International Archives — Page 16 of 100 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

Last train

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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July 9, 2013

steve@sfbg.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BART AS BELLWETHER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

AUSTERITY AND EXPANSION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RETIREMENT SECURITY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Film Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

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July 9, 2013

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

OPENING

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

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

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

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

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

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

ONGOING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfinished Song (1:36) Opera Plaza.

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

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

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

Is Larry Ellison cheating?

Sasha Cuttler And Mary Magee

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July 9, 2013

4

If you’re wondering why the hell there was only one boat was out there “racing” in the first match of the America’s Cup on Sunday, here’s the rundown on “Ruddergate,” yet another contentious chapter in the 162-year history of the America’s Cup.

At issue is the size and shape of the rudders on the twin hulls of the AC72s. Original design parameters were established back in 2010 when, in the interest of fairness, details of the boats were agreed upon by all teams — so exactly this kind of conflict wouldn’t occur. A “box rule” was applied, which means the boats won’t be identical, but they will be similar (Emirates Team New Zealand and Luna Rossa actually have near-identical boats as the Italians came late to the party and bought New Zealand’s design to save time.)

Then, after Andrew Simpson was killed when Artemis’s boat capsized on May 9, regatta director Iain Murray made 37 new safety recommendations, which the Coast Guard made into requirements when they permitted the race.

“Basically, for marine events, marine event sponsors are responsible for the safety of the events,” U.S. Coast Guard chief Mike Lutz explained, noting that the 37 rule changes originated with Murray and were approved by the Coast Guard as a package.

Some of those changes are straightforward and simple, like no guests aboard during races, more body armor, buoyancy and other personal safety gear, and no racing in winds over 23 knots (That one is actually a hindrance for ETNZ and Luna Rossa, who deliberately built for prevailing San Francisco Bay conditions, i.e. as much as 35 knots of wind.)

But that’s not what the two teams are protesting. They don’t like new size and shape rules for the rudder elevators, which are designed to stabilize the boat when it’s foiling. Oracle has a pretty good description of how they work here.

The new rule lays out minimum and maximum area, depth, and span and says they should be symmetrical. None of the 36 other safety recommendations touch on design elements. The fishy part is that Oracle has been practicing with a bigger, symmetrical rudder elevator since they launched their second boat on April 24. Before Simpson died, before Murray’s new safety rules, Oracle was using what would be considered an illegal rudder. And now, voila, it’s legal.

The Kiwis immediately filed a protest to the rule, on June 28, and four days later Luna Rossa joined them.

“I’m not saying all the changes have been made for them, but it’s nothing related to safety. What really upsets me is that there is one boat sailing since they launched on April 24 who has been sailing out of the class rule,” Luna Rossa’s Max Sirena told the media on July 2. “Why design a boat that doesn’t comply with the class rule? And then one week before the Louis Vuitton Cup, you ask the other teams to change the position of the rudders and the elevators…”

In the meantime, rather than delay the first race or move up the date of the protest hearing, Murray said it was okay for the Kiwis and Italians to race without the “safer” rudder elevators, to which ETNZ’s Grant Dalton said, “The point is that under the recommendations you can run both. The question is why? Because, if you can run both, then why do you need the ones that aren’t rule compliant?”

Dalton also thinks this design change could make the boats more dangerous because the rudder elevators would extend wider than the maximum beam of the boat and could slice a sailor in half if he slips over the side of the hull.

He hasn’t said something dirty’s going down. He told the media, “If the question is, has that rule been put in there deliberately to help Oracle, then no I don’t think it has – I don’t think for a second Iain Murray has done that. Is it helping them as a kind of byproduct of it, then yes it is.”

Luna Rossa’s Max Sirena has been more critical. “It is not safety related at all … It is the first time in the history of the America’s Cup that they can change the class rule just like that, just because they want to change it and with no reason. To change a class rule you need unanimity. Why when Oracle capsized last October did they not come up with this change then?”

Luna Rossa boycotted until the jury made a decision, stating that it would seem like silent affirmation if they raced. A last minute deal to get them on Sunday’s course fell through and for the time being, the Italians are sticking to their principles – they were out practicing yesterday, showing their boat is more than capable of performing with the smaller, asymmetrical, noncompliant rudders.

“The teams don’t believe it’s proper to change the class rule without a vote of the teams,” said America’s Cup spokesperson Sean McNeill. “They believe [Murray] didn’t have the authority to make such a change.”

If the jury rules in favor of Luna Rossa and ETNZ, Murray would have to go back to the Coast Guard with a new safety plan in order to obtain a new racing permit. “If there’s any change, they would have to submit an updated safety plan,” Lutz noted, saying he was confident that it could be reviewed in a short time and a second permit could be issued without too much of a delay.

The jury convened yesterday to hear the protests and a decision is due Wednesday, but this debacle raises a couple of questions. Why didn’t they hear the protests prior to the first race? That race day was established a long time ago, and hasn’t changed. The jury had at least five days to review the protests – ample time if the race organizers were really concerned with keeping the event from totally losing face.

Instead, two of the three boats were out of the race before it had even begun, creating animosity among the handful of sponsors still involved. Louis Vuitton’s Bruno Trouble – who initially anticipated 15 contenders, then 8, and certainly no less than 5 – is pissed that not even two could show up and the event has been very far from the big splash it was billed to be. Meanwhile, international media aren’t holding back the ridicule. Fairfax NZ’s Duncan Johnstone called it “a hugely embarrassing situation for regatta organisers, a major dent for the on-shore festivities and massive sponsorships that envelop this ridiculously expensive event.”

And, if the larger rudder elevators really are safer, why didn’t Oracle say something back in April before Simpson died? Or in October when their boat capsized? Instead, they’ve been very mum on the subject. Control is going to be as important as speed in this Cup and with the Kiwis and Italians burnt by the lowered wind limits, it looks like Ellison is hoping to top them in the control category. Larger rudders create more drag and less speed, but may get Oracle foiling for longer periods with enhanced stability – which they desperately need.

ETNZ and Luna Rossa have indicated it would be impossible for them to adapt their rudders now that racing has begun. Meanwhile, Oracle gets to hang back until the finals in September, practicing their moves while Ellison carries on with acting too rich too fail.

Rebecca Bowe contributed to this report.

Depp stinks but Death rules: new movies!

Sue Vaughan

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July 5, 2013

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Depp stinks but Death rules: new movies!

By now you’ve heard how much The Lone Ranger sucks (for more on that, my review here), so what else should you be spending your weekly movie-theater budget on? Well, the Roxie just opened a doc about Detroit band Death (Dennis Harvey breaks it down here), plus there’s a new Pedro Almodóvar joint, a coming-of-age summer flick starring Sam Rockwell and Steve Carell as cool and not-so-cool father figures, and (since one Carell movie ain’t enough) Despicable Me 2 — just the thing for the kidz who’ve already seen Monsters University.

Read on for our takes on these films, and more!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irSSZumpYS4

Augustine When a 19-year-old Parisian kitchen maid (single-named French musician Soko) has a dramatic seizure during dinner service, she makes for Salpêtrière Hospital, where she becomes the superstar patient of Dr. Charcot (Vincent Lindon) — a real-life 19th century professor and neurologist who later mentored Sigmund Freud. There’s no “talking cure” at work here, though; Augustine’s medical treatment consists mostly of naked poking and prodding, as well as hypnosis-induced episodes of her increasingly sexualized “ovarian hysteria.” The tension builds as Charcot struggles against popular disdain for his methods (read aloud to him from newspapers by his coolly elegant wife), as well as his forbidden attraction to Augustine. Occupying the same moody, sensual milieu as David Cronenberg’s too-talky A Dangerous Method (2011), first-time feature writer-director Alice Winocour approaches her tale of misunderstood madness from a point of view that’s more emotionally-driven, with some subtle feminist undercurrents. Points deducted, though, for some obvious symbolism — like costuming Augustine in a brand-new red dress right after she starts her period for the first time. (1:42) (Cheryl Eddy)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtVEj86Vmzo

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

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

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NX9gUw3Kwb4

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

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mK7AS_cITKI

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

Hungry for reform

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July 3, 2013

16

news@sfbg.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONFINEMENT AS TORTURE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RESISTING REFORM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DANGEROUS ASSOCIATIONS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DRASTIC MEASURES

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

Film Listings

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July 3, 2013

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

OPENING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ONGOING

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

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

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

Epic (1:42) Metreon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfinished Song (1:36) Albany.

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

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

Music Listings

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July 3, 2013

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WEDNESDAY 3

ROCK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIP-HOP

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

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

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

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BLUES

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

SOUL

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

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

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

THURSDAY 4

ROCK

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

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIP-HOP

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

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

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

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

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

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

REGGAE

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

BLUES

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

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

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

FUNK

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

FRIDAY 5

ROCK

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

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

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

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

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIP-HOP

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

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

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

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

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

REGGAE

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

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

BLUES

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

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

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

FUNK

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

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

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

SOUL

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

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

SATURDAY 6

ROCK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIP-HOP

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

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

REGGAE

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

BLUES

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

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

EXPERIMENTAL

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

FUNK

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

SOUL

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

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

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

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

SUNDAY 7

ROCK

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

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

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

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

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIP-HOP

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

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

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

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

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

REGGAE

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

BLUES

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

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

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

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

COUNTRY

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

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

FUNK

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

SOUL

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

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

MONDAY 8

ROCK

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

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

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

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

REGGAE

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

BLUES

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

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

SOUL

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

TUESDAY 9

ROCK

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

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

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

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

DANCE

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

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

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

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

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

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

HIP-HOP

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

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

ACOUSTIC

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

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

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

JAZZ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INTERNATIONAL

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

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

REGGAE

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

BLUES

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

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

EXPERIMENTAL

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

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

FUNK

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

SOUL

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

New Zealand’s Cup

-

July 3, 2013

7

news@sfbg.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IT’S THE CULTURE, STUPID

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BART contract negotiations resume

Sasha Cuttler

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July 2, 2013

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Business and political leaders are urging a speedy resolution to the BART strike tonight as negotiations between Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) and Amalgamated Transit Union Local 1555 and Service Employees International Union (SEIU) Local 1021 resume at 6pm.

The strike, in effect since Monday, came about after BART’s labor contracts expired on Sunday night and the agency refused to “bargain in good faith,” says Leah Berlanga, chief negotiating officer for SEIU 1021, over a new contract with the unions. The resumption in negotiations was sparked by Gov. Jerry Brown, who tasked his two top mediators with helping resolve the dispute.

The loss of BART service, which on average shuttles 400,000 weekday passengers, is projected by the Bay Area Council to cost the regional economy $73 million a day in lost productivity. The San Francisco Chamber of Commerce also expects additional economic impacts on the meals and goods bought daily by commuters who are not commuting during these strikes. To make matters worse, the strike hit the city in the runup to the July 4th weekend.

“The strike is also expected to have an effect on holiday traffic,” Gwen Oldham, communications director for the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce, tell us, “as many people reconsider their plans to visit the region and attend various Independence Day events and celebrations.”

One coalition created to urge BART and the unions to reach an agreement is comprised of the Chamber, BOMA San Francisco, SF Made, BayBio, Golden Gate Restaurant Association, Small Business California, San Francisco Council of District Merchants Association, the San Francisco Small Business Network, and the Hotel Council of San Francisco.

Some solutions they have proposed to ease the traffic nightmare created by the BART strike include facilitating carpools, increasing telecommuting, and offering alternative work schedules for the duration of the strike.

San Francisco’s Zipcar service has already taken this into consideration, refunding half of customers’ reservations if they tweet pictures to Zipcar’s SF Twitter handle of carpooling around the city. Also, if customers tweet Zipcar pictures of their San Francisco parking receipts, the company will give them driving credits up to $30 in value to match the parking costs/needs created by the BART strike.

But, as Oldham notes in her press release today, even with carpools alleviating some of the transit turmoil, “every vehicle added to the roads adds more than 5.5 pounds of carbon dioxide (CO2) per day.”

The spikes in Muni usage to compensate for the BART strike are rapidly rising too. The San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency has prioritized service in major BART corridors such as the 14 Mission bus, bus routes on Van Ness, and the K and J train lines. But as Paul Rose, spokesperson for the SFMTA, told us, “[Monday] we saw a 10 percent increase [in Muni riders], today we saw about a 15 percent increase. What we get from that is that people took yesterday off.”

That means the impacts of the BART strike could only get worse. Between these economic and environmental impacts of the BART strike, it seems we’ll just have to wait with our fingers crossed for the results of tonight’s talks.

Wrongfully terminated Oakland Airport workers still fighting to get their jobs back

Sasha Cuttler And Mary Magee

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June 27, 2013

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A year ago, Hakima Arhab, a former Subway employee at Oakland International Airport, spoke up about the restaurant breaking living wage laws that guarantee paid sick days for employees. For this, she believes she was fired.

Since then, a campaign has been launched to raise awareness about Subway and Jamba Juice workers at the Oakland airport who say they were terminated for speaking out. This afternoon, June 27, members of service workers’ union Unite Here will join with Arhab and other terminated employees in picketing outside the Port of Oakland’s Port Commission meeting, from 4 to 6 p.m.

According to Arhab, “I left for a vacation for a month and a half, and I had told my employers four months before the fact. They were fine with it.” Nevertheless, “When I came back, they said they had no hours for me, and I was fired. I then knew they had fired me not because I took a vacation, but I had complained about them breaking living wage laws.”

Arhab said Subway had not given paid sick days since 2009. The Port of Oakland’s living wage law requires employers to provide 12 paid sick days per year.

Last year, the National Labor Relations Board charged the operators of the airport Subway and Jamba Juice with breaking labor laws by terminating workers who had made complaints to the Port of Oakland. According to a report in the East Bay Express, the port conducted its own investigation, and also concluded that the store operators were in violation.

Unite Here representatives filed an appeal earlier this year to demand that Arhab and Diamond Ford, a former Jamba Juice employee, be reinstated to their jobs. Following an appeals hearing, the port agreed and ordered the operators to reinstate the terminated employees.

But that still hasn’t happened. Though Arhab has participated in the campaign to shed light on unfair labor practices at the Oakland Airport, she says she still feels powerless.

“I feel mad and un-powerful that these companies were breaking laws, and they had the power to fire me just because I complained,” Arhab said. “I did the right thing. When will they?”

Picketers who plan to gather outside the Port Commission today aim to pressure the agency to compel the fast food restaurants to comply with orders to reinstate the terminated employees.

Sarah Norr, an Organizer for Unite Here, feels that Arhab and the other employees are being served an injustice. “The airport is on public land and is a public resource,” Norr said. “When workers don’t have sick days or job security, there’s something wrong with that.”

HOT PINK LIST 2013: BOOT BLACKS

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June 26, 2013

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Midway through Folsom Street’s dark Powerhouse leather bar, you’ll find the bootblack, toiling away with a kit of rags and polish — break out your Stompers for a sublime shine. “What I’ve learned is that for me, bootblacking is religion,” says seven-year bootblacker Ms. V. “What I do is simple, slow, and uncluttered — and it reveres the authenticity of the boot and shoe above all.” She was first introduced to bootblacking seven years ago at Folsom Street Fair. “What a mystical experience seeing this polish-smeared wizard at work,” she recalls. “I wondered if I could do this with a female sensibility.” Bootblacking has long been the purview of males, but Ms. V embarked on her journey to learn the craft from leather community members and old school shoeshine experts anyway. She picked up a protege, Luna, with whom she teams up to keep leather footwear in prime condition. It’s a business transaction, driven by passion, power, and polish. “There is a dance that goes on between the customer and me,” says Ms. V.

Bootblacks Ms. V, International Ms. Bootblack 2007, and Luna, International Community Bootblack 2011

Pride on fire: This year’s must-do events

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June 26, 2013

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Pride on fire: This year’s must-do events

Strap on that rainbow jetpack — there’s a heckuva lot of stuff going down at Pride. Here are our pinkiest, proudest picks.

ONGOING

Faetopia 2286 Market, SF. www.faetopia.com. Through Fri/28, noon-midnight, (event times vary), $10 suggested donation. What’s a radical queer to do in this season of commercialized sexual identity? Fill it with blithe faggotry and faerie magick. The crew behind Faetopia is organizing nights of queer cinema, ecology and history classes, drag musicals, skillshares, and much more — do drop in.

Frameline37 Various venues, SF and Berk; www.frameline.org. Most shows $12. Wed/26-Sun/30. There’s still much to see at the San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival, including the ever-popular “Fun in Girls Shorts” and “Fun in Boys Shorts” short-film programs, plus closing-night high-school comedy G.B.F.

“From Heather’s Mommies to Tango’s Daddies” San Francisco Public Library Main Branch, 100 Larkin, SF; through August 1 during library hours, free, www.sfpl.org. This exhibit traces “the evolution of family affirming literature” through Randall Tarpey-Schwed’s collection of more than 70 same-sex family friendly children’s books published since the 1970s. Also, on the main branch’s second floor, in the Fisher Children’s Collection, the “10,000 Dresses” highlights the first transgender book written for children.

“I Am UndocuQueer!” Galería de la Raza, 2857 24th St, SF; www.galeriadelaraza.org. Through July 1. The latest installment of the gallery’s Digital Mural Project features the work of undocumented queer activist Julio Salgado. His billboard aims to illuminate the intersection between — and foster open dialogue between — the immigrant and LGBT communities.

National Queer Arts Festival Various venues, SF; queerculturalcenter.org/NQAF. The 16th annual performance fest wraps up with Terry Baum’s HICK, a love story about Eleanor Roosevelt (Wed/26-Thu/27 at the Garage), and multi-media performance Girl Talk, with Gina de Vries, Elena Rose, and Julia Serano (Thu/27, African American Arts and Cultural Center).

WEDNESDAY 26

“Dream Queens Revue Pride Show” Aunt Charlie’s Lounge, 133 Turk, SF; www.dreamqueensrevue.com. 9:30-11:30pm, free. Eye-popping Pride drag with experts Collette LeGrand, Diva LaFever, Sophilya Leggz, and more.

“The Guardian and Hard French Present: Pullin’ Pork for Pride” Pilsner Inn, 225 Church, SF; www.sfbg.com. 6-9pm, free. Gather ’round for the ninth annual incarnation of this happy hour tradition, with host Lil Miss Hot Mess and performances by Dick Van Dick, Tara Wrist, and Rotimi Agbabiaka, plus Hard French DJs Carnita and Brown Amy. And, of course … pulled pork sandwiches, with options for vegetarians this time! Plus: BYO dark-colored t-shirt for Bradley Manning screen printing.

“Harvey Milk 2013” Nourse Theatre, 201-299 Hayes, SF; www.sfgmc.org. Wed/26-Fri/28, 8pm. $25-60. The peppy and game San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus presents its 35th anniversary celebration concert, featuring the world premiere of Andrew Lippa’s new choral work I Am Harvey Milk.

“OH! Pride” Powerhouse, 1347 Folsom, SF; 10pm-2am, $5 benefitting AIDS Emergency Fund Dandy young gentlemen of perversion gather monthly at the Powerhouse to twirl their mustaches, bare their chests, and dance hotly to magical sex tunes.

“What?! Pride” Lookout, 3600 16th St., SF. 7pm-10pm, free. Fun dance tunes and good times with a relaxed crowd of cuties, featuring local composer Samuelroy and friends.

THURSDAY 27

Camp Wild Beaver Lexington Club, 3464 19th St., SF; www.lexingtonclub.com. 9pm, free. The sexy Lex dyke bar kicks off a wild weekend of events with this camp-themed gem, featuring DJs Pony Mane and Zoccocks, plus campfire go-gos, lumberjackin’ hotties, and more.

Folsom Pride Public Works, 161 Erie, SF; www.publicsf.com. 9pm-2am, $25 advance. The naughty team behind Folsom Street Fair and Up Your Alley bring in electro-hotties Bright Light Bright Light and Slow Knights for a raucous dance party (and probably more than a little yummy leather cruising).

“Love: A Deeper Pride” Abada Capoeira Center, 3221 22nd St., SF; loveandpride.brownpapertickets.com. 10 p.m., $10 advance. A vogueing exravaganza brought to you by Vogue and Tone, The A, Miss Beth, Abada Capoeira, and Sandra Navarro, plus music by Gehno Aviance and Go Bang! DJs. Work the runway, mop the floor.

Mykki Blanco Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF; www.mezzaninesf.com. Multi-gendered, aggressively experimental rap from the artist everyone’s talking about? Yes.

Pepperspray SF Eagle, 398 12th St., SF; www.sf-eagle.com. 9pm-midnite, $10. If you weren’t hip to this actually legendary all-drag queen rock band when the first time around (in the early 00s), here’s your chance to EXPERIENCE THE MAGIC. The fearsome foursome will be heshing their wigs off for the first time in a decade, supported like pantyhose by She-L-O (Electric Light Orchestra tribute band!). Pepperspray hits the stage at 10 sharp — no drag time please!

“Pride NightLife” California Academy of Sciences, 55 Music Concourse, Golden Gate Park, SF; www.calacademy.org. 6-10pm, $12. This year’s incarnation of the popular annual science museum event includes a “transpecies” costume contest with drag stars Glamamore, Heklina, Juanita More, and Peaches Christ; talks by reps from the Center for Sex and Culture’; music from DJs Carnita and Brown Amy of Hard French vs. DJs Pink Lightning and Rapid Fire of Stay Gold. And more. Seriously, what other Pride event will teach you about sea slugs?

The Tubesteak Connection Aunt Charlie’s, 133 turk, SF; www.auntcharlieslounge.com. 10pm-2am, $5. A quintessential gay SF experience, DJ Bus Station John’s weekly club transports us back to the good ol’ cruisy bathhouse days with soulful disco and Hi-NRG tunes, plus some special Pride surprises. No cell phones, please!

“Vintage Queer San Francisco” Oddball Films, 275 Capp, SF; www.oddballfilms.com, 8pm, $10. Amazing film clips and fascinating video snippets of queer life in Oz over the last century.

FRIDAY 28

Bearracuda Public Works, 161 Erie, SF; www.bearracuda.com. 9pm-3am, $12 advance. Are you big? Fat? Hairy? Hot? Male-identified? If you answered “yes” to at least two of those, this is where you need to be. Honey Soundsystem DJs guest. Otters welcome.

Mr. Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF; www.monarchsf.com. 9pm-late, $15. Borrow a mustache — or hey, grow your own — for this great party put on by Fag Fridays and Beatbox Events. (Last year’s was a real hoot.) With quality house music from DJs David Harness and Jeno plus cute boys.

“Some Thing is Really Gay” The Stud, 399 Ninth St. SF; www.studsf.com. 10pm-4am, $8. Watch in awe as the city’s most artistically-inclined drag performers deconstruct, reconstruct, and just plain strut with Pride’s many goofy tropes. Oh, and much dancing and carrying on to fun music.

Trans March Dolores Park, Dolores at 19th, SF; www.transmarch.org. Speakers and music 3pm; march (to Civic Center) 6pm, free. The 10th annual Trans March aims to inspire “all trans and gender non-conforming people to realize a world where we are safe, loved, and empowered.” Check out the event’s website for info on post-march parties for youth and adults.

“Unofficial: Trans March After Party” Elbo Room, 647 Valencia, SF; www.elbo.com. 10pm-2am, $10. For the fourth year in a row, Amos Mac and Rocco Katastrophe of the world’s hottest FTM magazine Original Plumbing get wild with you after the march. With DJs Rapid Fire and Average Joe and a boatload of hot trans go-gos.

SATURDAY 29

“Bondage A Go Go: Pervert’s Pride” Cat Club, 1190 Folsom, SF; www.sfcatclub.com. 9:30pm, $10-$20. Polymorphous pansexual explorers and friends of all genders converge for this titillating night of fun and fur cuffs.

“Cockblock: The Seventh Annual Dyke March After-Party” Rickshaw Stop, 155 Fell, SF; www.cockblocksf.com DJ Nuxx and friends’ Cockblock party is always good times for hot girls on the prowl to swirly electro- and hip-pop tunes.

“Dark Room: Pink Party After-Party” Cafe Du Nord, 2170 Market, SF; www.facebook.com/DarkRoomSF. $10 before 11 $15 after. A night of dark electro, industrial, freestyle and more. Guest DJ Heklina and Believe on stage live, with Host Lady Bear and her dark dolls performing, and the debut of Daddies Plastik’s new single, “Google Google Apps Apps.”

Dyke March Dolores Park, Dolores at 19th St, SF; www.thedykemarch.org. Music at noon; march at 6pm, free. This year’s theme is “Dykepocalypse: Our Feminist Awakening,” about which organizers say: “We recognize that there is an opportunity to educate others on the roots of feminism and collectively embrace our strength as we step into our own power.” To which we say: Amen!

“House of Babes SF Dyke March After Party” Public Works, 151 Erie, SF; www.thehouseofbabes.com. 7pm, $15-30. If you thought the Dyke March was a workout, check this out: eight hours of DJs (Rapid Fire and Pink Lightning of Stay Gold; Da Vo and Boyfriend of Swagger Like Us; Jenna Riot and Andre of Fix Yr Hair; and more!), plus live performances by local queer hip-hop superstars Double Duchess, Micahtron, and others. Watch your hydration.

The Juan Maclean and Kim Ann Foxman Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF; www.monarchsf.com. 9pm, $10-$20. This most excellent NYC twosome are at the forefront of the old-school late ’80s house sound revival, full of melodic hooks and catchy bass lines. Dare you not to dance.

Pink Mammoth Block Party Mighty, 119 Utah, SF; www.pinkmammoth.org. Noon-4am, $25-$45. Not to be confused with the Pink Party (see below) this all-day and all-night outdoor rager from the beloved Burning Man crew will get push your funky house and techno buttons. With, like, 1000 DJs, including Audiofly and Marques Wyatt.

Pink Saturday Celebration Castro and Market Streets, SF; www.thesisters.org. 5pm-10pm, free (donation requested). The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence host their annual blast, filling the castro with music, cuties, and rainbow rings a-plenty.

Pink Triangle installation and commemoration Twin Peaks Vista Overlook, SF. www.thepinktriangle.com. Installation, 7am; ceremony, 10:30am, free. Volunteers needed to help install this important, instantly-recognizable Pride symbol; help out and get donuts, coffee, and a Pink Triangle t-shirt. (Also needed: volunteers to help take it down, Sun/30, 5-7pm).

Pride in Style Sui Generis 2231 Market, SF. Facebook invite. Noon-4pm, free. A fantastic — annual stylish — Pride welcome gathering in the much-loved mens’ clothing store. With DJs Jason Kendig and Two Dudes in Love, plus all the handsome gentlemen you want to meet.

SF Pre-Parade Pride Celebration Civic Center, SF; www.sfpride.org. Free. The 43rd annual Pride celebration is themed “Embrace, Encourage, Empower.” You can em-party down with multiple music stages — including 23 community-run stages and venues — exhibitor and food booths, and much more.

SUNDAY 30

Big Freedia Public Works, 161 Erie, SF; www.publicsf.com. 6:30pm-1am, $20-$30 All hail the queen diva of Nola bounce as she pops your sissy booty and works it down the middle. With rapper Lady Tragik, filthy club sensation Brooke Candy, and — best of all — Motown’s king of booty bass, DJ Assault. Nice one.

The Cinch Saloon Turns 40! Cinch Saloon, 1723 Polk, SF; www.cinchsf.com. 4pm-10pm, free. Awww, spend some quality time with the beloved (and only remaining) Polk Street gay bar, as a slew of only-in-SF drag personalities pays tribute all day long.

Drippin’ and Droppin’ Poolside Pride Party Phoenix Hotel, 601 Eddy, SF; drippin.eventbrite.com. noon-7pm, $10-$20. All the soulful house lovers will be soaking up the sunshine(?) and good vibes(!) as two of SF’s legendary DJs, David Harness and Ruben Mancias, reunite for this lovely affair.

“Hard French Hearts Los Homos Pride 2013” Roccapulco, 3140 Mission, SF; hardfrenchpride2013.eventbrite.com. 4-11pm, $20-65. Don’t get soft: SF’s queer soul party tickles your lips and dives right in at this enlarged version of its annual queerific celebration. With DJs Carnita and Brown Amy, the Hard French Jiggalicious Drag Babes, and live performances by THEESatisfation, Magic Mouth, Midtown Social, and more. 2 cute 2 miss.

Honey Soundsystem Extended Pride Edition Holy Cow, 1535 Folsom, SF; www.honeysoundsystem.com. 10pm-4am, $5 before 11pm, $10 after. The best gay weekly underground techno party in the city goes long for your enjoyment, with sharp-eared residents Josh Cheon, Jason Kendig, Robot Hustle, and P-Play handling the big decks.

Juanita More Pride Party Jones, 620 Jones, SF; www.juanitamore.com. noon-midnight, $35. An absolute Pride party must, drag goddess Juanita’s huge affair is sold out online, but there will be 100 tickets at the door — line up early to experience a huge art installation by Desi Santiago, DJs Severino of Horse Meat Disco, Kim Ann Foxman, and more, the Cougar Cadet drum troupe, and acres of glamour and debauchery. Benefitting OutLoud queer youth radio.

Magda Monarch, 101 Sixth St., SF; www.monarchsf.com. 9pm-late, $20. The Detroit-via-Berlin ace has already conquered the international underground techno scene. Her more introspective, soulful recent sounds will perfectly dance you out of Pride.

Nina Sky Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com, 8pm-2am, $15 advance. Queens-bred, Puerto Rican descended sisters Nicole and Natalie are kind of the Tegan and Sara of catchy R&B with reggaeton roots. Sexy!

Queerly Beloved El Rio, 3158 Mission, SF; queerlybeloved.brownpapertickets.com. 3pm-9pm, $8. A patio full of awesomeness — El Rio explodes with queer porn princess Courtney Trouble’s annual shindig, this year with live electro duo Icy Lites, DJs Jenna Riot, Chelsea Starr, and Portland’s Automaton. Plus: a “queer porn circus.” Rrowr.

SF Pride Parade and Celebration Civic Center, SF; www.sfpride.org. 11am-6:30pm, free. Today’s the parade, with celebrity Grand Marshalls including Tabatha Coffey, Roger Ross Williams, Cheyenne Jackson, and Mondo Guerra. The whole shebang starts at Market and Beale and ends at Market and Eighth St, with Civic Center festivities to follow.

Pride on fire

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June 26, 2013

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See this list all on one page here.