to Jonathan Caouette’s boy-self wrought? Video diaries beyond his wildest dreams.

This may make you laugh, but remember, he’s crying for us all.

Get your “No more nukes” on

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photo courtesy of wolf.like.me on flickr

That’s right, break out the picket signs — your favorite apocalypse is on the reprise. Irvine Rep. Assemblyman Chuck DeVore has introduced legislation to repeal the 31-year ban on new nuclear power plants and launched a ballot initiative. On Sept. 12, the state’s Republican party unanimously voted to support the bill for more nuclear power, which is being touted as safe, clean, reliable, and affordable — all adjectives the industry has yet to merit.

It’s also being called “emissions-free,” a handy moniker for a power source in our globally-warmed future. It’s being promoted by pro-clearcutting, pro-GMO “environmentalists” that happen to pull paychecks from the nuclear industry.

Pro-nukes fans are now gathering the 433,000 signatures needed to put the bill on California’s June 2008 ballot.

A 1976 California state law banned new nuclear plants until a permanent storage facility for the radioactive waste was established. Meanwhile, said permanent facility – Nevada’s Yucca Mt. — suffered another setback on Sept. 4 when a federal judge ruled the state could suspend water permits for drilling at the site – further delaying a project that is already seven years overdue.

Spent-fuel nuclear waste is currently stored on the sites of nuclear power plants – which has raised concerns about safety from terrorist attacks. CA Attorney General Jerry Brown recently filed a petition with the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, arguing that its waste confidence ruling is inadequate – meaning, we don’t have much faith in your determination that the pools of water where used up nuclear fuel rods bob like swimming pool toys are safe.

Awesome Polk St. block partay

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Spectrum’s Sonic Boom pulls out a new album and the group’s first US trip in more than four years.

No kiddin’, kids – this Gulch getdown on Saturday, Sept. 15, from noon to 7 p.m., puts all the white-wine-grub-boooorrrrring-music street fairs to shame and sets a new standard for free, outdoor, gutter-level entertainment programming in SF. Over near the Hemlock Tavern, at Post and Bush, the club and KUSF will host an open-air show with headliner Space Man 3 alum Sonic Boom’s Spectrum (5:30 p.m.), noise-rock locals Triclops! (4 p.m.), all-lady experimental-noise extravaganza TITS (2:45 p.m.), and Latino cacophony-makers Los Llamarada (1:45 p.m.), and Lou Lou and the Guitarfish (12:30 p.m.).

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Saturday swelters with David Harness.

Futher up the street at Bush and California, Hemlock’s Polk Street neighbor and Grammy-nominated producer Chris Lum’s Moulton Media hosts electronic and techno acts at an outdoor dance-party called “The Block Party Mixtape” – expect visual art and live painting presented by Space Gallery as well as DJs Mauricio V & Jessie Martinez, David Harness, 92.7’s Trevor Simpson, Amenti Music’s Olivier Desmet vs. Yerba Buena Discos, Landshark, Tweekin’ Records’ and Green Gorilla Lounge’s Anthony Mansfield, the 40 Thieves, DJ Andre Lucero, Dirtybird Records’ Claude Van Stroke & Worthy.

You can thank the Lower Polk St. Merchants Association. A beer garden will be open all day along with booths, and Hemlock opens at 1 p.m. with KUSF DJs spinning throughout. And don’t forget, it’s freeeeeee…

Hearst censors again…and again. And once again omits the PG&E/CityHall/RakerAct scandal from its big story on PG&E’s latest move to screw the residents and small businesses of San Francisco

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By Bruce B. Brugmann

See this week’s editorial for the cost and context of Hearst censorship: “The rate hike hurts the economy.

And so, after all these years, Hearst and its San Francisco Chronicle have discovered that the Pacific Gas & Electric Company is screwing the little guys, the residents, and the small businesses of San Francisco.

The Chronicle triumphantly announced its finding in a front page banner across- all -columns headline on its front page of Saturday, Sept. 8: “PG&E BILLS: WHO’S HIT THE HARDEST?” Short boxes and graphics nailed down the point: “HOMEOWNERS: PG&E said last week that electricity rates would rise 0.9 per cent on Jan. 1 Now the increase has risen to 4.1 per cent, the result of a state ruling this week” (B3: not of course as a result of PG&E policy.)

“SMALL BUSINESSES: They’ll pay 6.9 per cent more, even though PG&E said last week their increase would be 13 per cent.”

‘LARGE BUSINESSES: Some big companies will see their rates drop by 3.7 per cent. Others face a modest rise of l.9 per cent.”

Inside, at the top of the business page, with a 6 column ahead across the page, a David R. Baker story carried this head: “PG&E shifts rate increase away from big business.” The subhead read: “Households, small firms will pay more next year in wake of regulators’ ruling” (B3 again: not of course because of PG&E policy.)

The lead seemed clear enough: “Small businesses and homeowners will bear the brunt of Pacific Gas and Electric Co. rate increases in January–a reversal from last week, when the utility said big business would shoulder more of the burden.”

Amazing. Are Hearst and the Chronicle doing an about face after decades of genuflecting to PG&E, a position updated every Wednesday when it runs without explanation or apology a PG&E greenwashing ad on its front page.

Nope. In fact the story only makes the point in 96 point tempo bold that Hearst’s pro-PG&E, anti-public power editorial line of many decades is still firmly in place.

Hot like Cole: Oakland girl makes great

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Did you see her perform over the weekend? She killed it!

No, I’m not talking about B_____y S____s killing her career (as if) with a fascinatingly amateurish lip-sync of a song that didn’t sound that bad. That performance may have had current popular girl or pop tart du jour Rihanna looking for an umbrella to hide her giggles under (time is cruel), but the wreck factor was predictable amid today’s mania for celebrity ambulance-chasing.

I’m talking about Keyshia Cole, whose show at Mezzanine on Friday served up the kind of thrill you get when seeing someone really talented starting to peak in a way that makes you — and probably her — wonder just how great she can make this thing. After Hurricane Chris and the “One More Chance” remix (and Michael Jackson, Prince, Bell Biv Devoe — and Luther) heated up the club, Keyshia set it on fire with two half-hour sets during which she brazenly covered songs that Mary J. Blige covered early in her career, and — working a blond pageboy — brought an earlier Bay Area soul singer, the legendary Etta James, to mind. Decked out in white, with a pair of tough backup singers and a young band (her guitarist looked straight outta high school, with enthusiasm to match), Keyshia was like a sports-fit young Etta.

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A new planning director from Seattle

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Meet the new boss, John Rahaim

In theory, the San Francisco city Planning Commission gets to decide who runs the department, but in practice, it’s up to the mayor — who has announced today that the new Planning Director will be John Rahaim, who now holds that same job in Seattle. Rahaim has apparently informed the folks in Seattle that he’s accepted the job, although I don’t think the commission has formally offered it to him. And, of course, he has to resign his new position immediately, before he even starts work. Welcome to San Francisco.

I don’t know much about Rahaim, but I found one interview that he did with a Seattle radio station in which he made it pretty clear who calls the shots in major development decisions:

MANY AMERICAN PLANNERS ADMIRE WHAT’S HAPPENED IN VANCOUVER. BUT THEY SAY STANDARD PRACTICE IN CANADA CAN’T FLY ON THIS SIDE OF THE BORDER.

RAHAIM: “Rightly or wrongly, in American society we rely on private developers to build.”

SEATTLE CITY PLANNER JOHN RAHAIM SAYS UNLIKE CANADA, WHERE THE GOVERNMENT DETERMINES HOW AND WHAT DEVELOPERS WILL BUILD, IN THIS COUNTRY WE RELY ON INCENTIVES TO ENCOURAGE DEVELOPERS TO CARRY OUT AN OFFICIAL VISION.

RAHAIM: “And it’s the only way to achieve some of these goals…We don’t nearly influence the market the way other governments do, where development is a privilege, not a right. But nonetheless we do. These programs, subsidies, do influence the market.”

Seattle’s had a downtown housing building boom, just like San Francisco, and of course, if the guy didn’t share Newsom’s basic philosophy, he wouldn’t have been offered the job.

UPDATE: My error on the process. In fact, the commission sent three names to the mayor, including Rahaim’s, and the mayor made the choice. That’s how it works. So Rahaim has the job — until, of course, he follows the mayor’s directive and resigns.

Newsom and Black Monday

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We’ve now been able to independently confirm what the Chronicle reported a couple hours ago: Mayor Gavin Newsom has asked for the resignation of all the city’s department heads, senior staff, and appointees to city boards and commissions, although Newsom reportedly told them he will only accept some of them. But the mayor’s office and press secretary Nathan Ballard has not returned our calls or e-mails to make sense of this or get details, despite the fact that the department heads who were told of this request in this morning’s weekly meeting were asked to refer all press inquiries to Ballard.

It’s all very strange and unsettling, and it appears that many of the people being asked to resign can just say no. The City Attorney’s Office issued this opinion in 2004 outlining how appointees may be removed, and most are allowed to finish their terms unless the mayor wants to level official misconduct charges against them, which he’s not even been willing to do with disgraced Sup. Ed Jew.

The war without end

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The essence of what General David Petraeus said today is that the Bush Administration has no plans to end the war. Sure, the headlines talk about withdrawing 30,000 troops — but that will just get force levels back to what they were before the “surge.” In fact, all the talk about Al Qaeda and Iran has a spooky resonance — and it’s not just a reminder of the lies that got us here in the first place. I remember Richard Nixon talking about how well the war in Vietnam was going as he invaded Cambodia, then Laos, and drove the nation deeper and deeper into the muck.

Let’s face it: This administration is talking war without end in the middle east, and the Democratic candidates for president need to stop with their safe and cautious attitude and give us a reason to vote for them.

“It’s meant to be funny!”

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Day four of the Toronto International Film Fest: So, I was wrong. Nick Broomfield’s Battle for Haditha isn’t a documentary. Hell, it doesn’t even have any voice-over. It’s a drama — a docu-drama — that reenacts a real-life Iraq war incident in which a roadside IED led to the death of one American solider — and in turn, many Iraqi civilians (including children) shot to death by the fallen soldier’s weary, emotional, and confused squadmates. Shot in Jordan, the movie goes for a Flight 93-style realism, using mostly non-actors who represent more or less the characters they portray (Al-Qaeda aside, I’m guessing.) After the doc Heavy Metal in Baghdad, Battle for Haditha is the second Iraq-themed movie I’ve seen at the Toronto International Film Festival, and there are others on the bill I won’t have time to see, like Brian DePalma’s Redacted. Iraq is totally trendy … and timely. And in my festival-addled mind, I just realized tomorrow is September 11.

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Although Nick Broomfield is best-known for films like Kurt and Courtney and Biggie and Tupac, his latest is a fact-based drama, similar to his 2006 film Ghosts.

Britney may come back – just not yet

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By Molly Freedenberg

(Obligatory disclaimer: Yes, I love bubblegum pop. If you have a problem with that, bite me.)

I am in serious denial. I can’t believe that the wobbling, nervous (or stoned?), first-time-in-a-talent-show performer at last night’s VMAs was Britney – my Britney. I remember the days when even those who hated her music had to admit that she was a fantastic (and quite attractive) performer. And even through all the media mess she’s become tangled with in the last few years, and her fantastically horrible reality TV show, what’s kept me going – and rooting for her — is remembering just how mesmerizing she can be on stage. And so I’ve been eagerly anticipating her performance at the VMAs, hoping she’d blow the skeptics away with her trademark snap and sparkle. But no.

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AP Photo/Mark J. Terrill
Who are you and what have you done with my Britney?

She looked out of practice and out of shape (and I don’t mean her slightly plumper body, which would be sexy if she didn’t look like she’d borrowed it for the night and therefore didn’t know how to wear it,) as though she couldn’t keep up with her choreography and definitely couldn’t handle those heels – and that both of those things were distracting her from pretending to sing. It was so painful to watch, not only because of the vicarious embarrassment factor, but because I really like Britney and wanted her to do well. I only wish she’d taken into account whatever her limitations are (Quaalude addiction? Too much time defending her mothering skills and not enough in the dance studio?

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“Photo by Kurt&Bart.
I miss this Britney.

The amount of alcohol required to forget she ever married KFed?) and shaped a performance that highlighted her existing strengths, rather than trying – and failing – to embody her former self. Still, I’m not inspired to take shots about how she’s a wash-up at 25 (shame on you, Sarah Silverman). Instead, I’d like to give her a hug, introduce her to my former therapist in Westlake Village, and watch my “Toxic” DVD until my girl makes a real comeback.

Today’s Ammianoliner: Gen. Betray Us sings “Viva Viagra!”

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General Betray-us sings “Viva Viagra!” If an erection or surge is painful or lasts more than four hours, call Senator Feinstein.”

Please note: See the stories by Peter Byrne on Diane Feinstein’s conflict of interest in Iraq featured in Amanda Witherell’s story The Byrne ultimatum, which was a runner up this year on the Project Censored list.

General Betray Us speaks

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Here’s a pretty good summary timeline I particularly love Ambassador Ryan Crocker’s discussion of “post-kinetic environments” — which are places that have been leveled by the U.S. military and thus are no longer threats.

Drag queens for dessert

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“Sharlyn melon granita, rose geranium ice cream, and lavender cookies”

— a delicious dessert at Nopa in the Western Addition, or a trio of soon-to-be-famous drag queens? Either way: scrumptious.

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Lavender Cookies? Nah, it’s Ethyl Merman …..

The Bay Guardian: all drag queens, all the time.

I spy Devendra Banhart with my lil’ eye – spiders and turtles and crabs, oh my, at Palace of Fine Arts!

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By Todd Lavoie

Oh, to talk to the animals! As much as I consider myself a friend to all creatures great and small, I’ve got nothing on Devendra Banhart. Spiders, crabs, mockingbirds, turtles, dragonflies, seahorses – honestly, is there a single animal roaming this planet that the man hasn’t warbled, cooed, or trilled with the brightest of eyes about? What’s that you say? The dung beetle? You may be right, but we won’t know for sure till Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon (XL) is released on Sept. 25, will we? Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.

We’ll get our answers to the dung beetle-homage rumors when Banhart’s latest instant-classic emerges, but I can assure you that I don’t recall any mention of those creepy little poop-munchers on Friday night, Sept. 7, when the Dr. Doolittle of the indie world played to a nearly packed house at the Palace of Fine Arts Theatre. Yeah, yep, and yay, the remainder of the animal kingdom seemed to be greeted at one point or another during the thoroughly charming, refreshingly unpretentious set – focusing mainly on material from what promises to be his most wide-reaching album so far in his career – and I suppose it’s possible that he might’ve given those dirty crawlies a shout-out somewhere in there. Perhaps, ironically, I missed it beneath the din of cracking my own shit-eating grin.

If my middle-school indulgences into scat-talk are troubling you: hey, I’m only getting into the spirit of the evening! Banhart introduced his band as Spiritual Boner, so it seems only fitting that I’d start from the bottom and work my way up. (Alternatively, he offered Monsterpuss as another handle for the rock-solid fivepiece that joined him on the journey from gentle creek-side folk strummings to Os Mutantes-inspired Tropicalia delirium to full-on certified rocking-out moments. If the evening was any indication, Smokey likes to kick out the jams every now and then. Good for him.) Judging from the cackles in the crowd, I wasn’t alone in my appreciation of sixth grade wordplay. (“Heh heh. He said boner…”)

Iraq, Iran, Al Qaeda …. Iraq, Iran, Al Qaeda …

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I’ve been listening to Gen Petraeus go on and on and on, and it’s stunning: He keeps talking about Iran and Al Qaeda. I’m having a very bad flashback here …. The whole message seems to be, things are getting better, the surge is working, and now we need to “defeat AL Qaeda” and (gasp) deal with Iran.

When he talked about the threat of Iran, one woman stood up in the chamber and shouted “That’s a lie.” She was quickly removed.

But here we go again … and all I can wonder is, this time around, will the Democrats shake off their fear of criticizing a Man in a Uniform and stand up to this nonsense?

Britney vs. Petraeus

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Ah, a cozy Sunday night spent toggling between Britney Spears’s expectedly disappointing performance on MTV’s Video Music Awards and early word of Gen. David Petraeus’s expectedly disappointing – to those hoping for a rapid draw down of forces overseas, at least — “report on Iraq” that our dear “Austria, Australia, what’s the dif?” President will pretty much base all of his future expectedly disappointing decisions on.

Both of these media hotspots are shaping up in the mind as almost miraculously opaque; the twin poles of current American culture — celebrity and violent hubris — apexed in such highly anticipated but awkwardly non-eventful performances that the status quo can only feel impelled to continue (dribble, dribble): Ms. Spears giving us tottering, soulless blah-horridness that will provide more WTF grist for her rumor mill$ …

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Praying for coverage. Screen grab from mtv.com

….and General Petraeus giving us simply a slight blah torque on Bush’s “stay the course.” (Petraeus’s recommendations before Congress tomorrow, reportedly, will be to withdraw one surge battalion by December and four more by next August – a minutely faster timetable than Bush’s “experts” had been predicting.) Of couse, Britney’s decisions haven’t killed thousands — or have they?

Braaaaaaaaiiiiinnssss!

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i just got out of a screening of George A. Romero’s Diary of the Dead. I need to let it sink in before I make some big statement about it.

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Tag line is a double entendre…ya think?

But I do have a question, rhetorical or otherwise: has anyone else ever noticed there are two kinds of zombie films? There’s the serious, socio-politial statement-making kind (see: everything else Romero’s done, pretty much) and then there’s the fun-loving, zombies-are-really-pretty-silly type (see: Return of the Living Dead, Shaun of the Dead). To be fair, there’s also the zombies-are-gory-as-fuck subgenre (see: Italian-made, circa 1970s-80s. I recommend Nightmare City and Demons for a trash-tastic double feature). Anyway, my point is, I realized tonight that I actually prefer zom-coms to zom-agit-prop. (Yeah, I did like 28 Days Later. It’s not a hard and fast rule.) And Romero obviously knows he’s Making A Statement, because there’s a joke to that effect early in Diary. But what exactly is that statement, and why is he still using zombies to make it? Old-school zombies, while cool as fuck, are pretty undynamic when you think about it. Am I going to go to hell if I say I liked the Dawn of the Dead remake more than Diary of the Dead?

Things that aren’t there anymore

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Day three of the Toronto International Film Festival, and on the heels of Control comes Joy Division, a documentary about the groundbreaking (and heartbreakingly short-lived) post-punk band. While the narrative Control busied itself more with Ian Curtis’ complicated personal life, Joy Division taks a closer look at the band’s music, rise to fame, and also the roots of their dark, moody sound — specifically, the city of Manchester in the late 1970s, where as one interviewee points out, “Nothing looked pretty.” Just about everyone still living who had anything to do with the band chimes in on the doc, which benefits from director Grant Gee’s ability to contextualize Joy Division’s place in landscapes physical, sonic, and artistic. (He also made the 1998 Radiohead doc, Meeting People is Easy.) There’s a great attention to detail — the film visits places that are crucial to Joy Division lore, like the Factory, now shut down and living on only in the collective rock n’ roll memory. Some great Joy Division peformance footage too — seeing the doc so soon after seeing Control made me truly appreciate actor Sam Riley’s portrayal of Curtis. The resemblance is pretty spooky.
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Fun fact: the artist who designed this iconic album sleeve did so without ever having heard a note of Joy Division music.

Leno, Migden and Sacramento madness

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Migden, Leno: Who’s killing the bills?

By Tim Redmond
It’s been a wild few days in Sacramento.

On Thursday afternoon, the state Senate narrowly passed a terrible campaign finance bill that could strictly limit the ability of local governments to control political money. Although Common Cause and the League of Women Voters opposed it (as did San Francisco’s Ethics Commission director, John St. Croix) it had the support of the Democratic Party and had sailed through the Assembly, 77-0. On the Senate floor, Carole Midgen and Sheila Keuhl both made strong speeches against it – and almost, almost convinced enough of their colleagues to vote it down. Instead, it squeaked through 27-9 (needing two-thirds).

Migden at least tried. Good for her. Leland Yee voted the right way. But the arm-twisting by the party was too much.

And frankly, the opponents of the bill weren’t exactly on their game: There was no opposition when the bill went through the Assembly, and when it came to the Senate floor, the good guys were noticably absent.

Meanwhile, Randy Shaw reports on BeyondChron that Migden is making sure some of Assemblymember Mark Leno’s key bills never get a vote on the Senate floor. The reason: Migden (and her ally, state Senate President Don Perata) don’t want Leno to have any legislative success to brag about next spring when he challenges Migden in the Democratic primary.

See, one of Migden’s central arguments is that she’s an effective legislator. Sure, she cuts deals, she compromises – but in the end, she gets things done. And pointing out that none of Leno’s bills for 2007 actually became law would be a powerful campaign theme.

Among the Leno bills held hostage: A measure that would limit toxic chemicals in household furniture (AB 709) and AB 1590, which would allow San Franciscans to vote to raise local car taxes to provide revenue for city services.

Migden’s office insists that Shaw has it wrong: Tracy Fairchild, communications director, told me: “The root cause of Assemblyman Leno’s problems lies not with Senator Migden but rather with the entire Senate, whose bills met with unusually harsh treatment last week in the Assembly Appropriations Committee which he chairs. Rather than tell that truth, Mr. Leno has chosen to disparage Sen. Migden’s reputation by blaming all his problems on her and that is simply not the case.”

But Leno has another take: “Eight of the nine bills by Carole Migden that came to my committee [Appropriations] made it out, and I will make sure that every one of her Senate bills will leave the Assembly floor.” Only five of Leno’s 13 bills went forward, even though the ones that were bottled up had little real opposition.
The one Midgen bill that Leno didn’t let out of committee, interestingly, was SB 11, which would have extended domestic partnership rights to unmarried opposite-sex couples. Leno says the $33 million price tag doomed it, but I think the real problem was that, while I supported the bill and think it’s a fine idea, there wasn’t any real visible upwelling of support for it.

Overall, the Assembly Appropriations Committee let 74 percent of Senate bills out; only 63 percent of Assembly bills made it out of the corresponding Senate committee.

Part of what’s going on here may be the natural tension between the houses, but I think that Perata is sending a message to Leno and his colleagues: Don’t you dare take on an incumbent senator, or your bills will be held hostage.

I suspect that if Migden doesn’t like this message (and she shouldn’t) she could tell Perata to back off, and Leno’s bills would move forward.

Twice censored…the Santa Rosa Press Democrat runs one censored story but then censors another…

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By Bruce B. Brugmann

Well, the Santa Rosa Press Democrat today published a story on Project Censored at Sonoma State University, the first time in 3l years that the local daily has taken serious notice of the local project.

But, notes Peter Byrne, a Censored winner for his investigation of Sen. Dianne Feinstein’s military contract conflicts, the PD censored out (a) any mention of his winnlng story and (b) any mention of the underlying story of the conflicts that led to Feinstein’s resignation from the Senate Armed Services Committee.

Byrne emailed Bob Norberg, the PD reporter on the story, with the following note: “Congratulations on getting your story on Project Censored printed in today’s Press Democrat. Since Project Censored is based at Sonoma State University, it is a fine local story. But what I fail to understand is why you totally missed reporting on the other local angle to the story, i.e. that the Santa Rosa-based Bohemian’s expose of Senator Dianne Feinstein (written by yours truly) was on the list of 25 most censored stories.

“Is it possible that because we at the Boho regularly critique the PD for being a Chamber of Commerce shill that you (or your editors) censored that interesting, newsy, LOCAL (B3: Byrne caps) factoid from your tale? Warmly, Peter Byrne”

I asked Norberg (or his editors) for comment by email. And I tried to find the story on the PD website but could not. I hope to have the story and PD comment next week. Meanwhile, you can read on our website at SFBG.com the Censored package, with the Byrne stories, and the additional story, “The story behind a censored story that was killed by the Nation.”

And now on to the New York Times to see if it runs the Censored package and the important Feinstein story. Stay alert. B3

Sleep is for sissies!

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Er, actually, I shouldn’t say shit like that, considering whatever cruddy virus I carted from California to Canada is lingering, probably due to acute lack of shut-eye. I am now officially “that coughing asshole” during quiet moments in movies.

Fortunately, the flicks on my schedule today at the Toronto International Film Festival haven’t been too library-like. I hit up the 9am (ouch) screening of Heavy Metal in Baghdad — a doc about Iraq’s only heavy metal band, although at present it would seem Iraq has zero metal bands, considering the members of the outfit profiled here, Acrassicauda, are currently hiding out in Syria. Produced by VICE films, exec produced by Spike Jonze, and inspired by an MTV trip to Iraq soon after the war broke out, I could easily see this doc finding a home on VH-1 or MTV. It’s got a little too much filmmaker presence for me (voice-over, appearing on-camera, and so on), but it’s hard not to love any film that delivers a political message for the kiddies snugly wrapped in a burrito of heavy-metal appreciation (with some intimate glimpses at post-Saddam Iraq, where the sounds of machine-gun fire are just part of the urban landscape). Metal fans can’t even headbang in Iraq, much less grow their hair long for maximum hair-whip effect … but Acrassicauda (a type of scorpion) learned to speak English by listening to Slayer, Metallica, and Mayhem records. Now if that ain’t the very definition of metal, I don’t know what is.

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This is the CD a band member holds up to illustrate “what life here looks like.” Dude ain’t joking, neither.

Feelin’ groovy: Ben Lomond Indian Summer Music Festival report

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Circles sweethearts in Ben Lomond. All photos by Hannah Barr-DiChiara.

By Max Goldberg

With the Bay Bridge closed and Golden Gate Park rolling in 40-year-old patchouli, some local pleasure seekers headed south for the Santa Cruz Mountains where SF impresario Arvel Hernandez threw the first annual Ben Lomond Indian Summer Music Festival from Aug. 31 to Sept. 2 at Henfling’s Firehouse Tavern. This summer of love was a hot one indeed, with highland temps cresting 100. Collective skin stickiness and caravans for creekdipping sessions were the order of the day. Evenings were for replenishment, singer-songwriters, sandwiches, a slice of lemon, and, eventually, a peaceful bedding down in the cricket-charmed night.

Hernandez did a wonderful job overseeing schedules and camping, making this festival of friends seem extra…friendly. The mixing of the beaded and bejeweled with some seriously leathered biker dudes and wooly barflies was sometimes weird but totally peaceable, my knee-jerk visions of Altamont redux proving unfounded. If anything, the locals just wanted to dance, something I could relate to after a pretty steady run of whispers and drones: just because you fly the freak flag doesn’t mean you’re excused from party anthems, soul stirrings, and a beat, ya heard?

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Ship bros.

But enough of that, let my praise spill over. Martin Salata (formerly of the White White Quilt) began Saturday, stretching out some diamond blues with Circles, a new project with recordings and shows forthcoming. A botched sound job left some holes in the arrangements, but the centrifugal groove-design was apparent and had me thinking vintage Dr. John and Hawkwind. Humbled by the heat, Guardian “Class of 2007” playboys Ship played their song-quilts more plaintively than usual; the heady light of the afternoon sun crowned these angels.

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Joseph Childress gets political.

Barn Owl’s skyscraping drone was the perfect match for the sudden cool of Saturday evening. Spirits awoken, we dug in for the nighttime jamboree. Wymond and His Spirit Children’s nice spin of hippie-glam gave way to a pin-drop performance by SF-by-way-of-Colorado troubadour Joseph Childress. I’ve seen Childress several times, but never this commanding and assured: keeping a tight leash on the vocal tics and guitar thrashings, allowing room for the natural ebullience of his verses and melodies to send Henfling’s soaring.