Castro

Black and white and red all over

Andrew Lam
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Black and white and red all over

Mikhail Kalatozov’s career had a large hole in the middle, one that remains incompletely explained. Why were the two periods of his greatest work separated by roughly three decades? Why did he make almost nothing between? The answer definitely involved Stalin and his fickle cultural watchdogs, even if the full reason for such a long lull (or fall from favor) might never be known.

At least he was spared a permanent gulag vacation, which would have deprived us of a late 1950s reflowering that resulted in three world classics still being discovered in the West — particularly since 1964’s astonishing I Am Cuba got rereleased under Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese’s auspices 16 years ago. If you’ve seen that or another Kalatozov film, it’s distressing to think he spent any time unwillingly idle, since every feature still accessible today is some kind of masterpiece.

The San Francisco Silent Film Festival’s 16th annual edition offers the last feature he made before that mysterious long withdrawal from the director’s chair. Nail in the Boot (1931) lasts just 53 minutes, but packs in more photographic and editorial ideas than a dozen features twice its length. It’s a dazzling application of sheer stylistic invention to propagandic material. Yet rather than please the apparatchiks upstairs, it ticked them off enough to derail Kalatozov’s career for a good spell.

Born in Tbilisi, Georgia, he began working as an actor, editor, and cinematographer in that (reluctant) Soviet republic’s 1920s film industry, eventually graduating to directing documentaries celebrating the USSR’s industrial, agricultural, and cultural advancement. Little is known about a first narrative feature, 1930’s Little Blind Girl. But the same year’s semi-staged Salt for Svanetia won acclaim for its strikingly poetical imagery of life in a remote Caucasus Mountains village.

That success presumably greased the way for the larger endeavor of Nail in the Boot, which mixes up the epic and the intimate, beautiful shots of lovingly lit machinery and glowing worker faces intercut with striking battle vistas and the proverbial cast of thousands. The story can be reduced to the title’s troublesome metal inch: when enemy forces strand armored train “Guardian of the Revolution” between blown-up track sections, a lone comrade (Aleqsandre Jaliashevili) is dispatched on foot to notify HQ. Running over hill and dale, he’s severely hampered when the poorly made boot from his own factory falls apart, driving a binding nail into his foot. As a result, his trapped compatriots are gassed to death before reinforcements arrive.

At a huge subsequent Party trial, our fallen hero is excoriated as a traitor for stopping to soak his painful, bleeding foot. “You shot them! The undelivered dispatch was like a bullet!” “He spared his feet and destroyed the armored train!” angry comrades shout, calling for his head. But this nameless prole finally defends himself, indicting his footwear’s shoddy workmanship as at least equal in fault. Nail in the Boot was intended as a parable (based in turn on a Russian folk tale) urging Soviets to always perform superlatively for the good of all, whatever their job. A final intertitle accuses lazy bones present: “Among you spectators: are there many like the bootmakers?”

That message seems simple and unimpeachable enough, not to mention spectacularly presented. Yet Nail had the ill fortune to arrive just as USSR arts ideology was changing. The experimentation encouraged in the 1920s was now judged indulgent “formalism” unsuitable for the masses, while a new school of nail-on-the-head “Social Realism” took shape as the sole officially state-sanctioned artistic guideline. Kalatozov’s film was denounced as confusing and unrealistic on petty grounds, as well being guilty of “formalistic aestheticism.” The film was banned, for a long time considered lost, and beyond a couple features at the start of World War II, Kalatozov was kept offscreen — albeit kicked upstairs to various film administrative posts.

He did well enough in those capacities to become the Soviet film industry’s emissary to Hollywood for an extended late 1940s stay. Hobnobbing with stars, he greatly admired the major studios’ streamlined production methods and technical advances — but like a good comrade, returned home to condemn Tinsel Town as the apex of capitalist decadence. (Hell yeah!) Then, finally, he was considered rehabilitated enough to trust behind a camera once again.

The results, after a few more conventional features no longer in circulation, were stupendous: 1957’s The Cranes Are Flying introduced a new Kalatozov, energetic and inventive as ever, director of photography Sergei Urusevsky’s wildly mobile camera replacing rhythmic Eisensteinian montage as his primary instrument. Taken as a cinematic emblem of Khrushchev-era Cold War thawing, it was an international triumph, even if its tragic wartime romance now seems less conceptually unique than two extraordinary (if far less popular) next ventures.

The Unsent Letter (1960) is one of the movies’ great man vs. nature depictions, as Soviet geologists searching for diamond deposits in remotest Siberia fall prey to that land’s geographic and climatic extremes. I Am Cuba, a Soviet-Cuban collaboration depicting the Cuban revolution on a humongous scale, was derided as being “too Russian” by the Cubanos, “too formalist” (or whatever the current ideological phrase was) by Moscow. Forgotten for decades, it’s been much written about lately — suffice to say Roger Ebert thought it contained the single “most astonishing [shot] I have ever seen,” amid 141 minutes full of such wonders.

After less idiosyncratic but impressive 1970 Soviet-European superproduction The Red Tent (1970) — an arctic adventure with international stars like Sean Connery and Claudia Cardinale, shot in locations as frigid as 40 below zero — Kalatozov died at age 70, planning another impossibly ambitious epic. In a perfect world, he’d actually finish it, his cryogenically frozen brain retrieved from some secret polar lab. Imagine what he could do with a Steadicam and 3-D; James Cameron might find himself merely a wee prince of the world by comparison.

SAN FRANCISCO SILENT FILM FESTIVAL

Thurs/14–Sun/17, free–$20

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.silentfilm.org

Film Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Peter Galvin, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

Beats, Rhymes & Life See “Buggin’ Out.” (1:38) Shattuck.

*”An Evening With Andy and Jonathan” Before the 80s standup craze dredged up so much bottom-feeding crap, the comedy world had room for a few chameleonic improv innovators like the subjects of this Roxie program hosted by Johnny Legend. Making its theatrical debut is his recent DVD assembly Jonathan Winters: Birth of a Comedy Genius, a compilation bringing together clips from various long-forgotten shows like The NBC Comedy Hour and The Steve Allen Plymouth Show. A man of a thousand voices, Winters (who’s still occasionally active — he voices Papa Smurf in the imminent Smurfs feature) anticipated the manic improvisational glee of Jim Carrey and others as he sped through myriad instantly-created characters, often leaving any fellow players silenced and agog. If these segments predating his peak fame in the late 60s aren’t necessarily stellar in terms of material — it was an era when TV allowed very little that was “edgy” — the performer himself is always a marvel to watch. The co-feature is cult fave My Breakfast with Blassie, the 55-minute semi-staged, all-improv vehicle for the late Andy Kaufman — very much “playing” himself — and his older pro wrestler friend Fred Blassie. Legend co-directed that 1983 oddity, made just a year before the “dadaist” comedian’s untimely death; also on the bill is a one-hour program of ultra-rarities featuring Kaufman, Blassie, Legend and more. Roxie. (Harvey)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Game over. (2:10)

If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front traces the roots and development of the controversial environmental activist organization through one of its members, Daniel McGowan, as he faces trial for the newly imagined charge of eco-terrorism. McGowan is thoughtful and open about his participation in numerous actions against perceived enemies of Earth, allowing director Marshall Curry to craft an intelligent documentary as much about McGowan and the E.L.F. as the almost insurmountable ethical murkiness of activism in America. Frustrated by the apparent ineffectuality of peaceful protest and faced with the continued despoiling of our planet, McGowan and his peers pose a difficult question: how far is too far? Or, what price do we pay by failing to go far enough? Curry is careful to allow both sides of the debate ample time on screen in a timely consideration of the viability of direct action and the human face behind a media frenzy. (1:30) Shattuck. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

*Project Nim This is the story of an individual plucked from their native culture even before birth, separated from parents shortly after, handed over to a chaotic if loving urban foster family, yanked from them to a lavish, isolated country estate, then shipped off to a medical experimentation lab, “rescued” only to be placed in prison like solitary confinement, and … well, things finally get a little better, but isn’t this enough abuse for several lifetimes? Before you call Child Services or the ACLU, be informed that this is not the saga of a human being, but one Nim Chimpsky, a chimpanzee born in U.S. captivity, then set on a highly unusual life course as the subject of a study in animal language acquisition by Columbia University linguist Herbert S. Terrace. Nim did indeed prove remarkably adept at learning sign language to communicate with his teachers/minders — even if Terrace finally belittled that as no more than imitation performed to beg food and other favor. Nim was a prodigy, and for a while a media sensation. He was also a temperamental, physically powerful wild beast who could (and sometimes did) cause considerable harm to those around him. Regardless, both his adaptation to human habitats and animal instincts should have been deal with a great deal more care and consistency — there was no overall plan for his well-being beyond serving (or being abandoned by) whoever his keepers were at any given moment. This latest documentary by James Marsh (2008’s Man on Wire, 1999’s Wisconsin Death Trip) is an involving story whose latter-day interviewees — tumbling rather easily into hero and villain categories, with Prof. Terrance not in the first camp — annotate an enormous amount of archival footage shot throughout Nim’s life. (1:33) (Harvey)

*Snow Flower and the Secret Fan Working with Lisa See’s novel, director Wayne Wang returns to the crowd-pleasing territory of his wildly popular Joy Luck Club (1993) — fortunately it’s also material that feels intensely personal, even transposed in 21st century China (one of those modern Chinese women, Rupert Murdoch’s wife Wendi bought the rights to the book and provides a financial boost here). Modern-day Nina (Bingbing Li) is about to leave her native Shanghai for NYC and certain success in the banking world when she learns that her best friend, her laotong or sworn sister, Sophia (Gianna Jun), is in a coma. She must piece together the mystery of her friend’s life since they last parted, studying the book written about her 19th century forbearer Snow Flower (also Jun) and her own laotong Lily (Li). An uncredited turn by Hugh Jackman as a caddish boyfriend is beside the point here; Wang’s take on the bond of friendship that ties two women together, beyond the pain of foot-binding, marriage, class, and adversity is tremulously sentimental, in way that will have many would-be Joy Luck Club-ers happily identifying with these sisters from other mothers — and leave everyone else sobbing in the darkness. (1:40) Albany. (Chun)

*Tabloid Taking a break from loftier subjects, Errol Morris’ latest documentary simply finds a whopper of a story and lets the principal participant tell her side of it — one we gradually realize may be very far from the real truth. In 1978 former Miss Wyoming Joyce McKinney flew to England, where the Mormon boy she’d grown infatuated with had been posted for missionary work by his church. What ensued became a U.K. tabloid sensation, as the glamorous, not at all publicity-shy Yankee attracted accusations of kidnapping, imprisonment, attempted rape and more. Her victim of love, one Kirk Anderson, is not heard from here — presumably he’s been trying to live down an embarrassing life chapter ever since. But we do hear from others who shed considerable light on the now middle-aged McKinney’s continued protestations that it was all just one big misunderstanding. Most importantly, we hear from the lady herself — and she is colorful, unflappable, unapologetic, and quite possibly stone-cold nuts. (1:28) California. (Harvey)

*Terri What happens when the camera stops on the quiet, shy and heavy 15-year-old in the corner of the classroom? Terri might be his story — if he cut class regularly to avoid being teased about his man-breasts, wore PJs to school, and befriended an affable, straight-talking Shrek of a teacher. Painfully awkward Terri (Jacob Wysocki) is ignored or mocked by most, left to feed the mice he catches in traps to passing raptors, care for his ailing uncle, and avoid the school bullies as best he can. But assistant principal Mr. Fitzgerald (John C. Reilly), who has a habit of nurturing the school’s misfits, recognizes Terri’s tender heart and takes him under his wing. It’s catching, apparently, as Terri first befriends the hair-pulling Chad (Bridger Zadina) and then Heather, the girl who allows herself be fingered in home ec (Olivia Crocicchia). What transpires among these school outcasts, shaped by director-writer Azazel Jacobs, subtly subverts your conventional teen identity story arc —Terri isn’t the only one here that’s good-hearted. (1:45) California. (Chun)

Trigun: Badlands Rumble Set in a futuristic western border town with as much variety in firepower as in its inhabitants (think Mos Eisley with way more guns), anime import Trigun: Badlands Rumble follows Vash the Stampede, an apparently bungling but actually expert gunslinger, as he attempts to both woo the beautiful and dangerous Amelia and prevent the infamous robber Gasback from pulling off the most daring heist in history. The orgy of destruction that results wears thin, as does the philosophical side to a movie that employs “rolling the dice” as a metaphor at least seven times. Vash’s staunch thou-shalt-not-kill posturing is somewhat intriguing if not wildly incongruous with the level of chaos celebrated by Badlands Rumble; there’s simply no way that everyone lives with the sheer tonnage of lead in the air. I’m guessing this could be a blast for those more familiar with the manga and animated series it’s based upon, but as for the casual viewer, it may leave you somewhat confused. (1:30) Viz Cinema. (Berkmoyer)

*”TV Noir” This-three night retrospective of broadcast episodes from the boob tube’s formative decade — in which it went from being the luxury of a few to the nation’s primary entertainment — spotlights moody crime, procedural, and morality dramas that fit into the medium’s early fast-cheap requirements. Network TV in the 1950s wasn’t yet mostly L.A.-based, and as a result providing a starting point for a lot of actors, writers and directors who’d soon make a splash on Broadway or in Hollywood, as well as established stars willing to slum a bit. Among those whose work you’ll catch in the series’ six separate programs are Leslie Nielsen, Sidney Lumet, Joanne Woodward, Boris Karloff, James Coburn, Robert Aldrich, Blake Edwards, Angie Dickinson, Lee Marvin, and even Harpo Marx. Highlights include Charles Bronson, atypically manic as an ex-con released to terrorize his wife (“Don’t you understand I love you, I’d never hurt you…” [Five seconds later] “You let a cop in here, Laura, and I’ll blow off his head, then yours!”) in an episode from forgotten 1955 series Treasury Men in Action. Jack Palance is swell as usual in “The Kiss Off,” a 1953 segment from long-running omnibus Suspense. And Brian Keith, a long way from the treacle train of Family Affair a decade later, plays Mike Hammer in a failed pilot of that name, the first attempted TV version of Mickey Spillane’s take-no-prisoners private eye. It was excellent but evidently too hardboiled for the tube at the time, although subsequent attempts both big- and small-screen would be more successful. While not all the largely very rare, commercially unavailable materials here qualify as “noir” by even a generous stretch of the imagination, they’re all testaments to the TV’s industry and invention back when many programs were broadcast “live.” Collector-curator Johnny Legend will be on hand to introduce all shows. Roxie. (Harvey)

Winnie the Pooh John Cleese narrates this new animated film about the honey-loving bear and his pals in the Hundred Acre Wood. (1:09)

ONGOING

Bad Teacher Jake Kasdan, the once-talented director of a few Freaks and Geeks episodes and 2002’s underrated Orange County, seems hell-bent on humiliating everyone in the cast of Bad Teacher. Cameron Diaz is Elizabeth, the title’s criminally bad pedagogue who prefers the Jack Daniels method to the Socratic. Her impetus for pounding Harper Lee into her middle school students’ bug-eyed little heads is to cash in on a bonus check to fund her breast-y ambitions and woo Justin Timberlake and his baby voice. The only likable onscreen presence is Jason Segal as a sad sack gym teacher in love with Elizabeth. But he could do so much better. There’s no shortage of racist jokes and potty humor in this R-rated comedy pandering to those 17 and below. When asked if she wants to go out with her coworkers, Elizabeth ripostes, “I’d rather get shot in the face!” That scenario is likely a better alternative than suffering this steaming pile of cash cow carcass. (1:29) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck. (Lattanzio)

*Beginners There is nothing conventional about Beginners, a film that starts off with the funeral arrangements for one of its central characters. That man is Hal (Christopher Plummer), who came out to his son Oliver (Ewan McGregor) at the ripe age of 75. Through flashbacks, we see the relationship play out — Oliver’s inability to commit tempered by his father’s tremendous late-stage passion for life. Hal himself is a rare character: an elderly gay man, secure in his sexuality and, by his own admission, horny. He even has a much younger boyfriend, played by the handsome Goran Visnjic. While the father-son bond is the heart of Beginners, we also see the charming development of a relationship between Oliver and French actor Anna (Mélanie Laurent). It all comes together beautifully in a film that is bittersweet but ultimately satisfying. Beginners deserves praise not only for telling a story too often left untold, but for doing so with grace and a refreshing sense of whimsy. (1:44) Balboa, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

A Better Life (1:38) Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki.

*Bill Cunningham New York To say that Bill Cunningham, the 82-year old New York Times photographer, has made documenting how New Yorkers dress his life’s work would be an understatement. To be sure, Cunningham’s two decades-old Sunday Times columns — “On the Street,” which tracks street-fashion, and “Evening Hours,” which covers the charity gala circuit — are about the clothes. And, my, what clothes they are. But Cunningham is a sartorial anthropologist, and his pictures always tell the bigger story behind the changing hemlines, which socialite wore what designer, or the latest trend in footwear. Whether tracking the near-infinite variations of a particular hue, a sudden bumper-crop of cropped blazers, or the fanciful leaps of well-heeled pedestrians dodging February slush puddles, Cunningham’s talent lies in his ability to recognize fleeting moments of beauty, creativity, humor, and joy. That last quality courses through Bill Cunningham New York, Richard Press’ captivating and moving portrait of a man whose reticence and personal asceticism are proportional to his total devotion to documenting what Harold Koda, chief curator at the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, describes in the film as “ordinary people going about their lives, dressed in fascinating ways.” (1:24) Castro. (Sussman)

*Bridesmaids For anyone burned out on bad romantic comedies, Bridesmaids can teach you how to love again. This film is an answer to those who have lamented the lack of strong female roles in comedy, of good vehicles for Saturday Night Live cast members, of an appropriate showcase for Melissa McCarthy. The hilarious but grounded Kristen Wiig stars as Annie, whose best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) is getting hitched. Financially and romantically unstable, Annie tries to throw herself into her maid of honor duties — all while competing with the far more refined Helen (Rose Byrne). Bridesmaids is one of the best comedies in recent memory, treating its relatable female characters with sympathy. It’s also damn funny from start to finish, which is more than can be said for most of the comedies Hollywood continues to churn out. Here’s your choice: let Bridesmaids work its charm on you, or never allow yourself to complain about an Adam Sandler flick again. (2:04) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

Buck This documentary paints a portrait of horse trainer Buck Brannaman as a sort of modern-day sage, a sentimental cowboy who helps “horses with people problems.” Brannaman has transcended a background of hardship and abuse to become a happy family man who makes a difference for horses and their owners all over the country with his unconventional, humane colt-starting clinics. Though he doesn’t actually whisper to horses, he served as an advisor and inspiration for Robert Redford’s The Horse Whisperer (1998). Director Cindy Meehl focuses generously on her saintly subject’s bits of wisdom in and out of a horse-training setting — e.g. “Everything you do with a horse is a dance” — as well as heartfelt commentary from friends and colleagues. In the harrowing final act of the film, Brannaman deals with a particularly unruly horse and his troubled owner, highlighting the dire and disturbing consequences of improper horse rearing. (1:28) Shattuck, Smith Rafael, Sundance Kabuki. (Sam Stander)

Cars 2 You pretty much can’t say a bad thing about a Pixar film. Cars 2 is by no means Ratatouille (2007) or Wall-E (2008), but the sequel to the 2006 hit Cars offers plenty of sleek visuals and one-note gags under its hollow hood. If nothing else, Pixar seems to have overcome the dingy, dark glaze that plagues 3-D films. Directors John Lasseter and Joe Ranft return to beloved autos Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) and the “extremely American” Mater (Larry the Cable Guy). This time around, secret agents Finn McMissile (Michael Caine) and Holley Shiftwell (Emily Mortimer) come along for the ride while working to expose sabotage in the alternative fuel industry. Compelling chase sequences, explosions and more than a few jabs at cultural stereotypes follow suit. This is the lightest, silliest Pixar film to date, but you probably don’t have any business seeing it unless you’ve got a kid in tow. (1:52) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck. (Lattanzio)

*Cave of Forgotten Dreams The latest documentary from Werner Herzog once again goes where no filmmaker — or many human beings, for that matter — has gone before: the Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave, a heavily-guarded cavern in Southern France containing the oldest prehistoric artwork on record. Access is highly restricted, but Herzog’s 3D study is surely the next best thing to an in-person visit. The eerie beauty of the works leads to a typically Herzog-ian quest to learn more about the primitive culture that produced the paintings; as usual, Herzog’s experts have their own quirks (like a circus performer-turned-scientist), and the director’s own wry narration is peppered with random pop culture references and existential ponderings. It’s all interwoven with footage of crude yet beautiful renderings of horses and rhinos, calcified cave-bear skulls, and other time-capsule peeks at life tens of thousands of years ago. The end result is awe-inspiring. (1:35) SF Center, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Green Lantern This latest DC Comics-to-film adaptation fails to recognize the line between awesome fantasy-action and cheeseball absurdity, often resembling the worst excesses of the Christopher Reeve Superman movies. A surprisingly palatable Ryan Reynolds stars as Hal Jordan, the cocky test pilot who is chosen to wield a power ring as a member of an intergalactic police force called the Green Lantern Corps. He must face down Parallax, an alien embodiment of fear, who appears here as a chuckle-inducing floating head surrounded by tentacles. Peter Sarsgaard is effectively nauseating as Hector Hammond, who becomes Parallax’s crony after he is transformed by a transfusion of fear energy. The acting is all over the map, with Blake Lively’s blank-faced love interest caricature as the weakest link, and the effects are hit-or-miss, but scenes featuring alien Green Lanterns should please fans, and you could probably do worse if you’re looking for an entertaining popcorn flick. (1:45) 1000 Van Ness. (Stander)

The Hangover Part II What do you do with a problematic mess like Hangover Part II? I was a fan of The Hangover (2009), as well as director-cowriter Todd Phillips’ 1994 GG Allin doc, Hated, so I was rooting for II, this time set in the East’s Sin City of Bangkok, while simultaneously dreading the inevitable Asian/”ching-chang-chong” jokes. Would this would-be hit sequel be funnier if they packed in more of those? Doubtful. The problem is that most of II‘s so-called humor, Asian or no, falls completely flat — and any gross-out yuks regarding wicked, wicked Bangkok are fairly old hat at this point, long after Shocking Asia (1976) and innumerable episodes of No Reservations and other extreme travel offerings. This Hangover around, mild-ish dentist Stu (Ed Helms) is heading to the altar with Lauren (The Real World: San Diego‘s Jamie Chung), with buds Phil (Bradley Cooper) and Doug (Justin Bartha) in tow. Alan (Zach Galifianakis) has completely broken with reality — he’s the pity invite who somehow ropes in the gangster wild-card Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong). Blackouts, natch, and not-very-funny high jinks ensue, with Jeong, surprisingly, pulling small sections of II out of the crapper. Phillips obviously specializes in men-behaving-badly, but II‘s most recent character tweaks, turning Phil into an arrogant, delusional creep and Alan into an arrogant, delusional kook, seem beside the point. Because almost none of the jokes work, and that includes the tired jabs at tranny strippers because we all know how supposedly straight white guys get hella grossed out by brown chicks with dicks. Lame. (1:42) SF Center. (Chun)

Happy Happy, a documentary by Roko Belic (1999’s Genghis Blues), traces the contented lifestyles of men and women around the globe. Manoj Singh is a Kolkata rickshaw driver sustained by his son’s smile. Anne Bechsgaard’s life is enriched by her co-housing community in Denmark. These soothingly sentimental profiles are intercut with commentary from leading neuroscientists and psychologists. They provide a cursory guide to the rare balancing act that is happiness in the 21st century. A brisk 75 minutes, the film is saturated with thought-provoking tidbits (the Bhutan government aims for gross national happiness instead of GDP) and an ambient backing track that’s heavy on the chimes. However, sometimes there’s the sense that these mechanics of happiness aren’t cinematically compelling enough, and that rifling through a couple Wikipedia pages might offer just as much insight. At its best, Happy sparks a reflection on how many of the unofficial criteria for joy one has fulfilled, and suggests ideas for simple happiness boosters. (1:15) Roxie. (Getman)

Horrible Bosses Lead by a clearly talented ensemble of comic actors, Horrible Bosses is yet another example of a big-budget summer comedy with a promising conceit (see Bad Teacher) that fails to deliver anything but crude alms to the lowest common denominator. Seth Gordon directs Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis, and Charlie Day as three pals fed up with their evil employers (Kevin Spacey, Colin Farrell and Jennifer Aniston, respectively) so they hatch a plan to have them killed. Because the answer to their problem obviously lies in a dive bar in the “bad part of town,” Jamie Foxx plays Motherfucker Jones, their murder consultant and the film’s most likable character-stereotype. In the tradition of The Hangover (2009) and its ilk of beer-guzzling, frat-boy cousins, Horrible Bosses is a disastrous pile-up of idiocy that’s more vapid than vulgar despite a few amusing performances. See it for no other reason than Michael Bluth and Charlie Kelly on coke. (1:33) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Lattanzio)

Larry Crowne While Transformers: Dark of the Moon may be getting all the attention for being the most terrible summer movie, I’d like to propose Larry Crowne as the bigger offender. No, it doesn’t have the abrasive effects of a Michael Bay blockbuster, but it’s surely just as incompetent. And coming from an actor as talented as Tom Hanks — who co-wrote, directed, produced, and stars in the film —Larry Crowne is insulting. The plot, insofar as there is one, centers around the titular Larry (Hanks), a man who goes to community college, joins a scooter gang led by Wilmer Valderrama, and ends up falling for his cranky, alcoholic teacher Mercedes (Julia Roberts). The scenes are thrown together hapharzadly, with no real sense of character development or continuity. Larry Crowne doesn’t even feel like a romantic comedy until a drunk Mercedes begins kissing and dry humping her student. But hey, who can resist a shot of Larry’s middle-aged bottom as he tries to wriggle into jeans that are just too small? (1:39) 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, SF Center. (Peitzman)

Midnight in Paris Owen Wilson plays Gil, a self-confessed “Hollywood hack” visiting the City of Light with his conservative future in-laws and crassly materialistic fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams). A romantic obviously at odds with their selfish pragmatism (somehow he hasn’t realized that yet), he’s in love with Paris and particularly its fabled artistic past. Walking back to his hotel alone one night, he’s beckoned into an antique vehicle and finds himself transported to the 1920s, at every turn meeting the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates), Dali (Adrien Brody), etc. He also meets Adriana (Marion Cotillard), a woman alluring enough to be fought over by Hemingway (Corey Stoll) and Picasso (Marcial di Fonzo Bo) — though she fancies aspiring literary novelist Gil. Woody Allen’s latest is a pleasant trifle, no more, no less. Its toying with a form of magical escapism from the dreary present recalls The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985), albeit without that film’s greater structural ingeniousness and considerable heart. None of the actors are at their best, though Cotillard is indeed beguiling and Wilson dithers charmingly as usual. Still — it’s pleasant. (1:34) Albany, Balboa, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Monte Carlo (1:48) 1000 Van Ness.

Mr. Popper’s Penguins (1:35) SF Center.

*My Perestroika Robin Hessman’s very engaging documentary takes one very relatable look at how changes since glasnost have affected some average Russians. The subjects here are five thirtysomethings who, growing up in Moscow in the 70s and 80s, were the last generation to experience full-on Communist Party indoctrination. But just as they reached adulthood, the whole system dissolved, confusing long-held beliefs and variably impacting their futures. Andrei has ridden the capitalist choo-choo to considerable enrichment as the proprietor of luxury Western menswear shops. But single mother Olga, unlucky in love, just scrapes by, while married schoolteachers Lyuba and Boris are lucky to have inherited an apartment (cramped as it is) they could otherwise ill afford. Meanwhile Ruslan, once member of a famous punk band (which he abandoned on principal because it was getting “too commercial”), both disdains and resents the new order just as he did the old one. Home movies and old footage of pageantry celebrating Soviet socialist glory make a whole ‘nother era come to life in this intimate, unexpectedly charming portrait of its long-term aftermath. (1:27) Balboa. (Harvey)

*Page One: Inside the New York Times When Andrew Rossi’s documentary premiered at Sundance this January, word of mouth on it was respectable but qualified, with nearly everyone opining that it was good … just not what they’d been led to expect. What they expected was (in line with the original subtitle A Year Inside the New York Times) a top-to-bottom overview of how the nation’s most respected — and in some circles resented — arbiter of news, “style,” and culture is created on a day-to-day as well as longer term basis. That’s something that would doubtless fascinate anyone still interested in print media, or even that realm of web media not catering to the ADD nation. But that big picture and the wealth of minute cogs within isn’t Page One‘s subject. Instead, Rossi focuses on the Gray Lady’s wrestling with admittedly fast-changing times in which newspapers and any other information source on paper seem to constitute an endangered species. This particular Times, however, is such a special case that that crisis might better have been explored by training a camera on a less fabled publication, perhaps one of the many that have succumbed to a once unthinkable, market-shrunk mortality in recent years. The film finds its colorful protagonist in David Carr, an ex-crack addict turned media columnist who retains his cranky, nonconformist edge even as he defends the Times itself from the same out-with-the-old cheerleaders who 15 years ago were inflating the dot-com boom till it burst. Facing one particularly smug champion of the blogosphere at a forum, Carr notes that without a few remaining outlets — like the Times — doing the hard work of serious research and reportage, the web would have nothing to purloin or offer but its own unending trivia and gossip. Page One does what it does entertainingly well, but if you’re looking for insight toward this not-dead-yet U.S. institution as a whole, you’d be better off simply picking up this week’s Sunday edition and reading every last word. (1:28) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides The last time we saw rascally Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp), he was fighting his most formidable enemy yet: the potentially franchise-ending Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End (2007). The first Pirates movie (2003) was a surprise critical success, earning Depp his first-ever Oscar nomination; subsequent entries, though no less moneymaking, suffered from a detectable case of sequel-itis. Overseeing this reboot of sorts is director Rob Marshall (2002’s Chicago), who keeps the World’s End notion of sending Jack to find the Fountain of Youth, but adds in a raft of new faces, including Deadwood‘s Ian McShane (as Blackbeard) and lady pirate Penélope Cruz. The story is predictably over-the-top, with the expected supernatural elements mingling with sparring both sword-driven and verbal — as well as an underlying theme about faith that’s nowhere near as fun as the film’s lesser motifs (revenge, for one). It’s basically a big swirl of silly swashbuckling, nothing more or less. And speaking of Depp, the fact that the oft-ridiculous Sparrow is still an amusing character can only be chalked up to the actor’s own brand of untouchable cool. If it was anyone else, Sparrow’d be in Austin Powers territory by now. (2:05) SF Center. (Eddy)

*Super 8 The latest from J.J. Abrams is very conspicuously produced by Steven Spielberg; it evokes 1982’s E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial as well as 1985’s The Goonies and 1982’s Poltergeist (so Spielbergian in nature you’d be forgiven for assuming he directed, rather than simply produced, the pair). But having Grandpa Stevie blessing your flick is surely a good thing, especially when you’re already as capable as Abrams. Super 8 is set in 1979, high time for its titular medium, used by a group of horror movie-loving kids to film their backyard zombie epic; later in the film, old-school celluloid reveals the mystery behind exactly what escaped following a spectacular train wreck on the edge of their small Ohio town. The PG-13 Super 8 aims to frighten, albeit gently; there’s a lot of nostalgia afoot, and things do veer into sappiness at the end (that, plus the band of kids at its center, evoke the trademarks of another Grandpa Stevie: Stephen King). But the kid actors (especially the much-vaunted Elle Fanning) are great, and there’s palpable imagination and atmosphere afoot, rare qualities in blockbusters today. Super 8 tries, and mostly succeeds, in progressing the fears and themes addressed by E.T. (divorce, loneliness, growing up) into century 21, making the unknowns darker and the consequences more dire. (1:52) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Transformers: Dark of the Moon I’ll never understand the wisdom behind epic-length children’s movies. What child — or adult, for that matter — wants to sit through 154 minutes of assaultive popcorn entertainment? It’s an especially confounding decision for this third installment in the Transformers franchise because there’s a fantastic 90-minute movie in there, undone at every turn by some of the worst jokes, most pointless characters, and most hateful cultural politics you’re likely to see this summer. But when I say a fantastic movie, I mean a fantastic movie. It took two very expensive earlier attempts before director Michael Bay figured out that big things require a big canvas. Every shot of Dark of the Moon‘s predecessors seemed designed to hide their effects by crowding the screen. Finally we get the full view — the scale is now rightly calibrated to operatic and ridiculous. The marquee set pieces are inspired and terrifying, eliciting a sense of vertigo that’s earned for once, not imposed by the editing. The human hijinks are less consistent but ingratiatingly batshit, and without resorting to preening self-awareness and elaborately contrived mea culpas. But unfortunately Bay is too unapologetic even to walk back the ethnic buffoonery that not only upsets hippies like me but also seems defiantly disharmonious with the movie he’s trying to make. Bay is like that guy at the party who thinks amping up the racism will prove he’s not a racist. It’s that kind of garbage (plus, I guess, some universal primal hatred of Shia LaBeouf that I don’t really get) that makes people dismiss these movies wholesale. This time it’s just not deserved. I wouldn’t want to meet the asshole who made this thing, but credit where credit is due. It’s a visual marvel with perfectly integrated, utterly tactile, brilliantly choreographed CG robotics — a point that’ll no doubt be conceded in passing as if it’s not the very reason the movie exists. As if it’s not a feat of mastery to make a megaton changeling truck look graceful. (2:34) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Jason Shamai)

The Tree of Life Mainstream American films are so rarely adventuresome that overreactive gratitude frequently greets those rare, self-conscious, usually Oscar-baiting stabs at profundity. Terrence Malick has made those gestures so sparingly over four decades that his scarcity is widely taken for genius. Now there’s The Tree of Life, at once astonishingly ambitious — insofar as general addressing the origin/meaning of life goes — and a small domestic narrative artificially inflated to a maximally pretentious pressure-point. The thesis here is a conflict between “nature” (the way of striving, dissatisfied, angry humanity) and “grace” (the way of love, femininity, and God). After a while Tree settles into a fairly conventional narrative groove, dissecting — albeit in meandering fashion — the travails of a middle-class Texas household whose patriarch (a solid Brad Pitt) is sternly demanding of his three young sons. As a modern-day survivor of that household, Malick’s career-reviving ally Sean Penn has little to do but look angst-ridden while wandering about various alien landscapes. Set in Waco but also shot in Rome, at Versailles, and in Saturn’s orbit (trust me), The Tree of Life is so astonishingly self-important while so undernourished on some basic levels that it would be easy to dismiss as lofty bullshit. Its Cannes premiere audience booed and cheered — both factions right, to an extent. (2:18) California, Empire, Smith Rafael, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

*The Trip Eclectic British director Michael Winterbottom rebounds from sexually humiliating Jessica Alba in last year’s flop The Killer Inside Me to humiliating Steve Coogan in all number of ways (this time to positive effect) in this largely improvised comic romp through England’s Lake District. Well, romp might be the wrong descriptive — dubbed a “foodie Sideways” but more plaintive and less formulaic than that sun-dappled California affair, this TV-to-film adaptation displays a characteristic English glumness to surprisingly keen emotional effect. Playing himself, Coogan displays all the carefree joie de vivre of a colonoscopy patient with hemorrhoids as he sloshes through the gray northern landscape trying to get cell reception when not dining on haute cuisine or being wracked with self-doubt over his stalled movie career and love life. Throw in a happily married, happy-go-lucky frenemy (comic actor Rob Brydon) and Coogan (TV’s I’m Alan Partridge), can’t help but seem like a pathetic middle-aged prick in a puffy coat. Somehow, though, his confused narcissism is a perverse panacea. Come for the dueling Michael Caine impressions and snot martinis, stay for the scallops and Brydon’s “small man in a box” routine. (1:52) Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Devereaux)

Zookeeper (1:42) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

Foxy saves

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Foxy saves

arts@sfbg.com

SOUND TO SPARE Sweating in that crevice behind your knee? Notice more mesh tops in the Castro than usual? Or maybe you’re like me, pretending it’s Wimbledon but really just stinking up the tennis courts at Dolores Park. It seems the Bay Area is actually being blessed with some unusually above-average temperatures this summer. But even when the fog inevitably rolls back in, sticky-hot summer jams don’t necessarily have to be about weather. They can be a mentality. So allow me to stroll down Memory Lane with a fitting album for these should-be-sizzling times.

Chock-full of lyrical wit and endless one-liners, 1999’s Chyna Doll (Def Jam) by Foxy Brown is the downright filthiest album of all time. Brown (only 19 at the time) had me inappropriately quoting her ill flows all summer long. Stuff like “MCs wanna eat me, but it’s Ramadan” or “Gimmie some room, all I need is some dick up in my womb” are among the most graphic, but rate as some of my favorites. I probably appreciated them even more back then, when I was equally as young, angsty, closeted, and still living at my parents’.

The Brooklynite’s brazen delivery of FCC-unfriendly rhymes (every track drops the F-bomb) was probably a combination of marketing brilliance and dumb luck that made for her best-sounding album. On this sophomore effort, she received solid reviews from mainstream press. Even the British magazine Q weighed in saying, “There’s more to her than simply showing off and swearing.” And boy does she love swearing. On the track “4-5-6” she rhymes the word “shit” with “shit” 15 times.

Admittedly a huge part of the appeal for me was that such raw content was coming from a female. (Note: Jay-Z contributed heavily as did many other male hip-hop notables on writing and production). I guess I ignorantly found novelty in the manifestation of a female feeling need to prove herself to the industry. Sure, women curse — and there were other femcees before her. In fact, it was an era of stiff competition with the likes of Missy Elliot, Jean Grae and Brown’s legendary rival and cohort Lil’ Kim. But it was Brown who titillated me with her confidence and cockiness, asking, “Do you know how many words I’ve flown past?” She was the undisputed queen of hardcore.

The song “My Life” explains this black girl’s ordeal, struggling with the price of fame while explicitly chronicling the falling out between her and former friend Lil’ Kim. Here we get the depth that Q must have been referencing with lines like “I ain’t asked to be born.” Whether she intended it or not, she reveals an existential vulnerability, one that queer youth could certainly relate to. Her descent turns darker, more chilling, and profoundly plain to see with the line, “Sometimes I wanna slit my wrists and end my life y’all.” It’s clear she had a lot more on her plate than her beef with Kim.

Foxy also calls out gender’s double standards when she raps, “If I was a dude, they’d all be amused. But I’m a woman, so I’m a bitch — simple as that,” pointing out how femininity can be a hindrance to achieving success in hip-hop. With clever wordplay she takes on the theme of inequality, sometimes through simple metaphor (“My bullets hurt same as yours”), other times with more lyrical prowess (“Talk slick, suck dick for money in ya hand, I’m like bitch …I got mo’ money than yo man!”)

This isn’t to say that Chyna Doll isn’t littered with the materialistic clichés common in mainstream hip-hop. But there’s a refreshing air of entitlement involved that is unapologetic. After all, it was released at a time when rap reigned supreme and MP3 downloading hadn’t yet collapsed the industry’s marketing model. There was plenty of money to be made. Brown tells us exactly what she wants written on the license plate of her Lexus as she rides in a decade later to light up another summer.

Music Listings

Andrew Lam
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Music listings are compiled by Cheryl Eddy. Since club life is unpredictable, it’s a good idea to call ahead to confirm bookings and hours. Prices are listed when provided to us. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks.

WEDNESDAY 13

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Alvon Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

David Bazan + Band, Rocky Votolato Independent. 8pm, $15.

Shannon Bryant Union Square, Geary at Powell, SF; www.jewelssf.org. 12:30pm, free.

Jonathan Butler Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $18-25.

“Christmas in July” Elbo Room. 9pm, $5. With Yule Logs, Uni and Her Ukelele, Mary Van Note, DJ Real, and DJ Neil Martinson.

Elected, Whispertown, Mike Bloom Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $14.

Foxtail Somersault, Fake Your Own Death, Foreign Cinema, Manatee Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $10.

Freshlyground Brick and Mortar Music Hall, 1710 Mission, SF; www.brickandmortarmusic.com. 9pm, $20.

Alex and Lily Holbrook 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Mental 99, Wesley Morgan Madrone Art Bar. 7pm, free. Every Wed. in July.

Mist, Sudden Oak, Headboggle, Swanox Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7.

Phantom Kicks, Bad Bibles, Here Come the Saviours Café Du Nord. 9:30pm, $10.

Rademacher, Slow Trucks, Built Like Alaska Knockout. 9pm, $6.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Cat’s Corner with Nathan Dias Savanna Jazz. 9pm, $10.

Cosmo Alleycats Le Colonial, 20 Cosmo, SF; www.lecolonialsf.com. 7pm.

Dink Dink Dink, Gaucho, Michael Abraham Amnesia. 7pm, free.

Jazz organ party with Graham Connah Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Ben Marcato and the Mondo Combo Top of the Mark. 7:30pm, $10.

DANCE CLUBS

Booty Call Q-Bar, 456 Castro, SF; www.bootycallwednesdays.com. 9pm. Juanita Moore hosts this dance party, featuring DJ Robot Hustle.

Buena Onda Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, free. Funk, swing, rare grooves, and more with Dr. Musco and guests.

Mary Go Round, the New Generation Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 10pm, $5. Drag with Suppositori Spelling, Mercedez Munro, and Ginger Snap.

No Room For Squares Som., 2925 16th St, SF; (415) 558-8521. 6-10pm, free. DJ Afrodite Shake spins jazz for happy hour.

THURSDAY 14

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

“Blue Flame” DNA Lounge. 9pm, $20. Emerging artist showcase with Starting Six, Iamsu, Symba, and more.

Dead Westerns, Slow Motion Cowboy, Bad Backs Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

Nellie McKay Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $15-20.

My Victim, Midnight Chaser, Lazerwolf Thee Parkside. 9pm, $7-10. Save KUSF Benefit with DJs Loren, TheLastAngryManny, and Lil Joe.

“Nerd Rock Fest Night #1” Hemlock Tavern. 7:30pm, $12. With Three Day Stubble, Weird Paul, Shitappa Oyabun, and HogWind.

Paper Bird, Shannon McNally Hotel Utah. 8pm, $10.

Portugal the Man, White Arrows Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $13.

“Save KUSF Benefit: Garage-A-Go-Go” Independent. 8pm, $15. With the Standells, Devil-Ettes, C’Mon Everybody, Bitter Honeys, and more.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

“Bastille Day Celebration with Gaucho Gypsy Jazz” Mechanics’ Institute, 57 Post, SF; (415) 393-0100. 7pm, $18.

Cosmo Alleycats featuring Ms. Emily Wade Adams Blondie’s, 540 Valencia, SF; (415) 864-2419. 9pm, free.

Dave Parker Quartet Purple Onion, 140 Columbus, SF; (415) 956-1653. 7:30-10:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Mike Irwin Trio Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 8pm, free.

Nate Wong Trio Savanna Jazz. 7pm, $5.

Organsm featuring Jim Gunderson and “Tender” Tim Shea Bollyhood Café. 6:30-9pm, free.

SF Jazz Hotplate Series Amnesia. 9pm.

Soul jazz party with Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Stompy Jones Top of the Mark. 7:30pm, $10.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Lagos Roots Afrobeat Ensemble, DJ Jeremiah and the Afrobeat Nation Café Du Nord. 9pm, $12.

Rolando Morales Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Tinariwen, DJ Harry Duncan Bimbo’s 365 Club. 8pm, $30.

DANCE CLUBS

Afrolicious Elbo Room. 9:30pm, $5. Afrobeat, Tropicália, electro, samba, and funk with DJs Pleasuremaker and Señor Oz, plus Strongholdsound.

Culture Corner Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; www.kokococktails.com. 10pm, free. Roots reggae, dub, rocksteady, and classic dancehall with DJ Tomas, Yusuke, Vinnie Esparza, and Basshaka and ILWF.

Guilty Pleasures Gestalt, 3159 16th St, SF; (415) 560-0137. 9:30pm, free. DJ TophZilla, Rob Metal, DJ Stef, and Disco-D spin punk, metal, electro-funk, and 80s.

1984 Mighty. 9pm, $2. The long-running New Wave and 80s party features video DJs Mark Andrus, Don Lynch, and celebrity guests.

Thursday Special Tralala Revolution Café, 3248 22nd St, SF; (415) 642-0474. 5pm, free. Downtempo, hip-hop, and freestyle beats by Dr. Musco and Unbroken Circle MCs.

Thursdays at the Cat Club Cat Club. 9pm, $6 (free before 9:30pm). Two dance floors bumpin’ with the best of 80s mainstream and underground with Dangerous Dan, Skip, Low Life, and guests.

Tropicana Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, free. Salsa, cumbia, reggaeton, and more with DJs Don Bustamante, Apocolypto, Sr. Saen, Santero, and Mr. E.

FRIDAY 15

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Colbie Caillat Bimbo’s 365 Club. 9pm, $27.50.

Cash’d Out, Sweet Chariot, Jeffrey Luck Lucas Brick and Mortar Music Hall, 1710 Mission, SF; www.brickandmortarmusic.com. 9pm, $13.

Corner Laughers, Debutante Hour Amnesia. 7pm, $5.

Crazy Squeeze, Lydia and the Projects Thee Parkside. 9pm, $7.

Dear Hunter, Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground, O’Brother, Native Thieves Bottom of the Hill. 7:30pm, $15.

Dirty Vegas, Frail, Polaris at Noon Independent. 9pm, $17.

Generationals, Gardens and Villa, HIJK Café Du Nord. 9:30pm, $10.

Groovality Union Room at Biscuits and Blues. 8:30pm, $10.

Hindershot 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Steve Kimock and friends Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $30.

“Nerd Rock Fest Night #2” Hemlock Tavern. 7:30pm, $12. With Three Day Stubble, Chablis, John Trubee, Gyoriagyo, and Merchants of the New Bizarre.

Tamika Nicole, Chamara Pittman Showroom, 1000 Van Ness, SF; (415) 346-5597. 9pm, $10.

Lavay Smith and Her Red Hot Skillet Lickers Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Strangelove: A Tribute to Depeche Mode, Luv n’ Rockets: A Tribute to Love & Rockets, Spellbound: A Tribute to Siouxsie and the Banshees Slim’s. 9pm, $15.

Streetlight Manifesto, Reel Big Fish, Rodeo Ruby Love, Maxies Regency Ballroom. 7pm, $23.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Black Market Jazz Orchestra Top of the Mark. 9pm, $10.

Mon David Savanna Jazz. 7pm, $10.

Jazz organ party Graham Connah Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

North Beach All Stars Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 8pm, free.

Tito Puente, Jr. Orchestra Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $24.

Vaughan Johnson Jazz Combo Jack’s Club, 2545 24th St., SF; (415) 641-1880. 7pm, free.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Gondwana, One Chot, Jah Yzer, DJ Julicio Elbo Room. 10pm, $20.

Lulacruza Red Poppy Art House. 9pm, $12-20.

Mahadev Kaleidoscope Free Speech Zone, 3109 24th St, SF; www.kaleidoscopefreespeechzone.com. 8pm, $5-10.

Windy Hill, TED Plough and Stars. 9:30pm, $6-10.

DANCE CLUBS

Afro Bao Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

Bardot A Go Go’s Post-Bastille Day Party Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $10. With DJs Brother Grimm and Pink Frankenstein, the Devil-Ettes, and more.

DJ What’s His Fuck Riptide Tavern. 9pm, free. Old-school punk rock and other gems.

Trannyshack: Kylie Minogue Tribute DNA Lounge. 9:30pm, $12. Drag fun with Becky Motorlodge, Precious Moments, Raya Light, Miss Rahni, and others, plus a Kylie look-a-like contest and more.

Vintage Orson, 508 Fourth St, SF; (415) 777-1508. 5:30-11pm, free. DJ TophOne and guest spin jazzy beats for cocktalians.

SATURDAY 16

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Alkaline Trio, Smoking Popes, Dead Country Slim’s. 8pm, $25.

Aunt Kizzy’s Boyz Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Black Dynamite Sound Orchestra, Lord Loves a Working Man, Struts Bottom of the Hill. 10pm, $12.

Quinn Deveaux and the Blue Beat Review, Mumlers Independent. 9pm, $15.

Form and Fate, Shuteye Unison, Glaciers Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $7.

Left Alone, Static Thought, Civil War Rust Thee Parkside. 9pm, $7.

“Patiopalooza” El Rio. 8pm, $8. With Burn River Burn, Art in Heaven, Mission: Blackout, Chris James, and Mavalour.

Silent Comedy, Saint Motel, Tambo Rays Café Du Nord. 9:30pm, $12.

“We All We Got” Club Six. 9pm, $10-15. Hip-hop showcase with Keith Murray, hosted by Sellassie.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Mon David Savanna Jazz. 7pm, $10.

Eddie Duran Duo Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 8pm, free.

Eggplant Casino 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Soul Jazz Party with Jules Broussard and Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Tito Puente, Jr. Orchestra Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $24.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

David Aguilar Mission Cultural Center, 2868 Mission, SF; www.missionculturalcenter.org. 7:30pm, $12.

Good Luck Thrift Store Outfit, Brothers Comatose, Misisipi Rider, Bootcuts Great American Music Hall. 8:30pm, $15.

Seun Anikulapo Kuti and Egypt 80, Khaira Arby and her Band Regency Ballroom. 9pm, $26.

Lulacruza Red Poppy Art House. 9pm, $12-20.

DANCE CLUBS

Afro Bao Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

Bootie SF: Hubba Hubba Revue DNA Lounge. 9pm, $8-15. Mash-ups and burlesque.

Fringe Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, $5. Indie music video dance party with DJs Blondie K and subOctave.

New Wave City Masquerade Party Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF; www.newwavecity.com. 9pm, $7-12. New wave and 80s alternative with Skip and Shindog. Masks encouraged!

Saturday Night Soul Party Elbo Room. 10pm, $10. Sixties soul with DJs Lucky, Phengren Oswald, and Paul Paul.

Smiths Night SF Rock-It Room. 9pm, free. Revel in 80s music from the Smiths, Joy Division, New Order, and more.

Sunugal.CA Bollyhood Café. 9pm, $7-10. Celebrate West Africa and the African Diaspora with VJ-DJ Sabar and DJ Migane, plus host VJ Oumar.

Triple Threat vs. Oakland Faders Mighty. 10pm. All-vinyl DJ battle.

Wild Nights Kok BarSF, 1225 Folsom, SF; www.kokbarsf.com. 9pm, $4. With DJ Frank Wild.

World Town Ruby Skye. 10pm. With PeaceTreaty, Trevor Simpson, and St. John.

SUNDAY 17

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

“Battle of the Bands” DNA Lounge. 5:30pm, $12. Competition with Kings and Crooks, Lions Become Lambs, Weslester, and more.

English Beat, My First Earthquake Sigmund Stern Grove, 19th Ave at Sloat, SF; www.sterngrove.org. 2pm, free.

Kamp Kamille, Eddie Cohn, As Is Brass Band Amnesia. 9pm, $7-10.

Mallard, Poodles, Woolen Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $6.

“Seaweed Sway Showcase” Make-Out Room. 8pm, $7. With Masuga, Miwa, and Moomaw.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Jazz organ party with Lavay Smith and Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Joe Cohen Trio Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 8pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 7pm.

Kelly Park Savanna Jazz. 7pm, $5.

Dave Solbach, Jason Martineau, Fred Randolph, Benn Bacot Bliss Bar, 4026 24th St, SF; www.blissbarsf.com. 4:30pm, $10.

Shahrzad Sepanlou Yoshi’s San Francisco. 7pm, $35.

Sunday jazz jam 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Tom Lander Duo Medjool, 2522 Mission, SF; www.medjoolsf.com. 6-9pm, free.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Pezhham Arkhavass Red Poppy Art House. 8pm, $12-20.

DANCE CLUBS

Batcave Cat Club. 10pm, $5. Death rock, goth, and post-punk with Steeplerot Necromos and c_death.

Dub Mission Elbo Room. 9pm, $6. Dub, roots, and classic dancehall with DJ Sep and guests DJ Shockman and Dub ID.

Jock Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 3pm, $2. Raise money for LGBT sports teams while enjoying DJs and drink specials.

La Pachanga Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF; www.thebluemacawsf.com. 6pm, $10. Salsa dance party with live Afro-Cuban salsa bands.

MONDAY 18

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Daniel Menche, Damion Romero, R. Jencks, Gerritt Wittmer, DJ That Hideous Strength Amnesia. 7pm.

Lipbone Redding Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Scream Like You Mean It, Breathe Carolina, Chiodos, I See Stars, Color Morale, Mod Sun, Air I Breathe Regency Ballroom. 5:45pm, $18.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Liam O’Maonlai, Colm O’Riain, Lucia Comnes Café Du Nord. 8pm, $20.

Pistolera, Candelaria, DJs Santero and El Kool Kyle Elbo Room. 9pm, $8.

DANCE CLUBS

Death Guild DNA Lounge. 9:30pm, $3-5. Gothic, industrial, and synthpop with Joe Radio, Decay, and Melting Girl.

M.O.M. Madrone Art Bar. 6pm, free. DJs Timoteo Gigante, Gordo Cabeza, and Chris Phlek playing all Motown every Monday.

Sausage Party Rosamunde Sausage Grill, 2832 Mission, SF; (415) 970-9015. 6:30-9:30pm, free. DJ Dandy Dixon spins vintage rock, R&B, global beats, funk, and disco at this happy hour sausage-shack gig.

TUESDAY 19

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Buster Blue, Tyler Jakes, Calafia Hotel Utah. 8pm, $8.

Griffin House, Peter Bradley Adams Café Du Nord. 8pm, $15.

Mishka, Beautiful Girls, Anuhea Independent. 8pm, $15.

Owl City, Mat Kearny and Unwed Sailor Warfield. 7pm, $28.

Parenthetical Girls, Extra Life, Sam Mickens (the Dead Science) Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7,

Eric Sardinas Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Scarlet Stoic, theRUMBLEFISH, Blank Manuscript Bottom of the Hill. 8:30pm, $8.

Yourself and the Air, Angel Island, Jake Mann and the Upper Hand Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $10.

DANCE CLUBS

Brazilian Wax Elbo Room. 9pm, $7. Samba and forro with DJs P-Shot and Bambino.

Eclectic Company Skylark, 9pm, free. DJs Tones and Jaybee spin old school hip hop, bass, dub, glitch, and electro.

 

Film Listings

Andrew Lam
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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Peter Galvin, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

Beats, Rhymes & Life See “Buggin’ Out.” (1:38) Shattuck.

*”An Evening With Andy and Jonathan” Before the 80s standup craze dredged up so much bottom-feeding crap, the comedy world had room for a few chameleonic improv innovators like the subjects of this Roxie program hosted by Johnny Legend. Making its theatrical debut is his recent DVD assembly Jonathan Winters: Birth of a Comedy Genius, a compilation bringing together clips from various long-forgotten shows like The NBC Comedy Hour and The Steve Allen Plymouth Show. A man of a thousand voices, Winters (who’s still occasionally active — he voices Papa Smurf in the imminent Smurfs feature) anticipated the manic improvisational glee of Jim Carrey and others as he sped through myriad instantly-created characters, often leaving any fellow players silenced and agog. If these segments predating his peak fame in the late 60s aren’t necessarily stellar in terms of material — it was an era when TV allowed very little that was “edgy” — the performer himself is always a marvel to watch. The co-feature is cult fave My Breakfast with Blassie, the 55-minute semi-staged, all-improv vehicle for the late Andy Kaufman — very much “playing” himself — and his older pro wrestler friend Fred Blassie. Legend co-directed that 1983 oddity, made just a year before the “dadaist” comedian’s untimely death; also on the bill is a one-hour program of ultra-rarities featuring Kaufman, Blassie, Legend and more. Roxie. (Harvey)

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Game over. (2:10)

If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front If A Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front traces the roots and development of the controversial environmental activist organization through one of its members, Daniel McGowan, as he faces trial for the newly imagined charge of eco-terrorism. McGowan is thoughtful and open about his participation in numerous actions against perceived enemies of Earth, allowing director Marshall Curry to craft an intelligent documentary as much about McGowan and the E.L.F. as the almost insurmountable ethical murkiness of activism in America. Frustrated by the apparent ineffectuality of peaceful protest and faced with the continued despoiling of our planet, McGowan and his peers pose a difficult question: how far is too far? Or, what price do we pay by failing to go far enough? Curry is careful to allow both sides of the debate ample time on screen in a timely consideration of the viability of direct action and the human face behind a media frenzy. (1:30) Shattuck. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

*Project Nim This is the story of an individual plucked from their native culture even before birth, separated from parents shortly after, handed over to a chaotic if loving urban foster family, yanked from them to a lavish, isolated country estate, then shipped off to a medical experimentation lab, “rescued” only to be placed in prison like solitary confinement, and … well, things finally get a little better, but isn’t this enough abuse for several lifetimes? Before you call Child Services or the ACLU, be informed that this is not the saga of a human being, but one Nim Chimpsky, a chimpanzee born in U.S. captivity, then set on a highly unusual life course as the subject of a study in animal language acquisition by Columbia University linguist Herbert S. Terrace. Nim did indeed prove remarkably adept at learning sign language to communicate with his teachers/minders — even if Terrace finally belittled that as no more than imitation performed to beg food and other favor. Nim was a prodigy, and for a while a media sensation. He was also a temperamental, physically powerful wild beast who could (and sometimes did) cause considerable harm to those around him. Regardless, both his adaptation to human habitats and animal instincts should have been deal with a great deal more care and consistency — there was no overall plan for his well-being beyond serving (or being abandoned by) whoever his keepers were at any given moment. This latest documentary by James Marsh (2008’s Man on Wire, 1999’s Wisconsin Death Trip) is an involving story whose latter-day interviewees — tumbling rather easily into hero and villain categories, with Prof. Terrance not in the first camp — annotate an enormous amount of archival footage shot throughout Nim’s life. (1:33) (Harvey)

*Snow Flower and the Secret Fan Working with Lisa See’s novel, director Wayne Wang returns to the crowd-pleasing territory of his wildly popular Joy Luck Club (1993) — fortunately it’s also material that feels intensely personal, even transposed in 21st century China (one of those modern Chinese women, Rupert Murdoch’s wife Wendi bought the rights to the book and provides a financial boost here). Modern-day Nina (Bingbing Li) is about to leave her native Shanghai for NYC and certain success in the banking world when she learns that her best friend, her laotong or sworn sister, Sophia (Gianna Jun), is in a coma. She must piece together the mystery of her friend’s life since they last parted, studying the book written about her 19th century forbearer Snow Flower (also Jun) and her own laotong Lily (Li). An uncredited turn by Hugh Jackman as a caddish boyfriend is beside the point here; Wang’s take on the bond of friendship that ties two women together, beyond the pain of foot-binding, marriage, class, and adversity is tremulously sentimental, in way that will have many would-be Joy Luck Club-ers happily identifying with these sisters from other mothers — and leave everyone else sobbing in the darkness. (1:40) Albany. (Chun)

*Tabloid Taking a break from loftier subjects, Errol Morris’ latest documentary simply finds a whopper of a story and lets the principal participant tell her side of it — one we gradually realize may be very far from the real truth. In 1978 former Miss Wyoming Joyce McKinney flew to England, where the Mormon boy she’d grown infatuated with had been posted for missionary work by his church. What ensued became a U.K. tabloid sensation, as the glamorous, not at all publicity-shy Yankee attracted accusations of kidnapping, imprisonment, attempted rape and more. Her victim of love, one Kirk Anderson, is not heard from here — presumably he’s been trying to live down an embarrassing life chapter ever since. But we do hear from others who shed considerable light on the now middle-aged McKinney’s continued protestations that it was all just one big misunderstanding. Most importantly, we hear from the lady herself — and she is colorful, unflappable, unapologetic, and quite possibly stone-cold nuts. (1:28) California. (Harvey)

*Terri What happens when the camera stops on the quiet, shy and heavy 15-year-old in the corner of the classroom? Terri might be his story — if he cut class regularly to avoid being teased about his man-breasts, wore PJs to school, and befriended an affable, straight-talking Shrek of a teacher. Painfully awkward Terri (Jacob Wysocki) is ignored or mocked by most, left to feed the mice he catches in traps to passing raptors, care for his ailing uncle, and avoid the school bullies as best he can. But assistant principal Mr. Fitzgerald (John C. Reilly), who has a habit of nurturing the school’s misfits, recognizes Terri’s tender heart and takes him under his wing. It’s catching, apparently, as Terri first befriends the hair-pulling Chad (Bridger Zadina) and then Heather, the girl who allows herself be fingered in home ec (Olivia Crocicchia). What transpires among these school outcasts, shaped by director-writer Azazel Jacobs, subtly subverts your conventional teen identity story arc —Terri isn’t the only one here that’s good-hearted. (1:45) California. (Chun)

Trigun: Badlands Rumble Set in a futuristic western border town with as much variety in firepower as in its inhabitants (think Mos Eisley with way more guns), anime import Trigun: Badlands Rumble follows Vash the Stampede, an apparently bungling but actually expert gunslinger, as he attempts to both woo the beautiful and dangerous Amelia and prevent the infamous robber Gasback from pulling off the most daring heist in history. The orgy of destruction that results wears thin, as does the philosophical side to a movie that employs “rolling the dice” as a metaphor at least seven times. Vash’s staunch thou-shalt-not-kill posturing is somewhat intriguing if not wildly incongruous with the level of chaos celebrated by Badlands Rumble; there’s simply no way that everyone lives with the sheer tonnage of lead in the air. I’m guessing this could be a blast for those more familiar with the manga and animated series it’s based upon, but as for the casual viewer, it may leave you somewhat confused. (1:30) Viz Cinema. (Berkmoyer)

*”TV Noir” This-three night retrospective of broadcast episodes from the boob tube’s formative decade — in which it went from being the luxury of a few to the nation’s primary entertainment — spotlights moody crime, procedural, and morality dramas that fit into the medium’s early fast-cheap requirements. Network TV in the 1950s wasn’t yet mostly L.A.-based, and as a result providing a starting point for a lot of actors, writers and directors who’d soon make a splash on Broadway or in Hollywood, as well as established stars willing to slum a bit. Among those whose work you’ll catch in the series’ six separate programs are Leslie Nielsen, Sidney Lumet, Joanne Woodward, Boris Karloff, James Coburn, Robert Aldrich, Blake Edwards, Angie Dickinson, Lee Marvin, and even Harpo Marx. Highlights include Charles Bronson, atypically manic as an ex-con released to terrorize his wife (“Don’t you understand I love you, I’d never hurt you…” [Five seconds later] “You let a cop in here, Laura, and I’ll blow off his head, then yours!”) in an episode from forgotten 1955 series Treasury Men in Action. Jack Palance is swell as usual in “The Kiss Off,” a 1953 segment from long-running omnibus Suspense. And Brian Keith, a long way from the treacle train of Family Affair a decade later, plays Mike Hammer in a failed pilot of that name, the first attempted TV version of Mickey Spillane’s take-no-prisoners private eye. It was excellent but evidently too hardboiled for the tube at the time, although subsequent attempts both big- and small-screen would be more successful. While not all the largely very rare, commercially unavailable materials here qualify as “noir” by even a generous stretch of the imagination, they’re all testaments to the TV’s industry and invention back when many programs were broadcast “live.” Collector-curator Johnny Legend will be on hand to introduce all shows. Roxie. (Harvey)

Winnie the Pooh John Cleese narrates this new animated film about the honey-loving bear and his pals in the Hundred Acre Wood. (1:09)

ONGOING

Bad Teacher Jake Kasdan, the once-talented director of a few Freaks and Geeks episodes and 2002’s underrated Orange County, seems hell-bent on humiliating everyone in the cast of Bad Teacher. Cameron Diaz is Elizabeth, the title’s criminally bad pedagogue who prefers the Jack Daniels method to the Socratic. Her impetus for pounding Harper Lee into her middle school students’ bug-eyed little heads is to cash in on a bonus check to fund her breast-y ambitions and woo Justin Timberlake and his baby voice. The only likable onscreen presence is Jason Segal as a sad sack gym teacher in love with Elizabeth. But he could do so much better. There’s no shortage of racist jokes and potty humor in this R-rated comedy pandering to those 17 and below. When asked if she wants to go out with her coworkers, Elizabeth ripostes, “I’d rather get shot in the face!” That scenario is likely a better alternative than suffering this steaming pile of cash cow carcass. (1:29) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck. (Lattanzio)

*Beginners There is nothing conventional about Beginners, a film that starts off with the funeral arrangements for one of its central characters. That man is Hal (Christopher Plummer), who came out to his son Oliver (Ewan McGregor) at the ripe age of 75. Through flashbacks, we see the relationship play out — Oliver’s inability to commit tempered by his father’s tremendous late-stage passion for life. Hal himself is a rare character: an elderly gay man, secure in his sexuality and, by his own admission, horny. He even has a much younger boyfriend, played by the handsome Goran Visnjic. While the father-son bond is the heart of Beginners, we also see the charming development of a relationship between Oliver and French actor Anna (Mélanie Laurent). It all comes together beautifully in a film that is bittersweet but ultimately satisfying. Beginners deserves praise not only for telling a story too often left untold, but for doing so with grace and a refreshing sense of whimsy. (1:44) Balboa, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

A Better Life (1:38) Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki.

*Bill Cunningham New York To say that Bill Cunningham, the 82-year old New York Times photographer, has made documenting how New Yorkers dress his life’s work would be an understatement. To be sure, Cunningham’s two decades-old Sunday Times columns — “On the Street,” which tracks street-fashion, and “Evening Hours,” which covers the charity gala circuit — are about the clothes. And, my, what clothes they are. But Cunningham is a sartorial anthropologist, and his pictures always tell the bigger story behind the changing hemlines, which socialite wore what designer, or the latest trend in footwear. Whether tracking the near-infinite variations of a particular hue, a sudden bumper-crop of cropped blazers, or the fanciful leaps of well-heeled pedestrians dodging February slush puddles, Cunningham’s talent lies in his ability to recognize fleeting moments of beauty, creativity, humor, and joy. That last quality courses through Bill Cunningham New York, Richard Press’ captivating and moving portrait of a man whose reticence and personal asceticism are proportional to his total devotion to documenting what Harold Koda, chief curator at the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, describes in the film as “ordinary people going about their lives, dressed in fascinating ways.” (1:24) Castro. (Sussman)

*Bridesmaids For anyone burned out on bad romantic comedies, Bridesmaids can teach you how to love again. This film is an answer to those who have lamented the lack of strong female roles in comedy, of good vehicles for Saturday Night Live cast members, of an appropriate showcase for Melissa McCarthy. The hilarious but grounded Kristen Wiig stars as Annie, whose best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) is getting hitched. Financially and romantically unstable, Annie tries to throw herself into her maid of honor duties — all while competing with the far more refined Helen (Rose Byrne). Bridesmaids is one of the best comedies in recent memory, treating its relatable female characters with sympathy. It’s also damn funny from start to finish, which is more than can be said for most of the comedies Hollywood continues to churn out. Here’s your choice: let Bridesmaids work its charm on you, or never allow yourself to complain about an Adam Sandler flick again. (2:04) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

Buck This documentary paints a portrait of horse trainer Buck Brannaman as a sort of modern-day sage, a sentimental cowboy who helps “horses with people problems.” Brannaman has transcended a background of hardship and abuse to become a happy family man who makes a difference for horses and their owners all over the country with his unconventional, humane colt-starting clinics. Though he doesn’t actually whisper to horses, he served as an advisor and inspiration for Robert Redford’s The Horse Whisperer (1998). Director Cindy Meehl focuses generously on her saintly subject’s bits of wisdom in and out of a horse-training setting — e.g. “Everything you do with a horse is a dance” — as well as heartfelt commentary from friends and colleagues. In the harrowing final act of the film, Brannaman deals with a particularly unruly horse and his troubled owner, highlighting the dire and disturbing consequences of improper horse rearing. (1:28) Shattuck, Smith Rafael, Sundance Kabuki. (Sam Stander)

Cars 2 You pretty much can’t say a bad thing about a Pixar film. Cars 2 is by no means Ratatouille (2007) or Wall-E (2008), but the sequel to the 2006 hit Cars offers plenty of sleek visuals and one-note gags under its hollow hood. If nothing else, Pixar seems to have overcome the dingy, dark glaze that plagues 3-D films. Directors John Lasseter and Joe Ranft return to beloved autos Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) and the “extremely American” Mater (Larry the Cable Guy). This time around, secret agents Finn McMissile (Michael Caine) and Holley Shiftwell (Emily Mortimer) come along for the ride while working to expose sabotage in the alternative fuel industry. Compelling chase sequences, explosions and more than a few jabs at cultural stereotypes follow suit. This is the lightest, silliest Pixar film to date, but you probably don’t have any business seeing it unless you’ve got a kid in tow. (1:52) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck. (Lattanzio)

*Cave of Forgotten Dreams The latest documentary from Werner Herzog once again goes where no filmmaker — or many human beings, for that matter — has gone before: the Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave, a heavily-guarded cavern in Southern France containing the oldest prehistoric artwork on record. Access is highly restricted, but Herzog’s 3D study is surely the next best thing to an in-person visit. The eerie beauty of the works leads to a typically Herzog-ian quest to learn more about the primitive culture that produced the paintings; as usual, Herzog’s experts have their own quirks (like a circus performer-turned-scientist), and the director’s own wry narration is peppered with random pop culture references and existential ponderings. It’s all interwoven with footage of crude yet beautiful renderings of horses and rhinos, calcified cave-bear skulls, and other time-capsule peeks at life tens of thousands of years ago. The end result is awe-inspiring. (1:35) SF Center, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Green Lantern This latest DC Comics-to-film adaptation fails to recognize the line between awesome fantasy-action and cheeseball absurdity, often resembling the worst excesses of the Christopher Reeve Superman movies. A surprisingly palatable Ryan Reynolds stars as Hal Jordan, the cocky test pilot who is chosen to wield a power ring as a member of an intergalactic police force called the Green Lantern Corps. He must face down Parallax, an alien embodiment of fear, who appears here as a chuckle-inducing floating head surrounded by tentacles. Peter Sarsgaard is effectively nauseating as Hector Hammond, who becomes Parallax’s crony after he is transformed by a transfusion of fear energy. The acting is all over the map, with Blake Lively’s blank-faced love interest caricature as the weakest link, and the effects are hit-or-miss, but scenes featuring alien Green Lanterns should please fans, and you could probably do worse if you’re looking for an entertaining popcorn flick. (1:45) 1000 Van Ness. (Stander)

The Hangover Part II What do you do with a problematic mess like Hangover Part II? I was a fan of The Hangover (2009), as well as director-cowriter Todd Phillips’ 1994 GG Allin doc, Hated, so I was rooting for II, this time set in the East’s Sin City of Bangkok, while simultaneously dreading the inevitable Asian/”ching-chang-chong” jokes. Would this would-be hit sequel be funnier if they packed in more of those? Doubtful. The problem is that most of II‘s so-called humor, Asian or no, falls completely flat — and any gross-out yuks regarding wicked, wicked Bangkok are fairly old hat at this point, long after Shocking Asia (1976) and innumerable episodes of No Reservations and other extreme travel offerings. This Hangover around, mild-ish dentist Stu (Ed Helms) is heading to the altar with Lauren (The Real World: San Diego‘s Jamie Chung), with buds Phil (Bradley Cooper) and Doug (Justin Bartha) in tow. Alan (Zach Galifianakis) has completely broken with reality — he’s the pity invite who somehow ropes in the gangster wild-card Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong). Blackouts, natch, and not-very-funny high jinks ensue, with Jeong, surprisingly, pulling small sections of II out of the crapper. Phillips obviously specializes in men-behaving-badly, but II‘s most recent character tweaks, turning Phil into an arrogant, delusional creep and Alan into an arrogant, delusional kook, seem beside the point. Because almost none of the jokes work, and that includes the tired jabs at tranny strippers because we all know how supposedly straight white guys get hella grossed out by brown chicks with dicks. Lame. (1:42) SF Center. (Chun)

Happy Happy, a documentary by Roko Belic (1999’s Genghis Blues), traces the contented lifestyles of men and women around the globe. Manoj Singh is a Kolkata rickshaw driver sustained by his son’s smile. Anne Bechsgaard’s life is enriched by her co-housing community in Denmark. These soothingly sentimental profiles are intercut with commentary from leading neuroscientists and psychologists. They provide a cursory guide to the rare balancing act that is happiness in the 21st century. A brisk 75 minutes, the film is saturated with thought-provoking tidbits (the Bhutan government aims for gross national happiness instead of GDP) and an ambient backing track that’s heavy on the chimes. However, sometimes there’s the sense that these mechanics of happiness aren’t cinematically compelling enough, and that rifling through a couple Wikipedia pages might offer just as much insight. At its best, Happy sparks a reflection on how many of the unofficial criteria for joy one has fulfilled, and suggests ideas for simple happiness boosters. (1:15) Roxie. (Getman)

Horrible Bosses Lead by a clearly talented ensemble of comic actors, Horrible Bosses is yet another example of a big-budget summer comedy with a promising conceit (see Bad Teacher) that fails to deliver anything but crude alms to the lowest common denominator. Seth Gordon directs Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis, and Charlie Day as three pals fed up with their evil employers (Kevin Spacey, Colin Farrell and Jennifer Aniston, respectively) so they hatch a plan to have them killed. Because the answer to their problem obviously lies in a dive bar in the “bad part of town,” Jamie Foxx plays Motherfucker Jones, their murder consultant and the film’s most likable character-stereotype. In the tradition of The Hangover (2009) and its ilk of beer-guzzling, frat-boy cousins, Horrible Bosses is a disastrous pile-up of idiocy that’s more vapid than vulgar despite a few amusing performances. See it for no other reason than Michael Bluth and Charlie Kelly on coke. (1:33) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Lattanzio)

Larry Crowne While Transformers: Dark of the Moon may be getting all the attention for being the most terrible summer movie, I’d like to propose Larry Crowne as the bigger offender. No, it doesn’t have the abrasive effects of a Michael Bay blockbuster, but it’s surely just as incompetent. And coming from an actor as talented as Tom Hanks — who co-wrote, directed, produced, and stars in the film —Larry Crowne is insulting. The plot, insofar as there is one, centers around the titular Larry (Hanks), a man who goes to community college, joins a scooter gang led by Wilmer Valderrama, and ends up falling for his cranky, alcoholic teacher Mercedes (Julia Roberts). The scenes are thrown together hapharzadly, with no real sense of character development or continuity. Larry Crowne doesn’t even feel like a romantic comedy until a drunk Mercedes begins kissing and dry humping her student. But hey, who can resist a shot of Larry’s middle-aged bottom as he tries to wriggle into jeans that are just too small? (1:39) 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, SF Center. (Peitzman)

Midnight in Paris Owen Wilson plays Gil, a self-confessed “Hollywood hack” visiting the City of Light with his conservative future in-laws and crassly materialistic fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams). A romantic obviously at odds with their selfish pragmatism (somehow he hasn’t realized that yet), he’s in love with Paris and particularly its fabled artistic past. Walking back to his hotel alone one night, he’s beckoned into an antique vehicle and finds himself transported to the 1920s, at every turn meeting the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates), Dali (Adrien Brody), etc. He also meets Adriana (Marion Cotillard), a woman alluring enough to be fought over by Hemingway (Corey Stoll) and Picasso (Marcial di Fonzo Bo) — though she fancies aspiring literary novelist Gil. Woody Allen’s latest is a pleasant trifle, no more, no less. Its toying with a form of magical escapism from the dreary present recalls The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985), albeit without that film’s greater structural ingeniousness and considerable heart. None of the actors are at their best, though Cotillard is indeed beguiling and Wilson dithers charmingly as usual. Still — it’s pleasant. (1:34) Albany, Balboa, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Monte Carlo (1:48) 1000 Van Ness.

Mr. Popper’s Penguins (1:35) SF Center.

*My Perestroika Robin Hessman’s very engaging documentary takes one very relatable look at how changes since glasnost have affected some average Russians. The subjects here are five thirtysomethings who, growing up in Moscow in the 70s and 80s, were the last generation to experience full-on Communist Party indoctrination. But just as they reached adulthood, the whole system dissolved, confusing long-held beliefs and variably impacting their futures. Andrei has ridden the capitalist choo-choo to considerable enrichment as the proprietor of luxury Western menswear shops. But single mother Olga, unlucky in love, just scrapes by, while married schoolteachers Lyuba and Boris are lucky to have inherited an apartment (cramped as it is) they could otherwise ill afford. Meanwhile Ruslan, once member of a famous punk band (which he abandoned on principal because it was getting “too commercial”), both disdains and resents the new order just as he did the old one. Home movies and old footage of pageantry celebrating Soviet socialist glory make a whole ‘nother era come to life in this intimate, unexpectedly charming portrait of its long-term aftermath. (1:27) Balboa. (Harvey)

*Page One: Inside the New York Times When Andrew Rossi’s documentary premiered at Sundance this January, word of mouth on it was respectable but qualified, with nearly everyone opining that it was good … just not what they’d been led to expect. What they expected was (in line with the original subtitle A Year Inside the New York Times) a top-to-bottom overview of how the nation’s most respected — and in some circles resented — arbiter of news, “style,” and culture is created on a day-to-day as well as longer term basis. That’s something that would doubtless fascinate anyone still interested in print media, or even that realm of web media not catering to the ADD nation. But that big picture and the wealth of minute cogs within isn’t Page One‘s subject. Instead, Rossi focuses on the Gray Lady’s wrestling with admittedly fast-changing times in which newspapers and any other information source on paper seem to constitute an endangered species. This particular Times, however, is such a special case that that crisis might better have been explored by training a camera on a less fabled publication, perhaps one of the many that have succumbed to a once unthinkable, market-shrunk mortality in recent years. The film finds its colorful protagonist in David Carr, an ex-crack addict turned media columnist who retains his cranky, nonconformist edge even as he defends the Times itself from the same out-with-the-old cheerleaders who 15 years ago were inflating the dot-com boom till it burst. Facing one particularly smug champion of the blogosphere at a forum, Carr notes that without a few remaining outlets — like the Times — doing the hard work of serious research and reportage, the web would have nothing to purloin or offer but its own unending trivia and gossip. Page One does what it does entertainingly well, but if you’re looking for insight toward this not-dead-yet U.S. institution as a whole, you’d be better off simply picking up this week’s Sunday edition and reading every last word. (1:28) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides The last time we saw rascally Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp), he was fighting his most formidable enemy yet: the potentially franchise-ending Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End (2007). The first Pirates movie (2003) was a surprise critical success, earning Depp his first-ever Oscar nomination; subsequent entries, though no less moneymaking, suffered from a detectable case of sequel-itis. Overseeing this reboot of sorts is director Rob Marshall (2002’s Chicago), who keeps the World’s End notion of sending Jack to find the Fountain of Youth, but adds in a raft of new faces, including Deadwood‘s Ian McShane (as Blackbeard) and lady pirate Penélope Cruz. The story is predictably over-the-top, with the expected supernatural elements mingling with sparring both sword-driven and verbal — as well as an underlying theme about faith that’s nowhere near as fun as the film’s lesser motifs (revenge, for one). It’s basically a big swirl of silly swashbuckling, nothing more or less. And speaking of Depp, the fact that the oft-ridiculous Sparrow is still an amusing character can only be chalked up to the actor’s own brand of untouchable cool. If it was anyone else, Sparrow’d be in Austin Powers territory by now. (2:05) SF Center. (Eddy)

*Super 8 The latest from J.J. Abrams is very conspicuously produced by Steven Spielberg; it evokes 1982’s E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial as well as 1985’s The Goonies and 1982’s Poltergeist (so Spielbergian in nature you’d be forgiven for assuming he directed, rather than simply produced, the pair). But having Grandpa Stevie blessing your flick is surely a good thing, especially when you’re already as capable as Abrams. Super 8 is set in 1979, high time for its titular medium, used by a group of horror movie-loving kids to film their backyard zombie epic; later in the film, old-school celluloid reveals the mystery behind exactly what escaped following a spectacular train wreck on the edge of their small Ohio town. The PG-13 Super 8 aims to frighten, albeit gently; there’s a lot of nostalgia afoot, and things do veer into sappiness at the end (that, plus the band of kids at its center, evoke the trademarks of another Grandpa Stevie: Stephen King). But the kid actors (especially the much-vaunted Elle Fanning) are great, and there’s palpable imagination and atmosphere afoot, rare qualities in blockbusters today. Super 8 tries, and mostly succeeds, in progressing the fears and themes addressed by E.T. (divorce, loneliness, growing up) into century 21, making the unknowns darker and the consequences more dire. (1:52) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Transformers: Dark of the Moon I’ll never understand the wisdom behind epic-length children’s movies. What child — or adult, for that matter — wants to sit through 154 minutes of assaultive popcorn entertainment? It’s an especially confounding decision for this third installment in the Transformers franchise because there’s a fantastic 90-minute movie in there, undone at every turn by some of the worst jokes, most pointless characters, and most hateful cultural politics you’re likely to see this summer. But when I say a fantastic movie, I mean a fantastic movie. It took two very expensive earlier attempts before director Michael Bay figured out that big things require a big canvas. Every shot of Dark of the Moon‘s predecessors seemed designed to hide their effects by crowding the screen. Finally we get the full view — the scale is now rightly calibrated to operatic and ridiculous. The marquee set pieces are inspired and terrifying, eliciting a sense of vertigo that’s earned for once, not imposed by the editing. The human hijinks are less consistent but ingratiatingly batshit, and without resorting to preening self-awareness and elaborately contrived mea culpas. But unfortunately Bay is too unapologetic even to walk back the ethnic buffoonery that not only upsets hippies like me but also seems defiantly disharmonious with the movie he’s trying to make. Bay is like that guy at the party who thinks amping up the racism will prove he’s not a racist. It’s that kind of garbage (plus, I guess, some universal primal hatred of Shia LaBeouf that I don’t really get) that makes people dismiss these movies wholesale. This time it’s just not deserved. I wouldn’t want to meet the asshole who made this thing, but credit where credit is due. It’s a visual marvel with perfectly integrated, utterly tactile, brilliantly choreographed CG robotics — a point that’ll no doubt be conceded in passing as if it’s not the very reason the movie exists. As if it’s not a feat of mastery to make a megaton changeling truck look graceful. (2:34) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Jason Shamai)

The Tree of Life Mainstream American films are so rarely adventuresome that overreactive gratitude frequently greets those rare, self-conscious, usually Oscar-baiting stabs at profundity. Terrence Malick has made those gestures so sparingly over four decades that his scarcity is widely taken for genius. Now there’s The Tree of Life, at once astonishingly ambitious — insofar as general addressing the origin/meaning of life goes — and a small domestic narrative artificially inflated to a maximally pretentious pressure-point. The thesis here is a conflict between “nature” (the way of striving, dissatisfied, angry humanity) and “grace” (the way of love, femininity, and God). After a while Tree settles into a fairly conventional narrative groove, dissecting — albeit in meandering fashion — the travails of a middle-class Texas household whose patriarch (a solid Brad Pitt) is sternly demanding of his three young sons. As a modern-day survivor of that household, Malick’s career-reviving ally Sean Penn has little to do but look angst-ridden while wandering about various alien landscapes. Set in Waco but also shot in Rome, at Versailles, and in Saturn’s orbit (trust me), The Tree of Life is so astonishingly self-important while so undernourished on some basic levels that it would be easy to dismiss as lofty bullshit. Its Cannes premiere audience booed and cheered — both factions right, to an extent. (2:18) California, Empire, Smith Rafael, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

*The Trip Eclectic British director Michael Winterbottom rebounds from sexually humiliating Jessica Alba in last year’s flop The Killer Inside Me to humiliating Steve Coogan in all number of ways (this time to positive effect) in this largely improvised comic romp through England’s Lake District. Well, romp might be the wrong descriptive — dubbed a “foodie Sideways” but more plaintive and less formulaic than that sun-dappled California affair, this TV-to-film adaptation displays a characteristic English glumness to surprisingly keen emotional effect. Playing himself, Coogan displays all the carefree joie de vivre of a colonoscopy patient with hemorrhoids as he sloshes through the gray northern landscape trying to get cell reception when not dining on haute cuisine or being wracked with self-doubt over his stalled movie career and love life. Throw in a happily married, happy-go-lucky frenemy (comic actor Rob Brydon) and Coogan (TV’s I’m Alan Partridge), can’t help but seem like a pathetic middle-aged prick in a puffy coat. Somehow, though, his confused narcissism is a perverse panacea. Come for the dueling Michael Caine impressions and snot martinis, stay for the scallops and Brydon’s “small man in a box” routine. (1:52) Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Devereaux)

Zookeeper (1:42) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

 

Criolla Kitchen

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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5
Criolla Kitchen

DINE The soft bigotry of low expectations — one of those marvelous phrases dreamed up by George W. Bush’s hardworking speechwriters, who fed him their words the way you would put junk mail through a shredder — was on my mind recently when I walked into Criolla Kitchen, which earlier this spring replaced Bagdad Cafe at the corner of Market and Sanchez streets. My expectations were low. Why? Because Bagdad Cafe was the last titan of mediocre 24-hour gay diners in the Castro. Oh, it had its charms, and it had been there forever, but people weren’t piling in for the food.

Still, when the old soldier mustered out at the end of March, I felt a pang, because it was one of the last memories of what the Castro once had been — for that matter of what this city had once been. And when I learned that it was to be replaced by a restaurant serving Creole food, I thought: eh. Bagdad Cafe, for all its winsome qualities, did leave the premises with the bar set on the low side food-wise, and Louisiana cooking has never been particularly well-represented here.

But: the man behind Criolla Kitchen is Randy Lewis, late of Mecca, Le Club, and other distinguished kitchens, so more optimism might have been warranted. Lewis’ food is brightly seasoned, full of life, and reasonably priced, while the setting — a triangle of light, a slice of glass pie with a flower stall on the sidewalk outside for color — recalls an early edition of Zuni Cafe.

It’s always seemed right to me, in a wistful sort of way, that we don’t have particularly distinguished Louisiana food here. This isn’t Louisiana, after all; if you want good Louisiana cooking, you should go there. The Cajun and Creole culinary traditions of the Mississippi delta are an authentic cuisine, a blend of French, Spanish, Caribbean, and African influences quite different from those that make up our own, also authentic — and distinctive — style.

The delta style is a little brighter and more pointed than ours — more Matisse than Monet — and because I am personally fond of extroverted food rendered in primary colors, I found myself bewitched by Criolla Kitchen. There is a lot of fried stuff on the menu, and why Southerners like to fry things so much remains a mystery to me. But they do it well, and it does taste good. I’ve heard people fret endlessly about eating too much of it, but I’ve never heard them say they don’t like it.

Besides, if you want hush puppies ($5.90), like little fried corn dogs except with shrimp inside, you can balance your account with the likes of the mirliton salad ($5.90). Mirliton is a cross between a cucumber and a pepper, and has a cool crunch and refreshing quality you might associate with sorbet. The salad was enriched with slices of ripe, creamy avocado, then lighted up with a well-balanced vinaigrette of lemon and cumin. As for the hush puppies, you dip them in a pickle rémoulade, a modified mayonnaise that’s a lot like what the French call sauce gribiche. It’s rich, but with enough acidity to make at least a slight dent in the hush puppy fattiness.

The ribs ($18.90), we were told, were slow-barbecued at an undisclosed location in the East Bay. I found them flavorful but slightly dry. The barbecue sauce on the side, on the other hand, had a pepperiness far more assertive than is typical of the commercially available stuff, which tends to be sweet and thick even if with some kick. This sauce was taut and lean, with low body fat. We also admired the accompanying sides of coleslaw (tangy, not sweet, and with long threads of green cabbage) and potato salad, made from smashed new potatoes and sober, direct mayonnaise. The importance of good mayonnaise in this kind of cooking can’t be overstated; it also made the difference (along with a tangy-fresh baguette) in the shrimp po’boy ($10.90).

All the juiciness absent from the ribs turned up in the fried chicken ($12.90), a full half-bird served with red beans and rice. Even the breast meat was juicy, while the skin and the artfully seasoned batter had fused into a shell that was an experience unto itself — almost like shards of savory candy.

Dessert could only be pecan pie ($3.90), which was not at all cloying and for that matter didn’t even really resemble a slice of pie — more a kind of crumble, with chunks and bits of pastry everywhere. We didn’t mind, but … is there such a thing as a pie shredder?

CRIOLLA KITCHEN

Dinner: Sun..–Thurs., 6–11 p.m.;

Fri.–Sat., 6 p.m.–midnight

Brunch: Sat.–Sun., 10:30 a.m.–2:30 p.m.

2295 Market, SF

(415) 552-5811

www.criollakitchen.com

Beer and wine

AE/DS/MC/V

Noisy

Wheelchair accessible

 

Music Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

Music listings are compiled by Cheryl Eddy. Since club life is unpredictable, it’s a good idea to call ahead to confirm bookings and hours. Prices are listed when provided to us. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks.

WEDNESDAY 6

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Bianca and the AMs 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Darwin Deez, Dirty Gold, Younger Lovers Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $12.

Free Moral Agents, Wild Pack of Canaries, Thousandnames Hotel Utah. 9pm, $6.

Maus Haus, Swahili Blonde, Gangi, Epic Sauce DJs Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $10.

Mental 99, Wesley Morgan Madrone Art Bar. 7pm, free. Every Wed. in July.

Anais Mitchell, Bhi Bhiman Slim’s. 9pm, $21.

Moonbell, Magic Christian, Antenna Elbo Room. 9pm, $6.

Eddie Neon Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Rosebuds, Other Lives Independent. 8pm, $14.

Tunnel, Aranya, Black Caucus Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $6.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Cat’s Corner with Nathan Dias and Christine Savanna Jazz. 9pm, $10.

Cosmo Alleycats Le Colonial, 20 Cosmo, SF; www.lecolonialsf.com. 7pm.

Dink Dink Dink, Gaucho, Michael Abraham Amnesia. 7pm, free.

Jazz organ party with Graham Connah Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Ben Marcato and the Mondo Combo Top of the Mark. 7:30pm, $10.

Jimmie Vaughan and the Tilt-a-Whirl Band Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8pm, $35.

DANCE CLUBS

Booty Call Q-Bar, 456 Castro, SF; www.bootycallwednesdays.com. 9pm. Juanita Moore hosts this dance party, featuring DJ Robot Hustle.

Buena Onda Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, free. Funk, swing, rare grooves, and more with Dr. Musco and guests.

Mary Go Round, the New Generation Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 10pm, $5. Drag with Suppositori Spelling, Mercedez Munro, and Ginger Snap.

No Room For Squares Som., 2925 16th St, SF; (415) 558-8521. 6-10pm, free. DJ Afrodite Shake spins jazz for happy hour.

THURSDAY 7

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Bit Shifter, Crashfaster, Glowing Stars, Starpause, Awkward Terrible DNA Lounge. 7pm, $16.

Blank Tapes, Collin Ludlow-Mattson and the Folks, Beehavers Amnesia. 9pm, $7-10. Presented by Seaweed Sway.

Buckethead, Wolff Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $30.

Vanessa Carlton Swedish American Hall (upstairs from Café Du Nord). 8pm, $25.

“George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic Birthday Funkathon” Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10:30pm, $50.

Karen Lovely Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Massive Moth, Soft Tags, Teenage Sweater Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7.

Moanin Dove, Audio Out Send, Beep Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

Morning Commute, Rad Cloud, All My Dead Young Friends Café Du Nord. 9pm, $10.

Rattle and Rye, Trainwreck Riders, Buxter Hoot’n, Quinn Deveaux Slim’s. 8pm, $15. With Fox and Woman, Jimmy Sweetwater, Robin DiCarlo, Jelal Huyler, and more.

Stalley and Reks Brick and Mortar Music Hall, 1710 Mission, SF; www.brickandmortarmusic.com. 9pm, $15.

State of Independence Dance Tour 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Gillian Welch Warfield. 8pm, $32.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Chives Red Poppy Art House. 8pm, $12-15.

Cosmo Alleycats with Ms. Emily Wade Adams Blondie’s, 540 Valencia, SF; (415) 864-2419. 9pm, free.

Dave Parker Quartet Purple Onion, 140 Columbus, SF; (415) 956-1653. 7:30-10:30pm, free.

Joe Cohen Show Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 8pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Organsm featuring Jim Gunderson and “Tender” Tim Shea Bollyhood Café. 6:30-9pm, free.

Soul jazz party with Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Stompy Jones Top of the Mark. 7:30pm, $10.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Heather Combs, Damond Moodie, Mike Gibbons, Kate Cotter Hotel Utah. 8pm, $8.

DANCE CLUBS

Afrolicious X Fex Elbo Room. 9:30pm, $5. Afrobeat, Tropicália, electro, samba, and funk with the Voo Doo Killer, DJ Newlife, J. Boogie, and B Maj.

Culture Corner Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; www.kokococktails.com. 10pm, free. Roots reggae, dub, rocksteady, and classic dancehall with DJ Tomas, Yusuke, Vinnie Esparza, and Basshaka and ILWF.

Electric Feel Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 9pm, $2. Indie music video dance party with DJs Blondie and subOctave.

Guilty Pleasures Gestalt, 3159 16th St, SF; (415) 560-0137. 9:30pm, free. DJ TophZilla, Rob Metal, DJ Stef, and Disco-D spin punk, metal, electro-funk, and 80s.

Josh Miller Jam Party Knockout. 9:30pm. With DJs Russell Quan, Erin McDermott, Chris McVicker, and Josh Miller.

1984 Mighty. 9pm, $2. The long-running New Wave and 80s party features video DJs Mark Andrus, Don Lynch, and celebrity guests.

Popscene Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $12. With Bass Drum of Death and DJs Aaron Axelsen and Omar.

Thursday Special Tralala Revolution Café, 3248 22nd St, SF; (415) 642-0474. 5pm, free. Downtempo, hip-hop, and freestyle beats by Dr. Musco and Unbroken Circle MCs.

Thursdays at the Cat Club Cat Club. 9pm, $6 (free before 9:30pm). Two dance floors bumpin’ with the best of 80s mainstream and underground with Dangerous Dan, Skip, Low Life, and guests.

Tropicana Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, free. Salsa, cumbia, reggaeton, and more with DJs Don Bustamante, Apocolypto, Sr. Saen, Santero, and Mr. E.

FRIDAY 8

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

AC/Dshe, Thunderbleed, Hell Fire Slim’s. 9pm, $15.

Buckethead, Wolff Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $30.

Graham Colton, J. Irvin Dally, Megan Bonnell Hotel Utah. 9pm, $14.

“George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic Birthday Funkathon” Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10:30pm, $50.

Graffiti6, Hundred Days, A Silent Film Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $12.

Guitar Shorty Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Reverend Horton Heat, Swingin’ Utters Independent. 9pm, $20.

Ian Fays, Sidewalk Society, Bowery Beasts, Golden Ghosts Knockout. 9pm, $7.

“Let Her Dance” Verdi Club, 2424 Mariposa, SF; www.letherdance.eventbrite.com. 8pm, $15. With Heidi Alexander, Grace Cooper, Quinn Deveaux, and others performing 60s hits.

MP Allstars 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

New Diplomat, Reckless Kind, Please Do Not Fight, DJ Huffy Elbo Room. 9:30pm, $8.

Riverboat Gamblers, Dead To Me, Off With Their Heads, Underground Railroad to Candyland, Big Kids Thee Parkside. 9pm, $12.

Soul of John Black Biscuits and Blues Union Room. 8:30 and 10:30pm, $20.

Sunbeam Road, Bassturd, Coolzey Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $8.

Tracing Figures, Yomihara, Your Cannons, Caught in Motion Café Du Nord. 9pm, $10.

Trophy Fire, Bruises, Hate Factory, Eighteen Individual Eyes Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Black Market Jazz Orchestra Top of the Mark. 9pm, $10.

Dan Heffez Trio Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 9pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Soul jazz party with Jules Broussard and Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Vaughan Johnson Jazz Combo Jack’s Club, 2545 24th St., SF; (415) 641-1880. 7pm, free.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

La Gente Red Poppy Art House. 9pm, $12-15.

DANCE CLUBS

Afro Bao Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

“Benefit for Cheb I Sabbah” 1015 Folsom, SF; www.chebisabbah.com. 9pm, $15 and up. With artists from Anon Salon, Hookahdome, Opel Productions, Non Stop Bhangra, Six Degrees Records, and more.

Blow Up DNA Lounge. 10pm, $20. With Jessica 6, Jeffrey Paradise, and Austy Pantz.

Lee Foss, Tim Sweeney, Le Loup Public Works, 161 Erie, SF; www.publicsf.com. 10pm, $8-12. House, funk, techno, and disco; also with Eug, Jason Kendig, and Briski.

Tipper, VibeSquaD, Dov, Hypnotech Regency Ballroom. 9pm, $28. With visuals by Johnathan Singer.

Vintage Orson, 508 Fourth St, SF; (415) 777-1508. 5:30-11pm, free. DJ TophOne and guest spin jazzy beats for cocktalians.

SATURDAY 9

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Absent Society, Name, Ashkira, Memento Mori Slim’s. 9pm, $14.

Catholic Radio, Crazies Will Destroy You, Yalpine Hotel Utah. 9pm, $8.

Finish Ticket, Happy Body Slow Brain, Bird By Bird, PK Bottom of the Hill. 8:30pm, $12.

“George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic Birthday Funkathon” Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10:30pm, $50.

Reverend Horton Heat, Swingin’ Utters Independent. 9pm, $20.

Leaders, Midnite Snaxxx, Uzi Rash, Slam Dunk Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $7.

Rod Piazza and the Mighty Flyers Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $22.

Soul of John Black Brick and Mortar Music Hall, 1710 Mission, SF; www.brickandmortarmusic.com. 9pm, $10.

Static Sound, Imaginary Colors Thee Parkside. 4pm, free.

TYGA, Mindless Behavior, Lil Twist, Jawan Harris, Travante Fillmore. 7pm, $28.50.

Washed Out, Class Actress, Chain Gang of 1974 Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $16.

West Coast Ramblers, Slim Jenkins, Stillmen Café Du Nord. 9pm, $10.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Jazz organ party with Graham Connah Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Mike Hirsch Trio Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 9pm, free.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Lamont Cole and Rebekah Todd Red Poppy Art House. 9pm, $10-15.

Robin Lovejoy 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Queen Ifrica and Tony Rebel Rock-It Room. 9pm, $20.

DANCE CLUBS

Afro Bao Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

Bootie SF DNA Lounge. 9pm, $8-15. Mash-ups with guest Victor Menegaux.

Cockblock Rickshaw Stop. 10pm, $8-10. With Natalie Nuxx.

Fly Me to the Moon Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; www.kokococktails.com. 9:30pm, free. Sixties soul, girl groups, and garage with DJs Amy A and DJ the DJ.

Smithsfits Friend Club Knockout. 9:30pm, $4. Smiths and Misfits with DJs Josh Ghoul and Jay Howell.

Tormenta Tropical Elbo Room. 10pm, $5-10. Electro cumbia with DJs Shawn Reynaldo and Oro11.

SUNDAY 10

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Pete Anderson Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Brother Pacific, That Ghost, Cool Ghouls Hotel Utah. 9pm, $6.

“George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic Birthday Funkathon” Yoshi’s San Francisco. 7 and 9:30pm, $50.

“Gorilla Takeover” DNA Lounge. 5:30pm. Battle of the Bands with Krawl, Thy Winter Shadow, and more.

Drew Grow and Pastors’ Wives, Winnie Byrd, Chineke Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7.

“JAMband Family Festival” Park Chalet, 1000 Great Hwy, SF; www.jamjamjam.com. 11am, free. With Charity and the JAMband, plus Rhythm Child.

Anya Marina, How Café Du Nord. 8pm, $12.

Ian Moore and the Lossy Coils, Bare Wires, Lotus Moon Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $12.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

“After the End of the World Concert” Musicians’ Union Hall, 116 Ninth St, SF; www.noertker.com. 7:30pm, $10. With Annelise Zamula, Tracy McMullen, Bill Noertker, and Dave Mihaly.

Lua Hadar, Aaron Germain, Jason Martineau Bliss Bar, 4026 24th St, SF; www.blissbarsf.com. 4:30-7:30pm, $10.

Jazz organ party with Lavay Smith and Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 7pm.

Sheelagh Murphy Martuni’s, Four Valencia, SF; www.dragatmartunis.com. 7pm, $7.

Rob Evans Trio Rose Pistola, 532 Columbus, SF; www.rosepistola.com. 5:30pm, free.

Sunday Jazz Jam 50 Mason Social House, 50 Mason, SF; www.50masonsocialhouse.com. 9pm, free.

Tom Lander Duo Medjool, 2522 Mission, SF; www.medjoolsf.com. 6-9pm, free.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

AfroCubanism and Pellejo Seco Sigmund Stern Grove, 19th Ave at Sloat, SF; www.sterngrove.org. 2pm, free.

Lee Vilensky Trio Thee Parkside. 4pm, free.

DANCE CLUBS

Batcave Cat Club. 10pm, $5. Death rock, goth, and post-punk with Steeplerot Necromos and c_death.

Dub Mission Elbo Room. 9pm, $6. Dub, roots, and classic dancehall with DJ Sep and guests Robert Rankin’ and Spliff Skankin’.

Jock Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 3pm, $2. Raise money for LGBT sports teams while enjoying DJs and drink specials.

La Pachanga Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF; www.thebluemacawsf.com. 6pm, $10. Salsa dance party with live Afro-Cuban salsa bands.

Tropical Hot Dog Night Knockout. 10pm, free. Mutant disco and post-punk with DJs Placentina and Lady of the Night.

MONDAY 11

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

John Doe and Jill Sobule Café Du Nord. 8pm, $20.

Guverment, Illusion of Self, Illness Elbo Room. 9pm, $6.

DANCE CLUBS

Death Guild DNA Lounge. 9:30pm, $3-5. Gothic, industrial, and synthpop with Joe Radio, Decay, and Melting Girl.

M.O.M. Madrone Art Bar. 6pm, free. DJs Timoteo Gigante, Gordo Cabeza, and Chris Phlek playing all Motown every Monday.

Sausage Party Rosamunde Sausage Grill, 2832 Mission, SF; (415) 970-9015. 6:30-9:30pm, free. DJ Dandy Dixon spins vintage rock, R&B, global beats, funk, and disco at this happy hour sausage-shack gig.

TUESDAY 12

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Bees Table, Gunfighter Nation, Jiggabits, Parentz Hotel Utah. 8pm, $6.

Fat Tuesday Band Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Oslo, Violet Isle, Hosannas Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

Pacific Pride, Goochi Boiz, Western Hymn, Wild Assumptions Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7.

School of Rock All-Stars Rickshaw Stop. 6:30pm, $20.

Our Weekly Picks, July 6-12, 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

WEDNESDAY 6

DANCE/THEATER

Project Bust

Malinda LaVelle’s Project Bust tackles tits and ass without A Chorus Line. Presented as part of the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance’s second annual Summer Dance Series, Project Bust is the culmination of 18 months of research and creation with eight women in their 20s. A group of SF Conservatory of Dance-trained performers make up LaVelle’s company, Project Thrust, and for this evening-length dance theater work, they address some of the ups and downs of being young and female. This fresh crew marries athletic prowess with a fearless attitude, and their work is not complete without a competitive pillow fight. (Julie Potter)

Wed/6 and Aug. 3, 8 p.m., $15

Z Space

450 Florida, SF

(415) 626-0453

www.zspace.org

 

MUSIC

Rosebuds

Honestly, talking about this band at all makes me feel creepy. I blame their publicist. Since the release of The Rosebuds Make Out and over the course of four albums, Ivan Howard and Kelly Crisp were not just a band, they were married. Ideally, they were in love. It’s the sort of biographical information that can’t be glossed, but also overwhelmingly frames the musical relationship. Now that the pair are divorced, is their new album, Loud Planes Fly Low, truly as plaintively sad as it sounds? Onstage is it just an act? Does Howard seem happier in GAYNGS? Maybe Crisp’s latest blog post has the answers. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Other Lives

8 p.m., $14

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

 

THURSDAY 7

FILM

San Francisco Frozen Film Festival

San Francisco has more film festivals than people I think. But — like the star of Last Fast Ride: The Life, Love, and Death of a Punk Goddess — the San Francisco Frozen Film Festival stands out from the pack. Last Fast Ride, which is screening at the fest, documents the late Marion Anderson: dominatrix, performance artist, and native San Franciscan whose stint as lead vocalist of the Insaints (and arrest at 924 Gilman; hint: it involves nudity and a banana) will forever secure her legacy as one of the wildest and most outspoken women ever to pick up a microphone. Also screening at the festival are several enormously varied collections of short films, as well as other full-length documentaries including Color Me Obsessed: A Film About the Replacements and Ocean Monk, which follows the surfing disciples of weightlifting spiritualist Sri Chinmoy. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

Thurs/7–Sat/9, $11

Roxie Theater

3117 16th St., SF

(415) 863-1087

www.frozenfilmfestival.com

 

VISUAL ART

“Chroma: About Color”

The summer months call for color and spontaneity; the newest exhibit at Cain Schulte Contemporary Art offers both. Tonight’s opening reception rings in a monthlong show featuring bright hues rendered in all kinds of media by five different artists. The gallery consistently spotlights artists on the rise and those just hitting their stride. This show is no different. Jessica Snow displays pieces on canvas and paper; Carrie Seid uses aluminum and silk; David Buckingham constructs with metal; Joel Hoyer with panel; and Eileen Goldenberg encaustic works. Don’t be blue if you can’t make it tonight: the art is on display for most of the summer. (David Getman)

Through Aug. 20

5:30–7:30 p.m., free

Cain Schulte Contemporary Art

251 Post, SF

(415) 543-1550

www.cainschulte.com

 

THEATER

Act One, Scene Two

Here’s a unique idea from a theater company that takes its name to heart: Un-Scripted’s Act One, Scene Two, which every night hosts a different playwright wielding an unfinished script. After an onstage debriefing with the author, the company takes the stage to perform the first scene from the first act, reading through the lines for the first time. The flyin’-by-the-seats-of-our-pants theme continues as Un-Scripted shifts to full-on improv mode, finishing out the play using their own wits but guided by information shared by the writer in that on-stage interview about his or her writing process, influences, etc. Sophisticated spontaneity (and likely some decent doses of impulsive humor) awaits. (Cheryl Eddy)

Through Aug. 20

Thurs.–Sat., 8 p.m., $10–$20

SF Playhouse, Stage Two

533 Sutter, SF

(415) 869-5384

www.un-scripted.com

 

FRIDAY 8

FILM

“Watching Big Brother: A Tribute to the Summer of 1984”

Ah, 1984: “Like a Virgin,” Boy George, Mary Lou Retton, Ronald Reagan — er, anyway. Politics aside, it was a magnificent year if you were an elementary-school kid obsessed with pausing the VCR to better analyze each second of every new Duran Duran video. The movies from 1984 weren’t too shabby, either, with a top 10 filled with now-classics: Ghostbusters, Beverly Hills Cop, Footloose … trust me, you’ve seen ’em all. Midnites for Maniacs salutes one of the greatest years for film (suck it, 1939) with a two-day cinematic throwdown. The event’s title, “Watching Big Brother,” nods to the Orwellian tone of the times, but the films are (mostly) pure fun, from big hits like Gremlins and The Karate Kid to more culty choices: The Pope of Greenwich Village, starring the original faces of Eric Roberts and Mickey Rourke; immortal sci-fi new-wave nugget The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension; and a Midnites for Maniacs favorite, Diane Lane punk-noir musical relic Streets of Fire. (Eddy)

Fri/8, 7:30 p.m.; Sat/9, 2:30 p.m., $12–$13

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.castrotheatre.com

 

MUSIC

“Let Her Dance”

How high can your hair go? Like, 1962 high? Better get to back-combing, because “Let Her Dance” is a recreation of a prom circa the early ’60s, with a lineup of local musicians crooning tunes from the era (think Ike and Tina, the Bobby Fuller Four, Curtis Mayfield, and the like). The elegant Verdi Club, which could actually serve as a prom venue, has a big dance floor, so you can twist, mashed-potato, watusi, and frug to the sounds of DJ Primo Pitmo, plus Heidi Alexander and Grace Cooper (the Sandwitches), Shannon “And the Clams” Shaw, Quinn Deveaux, and others breathing new life into retro jams, with back-up help from the Goldstar Band. (Eddy)

8 p.m., $15

Verdi Club

2424 Mariposa, SF

www.letherdance.eventbrite.com

 

MUSIC

Limp Wrist

As punk rock begins yet another agonizing mutation into a marketable consumer good, a process that seems to ebb and flow with each passing lustrum, it’s easy to forget that bands can still be fierce. With a fearsome live show (I have seen the band rip a microphone cord in half, which, if you’ve ever tried — though I don’t know why you would — ou know is not easy) and songs like “I Love Hardcore Boys, I Love Boys Hardcore” and “Recruiting Time,” Limp Wrist strikes terror into the hearts of homophobes everywhere with wit, intelligence, and wicked-fast power chords. Vocalist Martin, also of the infamous Los Crudos, is a hairy-chested, short-shorts-wearing bomb who goes off when drum blasts start and queercore reaches its blitzkrieg zenith. (Berkmoyer)

With Drapetomania and Brilliant Colors

9 p.m., $7

El Rio

3158 Mission, SF

(415) 282-3325

www.elriosf.com

 

MUSIC

“The Tipper Sound Experience!”

There is an arms race taking place right now in the electronic music scene. The DJ booth has become a launching pad for a complete sensory assault. Tipper is not new to the fight, having built up a reputation by stuffing cars with a dangerous quantity of speakers (Funktion Ones — only the best), and blowing up crowds. This latest project not only continues the weaponization of glitchy breakbeats and wobbly down- tempo, but escalates it through Tipper’s extensive research into holographic surround sound, for 360 degrees of musical bombardment. (Prendiville)

With VibesquaD, Dov, and Hypnotech; visuals by Johnathan Singer

9 p.m., $25–$40

Regency Ballroom

1300 Van Ness, SF

1-800-745-3000

www.theregencyballroom.com

 

MUSIC

“A Benefit for Cheb I Sabbah”

Algerian-born DJ turned world musician Cheb I Sabbah been a part of San Francisco’s music scene since the 1980s; he’s the kind of innovative, constantly evolving musician who can’t help but influence other creative types he’s met along the way. That community, as well as his many fans, are uniting to help Cheb I, who is uninsured, cover medical bills after a devastating diagnosis of stage four stomach cancer. As you might suspect, the benefit boasts a massive lineup, with artists drawn from Anon Salon, Hookahdome, Opel Productions, Non Stop Bhangra, and Six Degrees Records, plus Fat Chance Bellydance dancers and DJs Syd Gris, Janaka Selecta, Turbo Tabla, DJ Sep, and many more. There will also be a raffle (win private belly dance lessons!) and if you can’t make the show, you can donate directly to the cause at Cheb I’s website. (Eddy)

9 p.m.–4 a.m., $15 and up

1015 Folsom, SF

www.chebisabbah.com


SATURDAY 9

EVENT

“Ugly Sweater Scavenger Hunt”

CLASH’s Ugly Sweater Scavenger Hunt finally gives you an excuse to bust out that Christmas gift from Grandma on a summer Saturday night. The hunt is stitched together by so-bad-it’s-good fashion, flowing alcohol, and scavenger accomplishments beamed in by social networking. Four to six people team up to complete funky challenges that might include coercing clues from characters planted in the city, thumb wrestling children, and sparking impromptu street dance parties. CLASH (which stands for California League of Adult Scavenger Hunters) pledges to “avoid the raunchy” but warns of a “light suggestive undertone at times” to shake things up. Luckily, anyone age 21 to 87 is welcome, so feel free to bring along the original gifter! (Getman)

8 p.m., $20

Blackthorn Tavern

834 Irving, SF

(415) 623-9629

www.clashsf.com 


The Guardian listings deadline is two weeks prior to our Wednesday publication date. To submit an item for consideration, please include the title of the event, a brief description of the event, date and time, venue name, street address (listing cross streets only isn’t sufficient), city, telephone number readers can call for more information, telephone number for media, and admission costs. Send information to Listings, the Guardian Building, 135 Mississippi St., SF, CA 94107; fax to (415) 487-2506; or e-mail (paste press release into e-mail body — no text attachments, please) to listings@sfbg.com. Digital photos may be submitted in jpeg format; the image must be at least 240 dpi and four inches by six inches in size. We regret we cannot accept listings over the phone.

Rep Clock

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Schedules are for Wed/6–Tues/12 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double and triple features are marked with a •. All times are p.m. unless otherwise specified.

BALBOA 3620 Balboa, SF; www.balboamovies.com. $20. “Opera, Ballet, and Shakespeare in Cinema:” Love’s Labours Lost, performed at the Globe Theater, Sat-Sun, 10am.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $7.50-13. •Out of the Past (Tourneur, 1947), Wed, 3:15, 7, and The Night of the Hunter (Laughton, 1955), Wed, 5, 8:55. Cave of Forgotten Dreams (Herzog, 2010), Thurs, 3, 5, 7, 9. “Watching Big Brother: A Tribute to the Summer of 1984: Day One” •The Last Starfighter (Castle, 1984), Fri, 7:30; Gremlins (Columbus, 1984), Fri, 9:45; and The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (Richter, 1984), Fri, 11:59; “Day Two:” •Cloak and Dagger (Franklin, 1984), Sat, 2:30; The Karate Kid (Avildsen, 1984), Sat, 4:45; Red Dawn (Milius, 1984), Sat, 7:15; The Pope of Greenwich Village (Rosenberg, 1984), Sat, 9:45; and Streets of Fire (Hill, 1984), Sat, 11:59. “Marc Huestis Presents: I Dream of Barbara Eden:” 7 Faces of Dr. Lao (Pal, 1964), Sun, noon; Gala Event with on-stage interview, performances, and more, Sun, 8. Tickets for the Gala Event, $25-45 at (415) 863-0611 or www.ticketfly.com.

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $10.25. Buck (Meehl, 2011), call for dates and times. Page One (Rossi, 2011), call for dates and times. The Tree of Life (Malick, 2011), call for dates and times. The Trip (Winterbottom, 2010), call for dates and times. Mann vs. Ford (Chermayeff, 2011), Wed, 7. With director Maro Chermayeff and producer James Redford in person. Swan Lake, performed by the Bolshoi Ballet, Thurs, 7; Sun, 1. The Big Uneasy (Shearer, 2011), Mon, 7:15. With director Harry Shearer in person; this event, $15.

“FILM NIGHT IN THE PARK” This week: Creek Park, 451 Sir Francis Drake, San Anselmo; (415) 272-2756, www.filmnight.org. Donations accepted. ) Beatles movie TBA, Fri, 8.

FOUR STAR 2200 Clement, SF; www.lntsf.com. $10. “Asian Movie Madness” •Torrid Wave (Lin, 1982), and Sex and Zen III (Min, 1998), Thurs, call for times.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; (415) 393-0100, rsvp@milibrary.org. $10. “CinemaLit Film Series: Music and Nostalgia:” Oh! What a Lovely War (Attenborough, 1969), Fri, 6.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, www.bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “Japanese Divas:” Twenty-Four Eyes (Kinoshita, 1954), Wed, 7; Carmen Comes Home (Kinoshita, 1951), Thurs, 7 and Sat, 6:30: When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (Naruse, 1960), Sat, 8:20; •Woman of Tokyo (Ozu, 1933) and A Hen in the Wind (Ozu, 1948), Sun, 5. “Bernardo Bertolucci: In Search of Mystery:” Before the Revolution (1964), Fri, 7; The Grim Reaper (1962), Fri, 9:10; The Spider’s Stratagem (1970), Sun, 7:45.

PARAMOUNT 2025 Broadway, Oakl; 1-800-745-3000, www.ticketmaster.com. $5. National Velvet (Brown, 1944), Fri, 8.

RED VIC 1727 Haight, SF; (415) 668-3994; www.redvicmoviehouse.com. $6-10. Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958), Wed, 2, 7, 9:25. Circo (Schock, 2010), Thurs-Fri, 7:15, 9:15. Poster sale, noon-6pm. “An Evening with Jonathan Richman:” Vengo (Gatliff, 2000), Sat, 8. Babe (Noonan, 1995), Sun-Mon, 7:15, 9:15 (also Sun, 2, 4). What’s Up Doc? (Bogdanovich, 1972), July 12-13, 7:15, 9:20 (also July 13, 2).

RIALTO CINEMAS ELMWOOD 2966 College, Berk; (510) 433-9730, www.rialtocinemas.com. $5-10. The Big Uneasy (Shearer, 2011), July 8-14, call for times.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $5-9.75. Happy (Belic, 2011), Wed-Thurs, 7, 8:30. Viva Riva! (Munga, 2010), Wed, 7, 9. “San Francisco School of Digital Filmmaking Graduating Class ’11 Presents: Love the Shorts,” Thurs, 7, 9. “San Francisco Frozen Film Festival,” Thurs-Sat. Visit www.frozenfilmfestival.com for tickets and info. The Big Uneasy (Shearer, 2011), Sun-Mon, 7, 9 (also Sun, 3, 5). “Where Did That Come From?,” illustrated lecture with Bill Nichols, 7. For tickets ($20), visit www.sffs.org.

“TEMESCAL STREET CINEMA 2011” 49th St at Telegraph, Oakl; www.temescalstreetcinema.com. Free. D-Tour (Granato, 2009), Thurs, 8:45. With music by Pancho San at 8pm.

VIZ CINEMA New People, 1746 Post, SF; www.vizcinema.com. $15. Das Boot (Petersen, 1981), Thurs, 6. Restored and remastered director’s cut version of the film in honor of its 30th anniversary, with producer Ortwin Freyermuth in person. VORTEX ROOM 1082 Howard, SF; www.myspace.com/thevortexroom. $5 donation. “The United States of Vortex:” •Wild in the Streets (Shear, 1968), Thurs, 9, and The Werewolf of Washington (Ginsberg, 1973), Thurs, 11.

Dearly beloved

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Dearly beloved

Pop historians have praised Prince’s 1984 Purple Rain as the greatest soundtrack of all time, the greatest album of the 1980s, and even the greatest album (full stop) of all time. Fans agree — the Oscar-winning platter has sold more than 13 million copies.

Purple Rain, the movie, occupies another space entirely — it’s a time capsule of the big-hair, tight-pants era. Far from a forgotten footnote to the Purple Rain album, however, the movie has emerged as a full-fledged cult classic. Naturally, this means it’s a favorite of Peaches Christ, who’ll be feting the movie in royal style this weekend. The film’s leading lady, actor-musician Apollonia, who still performs and also runs her own production company, will appear in person. I spoke with her from the shores of Lake Minnetonka — er, Los Angeles — ahead of her San Francisco visit.

SFBG One of the highlights at the Castro event is sure to be the costume contest. Do you have any ’80s fashion regrets?

Apollonia I think my fashion regret was wearing, like, lace leggings. I wore those with undies underneath for a TV show in Mexico. They looked great in person. You know, sometimes you wear things and you look in the mirror and you go, “Oh man, this is kickin’.” Then I saw it on TV and I was like, “Oh shit, what the hell did I just do?” It was baaad. [Laughs.]

SFBG I’m sure Purple Rain fans always ask about your relationship with Prince.

A The funniest thing — a bit annoying, too — is that a lot of people will ask, “I want to buy tickets for the Prince concert, can you get me better seats?” [Laughs.] And these are just innocent fans who don’t know better. [I also get] “Did you guys date? Were you married?” No, we never dated. We were not married. I’m not the drummer, I’m not the ex-wife. I’m the actor that was in the movie!

SFBG How was Prince to work with? Do you keep in touch?

A He’s funny, great personality. Musical genius. We don’t see each other every month, but we [performed together] at the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood maybe two years ago. I always tell friends, you know, forever it’s Ike and Tina, Sonny and Cher, and Prince and Apollonia. I could see people’s faces, they were freaked out watching us!

SFBG Do you have a favorite memory of working on Purple Rain?

A It was all hard work, but I enjoyed it from day one — and going to the Oscars, which was wild! Just being part of music folklore — it’s an iconic movie and I’m honored to have been part of it. 

PURPLE RAIN

Fri/1, 8 p.m., $25–$43

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

www.peacheschrist.com

 

Rep Clock

Maria Poblet
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Schedules are for Wed/29–Tues/5 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double and triple features are marked with a •. All times are p.m. unless otherwise specified.

BALBOA 3620 Balboa, SF; www.balboamovies.com. $20. “Opera, Ballet, and Shakespeare in Cinema:” Rigoletto, performed by Placido Domingo, Wed, 7:30.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $7.50-10. •The Blue Angel (von Sternberg, 1930), Wed, 3, 7, and The Devil is a Woman (von Sternberg, 1935), Wed, 5:15, 9. Beautiful Darling: The Life and Times of Candy Darling, Andy Warhol Superstar (Rasin, 2010), Thurs, 7, 9:15. “Peaches Christ presents:” Purple Rain (Magnoli, 1984), Fri, 8. With star Apollonia in person; for tickets ($23) and more info, visit www.peacheschrist.com. “Scary Cow’s 14th Indie Film Festival,” Sat, 3. For more info, visit www.scarycow.com. Call for Sun-Tues program info.

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $10.25. Buck (Meehl, 2011), call for dates and times. The Tree of Life (Malick, 2011), call for dates and times. The Trip (Winterbottom, 2010), call for dates and times. Page One (Rossi, 2011), July 1-7, call for times.

“FILM NIGHT IN THE PARK” This week: Creek Park, 451 Sir Francis Drake, San Anselmo; (415) 272-2756, www.filmnight.org. Donations accepted. Breaking Away (Yates, 1979), Fri, 8; The Princess Bride (Reiner, 1987), Sat, 8.

FOUR STAR 2200 Clement, SF; www.lntsf.com. $10. “Asian Movie Madness” •Ip Man 2 (Yip, 2010), and Tiger Cage 2 (Yuen, 1990), Thurs, call for times.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, www.bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “Arthur Penn: A Liberal Helping:” The Missouri Breaks (1976), Wed, 7. “Japanese Divas:” The Life of Oharu (Mizoguchi, 1952), Thurs, 7; Rashomon (Kurosawa, 1950), Sat, 6:30; Sansho the Bailiff (Mizoguchi, 1954), Sat, 8:20. “Going South: American Noir in Mexico:” Ride the Pink Horse (Montgomery, 1947), Fri, 7; Where Danger Lives (Farrow, 1950), Fri, 9:10.

RED VIC 1727 Haight, SF; (415) 668-3994; www.redvicmoviehouse.com. $6-10. Orgasm Inc. (Canning, 2011), Wed-Thurs, 7:15, 9:15. Rango (Verbinski, 2011), Fri-Sun, 7:15, 9:20 (also Sat-Sun, 2, 4:15). Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958), July 5-6, 7, 9:25 (also July 6, 2).

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $5-9.75. Making the Boys (Robey, 2009), Wed, 9; Thurs, 9:15. Meek’s Cutoff (Reichardt, 2010), Wed, 7. “San Francisco United Film Festival,” Wed-Thurs, 6. Yoga Is (Bryant, 2011), Thurs, 7. Happy (Belic, 2011), Fri-Sun, 7, 8:30 (also Sat-Sun, 3:30, 5:15); July 4-7, 7 and 9.

SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY Koret Auditorium, 100 Larkin, SF; www.greenplanetfilms.org. Free. Green (Rouxel, 2009), Wed, 6:15.

“TEMESCAL STREET CINEMA 2011” 49th St at Telegraph, Oakl; www.temescalstreetcinema.com. Free. “Animation + Experimentation,” short films, Thurs, 8:45. With music by Amber Gougis at 8pm.

TOP OF THE MARK InterContinental Mark Hopkins, One Nob Hill, SF; www.topofthemark.com. Free. Dirty Harry (Siegel, 1971), Tues, 7:30. YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS 701 Mission, SF; (415) 978-2787, www.ybca.org. $6-8. Centre Forward (Pak, 1978/2010), Thurs, 7:30.

Music Listings

Maria Poblet
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Music listings are compiled by Cheryl Eddy. Since club life is unpredictable, it’s a good idea to call ahead to confirm bookings and hours. Prices are listed when provided to us. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks.

WEDNESDAY 29

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Autumn Sky, Rabbit Quinn Hotel Utah. 8pm, $10.

Bell’s Roar, Quiet Coyote El Rio. 9pm, $5.

Burlap to Cashmere, Rob Drabkin Café Du Nord. 8pm, $10.

La Corde, Octant, Tender Frame Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $6.

Drift, Il Gato, Matinees Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $8.

Dropkick Murphys, Chuck Ragan, Parkington Sisters Warfield. 7:30pm, $32.

David Landon Biscuits and Blues. 8 and10pm, $15.

Lumps, Th Mrcy Hot Sprngs, Meat Packers Knockout. 10pm, $5.

Magical School Bus, Viking Moses, Assateague, Eriksen Goetz Kimo’s. 9pm, $6.

Vows, Rosa Grande, Cellar Doors Elbo Room. 9pm, $6.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Cat’s Corner with Nathan Dias and Christine Savanna Jazz. 9pm, $10.

Cosmo Alleycats Le Colonial, 20 Cosmo, SF; www.lecolonialsf.com. 7pm.

Dink Dink Dink, Gaucho, Michael Abraham Amnesia. 7pm, free.

“Guerrilla Cabaret” Martuni’s, 4 Valencia, SF; www.dragatmartunis.com. 7pm, $5. With Tom Shaw Trio.

Jazz organ party with Graham Connah Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Ben Marcato and the Mondo Combo Top of the Mark. 7:30pm, $10.

Michael Parsons Revolution Café, 3248 22nd St, SF; (415) 642-0474. 8:30pm, free.

Quartet San Francisco Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8pm, $20.

DANCE CLUBS

Booty Call Q-Bar, 456 Castro, SF; www.bootycallwednesdays.com. 9pm. Juanita Moore hosts this dance party, featuring DJ Robot Hustle.

Buena Onda Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, free. Funk, swing, rare grooves, and more with Dr. Musco and guests.

Full-Step! Tunnel Top. 10pm, free. Hip-hop, reggae, soul, and funk with DJs Kung Fu Chris and Bizzi Wonda.

Mary Go Round, the New Generation Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 10pm, $5. Drag with Suppositori Spelling, Mercedez Munro, and Ginger Snap.

No Room For Squares Som., 2925 16th St, SF; (415) 558-8521. 6-10pm, free. DJ Afrodite Shake spins jazz for happy hour.

 

THURSDAY 30

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

A B and the Sea, Young Digerati Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $10. With Popscene DJs.

Devil’s Own, Sweet Chariot, Gypsy Moonlight Band Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $8.

Bobby Joe Ebola and the Children MacNuggets, Dead Westerns, Reaction, Emily’s Army, Freedom Club Thee Parkside. 9:30pm, $8.

Emily Anne, Patsychords, Bye and Byes Café Du Nord. 8pm, $10.

Female Trouble, Laura Jean, Tomorrow Men El Rio. 8pm, $7.

Hashishen Knockout. 9:30pm.

Howlin Rain, Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound, Meg Baird Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $8.

Dom Kennedy, DJ Jack Slim’s. 8pm, $18.

Johnny Rawls Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Sir Lord Von Raven, Apache, Warm Blood Amnesia. 9pm, $7-10.

Tubes Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8pm, $28.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Cosmo Alleycats with Ms. Emily Wade Adams Blondie’s, 540 Valencia, SF; (415) 864-2419. 9pm, free.

Dave Parker Quartet Purple Onion, 140 Columbus, SF; (415) 956-1653. 7:30-10:30pm, free.

Dave Scott Quartet Revolution Café, 3248 22nd St, SF; (415) 642-0474. 8:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Organsm featuring Jim Gunderson and “Tender” Tim Shea Bollyhood Café. 6:30-9pm, free.

Pink Martini with San Francisco Symphony Davies Symphony Hall, 201 Van Ness, SF; www.sfsymphony.org. 8pm, $20-115.

Savanna Jazz Jam Session Savanna Jazz. 7:30pm, $5.

Soul jazz party with Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Stompy Jones Top of the Mark. 7:30pm, $10.

DANCE CLUBS

Afrolicious Elbo Room. 9:30pm, $5. DJs Pleasuremaker and Señor Oz spin Afrobeat, Tropicália, electro, samba, and funk.

Club Cornhole Stud. 9pm, $3.99. With DJ Phatima Unclear, DJ MF, Lady Bear, Broads, Joan Crawford’s Old Baguettes, and more.

Culture Corner Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; www.kokococktails.com. 10pm, free. Roots reggae, dub, rocksteady, and classic dancehall with DJ Tomas, Yusuke, Vinnie Esparza, and Basshaka and ILWF.

Guilty Pleasures Gestalt, 3159 16th St, SF; (415) 560-0137. 9:30pm, free. DJ TophZilla, Rob Metal, DJ Stef, and Disco-D spin punk, metal, electro-funk, and 80s.

1984 Mighty. 9pm, $2. The long-running New Wave and 80s party features video DJs Mark Andrus, Don Lynch, and celebrity guests.

Supersonic Bollyhood Café. 10pm, $5. Fly the friendly skies with SF’s Tasty Crew, spinning wold beats from the Balkans, Brazil, Colombia, and more.

Thursday Special Tralala Revolution Café, 3248 22nd St, SF; (415) 642-0474. 5pm, free. Downtempo, hip-hop, and freestyle beats by Dr. Musco and Unbroken Circle MCs.

Thursdays at the Cat Club Cat Club. 9pm, $6 (free before 9:30pm). Two dance floors bumpin’ with the best of 80s mainstream and underground with Dangerous Dan, Skip, Low Life, and guests.

Tropicana Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, free. Salsa, cumbia, reggaeton, and more with DJs Don Bustamante, Apocolypto, Sr. Saen, Santero, and Mr. E.

 

FRIDAY 1

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Battlehooch, Ghost and the City, Sun Hop Fat, Panhandlers Independent. 9pm, $13.

Grady Champion Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Donkeys, He’s My Brother She’s My Sister, Red Pony Clock Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $8.

Giant Squid, Judgement Day, Cormorant Thee Parkside. 9pm, $8.

Group Doueh, Nick Waterhouse and the Tarots, Mark Gergis DJ set Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $14.

Scene of Action, Fighting the Villain, 5606, Hometown Bottom of the Hill. 9:30pm, $10.

Sonny and the Sunsets, Calvin Johnson, Sandwitches, Wounded Lion Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $13.

Stymie and the Pimp Jones Luv Orchestra, Gun and Doll Show, Last Men on Earth, Naked Fiction Café Du Nord. 8pm, $10.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Black Market Jazz Orchestra Top of the Mark. 9pm, $10.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Ottmar Liebert and Luna Negra Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $25-30.

Pink Martini with San Francisco Symphony Davies Symphony Hall, 201 Van Ness, SF; www.sfsymphony.org. 8pm, $20-115.

Soul jazz party with Jules Broussard and Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

DANCE CLUBS

Afro Bao Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

Derrick Carter Public Works, 161 Erie, SF; www.publicsf.com. 9:30pm, $10-15. With Honey Soundsystem DJs, Rouzbeh, Galen, and Chris Smith.

Duniya Dancehall Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF; (415) 920-0577. 10pm, $10. With live performances by Duniya Drum and Dance Co. and DJs dub Snakr and Juan Data spinning bhangra, bollywood, dancehall, African, and more.

Haight Street Hop Milk. 10pm, $5. With DJs Tanoa Samoa Boy and Rockin’ Raul spinning vintage 45s, plus burlesque dancers and more.

Low End Theory 103 Harriet, SF; www.1015.com. 10pm, $15. With TOKiMONSTA, Death Grips, and Free the Robots.

Oldies Night Knockout. 9pm, $2-4. Doo-wop, one-hit wonders, soul, and more with DJs Primo, Daniel, and Lost Cat.

120 Minutes Elbo Room. 10pm. Witch house with DJs Whitch, Nako, and oOoOO.

Strangelove: Military Fashion Show Cat Club. 9:30pm, $3-7. Goth and industrial with DJs Tomas Diablo, Joe Radio, Orko, and Xander. Military or military fetish attire encouraged.

That 90s Dance Party DNA Lounge. 9pm, $7-9. Pop, rock, and alternative from the 90s with BaconMonkey, Omar, Sage, and Sparkle.

Vintage Orson, 508 Fourth St, SF; (415) 777-1508. 5:30-11pm, free. DJ TophOne and guest spin jazzy beats for cocktalians.

 

SATURDAY 2

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Animals and Men, Grass Widow, Rank/Xerox Bottom of the Hill. 10pm, $10.

Attitude Adjustment, Psychosomatic, Zombie Holocaust, Abrupt Slim’s. 8:30pm, $13.

Coliseum, Futur Skullz, Blown to Bits, Pins of Light Thee Parkside. 9:30pm, $8.

Dominique Leone, Kapowski, Dinosaur Feathers Amnesia. 9pm, $7-10.

Lost Puppy Thee Parkside. 3pm, free.

Lumerians, Young Prisms, Bronze Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $13.

Le Panique, Shell Corporation, Survival Guide Café Du Nord. 9pm, $12.

Royal Baths, Nucular Animals, Psychic Feline, Dadfag Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7.

Ty Segell, Audacity, Mikal Cronin, No Boss Independent. 9pm, $10.

Sweet Baby J’ai Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

“Fillmore Jazz Festival” Fillmore between Jackson and Eddy, SF; www.fillmorejazzfestival.com. 10am-6pm, free.

Jazz organ party with Graham Connah Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 8pm.

Ottmar Liebert and Luna Negra Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $30.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

“Red, White, and Bluegrass” Music Store, 66 West Portal, SF; www.shelbyashpresents.com. 2-4pm, free. With Kemo Sabe and MilkDrive.

“Red, White, and Bluegrass” Plough and Stars. 9:30pm, $6-10. With Windy Hill and TED.

DANCE CLUBS

Afro Bao Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $5. Afro and world music with rotating DJs including Stepwise, Steve, Claude, Santero, and Elembe.

Bootie SF DNA Lounge. 9pm, $8-15. Mash-ups.

Debaser Knockout. 10pm, $5. Alternative dance party with Jamie Jams and Emdee spinning 90s music.

DJ Grandmaster Flash Yoshi’s San Francisco. 10:30pm, $20.

DJ MartyParty Public Works, 161 Erie, SF; www.publicsf.com. 10pm, $10-12.

Sanafrica Bollyhood Café. 9pm, $7-10. West African and Latin fusion party with Jose Luis, DJ Nado, and DJ Mignane.

Saturday Night Soul Party Elbo Room. 10pm, $10. Sixties soul with DJs Lucky, Phengren Oswald, and Paul Paul.

 

SUNDAY 3

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Blind Willies, Red Weather, Horny Brass Band Make-Out Room. 7:30pm, $8.

Neko Case, Dodos Sigmund Stern Grove, 19th Ave at Sloat, SF; www.sterngrove.org. 2pm, free.

Philistines, Truxton, Excuses for Skipping Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $10.

Retro Electric Café Du Nord. 9pm, $10.

Th Mrcy Hot Sprngs, Blind Shake Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $7.

Andre Thierry and Zydeco Magic Knockout. 6-10pm, $8. With DJ Dr. Scott.

Twice As Good Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

“Fillmore Jazz Festival” Fillmore between Jackson and Eddy, SF; www.fillmorejazzfestival.com. 10am-6pm, free.

Jazz organ party with Lavay Smith and Chris Siebert Royal Cuckoo, 3202 Mission, SF; www.royalcuckoo.com. 7:30pm, free.

Kally Price Old Blues and Jazz Band, Emperor Norton’s Jazz Band Amnesia. 9pm, $5.

“Kim Nalley Sings Nina Simone” Rrazz Room. 7pm.

Ottmar Liebert and Luna Negra Yoshi’s San Francisco. 7 and 9pm, $25.

Tom Lander Duo Medjool, 2522 Mission, SF; www.medjoolsf.com. 6-9pm, free.

DANCE CLUBS

Batcave Cat Club. 10pm, $5. Death rock, goth, and post-punk with Steeplerot Necromos and c_death.

Boom DNA Lounge. 9pm, $12-15. House and hip-hop with Stanley Frank, Joshua J., Sidekick, and Juanita More, plus the Some Thing Drag Show.

Dub Mission Elbo Room. 9pm, $6. Dub, roots, and classic dancehall with Vinnie Esparza and Maneesh the Twister.

45 Club: 100 Yards of Funky Soul Records Knockout. 10pm, $2. Soul, funk, and more with Dirty Dishes, English Steve, and dX the Funky Gran Paw.

Ceremony City Nights, 715 Harrison, SF; www.sfclubs.com. 5pm-midnight, $40. With Moto Blanco, Jay Santos, and DJ Grind.

Jock Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 3pm, $2. Raise money for LGBT sports teams while enjoying DJs and drink specials.

La Pachanga Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF; www.thebluemacawsf.com. 6pm, $10. Salsa dance party with live Afro-Cuban salsa bands.

 

MONDAY 4

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

“El Rio Big Time Freedom Festival” El Rio. 3:30pm, $8. With John Vanderslice, Low Red Land, Finn Figgins, Tartufi, Whisperlights, and Walking In Sunlight.

DANCE CLUBS

Death Guild DNA Lounge. 9:30pm, $3-5. Gothic, industrial, and synthpop with Joe Radio, Decay, and Melting Girl. This week: wear a kilt or plaid skirt and get in free.

M.O.M. Madrone Art Bar. 6pm, free. DJs Timoteo Gigante, Gordo Cabeza, and Chris Phlek playing all Motown every Monday.

Recovery: 4th of July Edition Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; www.lookoutsf.com. 3-8pm, free. Hostess Pollo Del Mar serves “jello injectors” as DJ Guy Ruben spins.

Sausage Party Rosamunde Sausage Grill, 2832 Mission, SF; (415) 970-9015. 6:30-9:30pm, free. DJ Dandy Dixon spins vintage rock, R&B, global beats, funk, and disco at this happy hour sausage-shack gig.

 

TUESDAY 5

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Horsefly, Kate Fiano El Rio. 7pm, free.

Ted Nugent, Brent James and the ContraBand Independent. 8pm, $55.

Paul Collins Beat, King Lollipop, Garbo’s Daughter, DJ Shindog Thee Parkside. 8pm, $8.

Religious Girls, Zorch, Primary Colors Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $6.

J-Roddy Walston and the Business, Maxim Ludwig and the Santa Fe Seven Café Du Nord. 8pm, $12.

 

On the hook

Andrew Lam
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4
On the hook

rebeccab@sfbg.com

Unique Roberts squared back her shoulders and recalled what it was like when she first moved to San Francisco from East Oakland more than a decade ago. A tall, 33-year-old African American transgender woman with piercing eyes and a charming smile despite gaps of missing teeth, Roberts said she performed as a showgirl at clubs like Harvey’s and the Pendulum in the Castro. In those exciting days, “I fell in love with this boy, and he was an addict,” she explained. “I thought that if I did it, it would keep our relationship together.”

She recalled how awful her boyfriend felt when he found out she was using, telling her, “You don’t know what you’re doing to yourself.” He departed for Texas several years later, but addiction stuck with her as a way of life.

She says she’s tried to kick the habit, but it’s wrapped up in a battle against depression stemming from the loss of loved ones. Roberts was wearing one of the bright orange sweatshirts issued to inmates at San Francisco County Jail. She landed there after being arrested in April for allegedly selling a tiny rock of crack, weighing just 9/100s of a gram, to an undercover narcotics officer. According to the police report, the cop offered her $20 for it — but based on National Drug Intelligence Center street-value estimates, that amount is only worth about $2.50.

Roberts may go by the first name Unique, but her lawyer Tal Klement, who works for the San Francisco Public Defender’s Office, is fond of saying her case is hardly unique at all. She was one of several people arrested in the Tenderloin that day after interacting with the same plainclothes officer.

It was part of a coordinated sweep known as a buy-bust, a common practice under which an officer may pose as a homeless person, a clueless outsider, or a dope-sick fiend to lure people into selling crack, pills, meth, heroin, or marijuana. Once a transaction is made, a team of officers awaiting the signal immediately closes in and arrests the seller.

As of June 20, there were at least 109 open buy-bust cases in San Francisco. Based on defendants’ rap sheets, 92 percent had prior drug-use histories, according to a tally conducted by the Public Defender’s Office.

The officers posing as buyers — who often earn overtime — use street lingo, know which drugs can be obtained at which intersections, and sometimes offer higher prices than the accepted street value. Attorney Anne Irwin, also a public defender, is critical of the practice, saying it’s an expensive tactic that’s makes for easy arrests — because the money is irresistible to addicts who think they’re getting an opportunity to convert a personal stash into more drugs.

In a lean budget year, “they’re cutting social services left and right, and these are the very services that could help the addicts get off the street,” Irwin noted. She’s skeptical that the strategy stems the flow of substantial quantities of drugs.

Police Chief Greg Suhr, who said he participated in buy-busts for years as a narcotics officer, credits the tactic for helping to eradicate a rampant open-air drug market on Third Street in the Bayview, and says it can help prevent drug-related violence.

Klement, however, condemns it as a “war on crumbs,” saying it ensnares far more addicts than serious dealers and often ends up unnecessarily pinning felony convictions onto low-level offenders.

 

NUMBERS GAME

Buy-busts usually involve around eight officers, according to an average calculated by the Public Defender’s Office based on open cases, but have involved as many as 14 and as few as three. There’s the decoy buyer, who sometimes dresses in grimy sweatpants, goes without shaving, or dirties his face to look like a street addict in desperate need of a fix. There’s a “close cover” officer who follows the decoy, plus an arrest team that is also sometimes in plainclothes. Beforehand, officers will photocopy cash — usually $20 bills — to document the serial numbers so that the same marked city funds can be used as evidence once recovered from arrestees. Busts can happen within minutes of one another, and a single shift may net five or six arrests.

Irwin says the people snared aren’t typical drug dealers — certainly not big-time players. But they’re charged as dealers — and in many cases wind up branded as felons, with severe legal penalties such as multiyear prison sentences.

While the police department is able to show on paper that it’s brought hundreds of drug dealers into custody — and the district attorney can point to a boost in the conviction rate thanks to the program’s efficiency — Irwin says the amounts being peddled are tiny.

“In traditional narcotics operations, they cultivated snitches, used surveillance, and obtained search warrants” to go after major dealers, Irwin said. With buy-busts, “It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Everyone agrees that we need cops on the streets to help keep us safe … But do we want to be paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for this?”

Sharon Woo, chief assistant of operations for the San Francisco District Attorney, told the Guardian that “we charge based on the conduct of the individual.” Woo went on to say that the DA tried to “exercise appropriate discretion” on a case-by-case basis when individuals are selling to support an addiction or due to being in dire financial straits.

Sometimes individuals are ushered into alternative programs such as drug court or a Back on Track program for first-time offenders, Woo said. And while the DA typically includes charges that make defendants ineligible for probation under state law if they have prior convictions for selling crack-cocaine — a discretionary practice that has drawn criticism from public defenders — Woo observed that “it doesn’t mean that’s how cases resolve.”

Police forces in nearly every major metropolitan area practice buy-busts, said Frank Zimring, a law professor at UC Berkeley’s Boalt Hall School of Law specializing in criminal justice issues. Yet he described the practice as costly and noted that paying overtime for it “makes what would ordinarily be a very expensive operation into a more expensive operation.”

Cost estimates for the entire program are tough to pin down. It costs $130 per day to house each prisoner in the county jail, amounting to more than $14,000 per day if all of the defendants with pending cases are in custody. If an average of eight officers per bust were paid $60 an hour each to spend six hours conducting a buy-bust, the current caseload represents more than $300,000 in officer pay — a conservative estimate — and that’s before lawyers in the offices of the public defender and district attorney are paid to prosecute and defend the suspects in court.

But no matter how you add it up, it’s a lot of money.

Suhr told the Guardian that apprehending street-level offenders occasionally leads officers to bigger fish. “Sometimes you get a low-level person, or a buyer if you will … if that same person would say, ‘But I know this guy and he has guns and he’s a big dealer and whatever.’ That is a good way to get to those bigger people.”

“We’ve never seen that happen in practice,” Klement countered.

One of Irwin’s clients, a homeless man, was charged with selling narcotics after he scraped out the contents of his pipe to sell 1/1,000th of a gram of crack to an undercover officer for $20. In a rare twist, the case was ultimately settled on a misdemeanor possession of narcotics.

Inspector Robert Doss, who served as the decoy in that case, has earned substantial amounts of overtime while going undercover to buy drugs, according to a court transcript. In 2009 Doss earned $35,488 in combined overtime and “other pay,” which includes time spent testifying in court, according to a San Francisco Chronicle database of municipal salaries.

 

ON THE STREET, OFF THE STREET

The Tenderloin is frequently targeted for buy-busts, with 65 percent of open cases as of June 13 having taken place in that neighborhood. The Haight ranked second, with nearly 12 percent of cases, and the Mission followed with 10 percent. Shortly after District Attorney George Gascón was sworn into his prior post as police chief in 2009, he announced a concerted effort to clean up the Tenderloin, and Klement maintains he’s seen a surge in cases stemming from buy-busts there ever since.

Drug dealing in the Tenderloin often makes the news as a source of frustration to merchants and residents. “You try and explain to the people of San Francisco that it’s okay for people to have open-air drug markets right in front of their stores,” Suhr said.

Yet Klement maintains that what is essentially a quality-of-life crime should not be treated as a felony. “There’s a lot of pressure from people who are invested in businesses [in the Tenderloin] who would love to see that neighborhood become the next Hayes Valley,” he said. “But what they don’t realize is that people are paying with prison for that agenda.”

Once someone has been labeled a drug dealer in the eyes of the law, he said, it becomes more difficult for them to access drug treatment — not to mention get a job, qualify for a student loan, or find housing.

Roberts’ case nearly went to trial. If convicted, she could have been sent to prison for a minimum of three and a maximum of 17 years due to extra penalties from prior convictions. On the eve of the trial, however, the case was settled on a possession charge for a year in jail, a rare outcome. Klement was hoping to have her placed in a treatment program.

Asked if she knew of others swept up in undercover operations, Roberts gave a wry chuckle and gestured to the jail corridor behind her, indicating that nearly everyone there had been taken down in similar fashion. Klement noted that the targets of the buy-busts are almost exclusively people of color, saying, “You walk into the holding cell and you think you’re in Alabama or Mississippi, not San Francisco.”

In an editorial on the subject that he wrote a couple years ago, Klement noted that by contrast, predominantly white middle class people with a fondness for illegal drugs are rarely targeted because they aren’t the ones selling drugs on the street. “The hard truth is that the police ignore most of the middle class drug use and dealing occurring out of private homes in every neighborhood or other public venues in the city — bars, nightclubs, concert halls. More drugs are being transported to Burning Man as we speak than will probably be seized during Gascón’s entire crackdown.”

For Klement, it’s just another symptom of a broken system. “A lot of these people are repeat players because we don’t have the right interventions at the right time,” he said. “We don’t understand addiction.”

 

Yearbook of heartbreak and outrage

Andrew Lam
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0
Yearbook of heartbreak and outrage

news@sfbg.com

The giant commemorative AIDS ribbon that was up on Twin Peaks during the first half of June has been taken down, but the 30th anniversary of the epidemic, and how it changed San Francisco, is still reverberating throughout the city.

“It was like paradise,” Mark Ottman said as he guided me through the high-ceiling lobby, quiet as a library, of Union Bank on 400 California St. “For a few years. Then things got really scary.”

Ottman, the vice president of personal trust and estate services at the bank, recalled arriving in the city in 1981 as a 22-year-old Montana transplant. That year, the gay newspaper the Bay Area Reporter published the word AIDS for the very first time.

Although the paper has been at the forefront of reporting gay news for its 40 years — from White Night Riots of the 1970s through the Lavender Sweep of the 1990s, the Bowers vs. Hardwick decision through the “don’t ask, don’t tell” repeal — the way it straightforwardly handled the heartbreak of AIDS and the outrage that followed has become its lasting legacy.

“This was not stuff that was shown on the nightly news,” Ottman continued. “The B.A.R. was three or four months ahead in covering AIDS. In that sense, it was really the leader.”

This month, those with a thirst for history will need to look no further than newsprint. Union Bank’s LGBT Alliance has commissioned a retrospective exhibit highlighting the Bay Area Reporter’s coverage of the gay and lesbian community.

When the B.A.R. started in 1971, founders and friends Paul Bentley and Bob Ross had the intention of making it more than just a gossipy guide to bars and bathhouses. The newspaper focused on serious local news — even recruiting Harvey Milk as a political columnist.

“The founders weren’t journalists,” said Rick Gerharter, the longtime freelance photographer who curated the photo- and front page-filled exhibit at Union Bank. “But as the paper grew, it certainly became more professional.”

In 1981, when AIDS first appeared, the B.A.R. had no choice but to undergo a journalistic coming of age as it struggled to be first and be fair covering the mysterious disease that had begun to mow down gay men.

 

UNEASY EARLY AIDS COVERAGE

Yet the newspaper was not immune to the confusion and uneasiness that enveloped the community during the early days of the “gay cancer.”

“Me and my boyfriend both laughed — it must be another Anita Bryant plot against homosexuals,” said Robert Julian, recalling his first response to talk of the “gay-related immunodeficiency” or GRID.

“Gay people are united by sexual orientation, not genetics,” said Julian. Initially, the former B.A.R. entertainment editor and author of But the Show Went On: San Francisco 1987-1988 had his suspicions, thinking that a “physical ailment confined solely to gay people was a practical impossibility.”

It didn’t take long before the B.A.R. began reporting on the latest research, medical resources, and information about financial services available to the hundreds of gay men in San Francisco who had contracted the HIV virus.

Once researchers discovered that AIDS was being transmitted sexually, public opinion divided. Then-Mayor Diane Feinstein and Director of Public Health Mervyn Silverman wanted to close the bathhouses, but some members of the gay community considered this a violation of personal rights.

“There was this repression around gay people and sex, this hysteria around bathhouses,” said Gerharter. And the B.A.R. was hesitant to feed into that frenzy at first. “When it was clear what was really happening, how this thing was being spread around, then it clicked — and the paper really jumped to the forefront of covering what had tuned into an epidemic.”

 

STEAMY BATHHOUSE DEBATE

The paper not only began to cover the AIDS crisis extensively, but did it with an editorial slant that fostered debate in the community. Paul Lorch, then-managing editor, became a prominent voice arguing to keep the bathhouses open. Bathhouses don’t give you AIDS; unprotected sex gives you AIDS, Lorch expressed in strongly-penned editorials. Sometimes he even answered back to Letters to the Editor.

“Lorch and the publishers didn’t believe closing the bathhouses would solve it,” said Wayne Friday, who took over the paper’s political column after Harvey Milk was assassinated and continued it for 27 years. “But no one had an alternative. Diane [Feinstein] would call me at 5 a.m. asking me what we should do about this thing.”

The community was split. Some, including Friday, believed that the bathhouses were a public health hazard while others accused Feinstein of scapegoating. “Those people were being selfish and foolish,” Friday said. “Closing the bathhouses saved lives.”

In 1984 the San Francisco Health Department asked for a court order forbidding renting out private rooms in bathhouses. Without the luxury of privacy, most closed within months. “San Francisco became a blueprint of how to handle AIDS on the city level for the rest of the country,” Friday said.

 

OBITUARIES KEPT SAD TALLY

During this time, the B.A.R. was also keeping a more morbid type of tally: the obituaries. Each week the paper published two pages — 30 to 50 obituaries — until 1998.

“When you picked it up, it was the first thing you turned to,” Gerharter said. “It was just a name and a face. Maybe you recognized the person. Maybe someone you tricked with.”

In 1989, art director Richard Burt became so overwhelmed by the number of obituaries that had been turned in to the B.A.R. within the first 10 months that he wanted to convey the sinking feeling in the pages of the paper. The Nov. 16 issue included a four-page collage of everyone who had passed away due to AIDS that year. Just a name and a face.

“It was heartbreaking,” Julian said, “to see my friends and lovers pictured there.”

Through the efforts of Tom Burtch and the San Francisco GLBT Historical Society, a massive searchable online database of B.A.R. obituaries since 1979 was launched in 2009 (www.leifkerdesigns.com/olo/index.jsp).

During his tenure at the paper, Julian chose not to cover AIDS, feeling that the point of entertainment news was to distract away “from the soul-crushing presence of the grim reaper stalking our neighborhoods.”

Though AIDS was a heavily political newsbeat, Friday removed himself from covering it for different reasons. “I knew every elected official. I sat in on all the City Hall meetings about the bathhouses,” Friday said. “But I just couldn’t do it every week. It was too damned personal.”

“Thinking about turning the page to those obituaries even now is making me shiver,” Ottman said. “It’s like a high school reunion, except you don’t know which half made it.”

 

COVERING THE RISE OF ACTIVISM

The B.A.R. was also instrumental in covering the various political and protest actions that accompanied the disease, including the bloody police sweep of ACT-UP protesters the Castro and the Stop AIDS Now or Else blockade of the Golden Gate Bridge, both in 1989.

Gerharter remembers the blockade. “They arranged it for the morning commute. And thank God it was foggy or else the surveillance cameras would have stopped us.”

Gerharter would often be trusted with information about an upcoming demonstration and be the only photographer allowed to tag along. “You can document history better when you become a part of it. You get closer to the people — they’re not posing,” he said. “It was our job to be advocates and watchdogs.”

After consistently seeing the tragedy of AIDS on the front page for almost a decade, the B.A.R. became more active itself, inciting its readers to action. “We’d read the B.A.R. to find out about the rallies were happening so we could skip work and take a road trip to Sacramento,” Ottman said. “The Chronicle would never cover that.”

When the fight against AIDS became a war, the B.A.R.’s writers often felt like they had become war correspondents, complete with all the outsize personality conflict and drama of the classic stereotype.

“[Bob] Ross was a nightmare boss, a pain in the ass, and complete rageaholic,” Julian said of B.A.R.’s often conservative cofounder, who died in 2003. “But he was committed to keeping the paper and us running.”

THE BAY AREA REPORTER 40TH ANNIVERSARY EXHIBIT

Through June 30, 9 a.m.–5 p.m.

Union Bank Main Branch

400 California, SF

 

Some families don’t flee San Francisco

Zelda Bronstein
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19
Some families don’t flee San Francisco

I hate to admit, I take this a little bit personally, all this stuff about how families are fleeing San Francisco and how it might be better to live in Omaha or Louisville. Cuz I have a family and we aren’t leaving. And neither are my friends and neighbors. There are plenty of us who think that San Francisco is a great place to raise kids.


Some of the stories in the recent Chron article are laughably unrepresentative:


For Kearsley Higgins, raising a baby in San Francisco was idyllic. She and her husband owned a small two-bedroom house in the Castro, she found plenty of activities for her daughter, Maya, and made friends through an 11-member mothers’ group.


Now as the mother of an almost 4-year-old, with a baby boy due in September, Higgins has left. A year ago, she and her husband, a digital artist, bought a four-bedroom home with a large backyard in San Rafael. Maya easily got into a popular preschool and will be enrolled in a good public elementary school when the time comes.


Nice: One-income family buys a four-bedroom home in Marin. I’m afraid that’s not the market most of us are in.


The statistics are real:


New census figures show that despite an intense focus by city and public school officials to curb family flight, San Francisco last year had 5,278 fewer kids than it did in 2000.


The city actually has 3,000 more children under 5 than it did 10 years ago, but has lost more than 8,000 kids older than 5.


But the reasons have a lot more to do with the cost of housing than with anything else. The lack of affordable housing for families — and frankly, none of the new market-rate condos the city is allowing offer much of anything to people with kids — drives people to the cheaper suburbs. And in this economy, it’s not as if they just quit their jobs. No: They commute, long distances — and when you have kids, it’s hard to rely on marginal public transportation. What happens if you’re at work in SF and your kid gets really sick at school in Brentwood? Are you going to spend all afternoon trying to get there on BART and buses? No — you’re hopping in the car, by yourself, and driving 80 miles an hour to the school site.


Which means that building dense, expensive, small condos in San Francisco is the opposite of sustainable planning or green building. Sustainable planning means preserving existing affordable family housing and building housing for the San Francisco workforce. San Francisco is doing none of that. Density isn’t smart growth if the housing doesn’t work for people who work in the city. It’s dumb growth.


End of rant.


What I started off to say was that some of us are very happy living in the city. I’m more than happy with our public schools (McKinley and Aptos so far). I really like the idea that my son can get home from school by himself, on Muni — and can go to his martial arts class on Muni, and can walk to music lessons and bike to the park, and when he’s 16 we won’t even have to talk about a car. I love the fact that my kids are growing up with people who are very different from them — and that ethnicity, socioeconomic status, religion, sexual orientation and all the other things that were such a big deal when we were growing up are utterly irrelevant in their circles. They have friends who come from two-dad families, two-mom families, single-parent families, single grandparent families, rich families, poor families, black familes, Asian families, Latino families, families where the parents speak no English … it’s all a big Whatever. It’s San Francisco.


The city is full of cool, fun stuff to do. It’s full of fascinating people and neighborhoods. My kids experience stuff every day that the suburban folks with their big back yards won’t see in a lifetime. It’s not all positive — we see homeless people on the streets, and we give them money and talk about why people are homeless. But it’s real and it’s life and I’m not taking my family and running away.


So there.      




 

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. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks. 

 

OPENING

The Book of Liz Custom Made Theatre, 1620 Gough, SF; www.custommade.org. $10-29. Previews Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm; Sun/26, 7pm. Opens Tues/28, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 7pm. Through July 31. Custom Made Theatre performs David and Amy Sedaris’ comedy about an unconventional nun.

BAY AREA

A Raisin in the Sun Pear Avenue Theatre, 1220 Pear, Mtn. View; (650) 254-1148, www.thepear.org. $15-30. Previews Thurs/23, 8pm. Opens Fri/24, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through July 10. Lorraine Hansberry’s classic play comes to life on the Pear Avenue Theatre stage.

Working for the Mouse La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; www.impacttheatre.com. $10-20. Opens Thurs/23, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sun, 8pm. Through July 8. Trevor Allen revives his hit solo comedy about working at Disneyland in this Impact Theatre and Black Box Theatre co-production.

 

ONGOING

All Atheists Are Muslim Stage Werx, 533 Sutter, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. $20. Runs Sun, 7pm. Through July 10. Zahra Noorbakhsh returns with her timely comedy.

Assassins Eureka Theatre, 215 Jackson, SF; www.roltheatre.com. $20-36. Thurs/23-Sat/25, 8pm (also Sat/25, 2pm). Whether the world truly needed a Sondheim musical about the joys of political assassination or not is debatable, but as long as there is one it might as well go for the gusto. Brought to you by Ray of Light Theatre, the folks behind last year’s production of Jerry Springer the Opera, Assassins imbues society’s greatest misfits with quirky relatability. From Joel Roster’s hangdog portrayal of Leon Czolgosz (McKinley’s assassin) to Lisa-Marie Newton’s frazzled Sara Jane Moore (attempted to off Ford), Danny Cozart’s foul-mouthed, Santa Claus-suited, Samuel Byck (out for Nixon) to Gregory Sottolano’s loopy Charles Guiteau (bagged Garfield), the solid cast examines the assassination impulse in a breezy, borderline goofy manner. The production takes a more somber tone when Lee Harvey Oswald (Michael Scott Wells) takes the stage, encouraged by John Wilkes Booth (Derrick Silva) to turn a presumptive suicide attempt into one of assassination, while the other assassins beg him to legitimize their dark impulse through his action. The pacing works best when at its most frenetic, though Silva’s Booth, a pokerfaced elder statesman, lends an air of balancing gravitas. But the true stars of the show might well be the ultra-tight, eight-person house band playing a wide variety of American musical styles from the last 150 years, confidently directed by David Möschler.(Nicole Gluckstern)

Assisted Living: The Musical Imperial Palace, 818 Washington, SF; 1-888-88-LAUGH, www.assistedlivingthemusical.com. $79.59-99.50 (includes dim sum). Sat-Sun, noon (also Sun, 5pm). Through July 31. Rick Compton and Betsy Bennett’s comedy takes on “the pleasures and perils of later life.”

Fighting Mac! Thick House Theatre, 1695 18th St, SF; 1-800-838-3006, www.therhino.org. $15-30. Opens Fri/10, 8pm. Runs Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 3pm. Through July 3. Theatre Rhinoceros performs John Fisher’s play about real-life queer British general Hector MacDonald. “Fury Factory 2011” Various venues and prices; www.brownpapertickets.com. Through July 12. Over 30 Bay Area and national companies participate in this bi-annual theater festival.

Indulgences in the Louisville Harem Phoenix Theatre, 414 Mason, SF; 1-800-838-3006, www.offbroadwaywest.org. $20-40. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through July 30. Two spinster sisters find unlikely beaux in Off Broadway West Theatre’s production of John Orlock’s play.

Much Ado About Lebowski Cellspace, 2050 Bryant, SF; www.sfindie.com. $25. Fri/24-Sun/26, 8pm. SF IndieFest and the Primitive Screwheads perform a Shakespeare-inflected take on the Coen Brothers’ classic film.

The Pride New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness, SF; (415) 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. $24-40. Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through July 10. New Conservatory Theatre Center performs the West Coast premiere of Alexi Kaye Campbell’s love-triangle time warp drama.

Risk is This…The Cutting Ball New Experimental Plays Festival EXIT on Taylor, 227 Taylor; (800) 838-3006, www.cuttingball.com. Free. Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm. Cutting Ball Theater closes its 11th season with a festival of experimental plays, including works by Eugenie Chan, Rob Melrose, and Annie Elias.

The Stops New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness; 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. $24-40. Wed/22-Sat/25, 8pm; Sun/26, 2pm. New Conservatory Theater Center presents a musical comedy set in San Francisco.

A Streetcar Named Desire Actors Theatre, 855 Bush; 345-1287, www.actorstheatresf.org. $26-38. Wed/22-Sat/25, 8pm. Actors Theatre of San Francisco presents the Tennessee Williams tale.

*Vice Palace: The Last Cockettes Musical Thrillpeddlers’ Hypnodrome, 575 10th St; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. $30-35. Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 7pm. Through July 31. Hot on the high heels of a 22-month run of Pearls Over Shanghai, the Thrillpeddlers are continuing their Theatre of the Ridiculous revival with a tits-up, balls-out production of the Cockettes’ last musical, Vice Palace. Loosely based on the terrifyingly grim “Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe, part of the thrill of Palace is the way that it weds the campy drag-glamour of Pearls Over Shanghai with the Thrillpeddlers’ signature Grand Guignol aesthetic. From an opening number set on a plague-stricken street (“There’s Blood on Your Face”) to a charming little cabaret about Caligula, staged with live assassinations, an undercurrent of darkness runs like blood beneath the shameless slapstick of the thinly-plotted revue. As plague-obsessed hostess Divina (Leigh Crow) and her right-hand “gal” Bella (Eric Tyson Wertz) try to distract a group of stir-crazy socialites from the dangers outside the villa walls, the entertainments range from silly to salacious: a suggestively-sung song about camel’s humps, the wistful ballad “Just a Lonely Little Turd,” a truly unexpected Rite of Spring-style dance number entitled “Flesh Ballet.” Sumptuously costumed by Kara Emry, cleverly lit by Nicholas Torre, accompanied by songwriter/lyricist (and original Cockette) Scrumbly Koldewyn, and anchored by a core of Thrillpeddler regulars, Palace is one nice vice. (Gluckstern)

What Mamma Said About Down There SF Downtown Comedy Theater, 287 Ellis, SF; www.sfdowntowncomedytheater.com. $15. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through August 20. Sia Amma returns with her solo comedy.

Wish We Were Here New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness, SF; (415) 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. $20-32. Thurs/23-Sat/25, 8pm. Slacker meets genie in this Michael Phillis comedy.

BAY AREA

Care of Trees Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby, Berk; (510) 841-6500, www.shotgunplayers.org. $17-26. Thurs/23-Sat/25, 8pm; Sun/26, 5pm. E. Hunter Spreen’s Care of Trees, which is receiving an inventively bold world premiere production in Shotgun’s capable hands is at once ambitious yet unsatisfying. The basic plot — “girl meets boy then turns into a tree &ldots; sort of” — is a quirky premise full of untapped potential. With so many possible interpretations of Georgia’s (Liz Sklar) unique predicament, the one that seems most predominant is an unwitting critique of the banality of the self-realization movement. “If I don’t do &ldots; what I see as right, then I’ll be lost to myself,” she tells her understandably frustrated husband Travis (Patrick Russell), as she abruptly shuts off her empathy-meter and bids him to do the same. During isolated pockets of dramatic tension, Georgia is stabbed in an altercation with a tree-hugger, suffers a series of violent seizures, is shuttled off to a battery of clueless doctors, and granted an audience with a Peruvian shaman, yet the underlying significance of actually turning into a tree, is barely explored, certainly never understood. Sklar and Russell turn in standout performances as the forest-crossed lovers, and the canopy of Nina Ball’s inventive set soars, but overall this Tree could stand to develop some stronger roots. (Gluckstern)

Down a Little Dirt Road Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant, Berk; www.justtheater.org. $15-30. Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 5pm. Through July 3. A naturalistic family portrait twists itself into a supernatural love knot in Erin Marie Bregman’s first full-length play Down a Little Dirt Road, directed by Molly Aaronson-Gelb. Dad (Anthony Nemirovsky), an earthquake researcher, has moved his family to Parkfield, Calif. for work, but Mom (Lisa Morse) is not with them. Did she die in a plane crash on September 11? Did she vanish into another dimension? Daughter Alice (Alona Bach) has plenty of theories to share, each more earnestly improbable than the last. She is also plagued with recurring nightmares, an unsettling trait she shares with her father. Together they dream of wandering, lost, in a shadow realm, gradually revealed to hold the shade of the missing mother, trying desperately to get back to her daughter while a menacing authority figure (Ryan Tasker) tries to literally pry her memories away. Alona Bach delivers a guileless, pitch-perfect performance as Alice, and her relationship with her stage parents is comfortable and genuine. Berman is clearly playing with the convention of the family-oriented horror story, much like the referenced Roald Dahl classic The Witches, but the ghostly elements prove somewhat problematic in terms of staging and clarity, and while there are a few moments with some serious spine-tingling potential, the overall effect is somewhat flat. (Gluckstern)

East 14th: True Tales of a Reluctant Player Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Sat, 8:30pm; Sun, 7pm. Through Aug. 7. Don Reed’s hit solo comedy receives one last extension before Reed debuts his new show (a sequel to East 14th) in the fall.

*Edward Albee’s Tiny Alice Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller, Mill Valley; (415) 388-5208, www.marintheatre.org. $32-53. Thurs/23-Sat/25, 8pm (also Sat/25, 2pm); Wed/22 and Sun/26, 7:30pm (also Sun/26, 2pm). Marin Theatre Company performs Albee’s most divisive play, an erotic thriller-cum-comic allegory.

Let Me Down Easy Berkeley Repertory Theatre, Roda Theatre, 2015 Addison, Berk; (510) 647-2949, www.berkeleyrep.org. $17-73. Thurs/23-Sat/25, 8pm (also Sat/25, 2pm); Wed/22, 7pm; Sun/26, 2pm. Anna Deavere Smith performs her latest solo show.

Metamorphosis Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; (510) 843-4822, www.auroratheatre.org. $10-55. Tues, 7pm; Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2 and 7pm. Through July 17. Aurora Theatre Company performs a terrifying yet comic adaptation of Kafka’s classic by David Farr and Gísli Örn Gardarsson.

[title of show] TheatreWorks at the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts, 500 Castro, Mtn View; (650) 463-1960, www.theatreworks.org. $24-42. Wed/22, 7:30pm; Thurs/23-Sat/25, 8pm (also Sat/25, 2pm); Sun/26, 2 and 7pm. TheatreWorks performs a new musical about musicals by Hunter Bell and Jeff Bowen. 

 

Rep Clock

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Schedules are for Wed/22–Tues/28 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double and triple features are marked with a •. All times are p.m. unless otherwise specified.

BALBOA 3620 Balboa, SF; www.balboamovies.com. $20. “Opera, Ballet, and Shakespeare in Cinema:” Rigoletto, performed by Placido Domingo, Sat-Sun, 10am.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $7.50-10. “Frameline 35: San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival,” Wed-Sun. Visit www.frameline.org for complete schedule and ticket information. Stonewall Uprising (Davis and Heilbroner, 2010), Tues, 7. Free screening.

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $10.25. The Tree of Life (Malick, 2011), call for dates and times. The Trip (Winterbottom, 2010), call for dates and times. Coppelia, performed by the Bolshoi Ballet, Thurs, 7 and Sun, 1. This event, $18. Buck (Meehl, 2011), June 24-30, call for times.

“FILM NIGHT IN THE PARK” This week: Creek Park, 451 Sir Francis Drake, San Anselmo; (415) 272-2756, www.filmnight.org. Donations accepted. Breakfast Club (Hughes, 1985), Fri, 8; National Velvet (Brown, 1944), Sat, 8.

FOUR STAR 2200 Clement, SF; www.lntsf.com. $10. “Asian Movie Madness” •The Host (Bong, 2006), and Yang Zean (1979), Thurs, call for times.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; (415) 393-0100, rsvp@milibrary.org. $10. “CinemaLit Film Series: Music and Nostalgia:” The Blues Brothers (Landis, 1980), Fri, 6.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, www.bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “Japanese Divas:” Tokyo Story (Ozu, 1953), Wed, 7; Dragnet Girl (Ozu, 1933), Fri, 7; Sisters of the Gion (Mizoguchi, 1936), Fri, 9; Street of Shame (Mizoguchi, 1956), Sat, 8:45. “The Cult of the Kuchars:” “8mm Films by George and Mike Kuchar,” Thurs, 7; Weather Diary 1 (George Kuchar, 1986), Sat, 6. “Secession from the Broadcast: The Internet and the Crisis of Social Control,” lecture by Gene Youngblood, Sat, 3:30. “Arthur Penn: A Liberal Helping:” Little Big Man (1970), Sun, 5:30; Night Moves (1975), Sun, 8:10.

RED VIC 1727 Haight, SF; (415) 668-3994; www.redvicmoviehouse.com. $6-10. “Midnites for Maniacs:” •The Purple Rose of Cairo (Allen, 1985), Wed, 2, 9:15, and Broadway Danny Rose (Allen, 1984), Wed, 7:15. Single film, $7; double feature, $10. Forgetting Dad (Minnich, 2009), Thurs, 7:15, 9:25. The Warriors (Hill, 1979), Fri-Sat, 7:15, 9:20 (also Sat, 2, 4:15). Phil Ochs: There But For Fortune (Bowser, 2011), Sun-Tues, 7:15, 9:20 (also Sun, 2, 4:15).

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $5-9.75. “Frameline 35: San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival,” Wed-Thurs. Visit www.frameline.org for complete schedule and ticket information. Making the Boys (Robey, 2009), Wed-Thurs, 7:30, 9:30.

SUBTERRANEAN ARTHOUSE 2179 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 540-7185, www.brownpapertickets.com. $10. “Innovative California Dance Films,” Fri, 8:30.

“TEMESCAL STREET CINEMA 2011” 49th St at Telegraph, Oakl; www.temescalstreetcinema.com. Free. Trust (Kelly and Yamamoto, 2010), Thurs, 8:45. With music by Ash Reiter at 8pm.

TOP OF THE MARK InterContinental Mark Hopkins, One Nob Hill, SF; www.topofthemark.com. Free. Bullitt (Yates, 1968), Tues, 7:30. YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS 701 Mission, SF; (415) 978-2787, www.ybca.org. $6-8. Oki’s Movie (Hong, 2010), Thurs, 7:30; Sun, 2.

Film Listings

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Peter Galvin, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock. For first-run showtimes, see Movie Guide.

FRAMELINE

The 35th San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival runs through Sun/26 at the Castro, 429 Castro, SF; Rialto Cinemas Elmwood, 2966 College, Berk; Roxie, 3117 16th St., SF; and Victoria, 2961 16th St., SF. For tickets (most films $9-$15) and complete schedule, visit www.frameline.org.

OPENING

Bad Teacher Cameron Diaz don’t need no education. (1:29) Shattuck.

Buck This documentary paints a portrait of horse trainer Buck Brannaman as a sort of modern-day sage, a sentimental cowboy who helps “horses with people problems.” Brannaman has transcended a background of hardship and abuse to become a happy family man who makes a difference for horses and their owners all over the country with his unconventional, humane colt-starting clinics. Though he doesn’t actually whisper to horses, he served as an advisor and inspiration for Robert Redford’s The Horse Whisperer (1998). Director Cindy Meehl focuses generously on her saintly subject’s bits of wisdom in and out of a horse-training setting — e.g. “Everything you do with a horse is a dance” — as well as heartfelt commentary from friends and colleagues. In the harrowing final act of the film, Brannaman deals with a particularly unruly horse and his troubled owner, highlighting the dire and disturbing consequences of improper horse rearing. (1:28) Embarcadero, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Sam Stander)

Cars 2 Owen Wilson, Larry the Cable Guy, Michael Caine, and others give voice to the autos in this spy-themed Pixar sequel. (1:52) Balboa, Shattuck.

Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop seems less of a movie title and more like a hushed comment shared between one of the many hangers-on during the filming of the “Legally Prohibited From Being Funny On Television Tour.” Throughout 23 cities’ worth of footage, O’Brien seethes, paces, sweats, yells and beats dead jokes so hard that they spring back to life, as he is wont to do.

At this point, the Leno/Coco drama is a bit stale — at least in internet time — but the documentary is a fascinating comedian character study nonetheless. It may be hard to sympathize with a man nursing a bruised ego as he cashes a $45 million dollar check, but it’s easy to see that he’s one of the best late night hosts (temporarily off) the air. Split primarily between clips of O’Brien performing songs on stage with a myriad of celebrity guests and bemoaning how exhausted and frustrated he is, Can’t Stop derives most of its hilarity from the off-the-cuff comments that pepper Conan’s everyday conversations. (1:29) Lumiere, Shattuck. (David Getman)

Oki’s Movie See review at www.sfbg.com. (1:20) Yerba Buena Center for the Arts.

*Viva Riva! Gritty, riveting, and even heartbreaking, Viva Riva!, the first Congolese feature film to get distribution in the states, is much like its small-time crook of an anti-hero, Riva (Patsha Bay Mukuna) — in love with life and prepared to laugh in the face of death when it comes knocking. Director Djo Tunda Wa Munga’s African Movie Academy Award winner tumbles with the grimy details of its Kinshasa, Congo, backdrop, and rarely stumbles. A mere foot soldier in a sprawling crime world, Riva has seized his chance at breaking into the big time, with a score of stolen gasoline, and has returned home. His eyes are on an unlikely prize, Nora (Marie Malone), the well-guarded moll of a Kinshasa gangster. As Riva stalks his lithe prey, he’s tailed by the ruthless Angolan crime boss he’s crossed (Hoji Fortuna) and a local military commander under the thug’s thumb (Marlene Longage). As sexy and violent as a contemporary noir, and as familiar as a folk tale unraveled round a campfire, Viva Riva! holds your attention with all the bruised bravado of its Stagger Lee-like protagonist, catching you in with the way the gorgeous Nora undulates at an outdoor gathering at one moment, then squats in the dirt to take a piss at the next. (1:36) Lumiere, Shattuck. (Chun)

ONGOING

*L’Amour Fou Pierre Thoretton’s documentary L’amour fou opens with two clips of men bidding farewell. The first, from 2002, is of the French-Algerian couturier Yves Saint Laurent announcing his retirement in a moving and emotional speech worthy of his favorite writer Marcel Proust. The second is of Pierre Bergé, Saint Laurent’s longtime business partner and former lover, eulogizing his departed friend at the designer’s memorial service six years later. Thoretton’s film is suffused with goodbyes, many tender and candid, some portentous and rehearsed. To be sure, L’amour fou is a touching portrait of the powerful and tempestuous bond between Saint Laurent and Bergé, a bond that lasted close to five decades and resulted in one of the great empires of 20th century fashion. But it is also, alongside David Teboud’s two 2002 YSL documentaries, another entry in the hagiography of Saint Laurent, one cannily steered by Bergé as much as by Thoretton. Well-spoken and charming, Bergé still comes off as the punchy entrepreneurial foil to Saint Laurent’s dazzling but fragile genius. He can be both hyperbolic (praising Saint Laurent’s gifts) but also forthcoming (discussing the designer’s demons). Former muses Loulou de la Falaise and Betty Catroux are also interviewed, but this is clearly Bergé’s show. (1:43) Opera Plaza. (Sussman)

The Art of Getting By The Art of Getting By is all about those confusing, mixed-up and apparently sexually frustrating months before high school graduation. George (Freddie Highmore) is a trench coat-wearing misanthrope — an old soul, as they say — whose parents and teachers are always trying to put him inside a box and tell him how to think. He finds a kindred sprit in Sally (Emma Roberts) who smokes and watches Louis Malle films. Hot. Heavily scored by the now-ancient songs of early ’00s blog bands, it may all sound like indie bullshit but this one has charm and wit despite its post-trend package. Like a sad little crayon, Highmore is a competent Michael Cera surrogate du jour. Writer-director Gavin Wiesen embraces hell of clichés, but he suitably sums up a generational angst along the way. The film may not always feel real, but it does have real feeling. Look out for great performances from Blair Underwood and Alicia Silverstone. (1:24) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Ryan Lattanzio)

*Beautiful Boy Save the children, but pity the parents. Director-cowriter Shawn Ku’s Beautiful Boy is one of two recent films concerning parents of kids who go on school killing sprees, and it’ll get potentially shortchanged due to the forthcoming We Need to Talk About Kevin‘s head-turning cast and its Hitchcockian literary source material. Still, Beautiful Boy shines in its own humble way, by dint of its quiet sense of integrity and refusal to pander. The bone-deep unhappiness suffusing the family concerned was present long before 18-year-old college student Sammy (Kyle Gallner) picked up a gun, killed more than a dozen people, then took his own life. Surviving parents Kate (Maria Bello) and Bill (Michael Sheen) already kept separate bedrooms under the same roof and led separate lives, with Bill pasting an unsettling grin on for work and Maria relentlessly pushing to make everything all right, neither noticing the barely perceptible warning signs that their only son was succumbing to despair. Belying its title, Beautiful Boy is less focused on the desperate youngster than on the adults attempting to cope with the horror he’s wrought — not necessarily cleaning up after him or picking up the pieces, but somehow finding their way through their own explosive responses. Bolstered by fine performances by Bello and Sheen, it’s yet another installment in the post-9/11 cinema of trauma — this time, attempting to imagine the unimaginable and to comprehend a kind of healing. (1:40) SF Center. (Chun)

*Beginners There is nothing conventional about Beginners, a film that starts off with the funeral arrangements for one of its central characters. That man is Hal (Christopher Plummer), who came out to his son Oliver (Ewan McGregor) at the ripe age of 75. Through flashbacks, we see the relationship play out — Oliver’s inability to commit tempered by his father’s tremendous late-stage passion for life. Hal himself is a rare character: an elderly gay man, secure in his sexuality and, by his own admission, horny. He even has a much younger boyfriend, played by the handsome Goran Visnjic. While the father-son bond is the heart of Beginners, we also see the charming development of a relationship between Oliver and French actor Anna (Mélanie Laurent). It all comes together beautifully in a film that is bittersweet but ultimately satisfying. Beginners deserves praise not only for telling a story too often left untold, but for doing so with grace and a refreshing sense of whimsy. (1:44) Embarcadero, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

*Bill Cunningham New York To say that Bill Cunningham, the 82-year old New York Times photographer, has made documenting how New Yorkers dress his life’s work would be an understatement. To be sure, Cunningham’s two decades-old Sunday Times columns — “On the Street,” which tracks street-fashion, and “Evening Hours,” which covers the charity gala circuit — are about the clothes. And, my, what clothes they are. But Cunningham is a sartorial anthropologist, and his pictures always tell the bigger story behind the changing hemlines, which socialite wore what designer, or the latest trend in footwear. Whether tracking the near-infinite variations of a particular hue, a sudden bumper-crop of cropped blazers, or the fanciful leaps of well-heeled pedestrians dodging February slush puddles, Cunningham’s talent lies in his ability to recognize fleeting moments of beauty, creativity, humor, and joy. That last quality courses through Bill Cunningham New York, Richard Press’ captivating and moving portrait of a man whose reticence and personal asceticism are proportional to his total devotion to documenting what Harold Koda, chief curator at the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, describes in the film as “ordinary people going about their lives, dressed in fascinating ways.” (1:24) Opera Plaza. (Sussman)

Bride Flight Who doesn’t love a sweeping Dutch period piece? Ben Sombogaart’s Bride Flight is pure melodrama soup, enough to give even the most devout arthouse-goer the bloats. Emigrating from post-World War II Holland to New Zealand with two gal pals, the sweetly staid Ada (Karina Smulders) falls for smarm-ball Frank (Waldemar Torenstra, the Dutchman’s James Franco) and kind of joins the mile high club to the behest of her conscience. The women arrive with emotional baggage and carry-ons of the uterine kind. As the harem adjusts to the country mores of the Highlands, Frank tries a poke at all of them in a series of sex scenes more moldy than smoldery. This Flight, set to a plodding score and stuffy mise-en-scene, never quite leaves the runway. Not to mention the whole picture, pale as a corpse, resembles one of those old-timey photographs of your great grandma’s wedding. These kinds of pastoral romances ought to be put out to, well, pasture. (2:10) Opera Plaza. (Lattanzio)

*Bridesmaids For anyone burned out on bad romantic comedies, Bridesmaids can teach you how to love again. This film is an answer to those who have lamented the lack of strong female roles in comedy, of good vehicles for Saturday Night Live cast members, of an appropriate showcase for Melissa McCarthy. The hilarious but grounded Kristen Wiig stars as Annie, whose best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) is getting hitched. Financially and romantically unstable, Annie tries to throw herself into her maid of honor duties — all while competing with the far more refined Helen (Rose Byrne). Bridesmaids is one of the best comedies in recent memory, treating its relatable female characters with sympathy. It’s also damn funny from start to finish, which is more than can be said for most of the comedies Hollywood continues to churn out. Here’s your choice: let Bridesmaids work its charm on you, or never allow yourself to complain about an Adam Sandler flick again. (2:04) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

*Cave of Forgotten Dreams The latest documentary from Werner Herzog once again goes where no filmmaker — or many human beings, for that matter — has gone before: the Chauvet-Pont-d’Arc Cave, a heavily-guarded cavern in Southern France containing the oldest prehistoric artwork on record. Access is highly restricted, but Herzog’s 3D study is surely the next best thing to an in-person visit. The eerie beauty of the works leads to a typically Herzog-ian quest to learn more about the primitive culture that produced the paintings; as usual, Herzog’s experts have their own quirks (like a circus performer-turned-scientist), and the director’s own wry narration is peppered with random pop culture references and existential ponderings. It’s all interwoven with footage of crude yet beautiful renderings of horses and rhinos, calcified cave-bear skulls, and other time-capsule peeks at life tens of thousands of years ago. The end result is awe-inspiring. (1:35) SF Center, Shattuck. (Eddy)

*The Double Hour Slovenian hotel maid Sonia (Ksenia Rappoport) and security guard Guido (Filippo Timi) are two lonely people in the Italian city of Turin. They find one another (via a speed-dating service) and things are seriously looking up for the fledgling couple when calamity strikes. This first feature by music video director Giuseppe Capotondi takes a spare, somber approach to a screenplay (by Alessandro Fabbri, Ludovica Rampoldi, and Stefano Sardo) that strikingly keeps raising, then resisting genre categorization. Suffice it to say their story goes from lonely-hearts romance to violent thriller, ghost story, criminal intrigue, and yet more. It doesn’t all work seamlessly, but such narrative unpredictability is so rare at the movies these days that The Double Hour is worth seeing simply for the satisfying feeling of never being sure where it’s headed. (1:35) Opera Plaza. (Harvey)

Green Lantern This latest DC Comics-to-film adaptation fails to recognize the line between awesome fantasy-action and cheeseball absurdity, often resembling the worst excesses of the Christopher Reeve Superman movies. A surprisingly palatable Ryan Reynolds stars as Hal Jordan, the cocky test pilot who is chosen to wield a power ring as a member of an intergalactic police force called the Green Lantern Corps. He must face down Parallax, an alien embodiment of fear, who appears here as a chuckle-inducing floating head surrounded by tentacles. Peter Sarsgaard is effectively nauseating as Hector Hammond, who becomes Parallax’s crony after he is transformed by a transfusion of fear energy. The acting is all over the map, with Blake Lively’s blank-faced love interest caricature as the weakest link, and the effects are hit-or-miss, but scenes featuring alien Green Lanterns should please fans, and you could probably do worse if you’re looking for an entertaining popcorn flick. (1:45) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Stander)

The Hangover Part II What do you do with a problematic mess like Hangover Part II? I was a fan of The Hangover (2009), as well as director-cowriter Todd Phillips’ 1994 GG Allin doc, Hated, so I was rooting for II, this time set in the East’s Sin City of Bangkok, while simultaneously dreading the inevitable Asian/”ching-chang-chong” jokes. Would this would-be hit sequel be funnier if they packed in more of those? Doubtful. The problem is that most of II‘s so-called humor, Asian or no, falls completely flat — and any gross-out yuks regarding wicked, wicked Bangkok are fairly old hat at this point, long after Shocking Asia (1976) and innumerable episodes of No Reservations and other extreme travel offerings. This Hangover around, mild-ish dentist Stu (Ed Helms) is heading to the altar with Lauren (The Real World: San Diego‘s Jamie Chung), with buds Phil (Bradley Cooper) and Doug (Justin Bartha) in tow. Alan (Zach Galifianakis) has completely broken with reality — he’s the pity invite who somehow ropes in the gangster wild-card Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong). Blackouts, natch, and not-very-funny high jinks ensue, with Jeong, surprisingly, pulling small sections of II out of the crapper. Phillips obviously specializes in men-behaving-badly, but II‘s most recent character tweaks, turning Phil into an arrogant, delusional creep and Alan into an arrogant, delusional kook, seem beside the point. Because almost none of the jokes work, and that includes the tired jabs at tranny strippers because we all know how supposedly straight white guys get hella grossed out by brown chicks with dicks. Lame. (1:42) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer Try not trying so hard, Judy Moody. The tween paperback fave gets an OTT makeover for the cineplex, as director John Schultz and company throw as many bells, whistles, silly new slang, kooky gruesome colors, CGI twinkles, sing-along subtitles, and zany hijinks into the mix as possible, in vain hope of keeping kiddie eyeballs from drifting. Bright-eyed redhead Judy Moody (Jordana Beatty) — think Pippi Longstocking, only way more annoying — is stuck at home for the season, sans most of her pals and parentals, scuttling her plans for a Not Bummer Summer filled with weirdly competitive thrill points (her very own invention) and pointless faux adventures (ditto). Her cute, arty, wack-eee Aunt Opal (Heather Graham) offers some diverting solace, but the summer seems to find its groove only after Judy slimily co-opts younger bro Stink’s (Parris Mosteller) obsession with Bigfoot. Lovers of visceral kid stuff will appreciate Judy and mob’s affection for pee and puke references — too bad the entire enterprise just reeks of very bummer desperation. (1:31) 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

Kung Fu Panda 2 The affable affirmations of 2008’s Kung Fu Panda take a back seat to relentlessly elaborate, gag-filled action sequences in this DreamWorks Animation sequel, which ought to satisfy kids but not entertain their parents as much as its predecessor. Po (voiced by Jack Black), the overeating panda and ordained Dragon Warrior of the title, joins forces with a cavalcade of other sparring wildlife to battle Lord Shen (Gary Oldman), a petulant peacock whose arsenal of cannons threatens to overwhelm kung fu. But Shen is also part of Po’s hazy past, so the panda’s quest to save China is also a quest for self-fulfillment and “inner peace.” There’s less character development in this installment, though the growing friendship between Po and the “hardcore” Tigress (Angelina Jolie) is occasionally touching. The 3-D visuals are rarely more than a gimmick, save for a series of eye-catching flashbacks in the style of cel-shaded animation. (1:30) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Stander)

*Making the Boys In 1968 The Boys in the Band revolutionized Broadway and opened a lot of minds by being a hit play (and film) about NYC homosexuals. Yet on the cusp of “Gay Liberation” and for many years thereafter, much of the actual gay community hugely objected to author Mart Crowley’s fictive portrait of its ‘mos as insular, shallow, classist, bitchy, and guilt-ridden. It was (as interviewee Edward Albee notes here) a picture ideally suited to straight Broadway audiences who lined up to see queers rendered pitiful if still identifiably human. Crayton Robey’s absorbing documentary chronicles the bumpy road of Boys and its creators — Crowley never had another hit, floundering until he moved into TV series scripting. The cast of the 1970 movie version, directed by William Friedkin (one year before The French Connection, followed by The Exorcist), saw their big break turn into a virtual industry blacklisting. Exceptions were unimpeachably heterosexual thespians Laurence Luckinbill and Cliff Gorman, who only “played” gay. This engrossing document recalls a work that trailblazed, was rejected as politically correct, then re embraced as an important touchstone in gay visibility and self-empowerment. (1:33) Roxie. (Harvey)

Midnight in Paris Owen Wilson plays Gil, a self-confessed “Hollywood hack” visiting the City of Light with his conservative future in-laws and crassly materialistic fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams). A romantic obviously at odds with their selfish pragmatism (somehow he hasn’t realized that yet), he’s in love with Paris and particularly its fabled artistic past. Walking back to his hotel alone one night, he’s beckoned into an antique vehicle and finds himself transported to the 1920s, at every turn meeting the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates), Dali (Adrien Brody), etc. He also meets Adriana (Marion Cotillard), a woman alluring enough to be fought over by Hemingway (Corey Stoll) and Picasso (Marcial di Fonzo Bo) — though she fancies aspiring literary novelist Gil. Woody Allen’s latest is a pleasant trifle, no more, no less. Its toying with a form of magical escapism from the dreary present recalls The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985), albeit without that film’s greater structural ingeniousness and considerable heart. None of the actors are at their best, though Cotillard is indeed beguiling and Wilson dithers charmingly as usual. Still — it’s pleasant. (1:34) Albany, Balboa, Embarcadero, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Mr. Popper’s Penguins (1:35) 1000 Van Ness.

*My Perestroika Robin Hessman’s very engaging documentary takes one very relatable look at how changes since glasnost have affected some average Russians. The subjects here are five thirtysomethings who, growing up in Moscow in the 70s and 80s, were the last generation to experience full-on Communist Party indoctrination. But just as they reached adulthood, the whole system dissolved, confusing long-held beliefs and variably impacting their futures. Andrei has ridden the capitalist choo-choo to considerable enrichment as the proprietor of luxury Western menswear shops. But single mother Olga, unlucky in love, just scrapes by, while married schoolteachers Lyuba and Boris are lucky to have inherited an apartment (cramped as it is) they could otherwise ill afford. Meanwhile Ruslan, once member of a famous punk band (which he abandoned on principal because it was getting “too commercial”), both disdains and resents the new order just as he did the old one. Home movies and old footage of pageantry celebrating Soviet socialist glory make a whole ‘nother era come to life in this intimate, unexpectedly charming portrait of its long-term aftermath. (1:27) Balboa. (Harvey)

Submarine (1:37) Opera Plaza, SF Center.

*Super 8 The latest from J.J. Abrams is very conspicuously produced by Steven Spielberg; it evokes 1982’s E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial as well as 1985’s The Goonies and 1982’s Poltergeist (so Spielbergian in nature you’d be forgiven for assuming he directed, rather than simply produced, the pair). But having Grandpa Stevie blessing your flick is surely a good thing, especially when you’re already as capable as Abrams. Super 8 is set in 1979, high time for its titular medium, used by a group of horror movie-loving kids to film their backyard zombie epic; later in the film, old-school celluloid reveals the mystery behind exactly what escaped following a spectacular train wreck on the edge of their small Ohio town. The PG-13 Super 8 aims to frighten, albeit gently; there’s a lot of nostalgia afoot, and things do veer into sappiness at the end (that, plus the band of kids at its center, evoke the trademarks of another Grandpa Stevie: Stephen King). But the kid actors (especially the much-vaunted Elle Fanning) are great, and there’s palpable imagination and atmosphere afoot, rare qualities in blockbusters today. Super 8 tries, and mostly succeeds, in progressing the fears and themes addressed by E.T. (divorce, loneliness, growing up) into century 21, making the unknowns darker and the consequences more dire. (1:52) California, Empire, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

*13 Assassins 13 Assassins is clearly destined to be prolific director Takashi Miike’s greatest success outside Japan yet. It’s another departure for the multi-genre-conquering Miike, doubtless one of the most conventional movies he’s made in theme and execution. That’s key to its appeal — rigorously traditional, taking its sweet time getting to samurai action that is pointedly not heightened by wire work or CGI, it arrives at the kind of slam-dunk prolonged battle climax that only a measured buildup can let you properly appreciate. In the 1840s, samurai are in decline but feudalism is still hale. It’s a time of peace, though not for the unfortunates who live under regional tyrant Lord Naritsugu (Goro Inagaki), a li’l Nippon Caligula who taxes and oppresses his people to the point of starvation. Alas, the current Shogun is his sibling, and plans to make little bro his chief adviser — so a concerned Shogun official secretly hires veteran samurai Shinzaemon (Koji Yakusho) to assassinate the Lord. Fully an hour is spent on our hero doing “assembling the team” stuff, recruiting other unemployed, retired, or wannabe samurai. When the protagonists finally commence their mission, their target is already aware he’s being pursued, and he’s surrounded by some 200 soldiers by the time Miike arrives at the film’s sustained, spectacular climax: a small village which Shinzaemon and co. have turned into a giant boobytrap so that 13 men can divide and destroy an ogre-guarding army. A major reason why mainstream Hollywood fantasy and straight action movies have gotten so depressingly interchangeable is that digital FX and stunt work can (and does) visualize any stupid idea — heroes who get thrown 200 feet into walls by monsters then getting up to fight some more, etc. 13 Assassins is thrilling because its action, while sporting against-the-odds ingeniousness and sheer luck by our heroes as in any trad genre film, is still vividly, bloodily, credibly physical. (2:06) Bridge, Shattuck. (Harvey)

The Tree of Life Mainstream American films are so rarely adventuresome that overreactive gratitude frequently greets those rare, self-conscious, usually Oscar-baiting stabs at profundity. Terrence Malick has made those gestures so sparingly over four decades that his scarcity is widely taken for genius. Now there’s The Tree of Life, at once astonishingly ambitious — insofar as general addressing the origin/meaning of life goes — and a small domestic narrative artificially inflated to a maximally pretentious pressure-point. The thesis here is a conflict between “nature” (the way of striving, dissatisfied, angry humanity) and “grace” (the way of love, femininity, and God). After a while Tree settles into a fairly conventional narrative groove, dissecting — albeit in meandering fashion — the travails of a middle-class Texas household whose patriarch (a solid Brad Pitt) is sternly demanding of his three young sons. As a modern-day survivor of that household, Malick’s career-reviving ally Sean Penn has little to do but look angst-ridden while wandering about various alien landscapes. Set in Waco but also shot in Rome, at Versailles, and in Saturn’s orbit (trust me), The Tree of Life is so astonishingly self-important while so undernourished on some basic levels that it would be easy to dismiss as lofty bullshit. Its Cannes premiere audience booed and cheered — both factions right, to an extent. (2:18) California, Embarcadero, Smith Rafael, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

*The Trip Eclectic British director Michael Winterbottom rebounds from sexually humiliating Jessica Alba in last year’s flop The Killer Inside Me to humiliating Steve Coogan in all number of ways (this time to positive effect) in this largely improvised comic romp through England’s Lake District. Well, romp might be the wrong descriptive — dubbed a “foodie Sideways” but more plaintive and less formulaic than that sun-dappled California affair, this TV-to-film adaptation displays a characteristic English glumness to surprisingly keen emotional effect. Playing himself, Coogan displays all the carefree joie de vivre of a colonoscopy patient with hemorrhoids as he sloshes through the gray northern landscape trying to get cell reception when not dining on haute cuisine or being wracked with self-doubt over his stalled movie career and love life. Throw in a happily married, happy-go-lucky frenemy (comic actor Rob Brydon) and Coogan (TV’s I’m Alan Partridge), can’t help but seem like a pathetic middle-aged prick in a puffy coat. Somehow, though, his confused narcissism is a perverse panacea. Come for the dueling Michael Caine impressions and snot martinis, stay for the scallops and Brydon’s “small man in a box” routine. (1:52) Albany, Clay, Smith Rafael. (Devereaux)

*Trollhunter Yes, The Troll Hunter riffs off The Blair Witch Project (1999) with both whimsy and, um, rabidity. Yes, you may gawk at its humongoid, anatomically correct, three-headed trolls, never to be mistaken for grotesquely cute rubber dolls, Orcs, or garden gnomes again. Yes, you may not believe, but you will find this lampoon of reality TV-style journalism, and an affectionate jab at Norway’s favorite mythical creature, very entertaining. Told that a series of strange attacks could be chalked up to marauding bears, three college students (Glenn Erland Tosterud, Tomas Alf Larsen, and Johanna Morck) strap on their gumshoes and choose instead to pursue a mysterious poacher Hans (Otto Jespersen) who repeatedly rebuffs their interview attempts. Little did the young folk realize that their late-night excursions following the hunter into the woods would lead at least one of them to rue his or her christening day. Ornamenting his yarn with beauty shots of majestic mountains, fjords, and waterfalls, Norwegian director-writer André Ovredal takes the viewer beyond horror-fantasy — handheld camera at the ready — and into a semi-goofy wilderness of dark comedy, populated by rock-eating, fart-blowing trolls and overshadowed by a Scandinavian government cover-up sorta-worthy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2009). (1:30) Lumiere. (Chun)

*X-Men: First Class Cynics might see this prequel as pandering to a more tweeny demographic, and certainly there are so many ways it could have gone terribly wrong, in an infantile, way-too-cute X-Babies kinda way. But despite some overly choppy edits that shortchange brief moments of narrative clarity, X-Men: First Class gets high marks for its fairly first-class, compelling acting — specifically from Michael Fassbender as the enraged, angst-ridden Magneto and James McAvoy as the idealistic, humanist Charles Xavier. Of course, the celebrated X-Men tale itself plays a major part: the origin story of Magneto, a.k.a. Erik Lehnsherr, a Holocaust survivor, is given added heft with a few tweaks: here, in an echo of Fassbender’s turn in Inglourious Basterds (2009), his master of metal draws on his bottomless rage to ruthlessly destroy the Nazis who used him as a lab rat in experiments to build a master race. The last on his list is the energy-wrangling Sebastian Shaw (Kevin Bacon), who’s set up a sweet Bond-like scenario, protected by super-serious bikini-vixen Emma Frost (January Jones). The complications are that Erik doesn’t ultimately differ from his Frankensteins — he pushes mutant power to the detriment of those puny, bigoted humans — and his unexpected collaborator and friend is Xavier, the privileged, highly psychic scion who hopes to broker an understanding between mutants and human and use mutant talent to peaceful ends. Together, they can move mountains—or at least satellite dishes and submarines. Jennifer Lawrence as Raven/Mystique and Nicholas Hoult as Hank McCoy/Beast fill out the cast, voicing those eternal X-Men dualities — preserving difference vs. conformity, intoxicating power vs. reasoned discipline. All core superhero concerns, as well as teen identity issues — given a fresh charge. (2:20) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

 

Tribes author burrows into the Big Apple

Sasha Cuttler
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Thanks to the help of burners from at least five different tribes that I’ve covered or camped with at Burning Man, my New York City book tour was a successful adventure in art and community, from the Figment festival on scenic Governors Island to exotic eating and drinking in the East Village and Queens to a great underground party at an old Catholic school in Brooklyn to getting canonized by Rev. Billy and his 25-person choir into the Church of Earthalujah along with SF-based performance artist Guillermo Gómez-Peña.

The June 7-13 trip was in support of The Tribes of Burning Man: How an Experimental City in the Desert is Shaping the New American Counterculture, my book chronicling how an event born in San Francisco has spawned a vast, well-developed culture and ethos that is affecting life in cities around the world, even seemingly impervious megalopolises like the Big Apple.

I arrived on the red eye Wednesday morning just as a heat wave was peaking in New York, showing up mid-morning at the Upper East Side apartment of Jax, a recent transplant from SF who I worked with on last year’s Temple of Flux project. Her air conditioner hadn’t arrived yet, so I sweated through a needed nap before surrendering myself to exploring the city.

That night was my Tribes launch party in a great spot called Casa Mezcal on Orchard Street on the Lower East Side. Fellow Shadyvil campmate Wylie Stecklow had not only arranged the venue, which is owned by one of his law clients, but he moved the weekly Big Apple Burners happy hour and the final planning meeting for Figment (an event he co-founded four years ago) to the venue, giving me a built-in audience of interested burners who seemed to really appreciate my reading and discussion.

Also joining the party were two NYC figures who appear in my book: Not That Dave, Burning Man’s NYC regional contact and a Figment director, and Billy Talen, the former San Francisco performance artist who transformed himself into NYC’s Reverend Billy, pastor of the Church of Stop Shopping, which evolved into the Church of Life After Shopping before becoming the Church of Earthalujah to reflect a mission that expanded from economic justice and anti-consumerism to environmentalism and a holistic way of looking at the perils of our economic system.

As I’ve been doing at some of my Bay Area book events, I read chapters that introduced them and then let them speak, and they each had lively, weird, heart-warming things to say. Several other New Yorkers who I know through Burning Man showed up at the event to join the discussion, wish me well, and buy books. The most surprising guest was Mike Farrah, former Mayor Gavin Newsom’s old right-hand man who did more to facilitate the temporary placement of burner artworks in SF than anyone in City Hall. He now lives in NYC and showed up late, so after talking SF politics and BRC art over beers, we wandered past some of the oldest tenement buildings in the city together as we headed toward the subway.

The city was sweltering the next day (although Jax’s air conditioner had blessedly arrived), so I spent over three hours in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which makes SF’s museums seem like mere gallery spaces. I walked through Central Park between the reservoir and the Great Lawn, which was being set up for that evening’s Black Eyed Peas concert, all the way to the Upper East Side and my reading at the Columbia University Bookstore (which nobody showed up for, a combination of school being out, the heat, and a freak thunderstorm that was just rolling in as my event began – my first flop after more than a dozen bookstore events).

But New York is a city for nightowls, as I was just beginning to appreciate, particularly after I made my way down to the East Village that night to meet a Garage Mahal campmate who I’ve known for years simply as Manhattan. He’s been living in his apartment for 15 years and the city for 25, developing a detailed knowledge of the best places to eat, drink, and otherwise indulge.

Manhattan won’t go to the Upper East Side, preferring to remain in “civilization,” as he calls the East Village, which earned its storied reputation as the center of the nightlife universe. We ate Japanese curry at Curry Ya, drank hard-to-find German Kolsch beer at Wechsler’s Currywurst, danced with saucy Armenian women on Avenue C, drank cold sake underground at Decibel, indulged in the most decadent fried pork sandwiches at Porchetta, mingled with beautiful young people in the Penny Farthing, and then drank cocktails on his stoop until dawn, the streets never going to sleep in this lively neighborhood.

On Friday in the early afternoon, I met Wylie at The Cube, a public art piece near the 8th Street subway stop, and we hopped a train down to the southern tip of Manhattan to catch the free ferry to Governors Island for the opening day of Figment, an art festival started there by burners in 2007 that has since expanded to Detroit, Boston, and Jackson.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg and other city officials have embraced and facilitated the popular three-day event, which now includes art projects such as a treehouse built of old doors, massive steel sculptures, and an elaborate miniature golf course that will remain on the island through the summer. Most of the projects featured the interactivity that is the hallmark of burner art, such as a sound project in an enclosed courtyard in which passerby had to figure out how they were controlling the sounds they heard.

Wylie and I pedaled on borrowed rental bikes to cover all the projects on a large island that is a decommissioned military base with gorgeous views of the Manhattan and New Jersey skylines. Out on the Picnic Point lawn, with the Statue of Liberty looking on from the bay, the venerable NYC-based Burning Man sound camp Disorient hosted a rocking set of DJs under a massive wooden sculpture that they built for Figment and the playa this year.

Unfortunately, Figment is permitted only as a daytime event that ends at 6 pm, because the energy of the 100-plus organizers and volunteers could have driven this party well into the wee hours. Instead, they all gathered after the event at the 340-year-old White Horse Tavern to discuss the day, celebrate, and share endless ideas for new art projects and ways of measuring and directing all the creative energy that flows through their event and city.

After partying until dawn again, Manhattan and I climbed into his car (yes, a car, in Manhattan, the better to cover more ground, he says) Saturday mid-afternoon, picked up a friend near Wall Street, and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge headed toward Astoria, Queens. There, we drank pitchers of rich Czech beer at the 100-year-old Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden, run by the nonprofit Bohemian Citizens’ Benevolent Society, a fraternal order open only to those with Czech blood. With an outdoor capacity of almost 1,000 people, this place was like my beloved Zeitgeist on steroids.

On the way back to the East Village that night, Manhattan did a sudden U-turn and parked in a bus zone in front of a crowded outdoor eatery called Tavern Kyclades, muttering something about needing octopus and telling us he’d just be a minute. The wait for tables at this amazing Greek seafood spot was 90 minutes, but after less than 10 he was back with a to-go container with three long octopus legs, grilled, tender, and just insanely good.

That night, the plan was to hit an underground party in Brooklyn, thrown in a former Catholic school by Rubulad, a venerable party crew. It was after 1 am when we finally left Manhattan’s apartment for the party, catching the subway at Union Square and arriving to find the party in full swing, with more than a dozen rooms with different offerings: DJ dance parties, avante garde films, a piano bar, live music from a trio that had the beautiful crowd dancing hard and smiling. As the party wound down, I headed to Queens with a new friend and we watched a new day dawn on the Empire State building standing tall in the distance.

Sunday might be a day of rest for some, but not for me, not with the kind of roll I was on. So I caught the last ferry to Governors Island at 3 pm and spent the afternoon at Figment with some other burner friends, Shanthi and Patty, who came back to the East Village with me afterward for my third and final Tribes event: being canonized by Reverend Billy during the Church of Earthalujah’s regular Sunday evening performance at Theatre 80 on St. Marks Place.

I’ve been covering Billy and his crew for years, from their performances in San Francisco’s Castro Theater and other local venues to their film “What Would Jesus Buy?” to their work at Burning Man, including their touching sendoff of burner work crews to the Gulf Coast in 2005 to do cleanup and rebuilding work after Hurricane Katrina, an effort that became Burners Without Borders.

As I write in my book, Billy and his choir of several dozen were transformed by Burning Man, and they have returned that embrace of a culture that magnifies and perpetuates their values. And after being called from the audience and walking toward the stage during a rousing rendition of the “When the Saints Go Marching In,” I was warmly embraced by the entire 25-member chorus – actually, it was probably closer to a group grope – and I became Saint Scribe.

And after that, it’s all a bit of a blur, and a vibrant, decadent, Big Apple blur. Thanks, everyone, for a truly memorable trip.

The ol’ Vic-trola

Andrew Lam
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The ol’ Vic-trola

arts@sfbg.com

SOUND TO SPARE The potential closing of Haight Street’s Red Vic Theater has unsettled me. With one less place to go out and enjoy, what’s a shut-in-prone type like me to do?

Fortunately, when I spoke to Sam Sharkey, one of the co-op’s managing partners, he offered a ray of hope by saying that the Red Vic Movie House is here, organized — it just partnered with the Haight Street Fair and the California Jug Band Association for a benefit — and best of all, still screening movies, some of them music-related.

Let me take a breath for a minute to reflect and appreciate some of the carefully curated films I’ve encountered at this fine establishment. I’ve transcended the mundane through Ziggy Stardust’s gender-bending, screwed-up-eyes stage persona in Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Director D.A. Pennebaker, better known for documenting Bob Dylan in the 1960s, tried his hand at capturing the Bowie in full glam garb during a 1973 tour. Mick Ronson shreds on guitar to undeniably comical proportions. I recall the audience cracking up, something you just don’t get when you’ve opted to Netflix at home.

The less acclaimed — but equally gorgeous — somber sounds of a pop-star- turned-recluse proved to be quite a treat. Scott Walker: 30th Century Man (2006) was one of those films I didn’t know I needed to see, until the rainy day someone sent me a YouTube link to his song “It’s Raining Today.” The opening atmospheric sounds alone on this track are enough to captivate, but as it moves forward into Walker’s commanding crooning voice, you realize that he has the ability to convey dread and beauty at once. The film is a concrete testament to his influence on contemporary musicians.

Later I was given the soundtrack to boxing’s “Rumble in the Jungle,” set in early 1970s Zaire, where a showcase of mostly familiar soul artists pulled off a hugely successful stadium concert. Soul Power (2008) sort of serves as a musical counterpart to 1996’s When We Were Kings, which was the cinematic predecessor dealing with the same Ali vs. George fight. The symbolic implications of the event for African and African American pride are brought to the fore, and the concept of power is examined, whether it is achieved physically, politically or even musically.

Sharkey said that declining attendance was the Red Vic’s main obstacle. Single-screen theaters aren’t as much of a sustainable business anymore, as evidenced by the number that have closed in the last 10 to 20 years. The Castro Theatre and the Roxie in the Mission seem to be surviving, though — I wondered why people weren’t coming out for movies in the Haight anymore. Was it a bad rap from all the sit-lie buzz? Sharkey didn’t seem convinced on that argument, trusting that his patrons wouldn’t buy into that hype. He leaned toward more technology, calling this an age of competition and noting that the accessibility of movies via broadband Internet is just too convenient.

If you’re a music fan who wants to help curb the trend against local establishments falling by the wayside, then the no-brainer is to hit the Red Vic for the following music films. Rock out for the cause — or you may end up drowning in a sea of Whole Foods.

June 26-28, Phil Ochs: There But for Fortune. The unsung 1960s antiwar folksinger (who doesn’t mind taking a backseat to Dylan) gets the full doc treatment.

July 14, The Hippie Temptation. Vintage 1967 footage of the Haight-Ashbury scene in its glorious heyday as seen through the eyes of CBS News. Originally aired on TV, this “hilariously biased” take on flower power should have you craving the street peddlers’ wares immediately after the show.

July 15-16, Stop Making Sense. Classic Talking Heads circa 1984 at L.A.’s Pantages Theatre. Watching a jittery David Byrne working the crowd in his oversized boxy white suit should be worth the price of admission alone.

July 19-20, The Last Waltz. This one’s cool for a couple of reasons. First, it’s directed by Martin Scorsese and, second, it captures The Band’s final show at San Francisco’s old Winterland Ballroom, a place I’ve often dreamed of seeing a show.

Camp rocks

Andrew Lam
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Camp rocks

arts@sfbg.com

FRAMELINE The eponymous character in Ash Christian’s Mangus! has a simple ambition: to be Jesus. That is, to play Jesus in the local production of Jesus Christ Spectacular. Mangus does get the part, but his dreams are crushed when a freak limo accident lands him in a wheelchair and his neighbors decide he’s no longer cut out to play their Lord and Savior.

“When you’re in a small town and you want to be an actor and you don’t get the lead, it’s the most devastating thing in the whole world,” says Christian (2006’s Fat Girls), who was inspired by his own history in community theater.

Mangus! is an interesting but wise choice for Frameline: while it features queer characters (including Mangus’ sister Jessica Simpson, played by Heather Matarazzo), the film as a whole is subtler than other festival picks. It has what Christian calls a “queer sensibility,” but much of that is subtextual.

“I don’t look at it as a queer film,” offers Matarazzo. “I just look at it as a really great dark comedy.”

Christian’s cast is full of actors who might be considered queer icons — among them Matarazzo, Jennifer Coolidge, and Leslie Jordan. But Matarazzo, who is openly gay, doesn’t want to restrict herself.

“When I’m playing to a specific audience because I want this to be a gay and lesbian film, that’s fine for any filmmaker who desires to do that,” she reflects. “But for me, film is really about unifying on all fronts.”

And Christian has his own ambitions. Mangus! is a dark comedy in the tradition of Christian’s cinematic idols John Waters and Todd Solondz. (It’s worth noting that Waters has a cameo in the film, and Matarazzo made her breakthrough in Solondz’s 1995 Welcome to the Dollhouse.) With this work, Christian tackles the topic of discrimination apart from sexuality.

“I’d never really seen a movie with a young disabled kid who had a dream,” he says. “It deals with discrimination in a small town, which I’ve definitely been a part of — not with a disability, but because of the gay thing.”

Mangus! is both hilarious and poignant because its filmmaker is unafraid to hold anything back. It somehow manages to walk the line between over-the-top and honest, presenting a portrayal of disability and sexuality that will only shock those not in on the joke.

“Ash is the perfect master of getting to bring absolute balance in terms of letting an audience pity a character, but then also cheer for him and go along with the ride,” Matarazzo notes. “There was never any kind of mentality of trying to manipulate the audience.”

For a while, Christian did worry about audiences taking his films the wrong way, but he admits that it’s no longer a concern. Indeed, he takes pleasure in making movies edgy enough to unnerve people.

“It’s just something that’s going to keep happening because I don’t want to tell boring stories for Lifetime,” he says. “It’s not really what I want to do. So it kind of turns me on now to have people actually have a problem with what I’m trying to say.”

Those who take Christian’s film in the intended tone will appreciate that it’s not meant to be mean-spirited. In the tradition of the great queer films that came before it, Mangus! lives outside the box: it’s unconventional, subversive, and yes, not even a little bit PC.

“In my heart, I’m not trying to say anything offensive at all,” Christian explains. “They’re just taking it that way.”

MANGUS!

Wed/15, 8:30 p.m., $11

Castro

429 Castro, SF

www.frameline.org

 

Quickies: Short Frameline reviews

Andrew Lam
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Quickies: Short Frameline reviews

Below are some reviews of films that intrigued us from the upcoming Frameline Film Festival. Check out more of our coverage here.

Codependent Lesbian Space Alien Seeks Same (Madeleine Olnek, U.S., 2011) Who can’t identify with that title? Metaphorically speaking, that is. Although Madeleine Olnek’s B&W feature insists on etaking it quite literally, to pretty hilarious results. Lonely stationery-store clerk Jane (Lisa Haas) tells her shrink she dreamed a close encounter in which a space ship dropped a note her way that read “What are you doing later?” Shortly thereafter, she finds herself the object of amorous pursuit by Zoinx (Susan Ziegler), one of several bald-pated, high Peter Pan-collared exiles from planet Zotz who’ve been dumped in Manhattan to seek “hot Earthling action” and get their hearts broken — because it is believed back home that “big feelings” of love are destroying the ozone. Ergo, guilty citizens must be rendered “numb and apathetic” by off-shore interspecies romance before safely returning. Meanwhile two badly mismatched government operatives (Dennis Davis, Alex Karpovsky) are spying upon the intergalactic love intrigue. Go Fish (1994) meets Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959), at last! June 25, 3:30 p.m., Castro. (Dennis Harvey)

The Evening Dress (Myriam Aziza, France, 2009) Everybody’s crushed on a teacher at some point, and indeed everybody in Helene Solenska’s (Lio) sixth grade French grammar class seems to have a crush on her. Why not: she’s attractive, wears sexy clothing (by classroom standards at least), and addresses the occasional sass with challenging provocation rather than simple discipline. But shy, studious Juliette (Alba Gaia Bellugi) has a crush bordering on obsession, particularly once she misinterprets teach’s attentions toward outgoing male student Antoine (Léo Legrand). You’re never too young to have a nervous breakdown, and our heroine’s increasingly reckless actions threaten to make her a pariah. Myriam Aziza’s feature is in that My Life as a Dog (1985) realm of movies about unpleasant childhoods that aren’t exploitative but at times grow truly discomfiting — it’s a worst case-scenario of pubescent imagination run amuck amid the usual teasing and bullying of peers. It’s a very good film if not an especially pleasant one. June 22, 4 p.m., Castro. (Harvey)

A Few Days of Respite (Amor Hakkar, Algeria and France, 2010) Quiet, bespectacled Moshen and his younger lover Hassan have fled Iran in the hopes of starting a new life together in Paris. They have only each other, and yet, because they lack visas, they must keep their distance while traveling to avoid arousing suspicion. While on a train in southern France, Moshen befriends Yolande, an older widow hungry for companionship who offers him a quick job painting her flat in a nearby small town. He agrees, forcing Hassan to continue hiding out, first in plain sight, and later, unknown to Yolande, in her attic, until tragedy drags everything out into the open. Algerian writer-director Amor Hakkar, who also plays Moshen, has crafted a sparse, intimate drama — emotionally enriched by its muted performances and minimal dialogue — about the lengths we are willing to go for love and the price we must pay in the process. Mon/20, 9:30 p.m., Elmwood; June 22, 9:30 p.m., Castro. (Matt Sussman)

How Are You? (Jannik Splidboel, Denmark, 2011) In the past few years Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset, a Berlin-based artistic duo and romantic couple, have become international art world darlings known for their ambitious, playful, and critical large-scale installations, such as turning an exhibition space into a life-size replica of a New York City subway station or building a Prada pop-up shop in the Southwestern art mecca Marfa, Texas. At only 70 minutes, How Are You? can’t help but be a whirlwind tour, air kissing the bigger issues (commodity fetishism, identity politics, commercialism, and the vexed relationship the art world has to all three) Elmgreen and Dragset’s projects touch on while tracing the duo’s career trajectory all the way to their victory lap at the 2009 Venice Biennale. Brief but solid. Sun/19, 6:30 p.m., Roxie. (Sussman)

L.A. Zombie (Bruce LaBruce, Germany/U.S./France, 2010) If you’re going to see one Bruce LaBruce gay zombie erotic film, don’t make it L.A. Zombie. Alas, the latest from the queer Canadian auteur doesn’t hold up alongside its thematic predecessor, 2008’s Otto; or Up With Dead People. Lacking any of Otto‘s subtlety, L.A. Zombie is all sex, no substance. Sometimes that works: LaBruce’s The Raspberry Reich (2004) doesn’t go light on the porn, and that’s surely one of his best. But L.A. Zombie is lacking on all fronts. It stars noted gay porn actor Francois Sagat as a possible zombie (as in Otto, this is never made clear) who makes it his mission to fuck dead men back to life. Insert endless scenes of the zombie sticking his weird alien cock into gaping wounds and ejaculating blood onto corpses. If you can stomach that sentence, you can handle the film, but what’s the point? LaBruce’s past efforts have all the full-frontal male nudity without sacrificing the humor or cultural commentary. June 23, 9:30 p.m., Victoria. (Louis Peitzman)

Miwa: A Japanese Icon (Pascal-Alex Vincent, France, 2011) Chanteuse, star of stage and screen, outspoken champion of gay rights, drag queen: Akihiro Miwa has worn these many titles on her taxi-yellow, hair-like tiaras since she first rose to prominence as an androgynous torch singer at Tokyo jazz clubs in the 1950s. But it wasn’t until her dazzling star turn as the titular jewel thief in the camp classic Black Lizard (1968) that Miwa became a household name throughout Japan. Despite its clear admiration of its subject, Pascal Alex-Vincent’s documentary gives Miwa the Wikipedia treatment, resulting in a film that shares the unfortunate distinction of being both heartfelt and dull. Even his interviews with the lady herself come off as lusterless. Do yourself a favor, and track down a copy of Black Lizard instead. Mon/20, 1:30 p.m., Castro. (Sussman)

The Mouth of the Wolf (Pietro Marcello, Italy, 2009) This experimental narrative is a mix of archival footage and dramatic vignettes depicting the great love between two unlikely entwined souls who met in prison: ex-hood/longtime jailbird Enzo, a.k.a. Vincenzo Motta), and sometimes drug-addicted transsexual Mary Monaco (who died last year after filming). It’s also a lyrical appreciation of Genoa, the fabled northern Italian seaport that’s experienced tumultuous changes for over two millennia. Pietro Marcello’s unpinnable “docu-fiction” — Motta and Monaco apparently play themselves, a highlight being a 12-minute, nearly unbroken-shot dual interview — is frequently gorgeous cinematic poetry. If you seek the more conventional rewards of prose, you’ll probably be bored. However: anybody looking for Daddy should be informed that Enzo is pretty much the last word in unreconstructed macho-manliness. June 22, 9:30 p.m., Elmwood; June 24, 11 a.m., Castro. (Harvey)

Smut Capital of America (Michael Stabile, U.S., 2010) San Francisco. It’s smutty! You already know that, but do you know how deep-down and dirty it really is, in a historical sense? Basically we invented hardcore pornography in the 1960s (OMG, pubic hair!) and this lively local short, soon to expand to full-length, tells that story through fascinating archival footage, no-punch-pulled interviews with folks like John Waters and pornologist John Karr, and titillating naughty bits. Throughout there’s a feeling that a vital part of the story of sexual liberation, gay and straight, is being unearthed. And the raunchy tales of Polk Street hustlers, sticky-floored cinemas, and buck-wild hippie girls throwing open their golden gates will flood you with San Francisco pride. The short plays as part of the “Only in San Francisco” program with Running in Heels: The Glendon ‘Anna Conda’ Hyde Story and Making Christmas: The View From the Tom and Jerry Christmas Tree. Sun/19, 11 a.m., Victoria. (Marke B.)

Weekend (Andrew Haigh, U.K., 2011) The mumblecore-y movie many of us who lived through the 1990s wish was made back then: all that’s missing is the purposefully retro Cure soundtrack. Two scruffy, hipsterish, actually attractive Brit boys enjoy an ideal weekend fling. There is a fixie involved. Commitment-phobes each — one because he isn’t quite into the gay scene, one because he’s too full-on liberated for relationship gibberish — they gradually and adorably deal with their emotional attraction. By no means is this My Beautiful Launderette, and the melancholy self-regard might come a bit thick (Weekend was a big hit at the SXSW film fest, so … ), but it’s a well-acted, lovely film that examines the state of cute white skinny young bearded gay blokes today. Fri/17, 4:15, Castro. (Marke B.)

Without (Mark Jackson, U.S., 2011) This first feature by Seattle’s Mark Jackson (not to be confused with the Bay Area theater talent) is a stark reading of the psyche of 19-year-old Joslyn (Joslyn Jensen), newly arrived as temporarily caretaker to nearly-vegetative, wheelchair-bound Frank (Ron Carrier) while his kids and grandkids are on vacation. Left with this almost completely helpless charge — requiring butt-wiping, wheelchair-to-bed lifting, and regular transfusions of the Fishing Channel as stimulant — Joslyn seems to wallow in rather than escape her problems. Which appear to consist largely of a lesbian relationship whose gasping breaths we witness in occasional flashback. Isolated by no Internet or cellphone reception, not to mention her own powers of repression, Joslyn gradually looses grip as Jackson’s narrative grows more disturbing and ambiguous. Sat/18, 6:30 p.m., Victoria. (Harvey)

Frameline 35: San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival

June 16–26, most films $9–$15

Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF

Rialto Cinemas Elmwood, 2966 College, Berk.

Roxie Theater, 3117 16th St., SF

Victoria Theatre, 2961 16th St., SF

www.frameline.org

 

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