Event

SATURDAY

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March 24

EVENT/MUSIC

Bittersweet 16: A Fundraiser
for Kitchen Sink Magazine

After four superlative years, the award-winning quarterly will soon vanish from newsstands, a bankrupt publisher and the closure of the Independent Press Association the cause of death. But they will not go quietly. Inspired by jazz funerals, the editors have planned a series of fundraisers to pay for their final issue. This one features performances by Conspiracy of Beards and Michael Zapruder, as well as raffle prizes from Amoeba Records, the Believer, and local artisans. (Nathan Baker)

9 p.m., $5–$10
Edinburgh Castle Pub
950 Geary, SF
(415) 885-4074
www.kitchensinkmag.com

MUSIC

Secret Chiefs 3

Trey Spruance’s Secret Chiefs 3 are not so much a real band as a collection of virtual bands, each dedicated to exploring its own esoteric musical traditions. The band’s lineup has been in flux since Spruance started the project in the mid-’90s; the current touring ensemble is a septet featuring a three-piece string section and a new drummer, Peijman Kouretchian, who brings a jaw-dropping command of both complex Middle Eastern polyrhythms and modern metal chops. SC3 will be performing songs ranging in style from apocalyptic surf rock to Persian math metal to sweeping cinematic epics. (Will York)

With Sleepytime Gorilla Museum
9 p.m., $19
Slim’s
333 11th St., SF
(415) 255-0333
www.slim’s-sf.com

WEDNESDAY

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March 21

THEATER

Blood Wedding

Ever felt like a cockroach in love with a butterfly? Federico García Lorca explored such feelings in his first play. By the time he penned Blood Wedding, in 1933, García Lorca was brilliantly acquainted with the painful four-letter word that begins with an l in English and an a in Spanish. The first play in a trilogy of rustic tragedies, Blood Wedding has had almost as many lives as it has staged deaths over the years. The presence of local flamenco diva Yaelisa in the Shotgun Players’ take on the archetypal tale means there will be dance amid the romance. (Johnny Ray Huston)

Through April 22
8 p.m., $17–$25
Ashby Stage
1901 Ashby, Berk.
(510) 841-6500
www.shotgunplayers.org

EVENT

San Francisco Flower
and Garden Show

On moving to urban San Francisco, the land of limited space and time, many transplants forget the soothing childhood pleasures of tending to backyard gardens. Thankfully, the San Francisco Flower and Garden Show has returned for its 22nd year with 21 inspiring designer gardens, 60 free seminars, and retailers to help you regain your green thumb. (Joshua Rotter)

Through March 25
Wed.–Sat., 9 a.m.–8 p.m.;
Sun., 9 a.m.–6 p.m.
Free–$20; five-day pass, $65
Cow Palace
2600 Geneva, SF
(415) 771-6909
www.gardenshow.com

Antiwar movement turns four

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By Amanda Witherell


› amanda@sfbg.com

The Iraq War turned four years old March 19, but so did the antiwar movement, and thousands of people marked the event with protests, rallies, and direct actions around the Bay Area.

The largest event was the March 18 march on Market Street, led by the ANSWER (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism) coalition, one of more than 1,000 rallies around the country. The protesters marched under a "No Blood for Oil" banner, "Impeach" signs donated by Working Assets, and Whole Earth flags that fluttered in the westerly wind funneling down San Francisco’s main drag. The Chronicle estimated the crowd at 3,000; ANSWER claimed it was 40,000. We estimated the march at 10,000 strong.

Education seemed to be the point protesters were driving home, as if the knowledge of the war’s injustices would reverberate like the chanting voices against the walls of the Financial District and into the minds of the children who wandered through the crowds of thousands.

"Will this stop the war May First?" Glenn Borchardt asked. "No, but it will stop it some day."

Sandee Dickson, a retired teacher, was with about 50 other purple-shirted Democrats of Napa Valley and said she was protesting "to keep it on the front page."

"There are all sorts of people here, from all walks of life, sending the message that American people say, ‘No more war.’ "

More than 40 cops watched the chanting crowd from their post, leaning against the front of the Westfield shopping center, guarding the commerce. "A couple of years ago a couple windows got smashed," one of the police officers said to the Guardian. "I guess they’re pretty expensive."

The crowd was pretty tame, though, and there were no arrests. There seemed to be just as many baby strollers in the crowd as people marching alongside them. Balloons bounced from the wrists of children, and a Girl Scout was making a killing selling cookies off the back of her Radio Flyer wagon for $3.50 a box.

Captain Denis O’Leary from Southern Station said there were about 270 officers on patrol, plus additional platoons of traffic and tactical officers, prepared for violence he wasn’t really anticipating.

"They might get arrested," he said, gesturing to some anarchists waving red and black flags at the edge of Larkin Street. A cop in this city for 25 years, O’Leary has responded to many demonstrations of all sizes and flavors and thinks they’ve changed a lot over the years. He mentioned the 1989 protest outside the Westin St. Francis against the first President George Bush. "That was an angry tone, it was massive, and there were arrests."

When asked if he looks at the crowd and worries about the safety of all the children who could get caught up in a sudden action, he said, "Yes, because my daughter is out there." He said she’s 15.

Sue Martin was marching with her son, Sean Martin-Hamburger. For his first protest, the eight-year-old had made a colorful cardboard sign that read, "Have some peace in your heart." He was too shy to say much to us, but his mom was less reticent: "We’re demonstrating because we don’t want to see any more violence, anywhere actually."

Though it was Sean’s first march on Market, his mother has been protesting for 35 years and agreed the age range was one of the big differences, as was the energy. "It feels more creative and less angry, like we’re starting to embody the peace and not respond to the violence with violence. It doesn’t feel vengeful, but maybe I’m just getting older."

On March 19, there were some people willing to face off with the police at a die-in. Hundreds of protesters lay down on the sidewalks and in the streets of downtown San Francisco, representing the 3,200 American soldiers and the estimated 160,000 Iraqi civilians who have died in the past four years. A helicopter whirring overhead and the corpses under blood-spattered sheets gave the direct action an eerie Vietnam feel, but there seemed to be more cops than corpses. They got something to do when 57 protesters became the walking dead, rising up from the sidewalk and dying again in Market Street traffic, disrupting the flow of daily life and garnering some misdemeanor charges.

Across the bay, 14 people also prepared for arrests, locking themselves into a human chain across the entrance to Chevron’s corporate headquarters in San Ramon. For the third time in four years, more than 100 representatives from Bay Rising, US Labor Against War, Amazon Watch, and Students for a Democratic Society gathered to speak against the other axis of evil: oil, profits, and war.

"Under the new Iraqi Oil Law, Chevron is standing to directly benefit from a law that comes from Bush. Two-thirds of [Iraq] oil will be owned by foreign companies," Sam Edmondson of Bay Rising said. "The fear is that US troops will be used to secure that oil."

Back in San Francisco, in front of the office of Rep. Nancy Pelosi, "Stop Funding the War" called on the woman who controls the purse strings to tighten them.

A few hundred people gathered outside the Federal Building to hear veterans, mothers of soldiers, local progressives, and city officials, such as Sup. Ross Mirkarimi, who’s authored local resolutions against the war.

"I think [Pelosi] should be lining up votes to cut off funding for the war," former supervisor and 2003 mayoral candidate Matt Gonzales said. "If they cut off money, there’d be an interesting crisis."

Former congressional candidate Krissy Keefer was there as well. When asked where she’d be if she’d been voted into Pelosi’s seat, she said, "I would be here to provide leadership to San Francisco. San Francisco is really, really important, and we need to constantly reinforce the position that we play. The middle-of-the-road position that Pelosi takes squashes the best intentions of the Democratic Party." *

Sam Devine and Sarah Phelan contributed to this story.

Dance dance revolution

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"If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be in your revolution" is a club-friendly sentiment traditionally attributed to estimable anarchist Emma Goldman. But even if she didn’t put it in quite those words, the message is clear: changing the world doesn’t have to be a grim slog. Why struggle at all if it doesn’t result in a world we can actually enjoy? That’s where these benefit-hosting, rabble-rousing, community-oriented bars, clubs, cultural centers, and performance spaces come in. Like the spoonful of sugar that masks the medicine, a nice pour and a few choice tunes can turn earnest liberation into ecstatic celebration.

DANCING QUEENS


Billing itself as "your dive," El Rio defines "you" as a crowd of anarchists, trannies, feminists, retro-cool kids, and heat-seeking salseros as diverse as you’re likely to find congregating around one shuffleboard table. Whether featuring a rawkin’ Gender Pirates benefit show or a rare screening of The Fall of the I-Hotel as part of radical film series Televising the Revolution, El Rio encourages an intimacy and camaraderie among its dance floor–loving patrons less frequently found these days in an increasingly class-divided Mission.

3158 Mission, SF. (415) 282-3325, www.elriosf.com

THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE SANITIZED


Although it’s really an aboveground Mission storefront, Balazo 18 has a great "in the basement" underground vibe, and within its gritty labyrinth, upstart idealists lurk like scruffy Minotaurs. The low overhead and inclusive ambience has proven fertile ground for local activist functions such as the recent Clarion Alley Mural Project fundraiser and December 2006’s Free Josh Wolf event (freedom still pending). The dance floor’s generous size attracts top-notch local bands and sweaty, freedom-seeking legions who love to dance till they drop.

2183 Mission, SF. (415) 255-7227, www.balazogallery.com

STARRY-EYED IDEALISM


Applause for the Make-Out Room‘s green-minded stance against unnecessary plastic drink straws (it doesn’t serve ’em), its championing of literary causes (Steven Elliott’s "Progressive Reading" series, Charlie Anders’s "Writers with Drinks"), and its calendar of benefit shows for agendas as diverse as animal sanctuary, tenants rights, and free speech. Plus, not only are the (strawless) drinks reasonably priced, but the wacked-out every–day–is–New Year’s Eve disco ball and silver star decor hastens their effect.

3225 22nd St., SF. (415) 647-2888, www.makeoutroom.com

STOP IN THE NAME OF ART


The Rickshaw Stop hosts progressive literary luminaries by the library-load, raising the roof and the funds for programs such as the 61-year-old San Francisco Writer’s Workshop and the reading series "Inside Storytelling." Other beneficiaries of the Rickshaw’s pro-arts programming include SF Indiefest and Bitch magazine, and the club calendar is filled with queer dance parties, record release shows, and even an upcoming "Pipsqueak a Go Go" dance party for l’il kiddies with the Devilettes and the Time Outs. If teaching a roomful of preschoolers the Monkey isn’t an act of die-hard, give-something-back merrymaking martyrdom, well …

155 Fell, SF. (415) 861-2011, www.rickshawstop.com

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS


A dancer- and activist-run performance incubator, CounterPULSE hosts a diverse collection of cutting-edge artistes ranging from queer Butoh dancers to crusading sexologists to mobility-impaired aerialists. It’s also home to the interactive history project Shaping San Francisco and a lively weekly contact jam. But it’s the plucky, DIY joie de vivre that pervades its fundraising events — featuring such entertainment as queer cabaret, big burlesque, and an abundance of booty-shaking — that keeps our toes tapping and our progressive groove moving. Best of all, the "no one turned away for lack of funds" policy ensures that even the most broke-ass idealist can get down.

1310 Mission, SF. (415) 626-2060, www.counterpulse.org

MORE THAN THE SUM OF ITS PARTS


Sometimes a dance club, sometimes an art gallery — and sometimes not quite either — 111 Minna Gallery is pretty much guaranteed to always be a good time. Funds have been raised here on behalf of groups such as the Electronic Frontier Foundation, the West Memphis Three, and Hurricane Relief as a plethora of local and big-name artists and music makers — from Hey Willpower to Henry Rollins — have shown their stuff on the charmingly makeshift stage and the well-worn walls.

111 Minna, SF. (415) 974-1719, www.111minnagallery.com

THE HUMAN LAUGH-IN


It’s true — the revolutionary life can’t just be one big dance party. Sometimes it’s an uptown comedy club adventure instead. Cobb’s Comedy Club consistently books the big names on the comedy circuit — and it also showcases some side-splitting altruism, such as last month’s THC Comedy Medical Marijuana benefit tour and the annual "Stand Up for Justice" events sponsored by Death Penalty Focus. Even selfless philanthropy can be a laughing matter.

915 Columbus, SF. (415) 928-4320, www.cobbscomedyclub.com

OLD FAITHFUL


The headless guardian angel of cavernous, city-funded cultural center SomArts has been a silent witness to countless community-involved installations and festivals, such as the "Radical Performance" series, a Day of the Dead art exhibit, the annual "Open Studios Exhibition," and the San Francisco Electronic Music Festival. And plenty of fundraising celebrations have been hosted beneath its soaring rafters on behalf of organizations such as the Coalition on Homelessness, Survival Research Labs, and the Center for Sex and Culture. We’ve got to admit — nothing cries "community" like a space where you can drink absinthe and build misfit toys one night, dance to live salsa the next, and attend a sober seminar on pirate radio the following afternoon.

934 Brannan, SF. (415) 552-2131, www.somarts.org

STORMING THE CASTLE


Even if the Edinburgh Castle were run by community-hating misanthropes, we’d come here for the craic and perhaps a wistful fondle of the Ballantine caber mounted on the wall. But general manager Alan Black has helped foster a scene of emerging and established writers, unsigned bands, and Robbie Burns lovers in the lively heart of the upper TL. The unpretentious, unflappable venue also hosts benefits for causes such as breast cancer research and refugee relocation. And the Tuesday night pub quiz, twice-monthly mod-Mersybeat dance nights, and annual swearing competition keep us coming back for more (except maybe the haggis).

950 Geary, SF. (415) 885-4074, www.castlenews.com

SHAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT


Turning martini shaking into charitable moneymaking, Elixir has been the go-to drinks dispensary for fundraisers of all varieties since it launched its unique Charity Guest Bartending program. The concept is simple: the organizers of a fundraising effort sign up in advance, beg or bully a hundred of their best buddies to show up early and stay late, get a crash course in mixology, and raise bucks behind the bar of this green-certified Mission District saloon (the second-oldest operating bar in San Francisco). Did we mention it’s green certified? Just checking. Barkeep, another round.

3200 16th St., SF. (415) 552-1633, www.elixirsf.com

SPACE IS THE PLACE


A 2006 Best of the Bay winner, CELLspace has weathered the usual warehouse-space storms of permit woes and facility upgrading, and yet it continues to expand its programming and fan base into some very far-flung realms. From roller disco to b-boy battling, hip-hop to punk rock, art classes to aerial performances, the CELL has been providing an urban refuge for at-risk youth, aging hipsters, and community builders since 1996. Though we mourn the loss of the Bike Kitchen, which moved to its new SoMa digs, we’re glad to see the return of the Sunday-morning Mission Village Market — now indoors!

2050 Bryant, SF. (415) 648-7562, www.cellspace.org

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NOISE: Doing the SXSW Red-Eye

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Contributor Kate Izquierdo sent in her latest dispatch on SXSW, the final days:

shitdisco.jpg
Shitdisco is the shit.

Every year, you swear to yourself that you will find alternate routes to maneuver the Sixth Street on St. Patrick’s day, and every year you forget or get too loaded and find yourself backstroking through a sea of jello-shot hoovering, stiletto-tottering, verdantly outfitted U of T students looking to whoop it up. They’re a surreal injection into the conference populace, who are now starting to show the effects of four solid days of drinking, schmoozing, rocking, and ricocheting from venue to venue. Our forearms are purple from wrist to elbow with stamps, the plastic day party wristbands are cutting off our circulation, we’re sunburnt, and, oh, yeah, maneuvering on about four hours of sleep. We’re all ratcheting up to that level of cranky that can only be healed with a two-day nap or a lot of valium.

Don’t get me wrong – the day (Saturday, March 17) was a good one, albeit one that started an ungodly hour. We kicked off at 9:30 a.m. with the Allen Oldies Band over at the Continental for an early morning dose of dance party and jalapeno pancakes, all hosted by club owner Mojo Nixon. Dancing to 96 Tears on no sleep is the cheapest hallucinogen on the market, I guarantee it. Being served chili-spiked pancakes by women in French maid costumes did little to normalize the event, either. Spontaneous chants of “Nine thirty! Nine thirty!” kept erupting, as if people needed convincing it was Saturday morning. For the record, it was still Friday to me.

TUESDAY

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March 20

EVENT

“Four Years Later: American Soldiers Share Their Stories on the Anniversary of the War”

Once a skilled firefighter, National Guard Sgt. Brett Miller was unable to dial a phone number after a roadside blast in Iraq left him with a brain injury. But Miller is one of the lucky ones. After four years of war in Iraq, more than 3,000 soldiers have died and countless others been permanently disabled. Miller and fellow veterans Army Sgt. Camille Evans and Infantry Officer Paul Reickhoff will mark this grave anniversary trading traumatic war tales at InForum’s “Four Years Later.” (Joshua Rotter)

6:30 p.m., $7-$20
Commonwealth Club of California
595 Market, second floor, SF
(415) 597-6705
www.commonwealthclub.org

MUSIC

Two Sheds

There are clips floating around YouTube of Two Sheds performing in a San Diego television studio. The cameras track across the soundstage and dissolve between Unplugged-style close-ups of fret boards and musicians, who look perfect under the parcan lighting. Though they clearly nail renditions of “Perfect” and “For Theresa,” the sterile TV-land setting seems an unbefitting package for Two Sheds, whose charm lies in the direct, personal effect of singer Caitlin Gutenberger’s lyrical inventions. (Nathan Baker)

9 p.m., $7
Make-Out Room
3225 22nd St., SF
(415) 647-2888
www.makeoutroom.com

FRIDAY

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March 16

MUSIC

Fukwerk Fridays with DJ Limacon

If you’re like most office workers, you’re already working for the weekend as soon as your alarm unleashes its first thumpings Monday morning. Then why not get the weekend started early at Fukwerk Fridays, the Bay Area Beatdrop-run happy hour dance party featuring local DJs who share an affinity for minimal Berlin techno? This week’s guest, DJ Limacon, a.k.a. Santa Cruz’s Christopher T. Lee, has released synth-heavy, tech funk discs Muster Funk (Intrinsic Design, 2006), which are great late-night grooves. (Joshua Rotter)

5 p.m., free
111 Minna Gallery
111 Minna Street, SF
(415) 974-1719
www.babd.org

MUSIC/EVENT

Hotel Utah 30th Anniversary Weekend with the Culver City Dub Collective

It’s hard to believe but true: that venerable venue of low-key, low-cost live music, the Hotel Utah, hits the big 3-0 just in time for St. Patrick’s Day weekend. Don’t expect any jigs or reels, though, as the Culver City Dub Collective take the stage – their mellow beats are tinged with the tonal colors of old Jamaica rather than the cool green of the Emerald Isle. (Nicole Gluckstern)

With Pollo del Mar, White Thighs,
and Thao Nguyen
Also Sat/17 with the Mumlers
8:30 p.m., $10
Hotel Utah
500 Fourth St., SF
(415) 546-6300
www.thehotelutahsaloon.com

WEDNESDAY

0

March 14

EVENT

Pi Day

How hot is math right now? Hot enough for me to date a geek just so I can leave him and upgrade once he becomes a billionaire. Right now I’m breaking out my high school textbooks in preparation for Pi Day at the Exploratorium on March 14 (a.k.a. 3.14). And it’s also Albert Einstein’s birthday! The museum will celebrate with a gathering around the pi shrine at 1:59 p.m. to sing Pi Day songs and make a beaded pi string. (Elaine Santore)

1:59 p.m., $8-$13
Exploratorium
Palace of Fine Arts
3601 Lyon, SF
(415) 561-0360
www.exploratorium.edu

MUSIC

Dead Science

After signing to Berkeley’s Absolutely Kosher Records, Seattle’s the Dead Science are running as pop weirdos, though the band’s sometimes silky, sometimes scuzzy jazz rock dynamism reminds me more of groups such as the Dirty Three and Tin Hat Trio. Whatever its correct classification might be, the trio cooks up the kind of dense, dreamy sound that could score a nightclub scene in a David Lynch movie. (Max Goldberg)

With Parenthetical Girls
8 p.m., $7
21 Grand
416 25th St., Oakl.
(510) 444-7263
www.21grand.org

SFIAAFF: Got fangs?

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› kimberly@sfbg.com

What a difference an indie blockbuster makes. The last time I spoke to Better Luck Tomorrow writer and director Justin Lin, he was energetically doing the grassroots festival rounds, beating the shrubbery on the importance of Asian Americans making Asian Pacific Islander films with empowered, complex characters. Yet judging from the craft, ideas, humor, and humanity that went into Lin’s compelling final product, luck was only one part of it. Rather, it was a game of wit, tenacity, and persuasion that archetypal overachiever Lin excelled at (he’d already made one indie, 1997’s Shopping for Fangs). It probably seemed like gravy, with rice noodles on the side, when the MTV Films–released Better Luck Tomorrow broke new ground during its 2003 opening weekend, earning almost $400,000 in 13 theaters, averaging $30,650 per screen and thus beating the averages of other MTV releases such as Jackass: The Movie.

Now, five years after I first talked to Lin, he has paid off the quarter-mil credit card debt he’d accrued in financing Better Luck Tomorrow and parlayed his success into studio work: 2006’s Annapolis and The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, a sequel that attempted to correct the damage done by the first film’s rewrite of Asian car culture. Lin is still one of the only API faces behind the camera in Hollywood ("At directors guild meetings you definitely stick out," he confesses with a chuckle), but in the process of gaming the studio system, he’s been able to return to what he calls "passion projects." In fact, earlier in the day of our interview, he’d just completed Finishing the Game — his imagined retelling of the making of Bruce Lee’s posthumous cash-in deathsploitation flick, Game of Death — a comic take on Asian American masculinity, Hollywood, and the stories we tell ourselves to make it through the next scene.

SFBG How did Finishing the Game come to pass?

JUSTIN LIN The idea has been with me since I was a kid. It’s funny because as a filmmaker, there’s the journey you kind of dream up, and there’s the reality that hits you. You take out 10 credit cards and are in six-figure debt — it does affect your choices. I was fortunate. Better Luck Tomorrow opened up avenues, and one of those was to make studio movies. In reality, not many people get those opportunities, and it’s a whole different set of challenges and rules. It’s insane. Walking on set on a big Hollywood action movie, I would think, "$250,000 was the budget of Better Luck Tomorrow — here you spend that buying lunch."

SFBG Is it harder to get films with Asian American narratives and Asian American characters made?

JL Yeah, even for a $250,000 budget movie — that’s still tons of money, as far as Asian American film goes, and it’s all about gross profits and getting the films out, distribution and exhibition.

It’s funny — when I get into the studio world, I go to marketing meetings and meetings that most people don’t get into, and I’ve learned it’s all about numbers. Better Luck Tomorrow proved there was an audience, and it crossed over. But with Finishing the Game, the conversation always went back to Better Luck Tomorrow, because as far as Asian American films go, that’s the only thing they have to refer to, and it’s a challenge to prove it’s a valid business model for investors. I hope to conquer that with Finishing the Game — you can’t be treating these films as if they’re big-event blockbusters. Hopefully we are building our community with shared experiences.

SFBG You made Finishing the Game independently?

JL I approached studios early on. But I could see them wanting to develop it into a kung fu movie. Right now, the Asians on film have to exist for Asian reasons. Usually when you see Asian faces they’re Asian for a reason, whether they’re tourists or kung fu masters.

I don’t think it’s racism. That’s just the mind-set that exists in these rooms — the reality of it is, when you go in these casting offices and when they cast, it’s usually black and white. I think it’s going to take filmmakers to go in and say, "I want the casting to be color-blind." Even getting Asian American actors in to meet heads of casting is important — you may not get the job, but they can see your work. These are little baby steps. No one talks about it or knows about it.

SFBG How do you feel about Bruce Lee?

JL As a kid, I had a push-pull relationship with Bruce Lee, who was empowered, sexy, and cool and everything wrapped into one. At the same time, you’re walking down the street, and they’re expecting you to know kung fu and doing his yell at you.

But his screen presence and fearlessness made him so great. At the time I was totally confused — I saw Game of Death and didn’t know the backstory that 80 percent of it was made with a fake stand-in. As the idea evolved, all these other issues came up. There’s a made-up scenario of a casting process to replace him and, especially in the last five years, issues of identity and what it means to be in the film industry and society as a whole and the politics and agendas that go into it. In Asian American cinema too, I think it’s time for us to laugh — at ourselves, even.

FINISHING THE GAME

Thurs/15, 7 p.m., $40 opening night gala screening, $60 screening and Asian Art Museum reception

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 865-1588

www.asianamericanmedia.org

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Josh Wolf vs. Howard Kurtz, the Washington Post, and the inside-the-beltway gang

2

By Bruce B. Brugmann

Marvelous. Simply marvelous. While ten of the l9 witnesses testifying in the Libby trial were singing journalists, and three of them were central to securing Libby’s conviction, Howard Kurtz, the media critic of the Washington Post and the voice of the inside-the-beltway media establishment, did not raise any of the obvious issues and questions in this unprecedented mass outing of sources by journalists in federal court in Washington, D.C. It was a “spectacle that would have been unthinkable only a few years ago,” as Adam Liptak put it rightly in the New York Times March 8.

Instead, one day after the Libby guilty verdict, Kurtz went after Josh Wolf, the longest jailed journalist in U.S. history for contempt of court, in his March 8 column headlined “Jailed Man Is A Videographer And a Blogger but Is He a Journalist?” Kurtz, who tosses softballs about every Sunday morning in his media show on CNN, hit Josh hard with a lead that said, “He is being cast by some journalists as a young champion of the First Amendment, jailed for taking a lonely stand heavy-handed federal prosecutors.”

Then: “But Wolf’s rationale for withholding the video, and refusing to testify, is less than crystal clear. There are no confidential sources involved in the case. He sold part of the tape to local television stations and posted another portion on his blog. Why, then, is he willing to give up his freedom over the remaining footage?”

And then he quoted, not a media lawyer nor a journalist with knowledge of
California law, but a professor who ought to be flunked out of law school (Eugene Volokh, a law professor at the University of California Los Angeles). Kurtz quoted Volokh as saying without blushing, “It’s one thing to say journalists must respect promises of confidentiality they made to their sources. It would be quite another to say journalists have a right to refuse to testify even about non-confidential sources. When something is videotaped in a public place, it’s hard to see even an implied agreement of confidentiality.”

Tom Newton, general counsel of the California Newspaper Publishers Association, had the appropriate polite response in an email to Kurtz: “Huh?”

“That, as they say, would be a settled right in California. In California, the people have flatly rejected the idea that police and prosecutors ought to be able to deputize journalists whenever they can’t figure out how to do their job themselves.”

“Moreover,” Newton continued, “the test for whether Josh is a journalist or not should not be based on who the U.S. attorney says he is, (“simply a person with a video camera”), or even who Josh says he is (an “artist, an activist, an anarachist and an archivist”), but on what he does and what he was doing when gathering the information at issue (i.e., creating videotape of a public and newsworthy event and actually selling portions of it for a profit to a news organization which made it part of the local evening TV news).” Read Newton’s full comment below.

So, when the chips are down and the question is raised in time of war, who stood the test of being a real journalist? Josh Wolf, who went to jail on principle, and is still there, and may be there until a new federal jury is impaneled in July? Josh Wolf, who was put in jail in my view by the Bush administration to send a don’t-mess-with-us message to anti-war protestors inside and outside of San Francisco and to journalists at large. Or the l0 journalists warbling away in federal court and thereby avoiding jail (excepting Judith Miller from the New York Times, who did jail time but still ended up testifying)?

I stand with Josh Wolf. I think he is not only a real journalist in the best sense of the word, but a journalistic Hero and a First Amendment Hero who is paying his dues and more every day he serves in federal prison in Dublin, California. As for Howard Kurtz and the Washington Post and the inside-the-Beltway gang, well, they helped George Bush march us into Iraq, no real questions asked, and they are now helping keep us there with this kind of logic and reporting.

There are lots of real questions for Howard Kurtz of the Washington Post/inside the beltway gang who asked the is-Josh-a-journalist question the day after the verdict and to some extent for Debra Saunders of the San Francisco Chronicle who asked the same question a few days before the verdict. The questions do not involve whether whether Josh Wolf is a journalist or not. The questions are, how in the world did those hotshot inside-the-beltway journalists with access and those hotshot inside-the-beltway media organizations with access so screw up the story of the biggest foreign policy mistake in U.S. history? And how did they so screw it up when millions of us without access, in San Francisco and around the world, figured out the real story, knew it was a terrible mistake to go to war with Iraq, and went into the streets to protest the decision? And when will they start reporting the real story behind the Libby trial: that Bush and Cheney lied us into war, that Libby was key to the much larger story of the cover up of the campaign of lies, that the war is now lost but the lies go on, and that our only option left is to get out as quickly as possible? Kurtz and the inside-the-beltway gang are the journalists who have the explaining to do, not Josh Wolf.


<http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/03/07/AR2007030702454.html>


http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/08/washington/08fitzgerald.html?n=Top%2fReference%2fTimes%20Topics%2fPeople%2fL%2fLiptak%2c%20Adam

Newton’s email to Kurtz:

“While the national attention on shield law issues has focused almost entirely on the protection of confidential sources, out here in California we have for many years granted journalists the ability to protect both their confidential sources and unpublished information associated with newsgathering. Had the San Francisco situation not rather bizarrely become a federal case (it was, after all, an incident involving a San Francisco crowd, a San Francisco peace officer and a San Francisco police car), there would be no question that Josh, assuming for a moment he is a journalist covered by California law, would be immune from a contempt order for his steadfast refusal to disclose his unpublished information to a state prosecutor. This immunity is squarely set by popular vote in the state’s constitution (Article I. Sec. 2).

“I am totally puzzled by this quote in your column from an esteemed constitutional scholar: “It’s one thing to say journalists must respect promises of confidentiality they made to their sources,” says Eugene Volokh, a law professor at the University of California at Los Angeles. “It would be quite another to say journalists have a right to refuse to testify even about non-confidential sources.” Huh? That, as they say, would be a settled right in California. In California, the people have flatly rejected the idea police and prosecutors ought to be able to deputize journalists whenever they can’t figure out how to do their job themselves.

“Moreover, the test for whether Josh is a journalist or not should not be based on who the U.S. Attorney says he is, (“simply a person with a video camera”), or even who Josh says he is (an “artist, an activist, an anarchist and an archivist”), but on what he does and what he was doing when gathering the information at issue (i.e., creating videotape of a public and newsworthy event and actually selling portions of it for a profit to a news organization which made it a part of the local evening TV news). Based on a recent California case involving a blogger’s attempt to quash a subpoena pursued by Apple in an attempt to identify an internal leak, it’s clear to me Josh would be found to be a journalist for purposes of California’s Shield Law and would be a free man right now, but for this becoming a federal case.”

Full disclosure: I asked CNPA, as a member publisher, to support Wolf, his cause, and a federal shield law. To its immense credit, the CNPA board and staff rose to the occasion and has supported Wolf, a member of no media organization, with skill and passion. From CNPA to the Society of Professional Journalists to the California First Amendment Coalition to the International Free Press Institute in Vienna to other international free press groups to labor unions to the grassroots movement of Andy Blue and Julian Davis in San Francisco and beyond, this is quite a massive and growing coalition of the willing for Josh Wolf. Keep it rolling till Josh is out of jail and the U.S. is out of Iraq. B3

SUNDAY

0

March 11

EVENT

Dr. Sketchy’s Anti Art School

Luckily for artistically challenged people like me, Dr. Sketchy’s Anti Art School encourages such behavior. I’m sure my figures won’t look much better while I’m listening to the event’s promised “slutty jazz music” and participating in drinking and drawing contests, but who cares? (Elaine Santore)
4–7 p.m., $10
Stud
399 Ninth St., SF
(415) 637-8657
www.skidroche.com

MUSIC

SFJAZZ Collective

Listening to SFJAZZ Collective’s suave Live 2006: 3rd Annual Concert Tour: Original Compositions and Works by Herbie Hancock (SFJAZZ), you’ll know that this “Monk and Beyond” performance, launching SFJAZZ’s spring season, is gonna be a hot one. New trumpeter Dave Douglas joins SFJAZZ artistic director and tenor and soprano sax machine Joshua Redman for a deep look at the wonderfully madcap music culled from the brilliant corners of Thelonious Monk’s mind. (Kimberly Chun)

3 and 7 p.m., $20–$65
Herbst Theatre
401 Van Ness, SF
1-800-225-2277
www.sfjazz.org

WEDNESDAY

0

March 7

FILM

Altman Tribute: McCabe and Mrs. Miller and 3 Women

This installment of the Castro Theatre’s Robert Altman tribute features two epics centering on the feminine mystique. McCabe and Mrs. Miller, from 1971, is a messy, unmelodramatic revision of the western. Similarly fixated on abstractions and identity, 1977’s 3 Women is dreamlike and hard to hold, with its title characters reutf8g in ineffable and sometimes mythic emotional situations. (Sara Schieron)

McCabe and Mrs. Miller, 2:15 and 7 p.m.
3 Women, 4:35 and 9:20 p.m.
$9 for double feature
Castro Theatre
429 Castro, SF
(415) 621-5288
www.castrotheatre.com

EVENT

Ellen Forney

Gritty, hilarious, incisive as the business end of a rapidograph, Ellen Forney makes cartooning seem as gloriously easy and fun as, well, scribbling in the margins of your college-ruled notebook during a heinously boring high school lecture. Whether she’s teaming with Dan Savage or simply waxing poetic — riotously — on the perfect music to die by in her new comics anthology, I Love Led Zeppelin, Forney is always beautifully perceptive about the pop-rockin’ alterna-culture she bolts from. I’m sure she’ll spring a few life lessons when she gives a multimedia performance promoting the volume. (Kimberly Chun)

7 p.m., free
Booksmith
1644 Haight, SF
(415) 863-8688
www.booksmith.com

Upside Woodside

0

› paulr@sfbg.com

"Are we on the San Andreas Fault?" my companion asked uneasily as we stepped from the car and stood looking at the Bella Vista Continental Restaurant, lit up like something out of a Hans Christian Andersen tale in the soft winter gloaming. "No," I said. "The fault" — really a rift zone, so I’d learned in my college geology class — "is down there." I gestured vaguely past the rambling structure, perched at the edge of a woody abyss, toward the twinkles and shadows below, perhaps at Larry Ellison’s $27 million Woodside backyard. The fault, or rift zone, as I understand it, creates the long, narrow valley that separates Skyline Boulevard and I-280 for much of the northern length of the Peninsula. The valley’s chain of lakes look like Scottish lochs but are in fact reservoirs run by the San Francisco Water Department. Larry Ellison runs Oracle; would we find him at the bar at Bella Vista? Is he a regular?

When we stepped inside, we found no sign of him, but the bar was lightly populated by a quartet of young men in sweatpants and sneakers staring at a flat-screen broadcast of some Stanford game.

"We’re overdressed," my companion hissed, and my heart sank. I remembered the restaurant as being agreeably classy in an Aspen-ish, horse-country way, with a wealth of rustic, roadside-inn touches — exposed wood beams, picture lamps with their cords trailing down the walls, an unpaved parking lot among the cedars — but my last visit had been some years earlier, in the summer of 1980, when Jimmy Carter’s solar panels were still in place on the White House roof and the phrase "President Reagan" was still tinged with irreality. Had the past quarter century brought a down-market slalom to this handsome and atmospheric stalwart, which opened in 1927? Had it become a kind of Dutch Goose with a view, or a rival to Zott’s, the fabled hamburger stand and beer garden (once a stagecoach stop, now called something else) on nearby Alpine Road? We were led to our table, which was set with a red rose and a frosted hurricane lamp with a real candle, and our server shortly appeared in a black dinner jacket and black tie, speaking with an Old World accent we guessed might be Belgian. No, no down-market drift.

Cuisine described as "continental" might have had an alluring patina a generation or two ago, but nowadays it suggests museum cooking. Bella Vista is one of the Bay Area’s premier view restaurants anyway, and views tend to be conversation pieces. The view is why people are there, and the food only has to be good enough to keep them from getting up and leaving in disappointment.

As it turns out, Bella Vista’s food is quite a bit better than that, and while it is old-fashioned — I found myself wondering if the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton might offer a similar menu if it were moved to a lonely mountain road — it’s far from arthritic. Good food always does honor to a restaurant, of course, and is a sound fallback plan for any view restaurant in the event (at some point inevitable) that the view is temporarily obscured by weather or … other forces. We found the air hazy and smoke scented when we arrived; was Larry Ellison hosting a huge barbecue somewhere on the glittering carpet of lights below?

No grilling at Bella Vista. The kitchen’s main instruments are the sauté pan and the oven. New Zealand mussels ($14), for instance — gigantic ones — were arrayed on the half shell, slathered with garlic, parsley, and butter, and briefly roasted. This was fine by us, especially since the puddles of leftover melted butter were perfect for sopping up with the formidably sour sourdough bread.

For the relief of unbearable garlic breath, we were presented with an intermezzo of peach sorbet, spooned into sturdy sherry glasses that resembled dwarf champagne trumpets. Across the way: a birthday gathering of eight or so, with some off-key singing, which grew lustier as the wine disappeared. If we were at all tempted to join in, we were soon distracted by the arrival of our big plates, one of which was a simply gorgeous lobster tail ($55), shelled and sautéed in butter. The less done to lobster, the better; no fancy sauces, please, or incorporations into pasta or risotto. Just butter, and maybe some boiled new potatoes, a ration of seared green beans (squared off and stacked like firewood), and a smear of splendidly orange puree of roasted carrot.

Veal au poivre ($24) was similarly accompanied, except the potatoes gave way to a wild-rice pilaf. The slender, tender sheets of meat were bathed in a Dijon cream sauce dotted with green peppercorns, and while I have become uneasy about meat and almost always shun veal, whose production doesn’t bear much looking into, I was not at all sorry I failed to shun here.

Dessert production tilts toward soufflés for two ($18), and trayfuls emerge regularly from the kitchen. Raspberry was recommended to us (over chocolate and Grand Marnier); I found the soufflé itself to be eggy (with no burst of raspberry inside) but the swirl of sauce on the plate to be a winsome combination of butter, caramelized sugar, and whole raspberries. It could easily have been spooned over vanilla ice cream or pound cake or just eaten like zabaglione from a tall glass. Even if someone (not me!) were seen licking it right off the plate, it would be hard to find fault. *

BELLA VISTA CONTINENTAL RESTAURANT

Dinner: Tues.–Thurs., 5–9 p.m.; Fri.–Sat., 5–10 p.m.

13451 Skyline Blvd., Woodside

(650) 851-1229

www.bvrestaurant.com

Full bar

AE/DC/DISC/MC/V

Pleasant noise level

Wheelchair accessible

>

Getting lucky

0

› le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

CHEAP EATS The word she uses is "flexitarian." I seldom run retractions. Not that I never get anything wrong; on the contrary, my impressions of reality are so impressionistic, it would be a stretch to say that I ever exactly get anything right.

This can cause problems.

Give you an example: I want to know what time Penny’s opens for lunch. I look it up. Cheap Eats, Penny’s Caribbean Café, says right there: 11:30 a.m. So I write to Lisa Bitch Magazine, and I say, "Dear Ms. Magazine, Hi! How are you? 11:30 a.m."

She writes back and says stop calling her Ms. Magazine.

And: No. Noon, she says. Flexitarians always have weird rules about eating meat, like only free-range, organic, or only at home, or only in restaurants, or, in Lisa’s case, once every six months, and never before noon. If it’s goat.

I’m assuming she makes early-morning exceptions for bacon. Actually, my assumption is that all vegetarians make exceptions for bacon, all the time. Because how can you not eat bacon? It’s bacon!

(Have I dazzled you yet with my simplemindedness?)

Cut to 12 o’clock. Noon. I’m standing outside Penny’s Caribbean Café, waiting for my new friend Lisa. And for Penny, because I’ll be damned if she’s open. Which goes to show: you can’t always believe what you read in the paper — even if you wrote it.

Sign in the window says CLOSED. No lights. And still I’ve got my nose to the glass, both hands visoring my eyes, like, Come on, come on, Penny. I know you’re in there. Come on.

I love Penny. I LOVE Penny and not just because of her curry goat roti, either. There’s the jerk chicken and pelau and … I don’t know, we just seem to live in very similar worlds. Where Einstein is taken perhaps a tad too literally and time is extra relative. And space …

Nebulous is one of my favorite words.

So hey, here comes Lisa, responsible journalist, on her lunch break. She has exactly this much time, and she’s hungry, and she has agreed to eat her biannual meat with me. Me!

Today! I’m beside myself with honor and anticipation, watching vegetarians eat meat being one of my all-time favorite pastimes, right up there with pitching washers and spitting watermelon seeds.

And I’ve been talking up the curry goat. But Penny is showing no signs of peering around any counters or refrigerators anytime soon, so I give up on the window, pack Lisa into my pickup truck, and whiz us to West Oakland, to the Island Café.

Even though it’s regular business hours for them too, by the book, and even though it smells like meat heaven on the sidewalk outside the place … closed. Cooking, you could smell, but closed. Sign on the door says they’re catering a musical event that afternoon in Santa Cruz, sorry!

Aaaaargh! Whisk us back to Berkeley, the clock ticking on Ms. Magazine’s lunch break. And I’m thinking, damn my luck, she’s going to cave and call falafel.

Know what she says? She says, "Stop calling me Ms. Magazine." And she says this, she says, "Flint’s?"

Flint’s!!!

Flint’s? Not to put too pointy of a point on this, but you would think that if Flint’s — everybody’s favorite Bay Area barbecue (not to mention mine) — was back in bidness, Cheap Eats would know about it before Bitch Magazine. Which is one reason why I try not to think too much these days. Because you never know.

So I point us toward Flint’s, thinking, yeah, right, Flint’s, right, sure, like Flint’s is going to be open, way things are going for us, right….

It is! It’s open, and the rest of the day is like a dream. Lisa gets her meat fix, I get to be there for it, get to see Bitch Magazine with barbecue sauce all over her face, just like she got to see Cheap Eats with beans in her hair.

Flint’s is as good as ever. My new favorite (and old favorite) barbecue. New management. No tables. We sat on the slat-style benches in the corner of the place, paper bags spread out on our laps, and went to work. Well, I went to work. They only had beef ribs. Then, after us, they didn’t even have those and started turning people away.

So, after all that running around and frustration and, you know, goatlessness in general … in the end we got to feel lucky. *

FLINT’S BBQ

Mon.–Thurs. and Sun., 11 a.m.–9 p.m.; Fri.–Sat., 11 a.m.–10 p.m.

6609 Shattuck, Berk.

(510) 595-5323

Credit cards not accepted

No alcohol

Takeout available

Wheelchair accessible

>

It’s on

0

Invoking the spirit of George Moscone and Harvey Milk "so that we may be worthy of their powerful legacy," Assemblymember Mark Leno announced his candidacy March 2 for the State Senate seat now held by Carole Migden, setting off a high-profile fight between the two for the Democratic Party nomination next year.

"Welcome to democracy in action. Welcome to people power," Leno told the large crowd that gathered under the warm noontime sun at Yerba Buena Gardens, adjacent to the Martin Luther King Memorial and Moscone Center with its rooftop array of solar panels, which Leno said he will work to bring to more buildings.

MCing the event was Assessor Phil Ting, who praised Leno’s efforts to legalize same-sex marriage and said, "That’s the kind of leadership and integrity we deserve in San Francisco." District Attorney Kamala Harris then told the crowd, "I stand here in strong and unequivocal support for Mark Leno."

Among the other local notables on hand to support Leno were Fiona Ma, Susan Leal, Laura Spanjian, Julian Davis, Kim-Shree Maufas, Hydra Mendoza, Norman Yee, Lawrence Wong, Donna Sachet, Theresa Sparks, James Hormel, Natalie Berg, Bob Twomey, Jose Medina, August Longo, Linda Richardson, Calvin Welch, Jordanna Thigpen, Leah Shahum, Tom Radulovich, David Wall, Tim Gaskin, Esperanza Macias, and Espanola Jackson.

Notably absent were all the members of the Board of Supervisors, but it’s still very early in a campaign that is bound to be heated. (Steven T. Jones)

MONDAY

0

March 5

EVENT

Alberto Blanco

Poet José Emilio Pacheco writes in the introduction to Alberto Blanco’s Dawn of the Senses: Selected Poems, published by City Lights Books in 1994, that the latter’s poetry “speaks of a world far beyond languages and borders.” San Francisco poet Michael McClure describes Blanco’s work as inhabiting “both the world and the universe of imagination.” At this event Blanco will be reading from his newest volume of poetry, A Cage of Transparent Words, published by Bitter Oleander Press. (Nathan Baker)

2:30 p.m., free
Poetry Center
Humanities Bldg., room 512
San Francisco State University
1600 Halloway, SF
(415) 338-2227
www.sfsu.edu/~poetry

FILM

Black Snake Moan

A welcome shot of lightning in this otherwise sleepy winter, Hustle and Flow director Craig Brewer’s latest, Black Snake Moan, has guts. Try a manic parallel story line featuring nymphomaniac Rae (Christina Ricci) and spurned blues player Sam (Samuel L. Jackson), screaming toward self-destruction. Rae’s been left behind by her Iraq-bound boyfriend (Justin Timberlake), and Sam’s lost his wife to his brother. Which is to say, they got the blues. The characters are sure to offend, but though Black Snake Moan is exploitative and ridiculous, it’s not cheap. (Max Goldberg)

In Bay Area theaters

SUNDAY

0

March 4

MUSIC

Carolyn Mark

When the Corn Sisters made a tour stop in my sleepy southern Indiana town in 2000, it was to play to 20 people on a Wednesday night. Granted, the Second Story Nightclub was probably the hippest place in a 100-mile radius, but for “siblings” Carolyn Mark and Neko Case, it wasn’t exactly the big top. Just the same, they proceeded to melt every heart in the room (and activate more than a few tear glands) with their twin arsenal of baritone guitar and vocal harmony. (Nathan Baker)

With the Bermuda Triangle Service
and Amy Honey
9 p.m., $8
Make-Out Room
3225 22nd St., SF
(415) 647-2888
www.makeoutroom.com

EVENT

Ed Rosenthal Benefit

Tommy Chong hosts a party to raise legal funds for Ed Rosenthal, the medical marijuana provider who can’t keep the feds off his back, even after two previous felony convictions were overturned, and now faces another trial. (Deborah Giattina)

3:20-8 p.m.; $100-$125
Rosenthal Residence
9 Lake, Piedmont
(510) 338-8115, www.green-aid.com

NOISE: Smoother sailing for Roky?

0

Just in time to catch the afterglow of Roky Erickson’s awesome performance at Great American Music Hall last night: good news. According to Erickson’s publicists, the garage-punk legend has had his legal rights fully restored as of Feb. 23.

roky color.bmp

Roky’s camp writes: “In June 2001, Roky Erickson’s youngest brother, former Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra principal tubaist Sumner Erickson, was appointed Roky’s legal guardian. Sumner established the Roger Kynard Erickson Trust to address Roky’s living expenses and other financial needs. From June 2001 till July 2002, Roky lived with his brother in Pittsburgh, where he finally began to receive the support and care he needs.

“Roky is now back in Austin. Not only has his health continued to improve dramatically, but as of Feb. 23, 2007, the guardianship has been dissolved. Roky is back, a free agent and the rock ‘n’ roll muse that he was born to be.”

His now-regular psychedelic ice cream social benefit will happen on Thursday, March 15, during SXSW at Threadgills WHQ, S. Austin, Texas, from 2-8 p.m.

This year’s event celebrates “Electro-Shock Survivors”; Erickson’s peeps write: “The Ice Cream Social is co-sponsored this year by the Coalition for the Abolition of Electroshock in Texas (CAEST). Many artists have been hurt over the years by the labels and biological treatments of the mental health system. Roky Erickson, Townes Van Zandt, and Jim Franklin are Austin music legends who suffered from psychiatric electroshock, also known as electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT.

“Roky and Townes’ son, J.T. Van Zandt, are among the musicians who are now publicly declaring their desire to protect future artists from being hurt by electroshock, calling for genuine asylum and compassionate care of artists and other citizens who might be having a hard time in life. Says Roky of being subjected to ECT treatments: ‘I wish I hadn’t had it and it didn’t help me.’”

Tickets for $20 are available at www.frontgatetickets.com and at Threadgills WHQ at 301 West Riverside Drive at (512) 472-9304.

Leno announces

0

By Steven T. Jones
Invoking the spirit of George Moscone and Harvey Milk “so that we may be worthy of their powerful legacy,” Assembly member Mark Leno today announced his candidacy for the Senate seat now held by Carole Migden, setting off a high-profile fight between the two for the Democratic Party nomination next year. “Welcome to democracy in action. Welcome to people power,” Leno told the large crowd that gathered under the warm noontime sun at Yerba Buena Gardens, adjacent to the Martin Luther King Memorial and Moscone Center, with its rooftop array of solar panels that Leno said he will work to bring to more buildings. MCing the event was Assessor Phil Ting, who introduced District Attorney Kamala Harris, who told the crowd, “I stand here in strong and unequivocal support for Mark Leno.” Among the other local notables on hand to support Leno were Fiona Ma, Susan Leal, Laura Spanjian, Julian Davis, Kim-Shree Maufis, Hydra Mendoza, Norman Yee, Lawrence Wong, Donna Sachet, Theresa Sparks, James Hormel, Natalie Berg, Randy Shaw, Bob Twomey, Jose Medina, August Longo, Linda Richardson, Calvin Welch, Jordanna Thigpen, Leah Shahum, Tom Radulovich, Melissa Dodd, David Wall, Tim Gaskin, Esperanza Macias, and Espanola Jackson. Notably absent were any members of the Board of Supervisors, but it’s still very early in a campaign that is bound to get heated.

FRIDAY

0

March 2

film

Bugsy Malone

The year 1976 was special for Jodie Foster. When she wasn’t filming other movies, she and Chachi were making cinema history with Bugsy Malone, an all-kids gangster musical in which tommy guns fire custard bullets. Watching the film, directed by Alan Parker of Fame fame and with music by Paul Williams, should be nothing less than religious. The movie’s being shown as part of a “Midnites for Maniacs” underage Jodie Foster triple feature. Freaky Friday and Foxes precede it. (Jason Shamai)

11:59 p.m., $10
Castro Theatre
429 Castro, SF
(415) 621-6120
www.castrotheatre.com

event

WonderCon

Stressful work and family commitments have virtually killed our childlike sense of wonder. So as WonderCon, the Bay Area’s premiere comics convention, returns for the 21st year, feel free to be a kid again. Go on, spend your macchiato money on new comics, gush over your favorite artists, and catch new Frank Miller adaptation 300 and the related panel with director Zack Snyder. (Joshua Rotter)

Through Sun/4
Noon–7 p.m., $8–$15 (three-day pass, $20–$40)
Moscone Center South
747 Howard, SF
(415) 974-4000
www.comic-con.org

THURSDAY

0

VISUAL ART

Carl de Keyzer

This year the co-op Magnum Photos, founded by Robert Capa and other war photographers, celebrates its 60th birthday. Magnum is still owned by its photodocumentarian members, such as Carl de Keyzer, who used a two-week stay in San Francisco during 2000 to shoot Fleet Week and the Pride parade. De Keyzer’s nine monographs include 2003’s Zona, a study of the bizarre realities presented by Siberian prison camps in the post-Soviet era, and 1992’s God, Inc., a Winnebago tour through the extremes of US Christianity during the Gulf War. This exhibition brings together selections from both books. (Johnny Ray Huston)

Through April 28
Tues.–Sat., 10:30 a.m.–5:30 p.m., free
Robert Koch Gallery
49 Geary, fifth floor, SF
(415) 421-0122
www.kochgallery.com

EVENT

“The Progressive Woman: Continuing Artistic and Self-Defining Work Beyond Your Twenties”

Can you really have it all? For Women’s History Month, the women at Bindlestiff Studios round up a group of female Filipino American artists for a discussion on how they balance career, self, art, and family as they progress into adulthood. The panel includes singer-songwriter Golda “Supernova” Sargento and Eliza Barrios from the performance and visual art group Mail Order Brides. All proceeds from the event will benefit its continued support of artists. (Elaine Santore)

8 p.m., $8
Bindlestiff Studios
505 Natoma, SF
(415) 255-0440
www.bindlestiffstudio.org

Tourk for mayor

0

By Steven T. Jones
After an uncomfortable exchange with Mayor Gavin Newsom at the Project Homeless Connect event earlier in the day, Alex Tourk was out with friends (including a long list of prominent people, many still in Newsom’s camp) at Finnegan’s Wake last night celebrating his birthday and I happened to run into him. This guy’s a class act, standing tall and trying to do what’s right even after being so viciously betrayed by Newsom. We chatted a bit and he said that he appreciated how the Guardian has covered this episode. I asked how his job search was going and I emphasized my earlier published point that I hope he’s taking his sweet time given the fact that Newsom is paying his high salary until he finds one. But rather than soaking Newsom, Tourk said he was actively looking for work and eager to sever ties with his former mentor. I had just come from a dinner party where it was only half-jokingly suggested that Tourk run for mayor and I passed that along. And you know what? I sensed a twinkle in his eye and an openness to the idea. Wouldn’t that be something? Tourk was the guy who actually executed the things that Newsom will be claiming credit for this year, a genuine policy pro who has a sterling reputation and increasing name recognition to boot, not to mention the beautifully poetic narrative. If Jack Davis or any other political consultants are reading this, please, give Tourk a call.

Noise ‘N’ Pop

0

The line outside Mezzaninelast night may have been ridiculously long (the hidden cost of “free” admission), and the venue may have reeked of body odor (or cheap weed?), but both were worth the entertaining, irreverent kick off to a week of Noise Pop fun. We were immediately heartened that we all got in, even though I was the only one who’d registered online, and that the DJ was playing catchy, pseudo-indie (since what does “indie” mean anymore, anyway?) classics like the Ramones and Violent Femmes between sets. harmar2.JPG

And though there was plenty of hipster eye candy, the place was noticeably devoid of the pretentiousness one might expect from an event headed by uber-underground-cult-favorites Tapes n Tapes. No, we were all equally, geekily excited by the Extra Action Marching Band (your high school half-time show meets Rocky Horror Picture Show, complete with tattooed tuba players and provocative pom pom girls … and boys)tuba.JPG, comedian David Cross (managing to simultaneously deliver and skewer sponsor Doc Martens’ marketing message – “Change the world, starting by buying these shoes…”), and one man freakshow – and talented vocalist and performer – Har Mar Superstar (whose mantra “I’m fucking awesome” is so ironic, it’s actually true).

The highlight of the night, though, was Tapes ‘N’ Tapes, all humble and sweet and soft-bodied and dorky, just like a proper indie band should be. The sound up front was a bit too loud and distorted for my taste (I hear the music sounded perfect from the bathroom), but the band’s energy mostly made up for it — and Cowbell was perfect: raw and lilting, just like I like it.

Mmmmm….poppy goodness at its noisiest. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the week serves up.

P.S. More photos to come…

(By Molly Freedenberg)