Festival

On the rise

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

Even when times are shaky in San Francisco, it’s a fine time to head to PlayGround. At the upcoming 13th annual Best of PlayGround festival — which rides into the Thick House on steadily mounting popularity for an unprecedented four-week run beginning May 7 — a ticket will get you a lot of theater, in terms of quantity, quality, and novelty.

Since 1996, the annual festival has drawn from the best work presented in PlayGround’s signature short play contests — a monthly challenge (from October through March) to develop a 10-minute script in four days around a given theme ("When Pigs Fly" served one time), with winning scripts getting staged readings by leading Bay Area acting and directing talent in Monday Night performances at Berkeley Repertory Theater. The festival, meanwhile, gives the cream of the yearly crop (those earning PlayGround’s Emerging Playwright Award) fully staged productions, again with the collaboration of the finest Bay Area directors, actors, and designers.

This unusual mix of fresh, untested (or just emerging) talent on the page and seasoned professionals on and off the stage means there’s really nothing else quite like it in Bay Area theaters, and it remains a crowd-pleaser. Attendance at Monday Night performances broke all records this year, notes artistic director Jim Kleinmann, who founded PlayGround in 1994 with colleagues Brighde Mullins and Denise Shama.

But it’s also been a marked success in the underlying mission of developing new theatrical voices and strengthening the theater community as a whole in the Bay Area. (A recent Theatre Bay Area Magazine article listing the region’s 13 top emerging playwrights included no less than eight PlayGround alumni.) Kleinmann says the inspiration for PlayGround came from a playwriting exercise developed by his old teacher at Brown University, renowned playwright Paula Vogel, but has steadily expanded to include several commissions for full-length work from PlayGround writers. This year’s five commission winners will have their work presented in staged readings as part of the festival. The thrust throughout has been to nurture craft in the context of encouraging ties between new and seasoned theater makers.

"It certainly has evolved," Kleinmann says. "As the number of writers increased over time and the writers started to have longer-term relationships with PlayGround a couple of years into the Monday Night format, we added the festival, [which] became a really important showcase." These festival playwrights would have their works published too in a PlayGround anthology, making them available to readers and theater companies elsewhere. Still, a few years later Kleinmann and colleagues began work on new avenues of support.

"We’d always hoped that if we could discover these writers and worked to nurture them, midsize theaters would take them under their wings," he says. "That wasn’t happening as quickly as we might have hoped. So we found there was a need to bring writers to another level [with the commissions], where they would be able to be supported in their full-length work."

It’s a formula that has paid off with writers and audiences for more than a decade. Among the other enticements of new work in this format, there’s a serious vicarious thrill that goes with seeing actors of the caliber of a Stacy Ross or Jim Carpenter, under direction of a Barbara Oliver or Chris Smith, assay work by a gifted but still-developing or even unknown voice. In addition, "there’s no question it creates a dialogue about their work and [the actors and directors] become champions for their work," Kleinmann says. "What you [end up having] is a stronger community."

"BEST OF PLAYGROUND FESTIVAL"

May 7–31 Thu–Sat, 8 p.m.; Sun, 7 p.m., $28-$40

Thick House, 1695 18th St, SF

(415) 401-8081, www.playground-sf.org

SCUBA with Catherine Galasso and Salt Horse

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PREVIEW Two years ago Catherine Galasso appeared at the WestWave Dance Festival in Gnome Trouble, based on the Grimm brothers’ fairy tale Snow White and Rose Red. Freud would have loved to bite into that story of sibling rivalry. Even though Galasso’s piece wasn’t that successful, it somehow stayed in memory. Apparently she likes folk tales. She is back with another one, The Improbable Reign of Norton I, Emperor of the United States. In fact Norton was a 19th century San Franciscan, eccentric to say the least. He will be joined on stage by other semimythic Barbary Coast denizens, including Joaquin Murrietta, a Robin Hood type bandit. Sharing the bill with Galasso will be a kindred spirit, Seattle’s Salt Horse dance-sound company, with This Was a Cliff. Taking an entirely different perspective — improvisatory and nonnarrative — they also create imagistic dance-theater works in which reality and fantasy collide and cooperate. The double bill comes courtesy of SCUBA, the national touring network created by ODC Theater, Velocity Dance Center in Seattle, and the Southern Theater in Minneapolis. This small venture by cooperating presenters was founded in 2003 in a time of plenty. It seemed a good idea then. It’s an even better one today if small presenters and their artists are going to survive.

SCUBA WITH CATHERINE GALASSO AND SALT HORSE Sat/9, 8 p.m.; Sun/10, 7 p.m., $15–$18. ODC Theater, 351 Shotwell, SF. (415) 863-9834, www.odctheater.org

Nite Trax: White Warp bleep

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Wherein Marke B. does go on about dance music past and present. View the previous Nite Trax here.

In the current issue of the Guardian, I have a little devilish fun with white labels and tell a few possibly apocryphal tales of foundational electronic music label Warp Records‘ genesis. Before I multimedially augment that article a bit, here’s a spectral white label that really calls up the toe-tingling ghost of the unknown in my third ear:

Reese, “Power Bass”

The 1990 white label rumbler above, whose B-side apparently played inside out, was produced by Detroit techno god Kevin “Master Reese” Saunderson — he later released it under his E-Dancer guise. (When I hung with Kevin at last year’s Detroit Electronic Music Festival, I believe he was drinking Black Label, however.)

My own former prize possession white label turned out to be “The Green Man” by Shut Up and Dance that I snagged from Detroit’s amazing Buy Rite Records in ’round 1991– somehow an unlabelled test press had found it’s way from London and into my bin. Below is a vid of a promo copy version. Warning: Never, ever, let go of your records. I could retire a bit if I had this slice of vinyl on me now ….

Shut Up and Dance, “The Green Man”

Thank you, magic of youtube. OK, then … Warp Records. It’s their 20th this year, and in a typically nifty yet slightly desperation-whiffy marketing gimmick, you can vote online for your favorite Warp tracks to be included in their forthcoming anniversary comp.

Anvil! The live glory of Anvil this Sunday

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By Marke B.

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This just in from metal heaven:

Ancient Canadian glam-slam heroes Anvil, the touching Spinal Tap of our times who have a critic-ecstatic doc about them (Anvil! The Story of Anvil) out at the moment, will be PERFORMING LIVE at the Bridge Theater this Sunday after two sure-to-be-raucous screening of said doc. Here’s Cheryl Eddy’s review of the film:

Screw you if you compare Anvil to Spinal Tap. Yeah, there are moments of eerie similarity (and Anvil’s drummer is named Robb Reiner — how’s that for a coincidence?), but this heartfelt doc (first seen locally at last year’s San Francisco Jewish Film Festival) doesn’t mock. Friends and bandmates since the early 1980s — when Bon Jovi-level success seemed nearly possible — Reiner and vocalist-lead guitarist Steve “Lips” Kudlow have been chasing the rock god dream their entire adult lives, toiling at day jobs and raising families but leaping at every chance to capture glory, be it a poorly planned European tour or an emotional trip back to the recording studio. Even if you scoff at hair bands, it’s hard not to get wrapped up in this tale of success, failure, and power chords. And with no less than Lars Ulrich calling Anvil “the real deal,” there’s no need to, uh, smell the glove.

And here’s what to shredxxpect:

Anvil, “School of Love” live, Japan, 1984

Anvil live with Anvil! The Story of Anvil
Sun/3, 7:10 and 9:45, $10.50
Bridge Theatre
3010 Geary, SF.
(415) 751-3212
http://www.landmarktheatres.com/Market/SanFrancisco/BridgeTheatre.htm

And kielbasa for all: Polish Festival this Sunday

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By Marke B.

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Apologies, my veganista friends

I may be the world’s biggest queer Arab disco hip-hop leather muppet, but my last name is Bieschke and I was raised Polish (and French Canadian, but that’s another story for another “post-racial” day). And man, do I love a nice big grilled kielbasa dressed on a bed of tart, moist sauerkraut. I’ll be getting my fill — and taking in some serious polka oompah-pah and traditional polska loveliness at this Sunday’s Polish Festival in Golden Gate Park. Not sure if I’ll be dressing in traditional costume, despite the fact that hipster decolletage sure is trending that way …. somebody hand that fixie-pixie a tuba!

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And if the weather clears up, me and Hunky Beau might even take our mustard-stained mugs over to the deYoung entrance to watch the swingin’ participants of Lindy in the Park if they’re out and about … and even join in. Now that’s multicultural.

San Francisco Polish Festival
5/3, 11am-5pm, free
San Francisco County Fair Building
Golden Gate Park
(9th Ave and Lincoln Way)
www.polishfestival.com

Hot sex events this week: April 29-May 5

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Compiled by Molly Freedenberg

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>> Latex Fashion School
Polly Pandemonium of the Moral Minority hosts this class in Latex clothing construction, which includes not only learning to sew with the fabulous fabric but how to spot a well-made garment. The course might seem pricey, but you’ll leave with materials and instructions to make your wardrobe even steamier.

Thurs/30, 7-10pm. $200.
Mission Control
2519 Mission, SF
kinkysalon.com

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>> A Touch of Pleasure
Sex educator and porn star Madison Young hosts this event featuring art and installations like steam-punk vibrators, Kink.com fucking machines, and a display of antique sex toys, all in honor of National Masturbation Month.

Sat/2, 7-10pm. Free.
(Show runs Thurs-Sun, 12-6pm, through May 31)
Femina Potens Art Gallery
2199 Market, SF
www.feminapotens.org

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>> IXFF: The Second Coming Tour at the Masturbate-a-thon
Oh lordy, it’s voyeur heaven. The Indie Erotic Film Festival kicks off its national tour of last year’s best shorts with a stop at the Center for Sex and Culture Masturbate-a-thon: as though watching featured masturbators compete to get themselves off wasn’t titillating enough. All proceeds benefit the Center. (If you want to compete in this year’s film festival, visit www.gv-ixff.org.

Sat/2, 11am-close. $15-25.
Center for Sex and Culture
1519 Mission, SF
www.maturbate-a-thon.com

Reel Talk

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At last year’s San Francisco International Film Festival, in his State of Cinema address, Wired cofounder Kevin Kelly spoke of a media landscape inundated with screens, in which you’re as likely to watch a movie on your PDA, or even a grocery checkout screen, as you are in a theater. The message was clear: the way in which we create and consume films is changing. To some extent, we have been living in this brave new world for some time, so SFIFF’s choice of photographer Mary Ellen Mark to deliver this year’s State of Cinema address carries with it an implicit nostalgia for cinema’s old world. Mark, who has frequently turned her camera on marginal subjects — Indian prostitutes, homeless American teens, circus performers — has also periodically worked as an on-set photographer over her four decade career, capturing moments of behind the scene candor on the sets of directors such as François Truffaut, Federico Fellini, Milos Forman, Tim Burton, and Francis Ford Coppola. The images, collected last year in Seen Behind the Scene: Forty Years of Photographing on Set (Phaidon), present Mark as an anti-Annie Liebovitz. She manages to catch her subjects unaware — as with the hilarious image of Dustin Hoffman making faces behind a quite serious Sir Laurence Olivier between takes on 1976’s Marathon Man. Others — among them Marlon Brando caught with a bug resting on his bald pate on the set of 1979’s Apocalypse Now — seem to square off with the camera. Incidentally, two of this year’s major SFIFF honors are going to Coppola and fellow child of the ’60s Robert Redford, so there’s a bit of a love fest for the era going on at this year’s fest. Undoubtedly Mark has as many fascinating stories as she does compelling images, but hopefully her talk won’t just be a stroll down memory lane.

"STATE OF CINEMA ADDRESS BY MARY ELLEN MARK"

Sun/3, 1 p.m., $12.50

Sundance Kabuki, 1881 Post, SF

www.sffs.org

SFIFF 52 review: “Crude”

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By Natalie Gregory

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If you were unaware of the lawsuit between the indigenous Ecuadorian people and Chevron/Texaco, watching Joe Berlinger’s Crude will get you up to speed. It’s a documentary about the case following the plaintiffs and their lawyers in their seemingly impossible fight against one of the most powerful American companies. Pablo Fajardo is the Ecuadorian native lawyer who battles with impressive, inspiring fervor on behalf of his indigenous citizens. Joining him is New York attorney Steven Donziger, a bilingual Harvard whiz who seems amazed that they are even getting through proceedings (the film certainly mentions the David vs. Goliath element of the lawsuit). The case is still locked in litigation and pending testimonies. But the film is powerful in its defense for the native people of Ecuador, and the state of the Amazon. If you only half-questioned Chevron’s ethics before, this film will make you opt for a Shell station — or some form of alternative transportation.

Crude screens at the San Francisco International Film Festival Wed/29, 6:30pm, Sundance Kabuki; Thurs/30, 6:30pm, Sundance Kabuki; and Sat/2, 6:15pm, PFA.

A weekend under the influence: SFIFF 52

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By Lynn Rapoport

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Mabel (Gena Rowlands, in an Oscar-winning Oscar-nominated performance) has a rare calm moment in A Woman Under the Influence.

The first weekend of the 52nd San Francisco International Film Festival produced a cheerful, if windblown, bottleneck along Post between Fillmore and Webster. The one outside the Castro on Sunday night had a slightly more shell-shocked emotional tenor. The crowd seemed in good enough spirits (though this reviewer admits to getting a bit misty-eyed) while giving Gena Rowlands a standing ovation when the 78-year-old actor came onstage before John Cassavetes’s A Woman under the Influence (1974). But the film’s two and a half hours of abrasive familial dysfunction and poorly attended-to mental illness are rough going, and no one could be blamed for wandering home in a torn-up, overwrought fugue. (Think happy thoughts: like the 2008 restoration of the film by the UCLA Film and Television Archive, underwritten by Gucci.)

Less emotionally brutalizing was Friday evening’s screening of Art & Copy (screening again Tues/28, 4 p.m., Sundance Kabuki), where doc maker Doug Pray (Hype!, Scratch, Surfwise) expressed satisfaction at finally getting a film into SFIFF and noted that this one was centered on “the idea that if you hate advertising, make better advertising.”

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Radio, radio: a scene from Art & Copy.

DVRs, defaced billboards, and legislation to calm the traffic of branding on virtually every visible surface of public space also spring to mind. However, these and other options are left unexplored in favor of a brief history of the revolution that occurred in advertising midcentury; commentary by some of the rebel forces and their descendants, including locals Jeff Goodby and Rich Silverstein (Goodby, Silverstein, and Partners); entertaining behind-the-scenes tales of famous ad campaigns (Got Milk?, I Want My MTV); and stats sprinkled throughout on advertising’s cultural presence, nationally and globally.

Self-comparisons to cave painters and a sequence near the close that feels like an advertisement for advertising (emotionally evocative images of children’s faces upturned in wonder to the sky: check) are somewhat uncomfortable to witness. But Pray has gathered together some of the industry’s brighter, more engaging lights, and his subjects discuss their vocation intelligently, thoughtfully, wittily, and often thoroughly earnestly. It would have been interesting to hear, amid the earnestness, and the exalted talk of advertising that rises to the level of art, some philosophizing on where all this branding and selling gets us, in an age when it’s hard to deny that breakneck consumption is having a somewhat deleterious effect on the planet. Or to learn from these creatives whether there were any ad campaigns they wouldn’t touch, such as one centered on nuclear energy, or the reelection of George W. Bush. After all, many of the interviewees come across as shaggy ex-hippies and liberals. (Last fall, trade paper the Denver Egotist referred to “the entire creative world uniting against John McCain in support of Barack Obama” in a piece on Goodby, Silverstein-made anti-McCain spots that the agency cofounders reportedly underwrote personally.) Still, the film is successful in humanizing and developing a richer picture of a vilified profession. And what it reveals about the visions of its subjects (one compares a good brand to someone you’d like to have over for dinner; another asserts that “great advertising makes food taste better”; another that “you can manufacture any feeling that you want to manufacture”) makes it worth watching, even if you make a habit of fast-forwarding past the ads.

SFIFF 52: Opening night

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The scene: the Castro Theatre. The event: opening night of the 52nd annual San Francisco International Film Festival. The crowd: mob-sized.

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Benjamin Bratt prefers it slow and low.

Before I say anything else, I know what you’re really wondering: what was in the gift bag? Besides Pop Chips — which seem to be engineering some kind of snack food takeover via film festivals (see also: the Noise Pop Film Festival) — there was a battery-operated sticky-note dispenser, a DVD of Vanaja (when I used to co-host the San Francisco Film Society-affiliated SF 360 Movie Scene on Comcast’s local channel — we got canned in August — that title was the top giggle-attack-getter on the set. You try saying “Vanaja” five times fast), a yo-yo, and a piece of biscotti. I devored the edibles, pocketed the yo-yo, and settled in for La Mission, a locally-made drama from writer-director Peter Bratt; his brother, Benjamin (a Law and Order vet whose career admirably survived 2004’s Catwoman), stars.

Appetite: Hot tamales, banana cookies, $1 martinis, and more

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Hot Tamales on Sun/26. See “Events” below

As long-time San Francisco resident and writer, I’m passionate about this city and obsessed with exploring its best food-and-drink spots, events and news, in every neighborhood and cuisine type. I have my own personalized itinerary service and monthly food/drink/travel newsletter, The Perfect Spot, and am thrilled to share up-to-the minute news with you from the endless goings-on in our fair city. View the previous installment of Appetite here.

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NEW OPENINGS

Anthony’s Cookies satisfies your cookie craving all day long
On the same Mission block as Suriya Thai (R.I.P.), is a new cookie kitchen that can help assuage the loss of my favorite Thai. Anthony (who has spent over 10 years perfecting his craft) and his staff give a friendly welcome as they bake, for now offering a half dozen cookies for $5, or $9.25 a dozen, eventually selling them individually. On the blessedly smaller side, they’re warm and about as homemade tasting as they smell. There’s toffee chip, banana (like banana bread in cookie form), cinnamon sugar, whole-wheat oatmeal cranberry, gooey chocolate chip, and maybe my favorite? Cookies and cream. Tastes like home.
1417 Valencia, SF
415-655-9834

www.anthonyscookies.com

Moussy’s brings French cooking classes, movies and Petit Dejeuner to Nob Hill/Polk Gulch
Downstairs from Alliance Francaise, there’s a new stop pre or post AF’s French language classes and film screenings: Moussy’s, an intimate, candlelit cafe for a morning croissant and cappuccino, or lunch time respite, serving salads, baked brie, and pot pies. They’ll soon be offering French cooking classes and film nights, too, ensuring that foodies, expats, bohemian artists, poets and aspiring cooks have a true Parisian cafe hangout.
1345 Bush, SF.
415-441-1802
www.moussys.com

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EVENTS

April 26 – Tamales (and margaritas) By the Bay at Fort Mason
Tamale lovers come out en masse to Fort Mason for Tamales By the Bay. Sample tamales and salsas from Nor Cal’s best in styles from Oaxacan, Yucatecan, Salvadoran to Chilean, and vendors like La Cocina and Rancho Gordo. Margarita Gladiators will be battling it out for best margarita, which you can, of course, also sample, while grooving to live music, demos and a raffle of prizes from JetBlue tix to a bottle of Partida Elegante Extra Añejo Tequila. Arriba!
12-4:30pm, $40
Fort Mason Center, Landmark Building A
Buchanan Street at Marina Boulevard
415-695-9296
www.tamalesbythebay.com

April 27 – Ministry of Rum Festival comes to Hangar One
Consider it a pre-Summer rum fest… Hangar One/St. George’s Distillery, home to beloved Hangar One vodkas and St. George’s incomparable spirits, is the hangar island site for all things rum at SF’s Ministry of Rum Fest. Vendors like Leblon, El Dorado, St. Bart’s and Ron Barcelo educate on their sugar cane spirits, while primo Bay Area mixologists like Martin Cate, founder of Forbidden Island Tiki Lounge, Erik Adkins from Heaven’s Dog, Thad Vogler of Bar Agricole, Brooke Arthur of Range, and Duggan McDonnell of Cantina, showcase rum-based cocktail creations. There’s cheese pairings and door prizes to boot. Though plenty of free parking can be had at the distillery, those on foot or drinking (wait, won’t that be everyone?), are given rides with Bonjour Transportation from Oakland’s 12th St. BART station to the distillery continuously from 6-9pm, $50
2601 Monarch Street, Alameda
www.ministryofrum.com/sf2009.php

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DEALS
Hookah Happy Hours at Sens
In Embarcadero Center 4, spacious Sens restaurant, with regal Bay Bridge and Ferry Building views, started a Hookah Happy Hour for a weekday smoke along with discounted cocktails, wine and beer. For $15, you’ll have your own hookah set up on the patio with choice of apple, strawberry or peach tobacco, so you can puff away the twilight hours.
Monday-Friday 3:30-7:30pm, $15 per person
4 Embarcadero Center
415-362-0645
www.sens-sf.com

$1 Martini Lunch at Palio D’Asti
Palio D’Asti makes it WAY too easy to forget economic (or other) troubles with $1 martinis during weekday lunch. They shake up a martini with your choice of Stoli Vodka or Hendrick’s Gin, so order a Pizza d’Asti (with shaved asparagus, fontina Val d’Aosta cheese and thyme) or Agnolotti di Carciofi (artichoke and mascarpone-filled ravioli with sage and sweet onion ragout) and drink up!
Monday-Friday Lunch
640 Sacramento St.
415-395-9800
www.paliodasti.com

Three course meal at Michael Mina for $55
Michael Mina is special occasion dining (for most of us, anyway) at well over $100 a person, but they’ve jumped into the "specials" pool with an EARLY pre-theatre dining menu available until 6pm, plus a new lounge menu available all night. The first is three courses for $55, offering Mina classics like Ahi Tuna Tartare and unparalleled Lobster Pot Pie (this Mina staple is decadently good), and only $20 extra for three wine pairings from their award-winning list. The lounge menu includes Mina’s playful Lobster Corn Dogs as well as the Lobster Pot Pie, and cocktails so good, they alone are worth a visit.
Tuesday-Saturday, before 6pm
335 Powell Street
415-397-9222
www.michaelmina.net

Beer Fest blues? Wash ’em down …

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By Molly Freedenberg

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It’s Beer Fest time again, which means those lucky enough to have scored tickets to the always sold-out event are prepping their drinking pants for three hours of madness — and those who’ll miss the affair are prepping to, well, drip tears into their (non-festival-acquired) beers. We can’t blame their lachrymosity. The festival features more than 300 varieties from a mind-boggling number of breweries and brewpubs, from locals like Anchor Steam to internationals like Guinness. Then there are the hard ciders and nonalcoholic options. Oh, and the food from the city’s best restaurants. And a commemorative stein to use for tasting and then take home. It’s enough to make a beer fan weep like the condensation on an ice-cold pilsner glass.

We’re sorry to say there’s not much we can do for the people who don’t already have tickets — but we can recommend ways to ease the pain. How about staging your own tasting? Pick up a variety of ales, lagers, pilsners, and more from the dizzying selections at City Beer Store (1186 Folsom, SF. 415-503-1033, www.citybeerstore.com), Healthy Spirits (2299 15th St., SF. 415-255-0610, healthy-spirits.blogspot.com), or New Star-Ell Liquor (501 Divisadero, SF. 415-567-7900). Or let the experts choose unusual, exciting Belgian varieties for you at La Trappe (800 Greenwich, SF. 415-440-8727, www.latrappecafe.com), Monk’s Kettle (3141 16th St., SF. 415-865-9523, www.monkskettle.com), or the Trappist (460 Eighth St., Oakl. 510-238-8900, www.thetrappist.com). Granted, these options aren’t the Beer Fest, but they’re all pretty fantastic as alternatives go. And remember, there’s always next year.

SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL BEER FESTIVAL 7-10 p.m. $60. Festival Pavilion, Fort Mason, SF

www.sfbeerfest.com

SFIFF: Tune boon

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

Before there was Barney or Raffi, the answer to the question, "Who is most responsible for songs most likely to make children sing and push their parents to the very brink of sanity?" was most likely "the Sherman brothers." It might have been enough for Robert and Richard Sherman to write "Supercalifragiliciousexpialidocious," "It’s a Small World," and "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang," each of which when heard once — let alone a zillion times — became instantly imprinted on the DNA of several juvenile generations. But no, they also had to write indelible songs for the Disney’s The Jungle Book (1967), various Winnie the Pooh species, Charlotte’s Web (1973), and other things you might have escaped only by being born very recently or growing up in rare media isolation.

World premiering at SFIFF this year is The Boys: The Sherman Brothers’ Story, a feature documentary about the Shermans made by two of their sons, Gregory and Jeffrey — partly to figure out just why these fraternal composers of so many cheerful songs have barely been on speaking terms in recent decades. The answer is complicated and, unlike most Disney movies (or documentaries about them), there isn’t a happy ending. But there are a lot of happy memories in these 100 minutes, with people like Julie Andrews, Hayley Mills, Roy Disney, Dick Van Dyke, and John Williams remembering the Shermans as a joy to work with, if not a joy to one another. The brothers themselves, still alive and variably kicking, cannot quite agree on what came between them. But of course, not agreeing is exactly the thing.

Unless you grew up in pre-Khmer Cambodia (or an ex-pat community), odds are the majority repertoire of L.A.-based Dengue Fever were not your childhood’s soundtrack. But the band’s six members know that is really too bad, because Cambodian pop of the 1960s and early ’70s just rocked, with its Farfisa organ riffs, psychedelic flourishes, and incessantly catchy hooks. In an inspired stroke, the festival’s latest silent film-contemporary music match-up was commissioning Dengue Fever to create a live score for The Lost World, a 1925 superproduction that’s a lot more like today’s mall-flick fantasias than just about anything else you could find from that era.

Adapted from Sir Conan Doyle’s story, it follows a British expedition deep into the Amazon, where one cranky suspected quack scientist claims to have discovered a hidden valley of prehistoric creatures. By gum, he’s right. This restored thrill ride, featuring stop-motion dinosaurs, elaborate miniatures, romantic intrigue, a guy in an ape suit and another (alas) in comedy blackface, was an obvious model for 1933’s King Kong (Willis O’Brien designed FX on both) and an admitted one for 1993’s Jurassic Park (whose sequel, you’ll recall, was 1997’s The Lost World). After nearly 85 years, it’s still at least as entertaining as the latter-day comic-book movies that owe it a colossal debt.

THE BOYS: THE SHERMAN BROTHERS’ STORY

Sat/25, 2 p.m., Letterman Digital Arts Center

THE LOST WORLD WITH DENGUE FEVER

May 5, 8 p.m., Castro

SFIFF: In the realms of the real

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

Michael Moore may have paved the way for documentary gold, but the most structurally adventurous, ethically demanding nonfictions still reside on the festival block, where they frequently outshine their fictional counterparts for formal rigor and breadth of imagination. If the 2009 SFIFF field doesn’t have a marquee attraction like Standard Operating Procedure, all the better — a year later, I still haven’t lost the bad taste of Errol Morris’s hi-def moral confusion.

A corrective to Standard‘s self-serving auteurism might be gleaned from Avi Mograbi’s Z32. In this case the troubling testimony belongs to an Israeli soldier who participated in a senseless revenge killing of Palestinian innocents, but Mograbi handcrafts the layers of remorse that elude Morris’s smug "interrotron." We never see the ex-soldier’s face, though the digital application of masks produces an uncanny effect in tune with the film’s sliding scale of memory and performance, responsibility and displacement. Mograbi’s willingness to bring the war home (much of the film is set in his living room) is unusual for an investigative reporter, but then most investigative reporters do not narrate their mediating role in song.

Cameroonian-French filmmaker Jean-Marie Téno’s documentary Sacred Places seems more conventional in its blend of interview and ethnographic reflections, but the calm manner in which ideas flow from these encounters makes for a first-rate essay-film. Set in a poor district of Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, Sacred Places centers on two eloquent men: Jules Cesar Bamouni, a djembe maker who makes some of the same linkages between film and the traditional storytelling forms that first incited griot-auteurs like Ousmane Sembène; and Nanema Boubacar, a hopeful entrepreneur who runs a neighborhood film club. The scenes in which Boubacar rifles through DVD deliveries offer an overlapping portrait of community-oriented cinephilia ("When there are spots on the DVD, it’s not good for the film fans") and the vicissitudes of distribution (even in Burkina Faso, African titles are harder to procure than a Jackie Chan vehicle). Sacred Places is light enough on its feet to pass itself as a slice of life, but Téno’s quiet approach constitutes a major revaluation of the aims of African cinema.

Another illuminating interviewer, Heddy Honigmann, returns with Oblivion, her first film set in Lima since 1994’s mobile portrait Metal and Melancholy. There’s also a double-shot of alternative histories from Lee Anne Schmidt (California Company Town) and Travis Wilkerson (Proving Ground), who are both associated with CalArts, an institutional hotbed for hybridized docs. Wilkerson’s An Injury to One (2003) remains one of the great American political films; his live performance of military footage promises more shots from the avant-garde of documentary. Also on SFIFF’s doc-centric slate: 2009 Persistence of Vision winner Lourdes Portillo, art-historical conspiracy theories courtesy of Peter Greenway (Rembrandt J’Accuse), and reality-bending fictions like John Cassavetes’ still-potent unraveling of the domestic melodrama, A Woman Under the Influence (1974).

SACRED PLACES

Fri/24, 8:40 p.m., PFA

Sun/25, 5 p.m.; April 29, 3:30 p.m., Sundance Kabuki

Z32

May 3, 9:15 p.m.; May 5, 8:30 p.m., Sundance Kabuki

May 4, 8:30 p.m., PFA

SFIFF: 52 pick-up

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cheryl@sfbg.com

In early April, a long-range rocket blasted off from deepest, darkest North Korea; according to a Reuters.com news report, the communist country claimed that its satellite was "launched into orbit and [is now] circling the Earth transmitting revolutionary songs." Um, yeah. Most folks say the rocket failed — and that its real purpose was to test North Korea’s dropping-warheads-on-our-enemies capabilities. Recent rumors of ill health aside, North Korea’s Kim Jong-il appeared shortly after the incident to mark his re-election as the chairman of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea’s National Defense Commission.

As scary as it is to imagine the pompadored, isolationist "Great Leader" with his mitts on nukes, to focus on North Korea’s threat to the outside world takes away from the atrocities committed within its borders, against its own citizens. As NC Heikin’s quietly terrifying Kimjongilia reveals, the dictator’s country is a cruel, brutal place. The doc features interviews with North Korean refugees whose tales of escape are as harrowing as their recollections of life back home — a place where simply listening to music from a capitalist country or dropping a newspaper with a photograph of Kim on the floor were infractions that could mean imprisonment for three generations of a single family. Starvation, torture, and constant fear factor into nearly every story; families are separated, and even those who escape struggle, such as a woman whose "freedom" in China translated into years of sex slavery. For these people, WMDs are the least of their concerns.

Peering beyond what’s obvious is a theme at the 52nd San Francisco International Film Festival, with a slate that’s particularly doc-heavy. For every gesture that’s a little debatable (you can spin that Francis Ford Coppola directing award however you want, but Apocalypse Now came out in 1979, and 2007’s Youth Without Youth sucked), there are many that deserves high praise: groundbreaking local documentarian Lourdes Portillo receiving the Golden Gate Persistence of Vision Award, for example. Read on for the Guardian‘s coverage of this year’s fest, and keep watching the skies.

KIMJONGILIA

May 3, 3:30 p.m.; May 6, 3:15 p.m., Sundance Kabuki

May 4, 6:30 p.m., PFA


THE 52ND SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL runs April 23–May 7. Main venues are the Sundance Kabuki, 1881 Post, SF; Castro, 429 Castro, SF; Pacific Film Archive, 2575 Bancroft, Berk; and Clay, 2261 Fillmore, SF. Satellite venues are Premier Theater, Letterman Digital Arts Center, Bldg. B, One Letterman Drive, Presidio, SF; and Roxie, 3117 16th St, SF. Tickets (most shows $12.50; special programs vary) and additional information at www.sffs.org.

More: Reviews, interviews, and more SFIFF 52 coverage on the Pixel Vision blog as the festival unfolds.

Pics: Cherry Blossom Parade brings warmth and beauty

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Photos and text by Ariel Soto

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Protected from the extreme heat beneath their colorful rice paper umbrellas, Japanese beauty queens (and a few drag queens too) made their way through downtown for the Cherry Blossom Festival Grand Parade this Sunday, April 19th. Although a large highlight of the parade were the Japanese beauties, there was also a posse of anime fans and a boat filled with children waving colorful handkerchiefs while dancing to Abba. And of course the parade included several groups of highly energized taiko drummers who kept the parade going all the way to Japantown.

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Film Festival 52

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Innovative docs, fractured fairy tales, Disney ditties, dinosaurs, and at least one scene-stealing camel highlight the Fest’s fifty-second year. Our critics take a peek at some of the more buzz-worthy entries below.

THE 52ND SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL runs April 23–May 7. Main venues are the Sundance Kabuki, 1881 Post, SF; Castro, 429 Castro, SF; Pacific Film Archive, 2575 Bancroft, Berk; and Clay, 2261 Fillmore, SF. Satellite venues are Premier Theater, Letterman Digital Arts Center, Bldg. B, One Letterman Drive, Presidio, SF; and Roxie, 3117 16th St, SF. Tickets (most shows $12.50; special programs vary) and additional information at www.sffs.org.

>>52 pick-up
SFIFF rides again, with a quietly terrifying North Korea doc
By Cheryl Eddy

>>In the realms of the real
Sacred Places and Z32 — SFIFF’s unconventional docs
By Max Goldberg

>>Unhappily ever after
The film fest’s fractured, freaky, and feminist fantasies
By Kimberly Chun

>>Oaktown fugue
Everything Strange and New: stillness interrupted
Lynn Rapoport

>>Tune Boom
SFIFF’s catchy ditties and dino-riffs
By Dennis Harvey

>>Shots in the dark
Our short, sharp takes on other SFIFF flicks

Species twists at Move(men)t: A Men’s Dance Festival

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By Rita Felciano

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In the history of dance, the male of the species occupies a curious position. In some cultures only men were allowed to dance in public. In Western aristocratic education, dancing was a requirement for a future courtier. But until fairly recently, ballet choreographers consistently undervalued male dancers, and it was women who pioneered modern dance. In the 1930s, however, Ted Shawn’s all-male ensemble did much to break down the prejudice against men in dance. In the Bay Area, every decade or so brings about a refocusing on masculine performances. There is an energy — both virile and tender — to these presentations that, in the past at least, made them very special experiences for men and women alike. Some of that, unquestionably, had to do with the testosterone that just bounced off the walls. Even so, to see so many guys cooperating with each other is still not something we are accustomed to seeing on stage. The latest incarnation of all-male dancing, "Move(men)t: A Men’s Dance Festival," now in its second year, includes Mark Foehringer, who has long choreographed for men; Folawole Oyinlola, of Nigerian descent, who excels in improvisation; Kegan Marling, perhaps best known in his partnership with Jane Schnorrenberg; and Joe Landini’s new San Francisco Moving Men. Ten choreographers in all will show their chops in the tiny but hopping Garage performance space.

MOVE(MEN)T: A MEN’S DANCE FESTIVAL Fri/10–Sat/11, 8 p.m., $10-$20. The Garage, 975 Howard, SF. (415) 885-4006. www.brownpapertickets.com

Bruce Willis honored at Sonoma International Film Festival

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By Juliette Tang

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The 12th Annual Sonoma International Film Festival, a festival celebrating “the best in food, wine, art and music,” ended weekend with a big tribute and party in honor of Bruce Willis, an inexplicable choice in every sense except that he happens to be good friends with the Festival’s executive director, Kevin McNeely. Personally, I’ve never been not the biggest Bruce Willis fan, though I thought his performances in The Sixth Sense and Twelve Monkeys were understated and effective. Bruce is not just an actor in the cut-and-dry sense, but an uber-celebrity. His movies regularly make billions of dollars worldwide, and he is the 7th highest grossing actor of all time. Even though I’m not the type of person to watch action movies, I’ve seen every single Die Hard, either at friend’s houses, or on an airplane somewhere, or just because it was a Saturday and I was tuned onto TNT – it’s one of those movies that, chances are, you will somehow see even if you don’t try to see it, just by merit of being alive. And despite (or maybe, because of) the baldness-induced machismo and the faint but perceptible odor of sleaze he emits, some women really like him. How? Why?

Perhaps Bruce Willis’ special brand of je ne sais quoi is due to his beautiful singing voice? Check out some great vintage Bruce, after the jump.

Dance cocktail

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If you asked a member of the dozens of ethnic dance groups that make their home in the Bay Area (103 of them auditioned in January for the yearly San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival) why they are willing to rehearse many hours and perform for little or no money, they’ll tell you that they like the dances. But of almost equal importance is the sense of community these ensembles create. No doubt nostalgia for a better and simpler world may be factors as well. Even so, it’s the sense of being with people who share similar values that creates powerful bonds.

As in any other tight-knit community, however, in order to thrive you need to fit in. In ethnic, or as they are called these days, world dances, there is often not much room for individual expression. What little there is sprouts from within prescribed parameters. Yet some dancers reach beyond these boundaries. Perhaps, as does Wan-Chao Chang, they love Indonesian and modern dance. Ramon Ramos Alayo is the Bay Area’s best Afro-Cuban dancer, but he takes his choreography well beyond the traditional modes. What if you want to combine flamenco and tango? "There is no place for us — we don’t fit into established categories," says Holly Shaw, who is trained in flamenco as well as Middle Eastern, Romani, Balinese, and a slew of other styles. "So we perform in coffee houses and private homes."

To give space to these "homeless" artists, Shaw two years ago started "Eve’s Elixir," which highlights contemporary choreographers of world dance. They performed at the open-minded CounterPULSE in the Mission District. For its second incarnation, a grant from the Fort Mason Foundation’s In Performance series enables the young enterprise to move into the dance-friendly Cowell Theater.

"EVE’S ELIXIR: EYES OF EVE"

Fri/10-Sat/11, 7 p.m., $25

Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center, Marina at Laguna, SF

(415) 345-7575, www.eveselixir.net

Diamond in the rough

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

Co-writer-directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck made their feature debut in 2006 with Half Nelson, a movie with an iffy concept — an at-risk Brooklyn middle school student discovers her teacher is a part-time crackhead but they become best buds anyway — somehow rendered utterly plausible. That same keen sense of atmospheric and character detail, as well as resistance to sensationalism or cliché, is on display again in their new film, Sugar. The film has taken its time getting to theaters since premiering at the Sundance Film Festival more than a year ago, but it’s likely to be one of the best films of 2009, as it certainly would have been of 2008.

Sugar is also possibly the best narrative film ever about the world of pro baseball, and that’s an opinion lifted from people who care a lot more about America’s pastime than me. It may not have the sentimental or fantasy appeal of 1988’s Bull Durham, 1989’s Field of Dreams, 1984’s The Natural, etc., but as with Half Nelson, Boden and Fleck create something that’s at last deeply satisfying, though their happy ending isn’t at all one you (or the protagonist) might’ve planned two hours earlier.

Here we have baseball, football, and basketball as rivals, but in the Dominican Republic there’s just baseball, a national obsession as well as major export. There are more Dominicans in Major League Baseball than any other offshore population. For everyone who reaches that status, there are umpteen contenders, their aspirations often fueled by a desire to raise themselves and family members above the poverty line. That’s the case for Miguel (Algenis Perez Soto), a coolly self-possessed 19-year-old whose big eyes are always watchful and guarded, suggesting a mind sharply focused on advancement despite his low-key demeanor. He’s called Sugar because, he brags, "I’m sweet with the ladies" — but more seriously, "I’ve got the sweetest knuckle curve you’ve ever seen." His hopes of breaking into the majors are everybody’s, from his girlfriend and mother to the hometown friends who’ll live vicariously through his success.

His pitching skills get him plucked from Boca Chica baseball academy to a cattle-call camp in Phoenix where a lot of other Dominicans await their big chance — or discover it will never come. Sugar, however, gets hand-picked for the minor league Kansas City Knights where, after a fumbling start, he looks like star material.

But as the dream grows nearer, so does Sugar’s evolving sense of insecurity and isolation. He’s absorbed almost no English, so coaching instructions, teammate camaraderie, and even restaurant ordering remain blank mysteries. He’s housed with a well-meaning farm family whose Presbyterian pieties are equally foreign (despite his own crucifix-kissing before each game). When their corn-fed granddaughter sends mixed signals his way — seemingly more interested in spreading salvation than locking lips — our sexually experienced protagonist can only read her behavior as duplicitous. Having left school at 16, he’s intimidated by teammates like Brad (Andre Holland), a million-dollar draftee who’s always got his Stanford degree to fall back on.

Boden and Fleck did their research and then some. To their further credit, it’s all so fully integrated Sugar feels more verité than instructive. Like the performance of Soto (who’d never acted before, and might not again), the film doesn’t outline its agenda or emotions — indeed, some might find it a little too internalized and averse to melodrama. Yet it does exert a spell, building almost unnoticeably until the cumulative effect quietly exhilarates. Among so many recent movies about immigrants pursuing the elusive American Dream, Sugar is a rare upbeat one, partly because it allows that the dream might best be realized when one settles for less than it first promised.

SUGAR opens Fri/10 in Bay Area theaters.

Bounce to this

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superego@sfbg.com

SUPER EGO Hold my hair, Bethany — things are gonna get wicked. The Bay’s set to undergo a massive new-bass invasion on Saturday, April 11, and I’m kind of freaking out about it, kind of having outfit trauma, and kind of fiending for a diet coconut juice. Is that postcolonialist?

Perhaps more pressingly: are the low-frequency freakinetics of abstract dubstep, turbo crunk, and future bass vanishing into the headphone red zones of download fanboys and nightlife intellectuals? I mean, has anyone figured out how to dance to any of this mind-blowing shit yet?

That will be one of the looming, booming nightlife questions as critical darlings Flying Lotus, Kode9, and the Bug rumble through Mighty with a gig tagged "The Future," and Ghislain "King of Bounce" Poirier storms the monthly Tormenta Tropical party at Elbo Room. No question, though: both events will melt your face, so pack yourself an extra and hop between them.

When it comes to dance floor poetics, Montreal-based producer, DJ, and mentor Poirier is the shrewdest of the bunch. The Ninja Tune artist has played it both ways from the beginning, tickling cerebellums with growling reveries and laser-chopped academic beats on some tracks, while on others pumping sharp dancehall grinds and grimy ragga as his guest vocalists strike demanding political poses. It’s this second, much more party-friendly "world riddim idiom" Poirier who’ll pop up at Tormenta Tropical, touring for his new Soca Sound System EP, a pulse-pounding glance toward the Trinidadian genre that includes the infectious "Wha-La-La-Leng" with MC Face-T.

And yet, despite Poirier’s intensely straightforward dance-driven live shows and steady stream of lean-and-mean mixtapes, like last year’s excellent Bring the Fire, he’s still mostly known in the States for his forays into glitch-and-sizzle future bass territory. That may be due to his pioneering work in tearing off the 4/4 beats straightjacket and commandeering homemade, bleeding bass lines to glue his ravenously global-eared sets together. Or it may be because people still have trouble seeing the Great White North as the glorious multicultural clusterfuck it is — they’d just rather slap an abstract label on it. Whatever. "Ideas are the best plug-ins," Poirier told Cyclic Defrost magazine last year — but he knows a free mind should be followed by a bumping ass.

In terms of real abstractitude, though, Flying Lotus, the Bug, and Kode 9 swim in the deepest of waters — and each traffics in his own delightful mental aquarium. L.A.’s FlyLo may still be drowning in positive press ink from his incredible 2008 release Los Angeles (Warp) but he hasn’t sacrificed any of his experimental chutzpah, chopping up hip-hop strains into turbulent, prismatic soundscapes. He’s also the smilingest DJ I’ve ever seen. London’s the Bug brings a throbbing, postapocalyptic edge to his dub creations, and his jazz background adds an ethereal sheen to his production style. Hyperdub Records owner Kode9, from Glasgow, is the most mischievous of the trio. His output aspires to a warped dubstep atmosphere that he likens to "drinking acid rain," but he also brings some much-needed humor to the mix — and reassuring connections to dance music’s past. The B-side of his new "Black Sun" single, "2 Far Gone," is a total rewiring of Adonis’ 1986 house classic "No Way Back" that dissolves me into a nostalgic grin.

When these three bass-purveyors passed through San Francisco last year — Lotus and Kode as part of the Brainfeeder Festival at 103 Harriet St., and the Bug at dread bass throwdown Surya Dub — they put in exquisitely thoughtful and uplifting sessions. Alas, they were mostly greeted with appreciative, hella-stoned nodding from the crowd. Only a few hardcore freaks had the gumption to truly take the floor. This time, I say make like the freaks and lose yourself to the beat in your head. The bass is only the basis. It’s up to us to fill in the bounce.

TORMENTA TROPICAL WITH GHISLAIN POIRIER

Sat/11, 10pm, $10. Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF. www.elbo,com

THE FUTURE WITH FLYING LOTUS, KODE9 AND THE BUG

Sat/11, 9pm-afterhours, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119.com

Move(men)t: A Men’s Dance Festival

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PREVIEW In the history of dance, the male of the species occupies a curious position. In some cultures only men were allowed to dance in public. In Western aristocratic education, dancing was a requirement for a future courtier. But until fairly recently, ballet choreographers consistently undervalued male dancers, and it was women who pioneered modern dance. In the 1930s, however, Ted Shawn’s all-male ensemble did much to break down the prejudice against men in dance. In the Bay Area, every decade or so brings about a refocusing on masculine performances. There is an energy — both virile and tender — to these presentations that, in the past at least, made them very special experiences for men and women alike. Some of that, unquestionably, had to do with the testosterone that just bounced off the walls. Even so, to see so many guys cooperating with each other is still not something we are accustomed to seeing on stage. The latest incarnation of all-male dancing, "Move(men)t: A Men’s Dance Festival," now in its second year, includes Mark Foehringer, who has long choreographed for men; Folawole Oyinlola, of Nigerian descent, who excels in improvisation; Kegan Marling, perhaps best known in his partnership with Jane Schnorrenberg; and Joe Landini’s new San Francisco Moving Men. Ten choreographers in all will show their chops in the tiny but hopping Garage performance space.

MOVE(MEN)T: A MEN’S DANCE FESTIVAL Fri/10–Sat/11, 8 p.m., $10-$20. The Garage, 975 Howard, SF. (415) 885-4006. www.brownpapertickets.com

Smells like 20-something angst: 500 Days of Summer

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By Juliette Tang

Wednesday night at the Sebastiani Theatre in downtown Sonoma, the Sonoma International Festival kicked off with a showing of 500 Days of Summer, an indie-romance starring the lovely and blue-eyed Zooey Deschanel and the surprisingly-cuter-as-he-ages Joseph Gordon-Levitt, alum of 3rd Rock. Directed by music video director Marc Webb, the cloyingly sentimental movie makes liberal use of a twee ‘supermix’ of popular college radio love songs, which included The Smiths, Regina Spektor, Doves, Belle & Sebastian, Black Lips, Spoon, Jack Penate, and Feist — “Mushaboom,” during a wedding scene, no less. About an unstable romance between two scruffy, marginally hip 20-somethings in Los Angeles, the movie was a hit with a Sonoma audience, who clapped and cheered after the showing. It ought to be mentioned, though, that this audience inexplicably also loved the Comcast commercial that played during the previews, clapping and cheering after that as well.

Deschanel and Gordon-Levitt play Summer and Tom, two people who look like everything that protagonists in ‘quirky’ emo rom-coms are supposed to look like. She has long wavy hair with bangs, wears opaque tights, ballet flats, and little cardigans over vintage dresses. He appears to have a large collection skinny ties, sweater vests, Pumas, and messenger bags. Tellingly, in one scene, Tom actually admits that he fell in love with Summer at first sight, because she looks like what his dream girl would look like. Called 500 Days of Summer because Tom’s relationship with summer lasts – hah – 500 days, most of those 500 days are wasted away by Tom, who is either pining after Summer, or subsequently whining when their whirlwind relationship ends abruptly. The film’s message is that Tom’s grave was entirely self-dug because he didn’t recognize the warning signs. As viewers, we’re left wondering why we should feel sorry for Tom at all if the mess was of his own making.