Lit

Outside Lands, day three

Tony Robles
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Ah, Golden Gate Park on a crisp, sunny Sunday morning. Well, afternoon. There’s nothing else like it. When I finally made my way out to Outside Lands, the highly recognizable vocal stylings of tUnE-yArDs were piping through the brush and bramble. Sweaty, shirtless men – fried to a near-crisp –  rain danced far back from the Sutro Stage. And those free-jazzing saxophonists that I mentioned in the pre-festival rundown were indeed beside Merrill Garbus.

Next up, I high-tailed it to foodlands, where I shared gourmet tator tots from Q and later, a falafel snow cone – not as odd as it sounds – from Straw. As we munched, I caught a few songs by the legendary Mavis Staples, but apparently missed it when Arcade Fire singer Winn Butler came out to join Staples in a cover of “The Weight.”

I then hit the Twin Peaks stage for !!!, a dance-punk band I’ve had ongoing mixed feelings about, but I have to say: they put on a good live show yesterday. Nic Offer, wearing teensy jean shorts, sprang across stage, arms open wide, shaking his hips and calling on the crowd to get moving. On route to the set, I overheard a girl yell, “Is that how you say that? ‘Chick, chick, chick’?!”

I’m glad I ran out of !!! during the last couple of songs, so I could be front and center for local garage rocker Ty Segall, working it in the unrelenting (read: not that hot) San Francisco sun. Segall opened with a new song then headbanged his way through older favorites. It was a small stage, but Segall’s show was highly attended. He asked if the crowd would circle pit, then took it back and recommended they just pogo. A few crowd-surfed, at least one lost a shoe.

Major Lazer was a whole otherworldly affair. While dapper Diplo and Switch stood behind a table of mixed electronics and laptops, a hypeman hopped around stage whipping a towel while a woman in a bright tropical onesie and neon pink slotted shades ran back and forth, bending into contortionist-yoga poses.

I watched a few John Fogerty songs –  all CCR – and thought how proud my father would be if he knew my proximity to Mr. Fortunate Son. I wanted to get prime viewing distance to Beirut so I made my way back to the Sutro Stage. With a mighty three-horn brass section (when Zach Condon wasn’t playing his ukulele) and a particularly lovely accordion, Beirut played songs off 2006’s Gulag Orkestar and 2007’s the Flying Club Cup, along with at least one track off upcoming release the Ripe Tide.

The exhilaration was palpable for Arcade Fire over at the Polo Fields/Lands End main stage. Thunderous screams rang out as each musician appeared on stage. Behind the band there was a marquee movie screen showing fuzzy, nostalgic images of tree-lined streets, warm sunsets, and cars on open roads – fitting in nicely with themes of its most recent album, the Suburbs. I’ll admit it, I got a little choked up. In the other direction, there was a sea of people, shrouded in the purple-blue lights of the stage, with lit-up booths lined up past them, and the dark tops of trees out in the park beyond those.
 

A gutsy legacy

Andrew Lam
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A gutsy legacy

Movies today might be a gutless affair if not for the industry of Herschell Gordon Lewis a half-century ago. Literally gutless — you have Lewis to thank for every splattersome moment of exposed entrails and explicit gougings since.

Oh sure, the restrictions against graphic violence in U.S. cinema would have lapsed eventually, degree by degree. But who else would have had the nerve to do it all in one swoop with a movie as early, and thoroughly tasteless, as 1963’s Blood Feast? Nothing like it had existed before, and those few who noticed it outside rural drive-in and urban grindhouse viewers surely wished it never would again. (The L.A. Times called it “a blot on the American film industry,” Variety “an insult to even the most puerile and salacious audiences.”) A futile wish, that.

Next week sees the DVD release of, incredibly, 82-year-old Lewis’ latest feature: The Uh-Oh! Show, a reality TV spoof whose game contestants win fabulous prizes for getting answers right — and suffer grisly body-part losses if they don’t. A month later Image Entertainment and Something Weird will spring both a “Blood Trilogy” Blu-ray set of his first three horror “classics,” as well as Jimmy Maslon and Basket Case (1982) director Frank Henenlotter’s documentary portrait Herschell Gordon Lewis: The Godfather of Gore. The latter features such fans as Joe Bob Briggs and John Waters, surviving collaborators, and of course Lewis himself tracing his infamous influential cinematic path amidst myriad original clips.

This was not begun as a personal mission of rebellion, perversity, or artistic aspiration, but for sheer profit pursuit. After checking out possible careers from radio to teaching English Lit, he found a Chicago berth in advertising, which eventually led to making commercials and buying out a small production company. Figuring there was more moolah in features, Lewis partnered with producer Dave Friedman and found some success via pre-porn “nudie cuties” with titles like Boin-n-g and Goldilocks and the Three Bares (both 1963).

Just as they’d imitated Russ Meyer, however, others soon imitated them, overcrowding the field with topless frolics. What other naughty but inexpensive concept could they exploit that others hadn’t milked dry yet? The answer was Blood Feast, shot in nine days for $20,000, wherein an alleged caterer (the wildly hammy Mal Arnold as “Fuad Ramses”) gathering ingredients for a socialite’s “Egyptian feast” rips limbs and whatnot from comely young women to revive an ancient goddess.

The acting was atrocious (especially by Playboy centerfold star Connie Mason), the script was laughable, and the craftsmanship primitive at best. When Blood premiered at a Peoria, Ill. drive-in, viewers howled with laughter — then hurled, as on-screen victims had brains, tongues, etc. separated from their person, then dangled in front of the camera at length. (These local butcher-shop bits often grew rather ripe by shooting time; pity the poor actress who had to stuff a rank cow tongue in her mouth.) Friedman and Lewis duly provided souvenir vomit bags at future venues. They had a hit.

Plenty more such followed, though Friedman eventually went off to L.A. to make his own sexier cheapies (such as 1968’s Nude Django and Thar She Blows!, and 1971’s The Big Snatch). Feast‘s immediate follow-up Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964) was a comparatively elaborate horror comedy that remains Lewis’ personal favorite. But when it failed to make more money despite improved production values, he learned his lesson and kept costs dirt cheap. By 1972’s The Gore Gore Girls, even he realized he’d taken red paint and animal innards as far over-the-top as they could go, leaving the movie biz to become a highly successful guru of direct marketing. Until a rising tide of cult rediscovery finally prompted a larky return in 2002’s Blood Feast 2: All U Can Eat, that is.

At nearly two hours, The Godfather of Gore covers a lot of ground, guided by an octogenarian subject who’s still every inch the flamboyant salesman. Beyond the horror films, it touches on Lewis’ forays into biker action (1968’s incredible She-Devils on Wheels), juvenile delinquency (1968’s Just for the Hell of It), hicksploitation (1972’s Year of the Yahoo!) and even children’s entertainment (1967’s The Magic Land of Mother Goose).

Several other lesser-known 60s features are now considered lost, although it’s too bad Godfather doesn’t make room for such extant obscurities as Miss Nymphet’s Zap-In (1970) and the great wife-swapping saga Suburban Roulette (1968), whose theme song promises “ring-a-dingin’ with that swingin’ set,” while the trailer posits 1968 Illinois suburbia as “where the stakes are as high as the morality is low.”

Return of the rock

Andrew Lam
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Return of the rock

emilysavage@sfbg.com

MUSIC Outside Lands has stepped up its game in its fourth year. The mix of bands this time around is truly inspired — if a bit pilfered from old lineups at other fests like Treasure Island. No matter, it’s riding high in 2011.

This was not always the case. Last year, the Golden Gate Park festival seemed lackluster in the music department; the lineup wasn’t as solid as it had been previously, and it lacked that one giant-but-dependably-awesome act like Radiohead (or this year’s Arcade Fire). In the process, it may have lost a festival-goer or two.

It also went down to just two days in 2010 (it was three in 2008 and 2009), which Another Planet Entertainment vice president Allen Scott says was originally the plan. He later added, “[Last] year there weren’t a lot of touring headliners because of the recession. A lot of bands and artists decided to take last year off.”

This year, however, it’s back to long-weekend status. Saturday is already sold out, unless you want to do it up big and invest in a three-day pass or VIP tickets. That leaves, as of press time, the option of going either Friday or Sunday.

The highlights below are meant to help you more easily maneuver your way through the thick bustle of crowds and trees when you get out to those green fields. For the most part, I steered clear of headliners, since those are the artists who likely inspired your decision to attend in the first place. Here’s how to get the most (audio) bang for your buck.

 

FRIDAY

Do not miss:

Big Boi: Despite Big Boi’s arrest for drug possession last weekend, Scott says, “We are expecting Big Boi to be performing at Outside Lands this Friday.” Chances are, you were not one of the lucky few who jumped on tickets to see Big Boi at the Independent earlier this year — a venue far smaller than his usual digs. Needless to say, that show was way, way sold out. While the Outside Lands stage is far larger, his presence with silky-smooth vocals and casual flowing skills are big enough to dominate.

Joy Formidable: The acclaimed Welsh trio has been lauded for ushering a return to ’90s-era pop and shoegaze. With driving guitar riffs and strong female vocals, there’s a definite glint of Breeders in there. Dave Grohl, a man well familiar with the grunge decade, chose the band to open for Foo Fighters later this year.

Toro Y Moi: South Carolina native Chaz Bundick, known as Toro Y Moi on stage, is one of those talented genre smashers. His sophomore album Underneath the Pine, which came out earlier this year, has elements of dance, funk, and dream pop; Bundick is said to be influenced by French house, ’80s R&B, and Stones Throw hip-hop. And you can throw a little Off the Wall-era Michael Jackson in there as well.

Worth checking out:

Kelley Stoltz: He’s got connections with Sonny Smith (of Sonny and the Sunsets) — he appeared on the Sunsets’ album Tomorrow is Alright — but Kelley Stoltz is a talented musician to watch in his own right. The singer-songwriter-guitarist is at the heart of San Francisco’s garage scene, has been compared to Brian Wilson (Beach Boy, not Giant), and will likely perform tracks off his excellent 2010 Sub Pop release To Dreamers.

 

SATURDAY

Do not miss:

Black Keys: With just two members, the Black Keys has a notoriously big sound. This will travel well, even if you’re stuck towards the back of the crowd, and that deep soul will likely cause some uncontrollable shoulder shaking.

Old 97s: One of the early pioneers of alt-country, Old 97s was at the forefront of a new classification of music in the early ’90s. Since then, singer Rhett Miller has struck out on his own with well-received solo albums, but catching his sound where it all started is a rarer treat.

Worth checking out:

STRFKR: Portland, Ore.-based dance pop quartet STRFKR (pronounced “Starfucker”) injects emotion into live electronic dance music. Call it that now-retro genre electro pop, call it the LCD Soundsystem effect, call it whatever you wish: just dance.

 

SUNDAY

Do not miss:

Beirut: Beirut doesn’t play very often — the last time it stopped in San Francisco was at the Treasure Island Festival in 2008 — but when it does, it’s imperative that you watch. The result is an inspired jumble of brass horns and ukulele, Balkan folk, and Eastern European-influenced torch songs. Band leader Zachary Condon’s vocals soar live and he emotes convincingly at each stop.

Deadmau5: The tripped-out lights, lasers, and holograms of the show are worth sticking around for regardless of sound. But Deadmau5, nestled in a lit-up diamond cube and wearing an oversize foam mouse head, does bring music as well; it’s haunting yet danceable electronica with moving beats and breakdowns.

tUne-YarDs: Colorful, paint-streaked Merrill Garbus (a.k.a. tUne-YarDs) could likely be dubbed acid queen of 2011 — minus any actual drugs. Her looping drums, ukulele, and bass compositions are a dizzying work of art. And if you’ve seen her weirdo video for “Bizness,” you know she’s got a few unique ideas floating around. All that brain power manifests itself into a superior live show. Plus, she brought “two free-jazzing saxophonists” to the Pitchfork Music Festival, so here’s hoping she’ll do the same in her adopted Bay Area home.

Worth checking out:

Fresh & Onlys: The band may on the verge of outgrowing this place, but for now, Fresh & Onlys can be described as very San Francisco. As in, its music is one of a few local favorites to be included in the Hemlock Tavern’s meticulously selective jukebox. The garage rockers play moody, ’80s-tinged rock ‘n’ roll — soundtrack music for backseat teenage make-out sessions.

Major Lazer: You know Diplo, that guy who made M.I.A. good? He is also a member of Major Lazer, along with another producer you may know through M.I.A., Switch. Diplo has described Major Lazer’s sound as “digital reggae and dancehall from Mars in the future,” which: yeah. The show includes eye-popping costumes, hype men, and a refreshing bent towards live audio.

 

OUTSIDE LANDS MUSIC AND ARTS FESTIVAL Fri/12-Sun/14, noon, $85 Golden Gate Park, SF www.sfoutsidelands.com

The man, the myth, the legend

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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The man, the myth, the legend

LIT To comics cognoscenti, Grant Morrison is something of a superhero himself. He is the scribe behind such subversions of comics convention as the avant-garde super team adventures of Doom Patrol and the confoundingly, sinisterly cartoonish Seaguy. But he’s also taken on the heavy hitters, from Batman to the X-Men, winning new fans and pissing off purists in the process.

In his new venture into prose nonfiction, Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human, Morrison presents what he calls “a personal overview of the superhero concept from 1938 until the present day.” In some ways, it’s a mystifying text, tumbling as it does between cultish history, autobiography, and the pop philosophy suggested by its title. Undoubtedly a labor born of immense passion, Supergods gives the impression of a transcribed walking tour through the Hall of Justice, narrated by an obsessively knowledgeable fanboy-made-good.

The work is founded on the conceit that superheroes are manifestations not only of mythic principles (shades of Joseph Campbell) but of thoroughly utopian humans. Morrison posits this as a reason that the superhero genre has endured decades of changing public sentiment, and he furthermore wholeheartedly endorses it as a metaphysical truth. Stories are real in themselves, he concludes — “the paper skin of the next dimension down from our own.”

Morrison’s text is organized chronologically, taking as its starting point the blistering novelty of Superman’s first appearance in 1938’s Action Comics No. 1. Morrison dissects the subliminal symbolism of its cover with shamanic wisdom, and goes on to contrast Superman with his eternal counterpart, Batman. From there, he embarks upon a whirlwind of descriptions of the editors, artists, and writers who shaped the form, from the rough visionary mythos of Jack Kirby to the psychoanalytic preoccupations of Superman editor Mort Weisinger. Morrison’s accounts of their works are ecstatic, often deconstructing the minutiae of the comics page to get at the effects these sacred texts had on young contemporary readers; the descriptions become weirdly, repetitiously formal as Morrison details each creator’s transcendent improvement over his predecessors.

Woven throughout this historical review are anecdotal references to Morrison’s youthful encounters with superhero comics, as a child of Scottish pacifists living in constant fear of the bomb. But as the narrative catches up to his earliest work as a comics writer and artist, the content resolutely shifts towards his feverish autobiographical account of adolescent displacement and punk-influenced experimentation. Suddenly Supergods is about Grant Morrison, the writer-as-superhero-as-human. From here on out, he is inextricably bound to even the historical portions, as he becomes a major player in DC and Marvel superhero comics.

After Morrison experiences visions in Kathmandu that reveals to him the 5D nature of reality, and writes himself into a comic to become “semifictional,” his perspective changes radically. Morrison definitely gets that each reader’s mileage may vary as to the real source of his “magical” visions, but he insists on their symbolic usefulness in understanding that fictional universes are just as real as ours, and can translate into inspiration for real change.

Morrison makes no effort to separate his personal philosophy from his narration of comics history, tending towards polemic in the book’s second half. The observations about superheroes are generally brilliant, as one would expect from Morrison’s fantastic comics output, but the book’s structural inconsistency and forced New Age-y conclusions are a bit disappointing. The book works as yet another profession of Morrison’s love for superheroes as a form of life-changing magic, but it’s neither a complete history nor a coherent statement of how to make superheroes work for you, self-help style. But it makes you desperately want to read the books he describes, and perhaps that’s enough. 

 

GRANT MORRISON


Fri/5, 7 p.m.
Book Passage
51 Tamal Vista, Corte Madera
www.bookpassage.com

All-ages signing, Sat/6, 2-5 p.m., $28 (includes copy of Supergods) 

Supergods celebration, Sat/6, 8 p.m.-midnight, $40 (includes copy of Supergods)

Isotope

326 Fell, S.F.

www.isotopecomics.com

Scribe’s Guide to Playa Prep

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Scribe’s Guide to Playa Prep

steve@sfbg.com

PLAYA PREP This is a crazy time of year for burners, when they begin to realize just how overly ambitious their art projects actually are, when the August calendar seems to shrink as to-do lists grow, and when procrastination morphs into panic — all of it laced with a giddy, distracting excitement about the dusty adventures to come.

Don’t worry, fellow burners, Scribe is here to help. I’m way too busy right now to actually come help weld your art car or hot glue your costume (unless you’ve got stuff or skills that I may need, in which case we can maybe work something out) but after years of deep immersion in this culture, I do have a few tips and resources for you.

 

ATTITUDE

The most important thing to bring to the playa with you is the right attitude. It’s right up there with your ticket at the very top of the list. As I worked on this guide, I posed the question “What’s the most important thing you bring to the playa?” to online burner hives, and most of the answers I got back had something to do with attitude.

Whether you’re a nervous newbie or salty veteran, it’s important to leave your expectations at home and just be open to whatever experiences await you. Intention is everything out there, and if you try to always maintain an open mind, a loving heart, and a sense of humor, everything you need will just flow your way.

It isn’t always easy. When your project breaks, or the dust won’t stop blowing, or your lover squashes your heart, or some yahoo behaves in a way that strikes you as somehow un-Burning Man, it’s natural to let your anxieties creep up. But you’ve got to let it go, because it’s all going to be OK, it really is. When all else fails, just breathe.

It is the breaking through those difficult moments and coming out the other side — enduring through things that feel like they may break you — that makes Burning Man feel so transformative. It is a cauldron, and you may not come out in the same form you went it, but that’s part of why you go.

 

GETTING AROUND

You’ll need a motorized vehicle to get to Burning Man — and art cars can be a fun way to get around when you’re there, a sort of surreal public transit system — but if you don’t have a good bicycle then you’re at a decided disadvantage in fully experiencing Black Rock City, the most bike-friendly city on the planet while it exists. And that’s never been more true than this year, when early reports indicate that the wet winter has left the playa packed solid and perfect for pedaling.

Form and function are equally important when it comes to your bike. It needs to be in good mechanical condition (and with enough tools and patch kits to keep it that way) and correctly sized to your body, ideally with a comfortable, upright position and basket for your stuff. And you also need to decorate it and make it unique, both because making art is the essence of Burning Man and so you can easily find it amid a sea of bikes. Form and function, they’re like two wheels rolling together.

Although the Borg, a.k.a. Black Rock City LLC, recommends that you bring a bike lock, I’ve personally never used one and never had a problem. Sure, bike thefts happen, but I believe they’re almost always crimes of opportunity or drunken mistakes involving nondescript bikes, not unique rides like mine that I could spot 100 yards away.

I’m convinced that half the people who think their bikes got stolen actually just lost them. The playa can be a very disorienting place, with art cars and other visible markers moving around — and even one’s own brain conspiring against locating one’s bike. So illuminate your bike well, ideally with something that sticks up high the air, and leave your lights on as you explore on foot.

Speaking of which: wear good, comfy shoes. Most costumes should stop at the ankle at Burning Man, particularly if you’re prowling the playa

 

SNEAKING IN

In honor of the mad scramble for tickets after Burning Man sold out more than a month before the event for the first time in its 25-year history, I’m offering some thoughts on sneaking into the event. Given how many people could find themselves stuck with counterfeit tickets or otherwise unable to get in this year, it seems like something that any thorough guide should cover.

Now, before everyone jumps all over me, telling me that I’m endangering lives and undermining the spirit and the stability of the event, let me make clear the spirit in which I’m offering this advice. Just think of it like a hacker publicizing the security vulnerabilities of a beloved institution — hopefully the Borg will read this too and do what it can to either plug the holes or somehow take pity on the desperate souls stuck outside the city’s gates.

First of all, you gotta know what you’re getting yourself into. Gate crew takes this shit very seriously, thoroughly searching every car and trailer, and looking into hiding spots that you probably haven’t even thought of. Many of them take real pride in this, some thoroughly stomping on rolls of carpet that might contain a stowaway, potentially adding injury to your insult.

Here’s the worst part: It is official Burning Man policy that when stowaways are found, everyone in that vehicle gets his or her tickets torn up. And burner brass says it will beef up security this year, including more people at the gate and more people scanning the open playa with night-vision goggles and fast interceptor cars.

Every year, they catch about 30 people trying to sneak it. “We’re very confident that we catch all the stowaways,” Borg member Marian Goodell tells us. But we all know that can’t possibly be true, right? There are playa legends of a contortionist who puts herself in a packing bin and gets in every year, and I’ve met people who claim to have snuck in both at the gate and over the open playa.

So, if you gotta do it, my best advice is to find a confederate on the inside, such as someone on Gate crew who owes you or will take pity on you or a bribe from you. That’s how many coyotes do it at the US-Mexico border, and it could work here too. There aren’t any wristbands at Burning Man, so once you can weasel your way in amid the confusion at the gate, you’re in.

Skydivers also have a pretty good shot at getting in, even though they’re likely to be greeted on the ground by someone asking for their tickets. But, it’s a big city, and if you’ve got some skydiving expertise and you’re able to rapidly change directions during the final phase of your descent, you might just make it.

There are also ways to take advantage of human oversights, particularly during the early arrival period before the event begins. There are often openings in the gate briefly left unguarded in the early days, as we discovered last year after a trip to the reservoir. Or sometimes, after thoroughly searching the car, the person at the gate will forget to tear your ticket. And believe it or not, sometimes people on the inside end up with spare tickets for friends who couldn’t make it. Any untorn tickets can be spirited out by people making runs into nearby Gerlach for supplies.

But in closing, let me just reiterate that buying a ticket is part of the “radical self-reliance” principle that is central to the burner ethos, so do yourself and your community a favor and find a ticket, or accept that you may just have to sit this year out. Don’t worry, we’ll make more.

 

FOOD AND SHELTER

In preparing for Burning Man, it’s always helpful to remember Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, which instructs us that we need to see to our basic needs at the bottom of the pyramid before we can even think about approaching the enlightenment at its pinnacle. And that begins with food and shelter.

Contrary to common misconceptions, you don’t need an RV or trailer on the playa — and it’s too late to get one at this point anyway. Frankly, you’ll be fine in a cheap pup tent as long as you place it under a sturdy shade structure, such as the 10-by-20-foot steel carports that are ubiquitous on the playa, or a cheaper shade structure with poles reinforced by PVC or something to help it from being flattened.

You may need to make adjustments during the course of the week, but jerry-rigging your shit is just part of the fun. Or if that’s not your cup of tea, more and more burners in recent years have been building their own yurts or turning to custom-made designs like the Playa Dome Shelters from Shelter Systems (www.shelter-systems.com/playadomes.html).

For food, just try to keep it simple, nutritious, and free of unnecessary waste. That means lots of simple snacks and easy meals, such as those you make ahead of time and reheat. There are also some good entrepreneurs out there that have perfected this approach, such as Gastronaut SF (www.gastronautsf.com/playa-provisions), which makes meals that you boil in the bag, which even allows you to reuse that water.

And don’t forget to take your vitamins because playa life can really take it out of you. Dr. Cory’s Playa Packs (www.drcory.com) are one of many good companies that understand what nutrients you’ll need and try to provide them.

 

SHOPPING

Let’s face it, for all the talk about decommodification and intentional communities and all that hippie crap, you’re going to need stuff at Burning Man. Lots and lots of stuff. Luckily, San Francisco is a great place to get it, and here are some of my personal favorite spots to shop for my playa gear.

Mendels This art supply store has everything you need for your costumes and other Burning Man projects, and many things you didn’t know you needed. For example, when I was looking for a cool covering for my bike years ago, I found tubes of thick acrylic paint that dries hard (now known as 3-D Paint), which has lasted for years and drawn compliments the whole time.

1556 Haight, SF. (415) 621-1287, www.mendels.com

Fabric Outlet Fake fun fur has become a staple item for Burning Man costumes and art projects, particularly as the styles and varieties of it have gotten better. And this place has the coolest fake furs in town, as well as a huge selection of other fabrics, patterns, and sewing kits.

2109 Mission, SF. (415) 552-4525, www.fabricoutletsf.com

Multikulti This is the best place in town to find a great selection of groovy sunglasses for just $6 each — and you’ll want a good selection of shades out there to go with your costumes — as well as a variety of other accessories and costumey geegaws to accent your Burning Man ensemble.

539 Valencia, SF. (415) 437-1718

Five and Diamond If there is a store that grew directly out of the feather-and-leather fashion aesthetic that has come to take center stage on the playa, this is it. From groovy utility belts (important when your costumes lack pockets) to elaborate leather outer wear to some of the coolest custom goggles that I’ve found (mine has a built-in light and both clear and shaded lenses), this place has great — if slightly pricey — stuff.

510 Valencia, SF. (415) 255-9747, www.fiveanddiamond.com

Held Over My favorite second-hand clothing store creates special racks of Burning Man clothes this time of year, but I always prefer to assemble my own outfits from their great selection of unique vintage and specialty clothes, including an entire room of tuxedos and other retro formal wear.

1543 Haight, SF. (415) 864-0818

Distractions The oldest walk-up Burning Man ticket outlet, Distractions knows just what burners need, offering a wide variety of playa-oriented clothing and accessories that you’ll need, from goggles to EL wire strips to pipes and other smoking paraphernalia.

1552 Haight, SF. (415) 252-8751

Cool Neon This Oakland-based company specializes in electro luminescent wire, the staple item for illumination on the playa (and whether you’re walking or on a bike, you will need to be lit-up out there). Cool Neon makes the rounds at many of the fairs and trunk shows, but you can also place orders for shipment or arrange pickups at its office at 1433 Mandela Parkway in Oakland.

www.coolneon.com

Discount Builders Supply Rather than spending your hard-earned money at Home Depot or some other chain store in the burbs, this locally owned business has everything you need to construct and decorate your project, or see to your sundry personal needs. They’re also used to burners with strange requests, so they give good advice.

1695 Mission, SF. (415) 621-8511, www.discoutbuilderssupplysf.com

 

WORKSPACES

The project. It is the essence of Burning Man, whether it’s the fun fur and EL wire you’re putting on your bike, the bar or showers your camp is building, or some ridiculously ambitious artwork that you’re creating with a crew of hundreds. Black Rock City is a series of thousands of these individual projects, all of which are coming together right now. And if you’re looking for some help finishing (or starting) yours, here are some resources you can tap.

The Crucible The Crucible is a venerable nonprofit institution that offers a wide variety of arts and crafts classes and resources in a state-of-the-art facility in West Oakland, with many burners among its staff and clients. As the longtime host of the Fire Arts Festival, this place knows its stuff.

1270 17th St., Oakl. www.thecrucible.org

CELLspace The Flaming Lotus Girls and many other key burner art collectives were born here, and his facility continues to provide the expertise and tools to bring Burning Man to life, year after year.

2050 Bryant, SF. www.cellspace.org

Techshop The new kid on the block, but one of the most technologically advanced, Techshop is a DIY workshop with amazing tools and experts on staff. Join its Aug. 15 EL wire workshop or other upcoming classes catering to burners.

926 Howard, SF. www.techshop.ws

American Steel Also known as Big Art Studios, this massive warehouse houses many of these biggest projects now bound for Burning Man. It may not have the structural support of places like the Crucible, but if you’re looking for knowledgeable burners to work through some problem, American Steel is brimming over with them.

1960 Mandela Parkway, Oakl. www.americansteelstudios.com

Burning Man costume creations If it’s sewing or other costuming help that you need, there are lots of local designers who might lend a hand (see “What not to M.O.O.P.” in this guide). Or you can stop by these Aug. 11 or Aug. 25 sewing circle meetups listed at www.meetup.com/Burning-Man-Costume-Creations

 

ART

Here are a few of the major installation artworks with Bay Area connections that I’m excited to see on the playa this year:

Charon by Peter Hudson Peter Hudson and his large volunteer crews have created some of the most dynamic art pieces in Burning Man history, zoetropes that use motion and strobe lights to animate the characters they create: the swimmers of Sisyphish, the divers of Deeper, the snake and monkeys of Homouroboros, and the man reaching for the golden apple of Tantalus. This year, Charon the boatman crosses the river Styx into Hades and, well, you just really gotta see what could be his best piece yet. As the artist says, “Charon asks them to reflect on their own mortality and ponder how to give and get the most from their brief time here on earth.”

Tympani Lambada by the Flaming Lotus Girls Combining fire, steel, light, and sound on the massive scale that we’ve come to expect from the Flaming Lotus Girls, Tympani Lambada simulates the structure of our inner ears, which control not just hearing but balance and perception. As always with this crew, this project promises to be space as occupy and interact with (usually with an unbelievable sense of awe) rather just a structure to see. And as they’ve been doing for many years (see “Angels of the Apocalypse,” 8/20/05), the dynamic crew built this creation right out at the Box Shop on Hunters Point (with an assist for American Steel, where some of its longest sections are being built).

Truth and Beauty by Marco Cochrane Following up last year’s amazing Blissdance, which is now on display on Treasure Island, this crew hoped to make an even larger female nude sculpture of the same model (55 feet this time), but their fundraising fell a little short so they couldn’t complete it. But even in the abbreviated form they’re bringing to the playa this year — just the torso from knee to shoulder, but well-anchored that it’s climbable — it should still be something to see.

Temple of Transition, by International Art Megacrew The Temple is always a special place at Burning Man (see “Burners in flux,” 8/31/10), and this year promises to be as spectacular as it is spiritual. The project is headed by a pair of builders known by their nationalities, Kiwi and Irish, and built mostly in Reno by a crew of committed volunteers from more than 20 countries. It’s centerpiece tower, Gratitude, is a towering 120-feet tall, surrounded by and connected to five smaller towers: Birth, Growth, Union, Death, and Decay.

Otic Oasis Lightning (Burning Man’s attorney) and friends (including named artists Gregg Fleishman and Melissa Barron) wanted the quietest spot on the playa for this 35-foot wooden pyramid of comfy lounging compartments, a remote spot where even the music from art cars couldn’t reach. Their answer: at the very back of the walk-in camping area, a spot only reachable on foot by people intending to go there. Finally, a quiet spot to chill out.

 

 

PLAYA EVENTS

OK, I know that many of these events are music-related, and there are an untold number of quirky, weird things to do on the playa besides just rocking out to a DJ. But exploring what the hundreds of theme camps offer each year is part of the fun, and it’s too Herculean a task to sort through the voluminous information and offer you sound predictions.

But every year the music lovers among us compile their recommendations of the stops to hit that will be going off and filled with dancing fools, so I know those lists are valuable. And mine does include some other stuff as well, so just deal with it.

The future of Burning Man The 17 board members of The Burning Man Project, the new nonprofit entity being created to take over operations of Burning Man in coming years (see “State of the burn” in this guide), will be available to discuss the future of this culture. This is your chance to weigh in on what’s important to you and how the event should be governed into the future.

Everyday, 1 p.m.-2:30 p.m. at Everywhere Lane (near Center Camp)

Lee Coombs This British-born DJ has long been a great supporter of Burning Man art projects — and he always plays fun sets — so come check him as the playa’s best daytime dance party camp starts to work it out.

Tuesday, 5 p.m.-6 p.m., Distrikt (9&F)

Unicorn Stampede

The perverts from Kinky Salon love getting horny on the playa, and this time they’re getting literal as they dress as unicorns and stampede across the playa, spreading their joy and juices onto unsuspecting burners and ending up at the Walkout Woods art piece. What does all that mean? Bring a horn, leave your inhibitions, and come find out.

Wednesday, 7-9:30 p.m., gather at The Man

Shpongle OT’s regular Wednesday night White Party — which has included many epic performances over the years, and this year include big draws EOTO, Infected Mushroom (both doing live sets on two stages OT is setting up for live music this year) and Christopher Lawrence, at midnight, 1:30 am and 3 am respectively — welcomes the dawn with pysbient music innovators Shpongle, which is already generating lots of excitement.

Thursday, 5:45 am (sunrise set), Opulent Temple (10&B)

Deep End reunion It’s like family day at Distrikt as the core San Francisco-based DJs that helped launch the original Deep End day parties play successive one-hour sets, with Syd Gris followed by Tamo, Kramer, and then Clarkie. Buckle up, everyone, because this could get ugly.

Thursday, 2-6 p.m., Distrikt (9&F)

Cuddle Ocean Upping the ante on the stereotype of ravers heaped into cuddle puddles at Burning Man, some instigators from last year’s Temple of Flux crew are seeking to create a Cuddle Ocean of thousands of burners heaped all over each other in the deep playa. Come feel the love.

Thursday, 6-8 p.m., between the Man and the Temple

Bootie BRC Adrian, Mysterious D, and the rest of the popular Bootie SF music mashup crew will be throwing a dance party specially mixed for your on-playa pleasure — with actual words!

Thusday, 8 pm-???, Fandango (Esplanade&4)

Circle of Regional Effigies burn Regional events have become an important part of the Burning Man culture, and this year 23 of them will build wooden effigies in circle around The Man. And then, as tends to happen to our effigies, they will all burn — simultaneously!

Thursday, 9 p.m., around The Man

Critical Tits This women-only topless bike ride has been a playa tradition for many years, so cruise by to cheer them on and offer your encouragement for what is a very freeing experience for many of the participants. Besides, who doesn’t like tits?

Friday, 4-5 p.m., The Man

Space Cowboys Hoedown Legendary SF-based sound collective the Space Cowboys has a tradition of driving its mobile music vehicle the Unimog out to the “biggest, baddest art piece” on the playa for a big dance party every year, which art cars with speakers and radio receivers can also relay, create a fun circle of sound. And this year, the winner is…The Flaming Lotus Girls’ Tympani Lambada.

Friday night at Tympani Lambada

Distrikt Come ride the daytime dance party train to the end of the line with DJ Kramer spinning until someone drags him off the stage to get ready for the burn.

Saturday, 4-??? at Distrikt Camp (9&F)

Scumfrog Dutch-born DJ Scumfrog has been rocking the playa every year since he first camped with us at Opulent Temple in 2004, and as readers of my book know, he’s a Burning Man true believer who just loves this culture, so he always brings his A-game. This is the place to be as the sun rises on final full day of Black Rock City.

Sunday, 4 am-sunrise, Disorient (2&Esplanade)

Tribes of Burning Man signing Yours truly, Scribe, will be on stage leading a discussion of issues raised in my book, The Tribes of Burning Man: How an Experimental City in the Desert is Shaping the New American Counterculture. Study up by ordering a signed copy now from www.steventjones.com and join in the debate, or just come heckle me for this shameless plug.

Sunday 4 p.m., Center Camp Stage

Steven T. Jones, a.k.a. Scribe, is the Guardian’s city editor and the author of The Tribes of Burning Man: How an Experimental City in the Desert is Shaping the New American Counterculture, which grew out of a series of stories in the Guardian that ran from 2004 through 2010.

 

 

 

 


Hot sexy events: July 27-August 3

Andrew Lam
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Hot sexy events: July 27-August 3

Ugh. There is nothing sexy about breast cancer (unless you’re Annie Sprinkle). But honestly, when life gives you tumors, you give that thing tumescence – or at least, that’s adult film performer Hollie Stevens’ view.

Stevens was diagnosed with breast cancer this year, but it’s hardly held her down. The clown porn enthusiast filmed an intense scene on societysm.com in which her head was shaved – it had to happen anyway for chemo, so why not make it someone’s fantasy? This week, you can help young Stevens out in her quest for health. On Fri/29, she’s hosting a low-lit lingerie roller disco, complete with an auction featuring Chuck Stevens pornography prints, and Girls and Corpses magazines – the site of Stevens’ recent “Playdead bunnies” feature.

“Is Leather Dead? Does it Need to Die?”

Leather leader-author Guy Baldwin, kink educator Race Bannon, lesbian activist Gayle Rubin, and Instigator magazine editor Michael Thorn take a hard look at leather’s relevance today. In the age of Internet cruising, can a community still be said to exist? Heady questions being asked mere days before the Up Your Alley street fair. 

Weds/27 7-10 p.m., free

LGBT Center

1800 Market, SF

www.folsomstreetfair.org


A Night for Hollie Stevens

The press release says bring your fat wallet, lingerie, or both. So you’ve got options. Can’t make it? Donate to Stevens here.

Fri/29 8:30 p.m.-12:30 a.m., $30

Private SoMa location, SF (buy ticket for details)

www.holliestevensxxx.com


Comfort and Joy Active Touch

Burning Man fundraising season is upon us (for those who were lucky enough to score a ticket) and one of the most venerable playa sexy camps is throwing a big, swinging bash set to jams by DJ Bus Station John

Fri/29 10 p.m.-4 a.m., $20 suggested donation

Mission Control 

www.missioncontrolsf.org


Perverts Put Out! Dore Alley edition

Our sex columnist Gina De Vries is over the moon for this recurring performance series that focuses on the gamut of sex and artistic expression – cop fantasies, “bearlesque,” even cruising the Excelsior has gotten its due on stage over the years. What will go off this year? You’ll have to attend to find out – it’s also the perfect pre-party for all those that are gonna have to work Up Your Alley tomorrow. 

Sat/30 7:30 p.m., $10-15

1349 Mission, SF

(415) 552-7399

www.sexandculture.org


Up Your Alley street fair 

In the thick of hippie summer fests comes Up Your Alley Fair, an al fresco get-together that unmasks the sexual undertones of other festivals. Why pretend it’s all about the music when you know all you’re trying to do is get that hottie back to your tent to get laid? Up Your Alley (and Folsom Street Fair, its big brother) makes no pretense – it’s all sexy sex all the time, in the DJ areas, in the women-only Venus Playground, and by your favorite pillory. 

Sun/31 11a.m.-6 p.m., $7 suggested donation

Folsom between Seventh and 12th St., SF

www.folsomstreetfair.org/alley

 

Stage Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks. For complete listings, see www.sfbg.com.

THEATER

OPENING

“AfroSolo Arts Festival” Various venues, SF; www.afrosolo.org. Free-$100. July 28-Oct 20. The AfroSolo Theatre Company presents its 18th annual festival celebrating African American artists, musicians, and performers.

Country Club Catastrophe Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. $20. Opens Thurs/28, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 13. Back Alley Theater Company performs its first original production, a farcical comedy set at a country club.

BAY AREA

The Complete History of America (abridged) Dominican University of California, Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Opens Sat/30, 8pm. Performance times vary; check website for schedule. Through Sept. 25. Marin Shakespeare Company performs Adam Lon, Reed Martin, and Austin Tichenor’s three-person romp through American history.

Madhouse Rhythm Cabaret at Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; (415) 282-3055, www.themarsh.org. $15-35. Opens Thurs/28, 7:30pm. Runs Thurs, 7:30pm. Through Aug 25. Joshua Walters performs his hip-hop-infused autobiographical show about his experiences with bipolar disorder.

Reduction in Force Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant, Berk; (510) 558-1381, www.centralworks.org. $14-25. Previews Thurs/28-Fri/29, 8pm. Opens Sat/30, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm (also Aug 20 and 27, 5pm); Sun, 5pm. Through Aug 28. Central Works performs “an economic comedy about back-stabbing, ass-kissing, and survival of the sneakiest.”

The Road to Hades John Hinkel Park, Southampton Ave, Berk; (510) 841-6500, www.shotgunplayers.org. $10 (suggested donation; no one turned away for lack of funds). Opens Sat/30, 3pm. Runs Sat-Sun, 3pm. Through Sept 11. Shotgun Players presents a new comedy written by and starring veteran comedian and clown Jeff Raz.

Strange Travel Suggestions Cabaret at Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; (415) 282-3055, www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Opens Fri/29, 8pm. Runs Fri, 8pm; Sat, 5pm. Through Aug 27. Jeff Greenwald returns with a new version of his hit show of improvised monologues about travel.

ONGOING

Act One, Scene Two SF Playhouse, Stage Two, 533 Sutter, SF; (415) 869-5384, www.un-scripted.com. $10-20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 20. Un-Scripted Theater Company hosts a different playwright each night, performing the first scene of an unfinished play and then improvising its finish.

American Buffalo Actors Theatre of San Francisco, 855 Bush, SF; (415) 345-1287, www.actorstheatresf.org. $26-38. Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Sept 3. Actors Theatre of San Francisco performs the David Mamet crime classic.

Assisted Living: The Musical Imperial Palace, 818 Washington, SF; 1-888-88-LAUGH, www.assistedlivingthemusical.com. $79.59-99.50 (includes dim sum). Sat/30-Sun/31, noon (also Sun/31, 5pm). Rick Compton and Betsy Bennett’s comedy takes on “the pleasures and perils of later life.”

“Bay Area Playwrights Festival” Thick House, 1695 18th St, SF; www.playwrightsfoundation.org. $20. Through Sun/31. Staged readings of works by seven emerging playwrights.

Billy Elliot Orpheum Theater, 1192 Market, SF; www.shnsf.com/shows/billyelliot. $35-200. Tues-Sat, 8pm (also Wed, 2pm); Sun, 2pm. Through Aug 21. As a Broadway musical, Billy Elliot proves more enjoyable than the film. The movie’s T. Rex score may have been a major selling point, but it was a bit maudlin for a story that needed no help in that department. The musical naturally has a sentimental moment or three, but it’s much more often funny, muscular in its staging (with repeatedly inspired choreography from Peter Darling), and expansive in its eclectic score (Elton John) and well-wrought book and lyrics (Lee Hall). Moreover, Stephen Daldry (who also directed the 2000 film) plays up bracingly the too-timely class politics of the modest 1980s English mining town besieged by Margaret Thatcher’s neoliberal regime in the latter’s ultimately successful bid to crush the once-powerful miners union. The cast is likewise very strong. The second act is not as strong as the first, but as crowd-pleasing entertainment the musical burrows deep and more often than not comes up with gold. (Avila)

The Book of Liz Custom Made Theatre, 1620 Gough, SF; www.custommade.org. $10-29. Thurs/28-Sat/30, 8pm; Sun/31, 7pm. Custom Made Theatre performs David and Amy Sedaris’ comedy about an unconventional nun.

Indulgences in the Louisville Harem Phoenix Theatre, 414 Mason, SF; 1-800-838-3006, www.offbroadwaywest.org. $20-40. Thurs/28-Sat/30, 8pm. Two spinster sisters find unlikely beaux in Off Broadway West Theatre’s production of John Orlock’s play.

Left-Handed Darling Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. $15-30. Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 13. Foul Play Productions perfomrs the world premiere of Nikita Schoen’s Dust Bowl-era drama.

Tales of the City American Conservatory Theater, 415 Geary, SF; (415) 749-2228, www.act-sf.org. $35-98. Wed/27-Sat/30, 8pm (also Sat/30, 2pm); Sun/31, 2 and 7pm. ACT performs a musical version of Armisted Maupin’s beloved San Francisco story.

Tigers Be Still SF Playhouse, 522 Sutter, SF; www.sfplayhouse.org. $30-50. Tues-Wed, 7pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 3pm). Through Sept 10. SF Playhouse performs Kim Rosenstock’s quirky comedy.

Twilight Zone Live: Season 8 Dark Room, 2263 Mission, SF; www.ticketturtle.com. $20 ($5 discount if you use the code word “maggie”). Fri/29, 8pm. The Dark Room Theater presents its eighth annual tribute to classic Twilight Zone episodes.

*Vice Palace: The Last Cockettes Musical Thrillpeddlers’ Hypnodrome, 575 10th St; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. $30-35. Fri/29-Sat/30, 8pm; Sun/31, 7pm. Hot on the high heels of a 22-month run of Pearls Over Shanghai, the Thrillpeddlers are continuing their Theatre of the Ridiculous revival with a tits-up, balls-out production of the Cockettes’ last musical, Vice Palace. Loosely based on the terrifyingly grim “Masque of the Red Death” by Edgar Allan Poe, part of the thrill of Palace is the way that it weds the campy drag-glamour of Pearls Over Shanghai with the Thrillpeddlers’ signature Grand Guignol aesthetic. From an opening number set on a plague-stricken street (“There’s Blood on Your Face”) to a charming little cabaret about Caligula, staged with live assassinations, an undercurrent of darkness runs like blood beneath the shameless slapstick of the thinly-plotted revue. As plague-obsessed hostess Divina (Leigh Crow) and her right-hand “gal” Bella (Eric Tyson Wertz) try to distract a group of stir-crazy socialites from the dangers outside the villa walls, the entertainments range from silly to salacious: a suggestively-sung song about camel’s humps, the wistful ballad “Just a Lonely Little Turd,” a truly unexpected Rite of Spring-style dance number entitled “Flesh Ballet.” Sumptuously costumed by Kara Emry, cleverly lit by Nicholas Torre, accompanied by songwriter/lyricist (and original Cockette) Scrumbly Koldewyn, and anchored by a core of Thrillpeddler regulars, Palace is one nice vice. (Gluckstern)

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

BAY AREA

Communicating Doors Live Oak Theatre, 1301 Shattuck, Berk; www.aeofberkeley.org. $12-15. Fri-Sat, 8pm; Aug 14, 2pm. Through Aug 20. Actors Ensemble of Berkeley performs Alan Ayckbourn’s “time-travel-battle-of-the-sexes comedy.”

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

Fly By Night Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield, Palo Alto; (650) 463-1960, www.theatreworks.org. $19-69. Tues-Wed, 7:30pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2 and 7pm. Through Aug 13. TheatreWorks performs the world premiere of Kim Rosentock, Michael Mitnick, and Will Connolly’s musical, set in 1965 New York.

Macbeth Dominican University of California, Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Performance times vary; check website for schedule. Through Aug 14. Marin Shakespeare Company takes on the Scottish play.

A Midsummer’s Night Dream This week: San Felipe Park, 2058 D St, Hayward. www.womanswill.org. Free (donations requested). Sat/30, 2pm. Performances continue at Bay Area parks through Aug 21. Woman’s Will performs the Shakespeare favorite.

The Verona Project Bruns Amphitheater, 100 California Shakespeare Theater Way, Orinda; (510) 548-9666, www.calshakes.org. $35-66. Tues-Thurs, 7:30pm; Fri/29-Sat/30, 8pm (also Sat/30, 2pm); Sun/31, 4pm. California Shakespeare Theater performs a world-premiere play (inspired by The Two Gentlemen of Verona) by Amanda Dehnert.

 

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST WORD OF LAW

Andrew Lam
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Gone are the days when poetry readings were confined to the dimly lit coffee shops, public libraries and beat bars of urbania. San Francisco being one of the world’s meccas for all things literary, we word-worshipping denizens hardly bat an eyelash when we hear of something like the regular poetry readings at Tony Serra’s law offices on Pier Five. Serra, who has made a career defending and championing society’s outcasts by expressing “the poetry of the law,” has been holding such events for three years, usually with a theme attached and a lively crowd attending. This year included poetry events celebrating Native American culture and the great, lost deserts of America.

506 Broadway, SF. (415) 986-5591, www.pier5law.com/j-tony-serra

Sk8 or die! “Tessa & Scott:” a sartorial appreciation

Sue Vaughan
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Sk8 or die! “Tessa & Scott:” a sartorial appreciation

Taken as a sports glory confessional, Tessa & Scott: Our Journey from Childhood Dream to Gold (Anansi, 192 pages, $19.95) is pretty standard. It has more than its fair share of inspirational sound bites (“The young couple faced difficult challenges, but they were sustained by their love for skating and the knowledge that they could be champions.”). It’s also packed with glossy photographs and mildly amusing anecdotes. Yet, taken as a study in the evolution of dancing facial expressions, body chemistry, and ice dancing fashion choices, the book becomes exponentially more interesting. 

In terms of facial features, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir (Canada’s 2010 Olympic ice-dancing champs, among their many accolades) were born to dance to together. They’ve got the distinctive “Are we siblings or are we lovers?” look that’s become a prerequisite for the sport. The fuzzier the line, the better. Ambiguous sexual preference is suggested, but not mandatory. Both Scott and Tessa have creamy skin and thick – slightly wavy – chocolate brown hair. It’s versatile enough to be tightly wound back, gelled, and hair-sprayed into oblivion, pre-show. Yet, they can also rock the slightly mussed-up, sweaty, post-dance routine look. Tessa is a huge fan of ponytails, though her go-to look for the ice is an intricate top bun. She’s got a strict anti-bangs policy. Scott has a fantastic variety of smiles (including a grimace that strikes a fine balance between warm and fierce), though he’s lacking a bit in the upper-lip department.

Tessa & Scott: Our Journey from Childhood Dream to Gold, or TSOJCDG, has about four major categories of photographs. The majority are mid-performance drama shots. The rest are the post-dance glory moments, cutesy childhood pics, and special nature photography shoots with Myra Klarman. Along the way, a few hybrids crop up. For example, take the classic moment when a pre-pubescent Tessa and Scott chomped on their medals to test the veracity of the gold.

The earliest evidence of Scott and Tessa’s signature pose is a photograph from early 2000. It’s an icy and intense glare at the cameras, complimented by the arched scowl of Scott’s eyebrows and a passionate clutching of his partner’s lower thigh or shoulder. Scott has a tendency to shut his eyes in passion, Tessa’s tend to widen for the crowd.

TSOJCDG is peppered with shots from a rustic shoot the couple commissioned from photog Klarman. For some reason, Klarman thought it would be a good idea for the couple to wade knee-deep into a lake, and pose crouched in the water. Tessa and Scott seem oblivious to their soaked clothing, and it’s one of those shots where you think more about what happened before and after than the actual image you’re looking at.

Back on the ice, I’d say Tessa has a great fashion sense, especially considering the track record her peers. She favors shades of pink, crystals, velvet, lace, fringe, pearls, and sheer fabric; usually all of the above at once. Scott tends to go for a more conservative image, with a classic tuxedo or suit. Tessa’s fashion climax probably arrived at the 2010 Olympics during a compulsory Tango Romantica. With her usual dark red lipstick and pulled back hair, Tessa wore a one-shouldered burgundy gown with a black tulle overlay, her bodice decked out in ruffles and intricately webbed pearls, jewels, and floral patterns. Underneath, she went for classic leggings and not much else: it seems the publishers didn’t catch an unfortunate nip-slip captured in some of the images.

Tessa only missteps when she ventures too far deep into Dancing with the Stars territory, as she did when competing earlier in her career in Andorra. She wore a magenta strappy dress, exposing lots of skin and bedazzled within an inch of her life. Not long after, Tessa took a risk with a three tiered, sparkling number – plus fringe and a diamond choker – for the 2009 Nationals, but it looks like one that paid off, landing the jump from tacky sad to tacky fun. 

Tessa & Scott: Our Journey From Childhood Dream to Gold is an enchanting look at the lives of two artistic and athletic champions. It may not be worth reading the 184 pages of copy and biographical detail, but it’s certainly worth a bookstore browse to check out over 171 shiny photographs of “big dreamers” and ice dancers Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir.

Mark Mulroney uses repressed Catholicism to explore sex and gore

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Mark Mulroney uses repressed Catholicism to explore sex and gore

Artist Mark Mulroney learned his ABCs in Catholic school but his spongey child-brain soaked up a lot more than just textbook facts and bible versus. The gigantic boobs, guts and bloody wounds, horrified men, sweet girls, and hilariously exaggerated genitalia present in Mulroney’s current exhibition, “Sent Upstate”, is far from holy, but he likes to give the church credit where due.

Mulroney didn’t exactly realize the severity of the images he had been exposed to in the church until he started drawing as a teen. The violent stories, bloodshed and the relentless guilt surrounding sex started to show up in his doodles, mixing with comic book clippings and album cover art. All grown-up, Mulroney isn’t afraid to be honest about where his ideas on sex and death derived from and a quick stroll around “Sent Upstate” at The Guerrero Gallery will give you shivers and tingles. Should you be offended? Turned-on? Maybe you should laugh? Mulroney’s artist statement says it best, “People don’t want to die and they want to have sex.” Still, it’s best to hear Mulroney explain things a bit further.

 

mmulroney3

 “Savage Love”

 

SFBG: What was the inspiration for “Sent Upstate” collection?

Mark Mulroney: I had six weeks to turn it around so I didn’t have time to overthink. I just relied on my usual methods: put a boner on something or make it bleed.

SFBG: What are some of your primary inspirations for all that sex and creepiness?

Mulroney: My work helps me understand the world, however tripe or cliché that sounds. And a lot of it has to do with what I saw in Catholic school. You don’t realize the gravity of things you’re looking at when you’re really young. So violent, but you don’t realize it until you look back. Like, I when I was five, I saw a picture of a Saint being filleted. Odd, isn’t that? So what I’m doing now is making sense of the influential images I was exposed to during age five to 18. What was I looking at back then and how did it shape me?

SFBG: What are some other specific images you remember?

Mulroney: Someone’s eyes being lit on fire by the holy spirit. Now that makes for some fantastic imagery. I did a lot of drawing as a kid. I’d look at album covers of Black Sabbath and this one from Sub Humans with a guy being shot in the head. I learned how to draw through Catholic school and record covers. 

 

mmulroney5

“That’s My Wife You’re Fucking”

 

SFBG: Do you really think about those things while you’re creating or is it more subconscious?

Mulroney: I don’t overthink anything. The rule is make work I would want to look at. Sex and death? That’s work I want to see and then I just make it fit together somehow.

SFBG: Is the work meant to make your stomach churn? Mine did a little.

Mulroney: Well you don’t get a free pass—every action has consequences. I suppose that’s a Catholic thing. No matter what you do, you’re going to pay for it somehow. In most of my imagery there is someone having a good time, coupled with another image of a person not having a good time.

SFBG: Where do you get inspiration for all the sexual imagery?

Mulroney: Library book sales. I go to a lot of thrift store with my wife and brother.

SFBG: Describe a few recent finds.

Mulroney: Outside of buffalo NY I found five, small photo albums. Polaroid size. All images were of a guy taking a picture of his boner, different positions, different days. No face, just this guy’s boner. I got it for five bucks. Why were you collecting pictures of your boner. Can’t anticipate finding that. Why is this out there? What did you get out of this—was it a gift. Everything everything ends up at swap meet or thrift store, like this handcarved wood box I found with a women’s diaphragm in it. And Argentina is fantastic place to find self-published home pornography from swingers clubs in the 50s. This kind of stuff totally informs everything I do. I’m so curious about this stuff. I’m not being judgmental, I just have a curiosity for why people do what they do.

SFBG: Do you think your work turns people on?

Mulroney: Ya. I get emails about being people turned on and then I get emails about people complaining that my work is too gratitutius. This one women had a crush on Veronica from Archie, at the time I was using her picture a lot and this woman loved the work. She wanted to pay me to draw Veronica masturbating, with green smoke coming out of her vagina– what? Like what? I just couldn’t fathom…why the green smoke? So funny. 

SFBG: Did you draw it?

Mulroney: I emailed her back to ask some sizing questions and she never replied. She wanted to pay me $25, but man, I would have done it anyway. She had the balls to ask for that. I old have done it for free.

 

mmulroney2

“Untitled”


SFBG: What’s up with all the super, gigantic boobs in your work?

Mulroney: Goes back to when I was five. My dad had a Playboy with a blonde woman, standing on top of waterfall in a 70s jungle setting. She had really big boobs and I thought to myself, “This is really something I think I like. Those are fantastic.” And bigger boobs are more fun to draw than small ones. There’s so much comic potentioal in boobs and wieners. I haven’t found comedy in vaginas— I can’t seem to find a way to draw them in a way that doesn’t make them slightly scary.  

SFBG: Is drawing vaginas a current goal?

Mulroney: Ha! Not a goal. Usually when I move from one house to the next I change my focus. When I lived in San Francisco, you would think I would have made more sexual work but there was so much around that I didn’t need to participate. When I moved to upstate New York, the sex stuff started coming out. You don’t see bodies there. It’s too remote, non-stop grey, cold snow.

SFBG: Maybe you should to an island of men so you can work on your vag drawings?

Mulroney: Ya or go to prison. Then it would happen. I could do tattoos on people as a trade for cigarettes and things.

 

Marky Mulroney “Sent Upstate” 

With Charles Linder’s “Swimmingly, With Watermelons and Referrals”

Through Aug. 6

Guerrero Gallery

2700 19th St., SF

(415) 400-5168 

www.guerrerogallery.com

 

 

Stage Listings

Andrew Lam
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0

THEATER

OPENING

American Buffalo Actors Theatre of San Francisco, 855 Bush, SF; (415) 345-1287, www.actorstheatresf.org. $26-38. Opens Fri/22, 8 p.m. Runs Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 27. Actors Theatre of San Francisco performs the David Mamet crime classic.

“Bay Area Playwrights Festival” Thick House, 1695 18th St, SF; www.playwrightsfoundation.org. $20. July 22-31. Staged readings of works by seven emerging playwrights.

BAY AREA

Communicating Doors Live Oak Theatre, 1301 Shattuck, Berk; www.aeofberkeley.org. $12-15. Opens Fri/22, 8pm. Runs Fri-Sat, 8pm; Aug 14, 2pm. Through Aug 20. Actors Ensemble of Berkeley performs Alan Ayckbourn’s “time-travel-battle-of-the-sexes comedy.”

ONGOING

Act One, Scene Two SF Playhouse, Stage Two, 533 Sutter, SF; (415) 869-5384, www.un-scripted.com. $10-20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 20. Un-Scripted Theater Company hosts a different playwright each night, performing the first scene of an unfinished play and then improvising its finish.

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

Billy Elliot Orpheum Theater, 1192 Market, SF; www.shnsf.com/shows/billyelliot. $35-200. Tues-Sat, 8pm (also Wed, 2pm); Sun, 2pm. Through Sept. 17. As a Broadway musical, Billy Elliot proves more enjoyable than the film. The movie’s T. Rex score may have been a major selling point, but it was a bit maudlin for a story that needed no help in that department. The musical naturally has a sentimental moment or three, but it’s much more often funny, muscular in its staging (with repeatedly inspired choreography from Peter Darling), and expansive in its eclectic score (Elton John) and well-wrought book and lyrics (Lee Hall). Moreover, Stephen Daldry (who also directed the 2000 film) plays up bracingly the too-timely class politics of the modest 1980s English mining town besieged by Margaret Thatcher’s neoliberal regime in the latter’s ultimately successful bid to crush the once-powerful miners union. The cast is likewise very strong. The second act is not as strong as the first, but as crowd-pleasing entertainment the musical burrows deep and more often than not comes up with gold. (Avila)

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

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

Left-Handed Darling Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. $15-30. Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 13. Foul Play Productions perfomrs the world premiere of Nikita Schoen’s Dust Bowl-era drama.

Not Getting Any Younger Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $15-50. Thurs/21, 8pm; Sat/23, 8:30pm; Sun/24, 7pm. Marga Gomez presents a workshop production of her new comedy, her ninth solo show.

Salty Towers Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; (415) 673-3847, www.theexit.org. $15-25. Thurs/21-Sat/23, 8pm. Thunderbird Theatre Company performs a farce that combines Greek mythology with a tale of sea creatures running a two-star hotel.

Tales of the City American Conservatory Theater, 415 Geary, SF; (415) 749-2228, www.act-sf.org. $35-98. Tues-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2 and 7pm. Extended through July 31. ACT performs a musical version of Armisted Maupin’s beloved San Francisco story.

Tigers Be Still SF Playhouse, 522 Sutter, SF; www.sfplayhouse.org. $30-50. Tues-Wed, 7pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 3pm). Through Sept 10. SF Playhouse performs Kim Rosenstock’s quirky comedy.

Twilight Zone Live: Season 8 Dark Room, 2263 Mission, SF; www.ticketturtle.com. $20 ($5 discount if you use the code word “maggie”). Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through July 29. The Dark Room Theater presents its eighth annual tribute to classic Twilight Zone episodes.

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

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

BAY AREA

All My Children Cabaret at Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Fri/22, 8pm; Sat/23, 8:30pm. Not the soap opera — it’s Seattle Improv co-founder Matt Smith in his comedy about a middle-aged man with boundary issues.

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

Fly By Night Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield, Palo Alto; (650) 463-1960, www.theatreworks.org. $19-69. Tues-Wed, 7:30pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2 and 7pm. Through Aug 13. TheatreWorks performs the world premiere of Kim Rosentock, Michael Mitnick, and Will Connolly’s musical, set in 1965 New York.

Macbeth Dominican University of California, Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Opens Fri/15, 8pm. Performance times vary; check website for schedule. Through Aug 14. Marin Shakespeare Company takes on the Scottish play, opening under a full moon, no less.

Metamorphosis Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; (510) 843-4822, www.auroratheatre.org. $10-55. Wed/22-Sat/23, 8pm; Sun/24, 2 and 7pm. Aurora Theatre Company performs a terrifying yet comic adaptation of Kafka’s classic by David Farr and Gísli Örn Gardarsson.

A Midsummer’s Night Dream This week: Dimond Park, 3860 Hanly, Oakl. www.womanswill.org. Free (donations requested). Sat/23-Sun/24, 2pm. Performances continue at Bay Area parks through Aug 21. Woman’s Will performs the Shakespeare favorite.

2012: The Musical! This week: Mosswood Park, W. MacArthur and Broadway, Oakl; www.sfmt.org. Free. Sat/23, 2pm. Nicholl Park, Macdonald at 31st St, Richmond. Sun/23, 2pm. Continues through Sept. 25 at various Bay Area venues. San Francisco Mime Troupe mounts their annual summer musical; this year’s show is about a political theater company torn between selling out and staying true to its anti-corporate roots.

The Verona Project Bruns Amphitheater, 100 California Shakespeare Theater Way, Orinda; (510) 548-9666, www.calshakes.org. $35-66. Tues-Thurs, 7:30pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm (also July 30, 2pm); Sun, 4pm. Through July 31. California Shakespeare Theater performs a world-premiere play (inspired by The Two Gentlemen of Verona) by Amanda Dehnert. 

Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks. For complete listings, seewww.sfbg.com.

Trash (summer) lit: Shut Your Eyes Tight

Zelda Bronstein
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0
Trash (summer) lit: Shut Your Eyes Tight

Shut Your Eyes Tight
By John Verdon
Crown, 509 pp, $24



Ever since Thomas Harris created Hannibal Lecter and James Patterson devised the twisted psychokillers who populate the Alex Cross novels, there’s been something of a drive in thriller lit to top even the worst, most grusome stuff imaginable. It’s the Pulp Fiction Syndrome in trash lit — and although Shut Your Eyes Tight is hardly the worst of the recent offerings, I was only about a third of the way through the book when I took out my notepad and wrote:


“This is some sick fucking shit.”


Yep: Ritual machete decapitations (including the bride at a society wedding). Headless body in a rich man’s freezer (below a hundred chickens and some broccoli). Doll equivalent of a horse’s head in a bed. Sexual sadists taking advantage of kids at a reform school for juvie sex offenders.


Oh, and our hero gets a roofie in his drink and gets blackmailed by a fake art patron with no real vowels in his name over (possible) unconsious underage sex. And the Sicilian mob is involved. And an obscure-Elizabethan-literary-reference murderer who cites the works of  Thomas (why should this not surpise me) Kyd.


Naturally, Dave Gurney, the reluctant former homicide detective caught in the middle of all of this, is having tortured relationship problems. It’s sort of a bloody Green Acres: His wife wants to live a nice peaceful life in the country, and he can’t stop himself from getting dragged into dangerous and horrifying crime investigations. In fact, for all the gore, the scenes with the wife are some of the most painful stuff in the book.


In this case, Gurney is called to help solve the wedding-day homicide, which the husband (a truly weird psychiatrist) wants to blame on the household help, in this case a young man who — according to the police — might have been having an affair with the late lamented, or might have been mad at her husband, or might just be a crazed killer who conveniently split town and can’t be found. But the facts don’t quite add up — and Gurney has to piss off not only all of the direct players but a crew of state cops who have bungled the preliminary investigation.


He follows the threads through a bizarre world of crooks, fashion models, child molesters, billionaires, and assorted upstate New York characters until he runs into the grisly world he retired to avoid. You can imagine how his wife feels.


Somehow, it all works as a perfectly adequate (if a bit too lenghty) beach book for the lovers of batshit psychos and the cops who chase them. It’s on my recommended list.

Lit review: “Ambient Parking Lot”

Sue Vaughan
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0
Lit review: “Ambient Parking Lot”

Ambient Parking Lot (Kenning Editions, $14.95) is a 187-page book about one band’s quest to capture the world’s most perfect ambient noise in a parking lot. Wait, don’t go away! It’s great … I swear. Author Pamela Lu’s novel follows the Ambient Parkers, a fictional collective of musicians and artists, as they rise to heights of fame or alternately cower under the weight of their shortcomings.

Their peaks and valleys shape a familiar refrain if you’ve ever been in a band; Lu uses the Ambient Parkers (they are otherwise anonymous) as a foil by which she is able to draw the whole business of the so-called underground art establishment under her perceptive and witty lens. The performance artist who joins the Ambient Parkers for a night of experimental dance, the respected radio DJ who rebukes their creative advances, and perhaps most impressively of all, us, the fickle and demanding public: these are just a handful of the cogs in a not-at-all-well-oiled (and certainly well worn) machine.

In short, Ambient Parking Lot is Lu’s love song to the independent artist and the scene that he or she is a part of. He has no patron, no propulsion other than a curious drive to produce, to create. He is filled with doubt, wracked by neurotic compulsion. Grand success eludes him, but small victories are hard fought and well earned. Financial stability is not a goal but a hurdle, nagging at him from the periphery. He is the suburban anti-hero of the 2000s, driven but erratically so. Basking in the afternoon sun between empty factories and foreclosed homes, he has learned to love his blighted environment and revel in its hidden beauty.

And so, for all the humor in Ambient Parking Lot, for the subtle mocking jabs at the artists’ egos, there is an equally strong current of admiration. The Ambient Parkers are sincere, almost naively so, unwilling to “play the game” … but willing to try it out. They are somehow self-important and self-deprecating at the same time. They are every independent band as they confront the specter of commercial and critical success, as they grapple with their image and then grapple with consciously grappling with their image. It’s dizzying, really, and hilarious.

Lu succeeds tremendously in capturing the tribulations of the artist with tenderness and a ‘get-real’ attitude that keeps Ambient Parking Lot from turning into propaganda for the underground and reminds us that everyone is human, even the people we admire (or loathe) on stage, or lurk in the corner at an after party.

Black and white and red all over

Andrew Lam
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0
Black and white and red all over

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SAN FRANCISCO SILENT FILM FESTIVAL

Thurs/14–Sun/17, free–$20

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.silentfilm.org

Stage Listings

Andrew Lam
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0

Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks. For complete listings, see www.sfbg.com.

THEATER

OPENING

Left-Handed Darling Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. $15-30. Opens Thurs/14, 8pm. Runs Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 13. Foul Play Productions perfomrs the world premiere of Nikita Schoen’s Dust Bowl-era drama.

BAY AREA

Fly By Night Lucie Stern Theatre, 1305 Middlefield, Palo Alto; (650) 463-1960, www.theatreworks.org. $19-69. Previews Wed/13-Fri/15, 8pm. Opens Sat/16, 2 and 8pm. Runs Tues-Wed, 7:30pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2 and 7pm. Through Aug 13. TheatreWorks performs the world premiere of Kim Rosentock, Michael Mitnick, and Will Connolly’s musical, set in 1965 New York.

A Midsummer’s Night Dream This week: Live Oak Park, 1301 Shattuck, Berk; www.womanswill.org. Free (donations requested). Opens Sat/16, 2pm. Also this week: Rossmoor’s Hillside Clubhouse Lawn, Walnut Creek. Sun/17, 2pm. Performances continue at Bay Area parks through Aug 21. Woman’s Will performs the Shakespeare favorite.

ONGOING

Act One, Scene Two SF Playhouse, Stage Two, 533 Sutter, SF; (415) 869-5384, www.un-scripted.com. $10-20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 20. Un-Scripted Theater Company hosts a different playwright each night, performing the first scene of an unfinished play and then improvising its finish.

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

Billy Elliot Orpheum Theater, 1192 Market, SF; www.shnsf.com/shows/billyelliot. $35-200. Tues-Sat, 8pm (also Wed, 2pm); Sun, 2pm. Through Sept. 17. As a Broadway musical, Billy Elliot proves more enjoyable than the film. The movie’s T. Rex score may have been a major selling point, but it was a bit maudlin for a story that needed no help in that department. The musical naturally has a sentimental moment or three, but it’s much more often funny, muscular in its staging (with repeatedly inspired choreography from Peter Darling), and expansive in its eclectic score (Elton John) and well-wrought book and lyrics (Lee Hall). Moreover, Stephen Daldry (who also directed the 2000 film) plays up bracingly the too-timely class politics of the modest 1980s English mining town besieged by Margaret Thatcher’s neoliberal regime in the latter’s ultimately successful bid to crush the once-powerful miners union. The cast is likewise very strong. The second act is not as strong as the first, but as crowd-pleasing entertainment the musical burrows deep and more often than not comes up with gold. (Avila)

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

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

Not Getting Any Younger Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $15-50. Thurs, 8pm; Sat, 8:30pm; Sun, 7pm. Through July 24. Marga Gomez presents a workshop production of her new comedy, her ninth solo show.

OMFG! The Internet Dating Musical ODC Theater, 3153 17th St, SF; (415) 863-9834. $18. Fri/15-Sat/16, 8pm; Sun/17, 2pm. Composer and ODC Theater artist-in-residence Christopher Winslow’s uneventful musical take on the perils of cyber courtship concerns itself with a pair of lonely, wannabe-codependent heterosexual 40somethings — insecure occupational therapist Heather (Cindy Goldfield) and nerdily wound-up elementary-school art teacher Brandon (Jackson Davis) — as they power up their laptops and their self-images to spin far-fetched mutual fantasies for one another through a dating website. Although their inflated presentations all but preclude the possibility of meeting in the real world — he’s suddenly a he-man sailor and she becomes an equally unlikely Latina hottie from Guadalajara, “Puerto Rico” — the mechanics of a happy ending are in sight early on in this treacly, formulaic frolic. Winslow’s able score (performed by a trio led by the composer) and Gavin Geoffrey Dillard’s book and lyrics follow short, well-trodden paths in musical theater. The songs accordingly shine only rarely. And while gamely essayed by director Tracy Ward and principals Davis and Goldfield (with generally welcome support from a three-person chorus comprised of Juliet Heller, Calia Johnson, and Reggie D. White), the central characters remain drips — loveable, perhaps, according to taste but hardly challenging or riveting. There are moments, though. Goldfield, a potent singer as well as performer, offers a palliative highlight with her rendition of the saucy “Gravity’s Got Me Down Blues.” (Avila)

Salty Towers Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; (415) 673-3847, www.theexit.org. $15-25. Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 3pm. Through July 23. Thunderbird Theatre Company performs a farce that combines Greek mythology with a tale of sea creatures running a two-star hotel.

Tales of the City American Conservatory Theater, 415 Geary, SF; (415) 749-2228, www.act-sf.org. $35-98. Tues-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2 and 7pm. Extended through July 31. ACT performs a musical version of Armisted Maupin’s beloved San Francisco story.

Twilight Zone Live: Season 8 Dark Room, 2263 Mission, SF; www.ticketturtle.com. $20 ($5 discount if you use the code word “maggie”). Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through July 29. The Dark Room Theater presents its eighth annual tribute to classic Twilight Zone episodes.

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

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

BAY AREA

All My Children Cabaret at Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Fri, 8pm; Sat, 8:30pm. Through July 23. Not the soap opera — it’s Seattle Improv co-founder Matt Smith in his comedy about a middle-aged man with boundary issues.

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

Macbeth Dominican University of California, Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Opens Fri/15, 8pm. Performance times vary; check website for schedule. Through Aug 14. Marin Shakespeare Company takes on the Scottish play, opening under a full moon, no less.

Metamorphosis Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; (510) 843-4822, www.auroratheatre.org. $10-55. Tues and Sun, 7pm (also Sun, 2pm); Wed-Sat, 8pm. Extended through July 24. Aurora Theatre Company performs a terrifying yet comic adaptation of Kafka’s classic by David Farr and Gísli Örn Gardarsson.

The Verona Project Bruns Amphitheater, 100 California Shakespeare Theater Way, Orinda; (510) 548-9666, www.calshakes.org. $35-66. Tues-Thurs, 7:30pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm (also July 30, 2pm); Sun, 4pm. Through July 31. California Shakespeare Theater performs a world-premiere play (inspired by The Two Gentlemen of Verona) by Amanda Dehnert.

*Working for the Mouse La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; www.impacttheatre.com. $10-20. Thurs/14-Sat/16, 8pm. It might not come as a surprise to hear that even “the happiest place on earth” has a dark side, but hearing Trevor Allen describe it during this long overdue reprise of 2002’s Working for the Mouse, will put a smile on your face as big as Mickey’s. With a burst of youthful energy, Allen bounds onto the tiny stage of Impact Theatre to confess his one-time aspiration to never grow up — a desire which made auditioning for the role of Peter Pan at Disneyland a sensible career move. But in order to break into the big time of “charactering,” one must pay some heavy, plush-covered dues. As Allen creeps up the costumed hierarchy one iconic cartoon figure at a time, he finds himself unwittingly enmeshed in a world full of backroom politics, union-busting, drug addled surfer dudes with peaches-and-cream complexions, sexual tension, showboating, job suspension, Make-A-Wish Foundation heartbreak, hash brownies, rabbit vomit, and accidental decapitation. Smoothly paced and astutely crafted, Working for the Mouse will either shatter your blissful ignorance or confirm your worst suspicions about the corporate Disney machine, but either way, it will probably make you treat any “Casual Seasonal Pageant Helpers” you see running around in their sweaty character suits with a whole lot more empathy. (Gluckstern)

 

(Summer) Trash Lit: Adrenaline

Zelda Bronstein
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(Summer) Trash Lit: Adrenaline

Adrenaline, by Jeff Abbott


Grand Central Publishing, 400 pages, $24.99


There’s a CIA agent who has a wife who also works for the CIA, and she’s seven months preggers with their kid, and life in the London Station is just dandy. Already a very bad sign: CIA agents with spouses and kids are prime fodder for thriller writers. It never works out. James Bond figured that out early, and since then, everyone else in the genre has fallen in love at his or her peril.


So naturally the wife gets kidnapped (or maybe she’s really a double agent) and the London CIA Station is blown up by a bomb that she might have planted (or maybe she didn’t) and our hero, agent Sam Capra, gets the full-on spook interrogation treatment, including all manner of fine drugs and devices, to see if he’s a traitor, too.


Of course, he’s entirely clueless. But by the time the manages to (maybe) convince CIA management that he doesn’t know where (or who) his wife is, he realizes it’s been nine months and the baby must have been born. So he sets off to find the kid, and the wife along the way, and the guy who either snatched her or hired her.


It’s a fun ride. Capra has to pretend he’s a smuggler who’s ready to steal counterfeit goods from Chinese gangs and reuse their trucks to get some nasty stuff into Great Britain. Much discussion of the modern underworld:


The postmodern criminal networks come together for a particular function — smuggling in ethnic laborers, muling heorin hidden inside televisions from China that were diverted first to ports in Pakistan, or setting up a train bombing to short-sell a transportation stock price. The cells are small and nimble, and they snap together and break into new shapes, like a child’s plane of tank or wall made from little plastic blocks. … When you cannot break a wall, you can shatter a single brick. I just needed to find the right brick.


In the weak tradition of this year’s top thrillers, there’s absolutely no sex. But Adrenaline does offer more than the usual amount of shooting, beating, and assorted personal violence:


[I] Found two Glock 9 mms, spare clips, silencers.


“What else do you need?”


“I have to fight a large number of people,” I said. “They will be heavily armed and I’ll be alone. So I guess I have to kill them all.”


You get the picture.


In the end, nothing is as it appears, the whole situation is a masterfully tangled mess that works its way through a string of bars in Europe and winds up with an ending that makes it very clear this is just the start of a Capra series. Don’t get too drunk when you read it or you’l lose track; the twists and turns require a little more concentration than the typical beach novel. But that’s not a bad thing, and this one goes on my summer list.


 

Stage Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks. For complete listings, see www.sfbg.com.

THEATER

OPENING

Act One, Scene Two SF Playhouse, Stage Two, 533 Sutter, SF; (415) 869-5384, www.un-scripted.com. $10-20. Opens Thurs/7, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Aug 20. Un-Scripted Theater Company hosts a different playwright each night, performing the first scene of an unfinished play and then improvising its finish.

Not Getting Any Younger Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $15-50. Opens Thurs/7, 8pm. Runs Thurs, 8pm; Sat, 8:30pm; Sun, 7pm. Through July 24. Marga Gomez presents a workshop production of her new comedy, her ninth solo show.

Salty Towers Exit Theatre, 156 Eddy, SF; (415) 673-3847, www.theexit.org. $15-25. Opens Thurs/8, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 3pm. Through July 23. Thunderbird Theatre Company performs a farce that combines Greek mythology with a tale of sea creatures running a two-star hotel.

Twilight Zone Live: Season 8 Dark Room, 2263 Mission, SF; www.ticketturtle.com. $20 ($5 discount if you use the code word “maggie”). Opens Fri/8, 8pm. Runs Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through July 29. The Dark Room Theater presents its eighth annual tribute to classic Twilight Zone episodes.

BAY AREA

Macbeth Dominican University of California, Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Previews Fri/8-Sun/10, 8pm. Opens July 15, 8pm. Performance times vary; check website for schedule. Through Aug 14. Marin Shakespeare Company takes on the Scottish play, opening under a full moon, no less.

The Verona Project Bruns Amphitheater, 100 California Shakespeare Theater Way, Orinda; (510) 548-9666, www.calshakes.org. $35-66. Previews Wed/6-Fri/8, 8pm. Opens Sat/9, 8pm. Runs Tues-Thurs, 7:30pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm (also July 30, 2pm); Sun, 4pm. Through July 31. California Shakespeare Theater performs a world-premiere play (inspired by The Two Gentlemen of Verona) by Amanda Dehnert.

ONGOING

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

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

Billy Elliot Orpheum Theater, 1192 Market, SF; www.shnsf.com/shows/billyelliot. $35-200. Tues-Sat, 8pm (also Wed, 2pm); Sun, 2pm. Through Sept. 17. As a Broadway musical, Billy Elliot proves more enjoyable than the film. The movie’s T. Rex score may have been a major selling point, but it was a bit maudlin for a story that needed no help in that department. The musical naturally has a sentimental moment or three, but it’s much more often funny, muscular in its staging (with repeatedly inspired choreography from Peter Darling), and expansive in its eclectic score (Elton John) and well-wrought book and lyrics (Lee Hall). Moreover, Stephen Daldry (who also directed the 2000 film) plays up bracingly the too-timely class politics of the modest 1980s English mining town besieged by Margaret Thatcher’s neoliberal regime in the latter’s ultimately successful bid to crush the once-powerful miners union. The cast is likewise very strong, beginning with opening night’s impressive J.P. Viernes in the title role. Broadway’s Faith Prince is an especially engaging presence as the ballet teacher who takes an interest in Billy’s inherent talent, setting him on a course out of the doomed town and into London’s Royal Ballet School — much to the violent disgust of his predominantly male and prickly household. The first act is a nearly perfect balance of bawdy humor, aggressive staging, adept scene-setting and character development and a potent tide of song and group choreography that is hard to resist. There are some unfortunate choices later on, like a bit of Peter Pan wire work that has Billy twirling over the stage (an excessive display that hovers awkwardly over dullsville) and in general the second act is not as strong as the first. It’s also the point where the working-class politics paid homage to by the script gets seriously blunted by a concomitant streak of middle-class individualism. But as crowd-pleasing entertainment the musical burrows deep and more often than not comes up with gold. (Avila)

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

“Fury Factory 2011” Various venues and prices; www.brownpapertickets.com. Through Tues/12. Over 30 Bay Area and national companies participate in this bi-annual theater festival.

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

The Pride New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness, SF; (415) 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. $24-40. Wed/6-Sat/9, 8pm; Sun/10, 2pm. New Conservatory Theatre Center performs the West Coast premiere of Alexi Kaye Campbell’s love-triangle time warp drama.

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

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

BAY AREA

All My Children Cabaret at Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Fri, 8pm; Sat, 8:30pm. Through July 23. Not the soap opera — it’s Seattle Improv co-founder Matt Smith in his comedy about a middle-aged man with boundary issues.

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

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

A Raisin in the Sun Pear Avenue Theatre, 1220 Pear, Mtn. View; (650) 254-1148, www.thepear.org. $15-30. Thurs/7-Sat/9, 8pm; Sun/10, 2pm. Lorraine Hansberry’s classic play comes to life on the Pear Avenue Theatre stage.

2012: The Musical! Cedar Rose Park, 1300 Rose, Berk; www.sfmt.org. Free. Sat/9-Sun/10, 2pm. Continues through Sept. 25 at various Bay Area venues. San Francisco Mime Troupe mounts their annual summer musical; this year’s show is about a political theater company torn between selling out and staying true to its anti-corporate roots.

*Working for the Mouse La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; www.impacttheatre.com. $10-20. Thurs/7-Fri/8, 8pm. It might not come as a surprise to hear that even “the happiest place on earth” has a dark side, but hearing Trevor Allen describe it during this long overdue reprise of 2002’s Working for the Mouse, will put a smile on your face as big as Mickey’s. With a burst of youthful energy, Allen bounds onto the tiny stage of Impact Theatre to confess his one-time aspiration to never grow up — a desire which made auditioning for the role of Peter Pan at Disneyland a sensible career move. But in order to break into the big time of “charactering,” one must pay some heavy, plush-covered dues. As Allen creeps up the costumed hierarchy one iconic cartoon figure at a time, he finds himself unwittingly enmeshed in a world full of backroom politics, union-busting, drug addled surfer dudes with peaches-and-cream complexions, sexual tension, showboating, job suspension, Make-A-Wish Foundation heartbreak, hash brownies, rabbit vomit, and accidental decapitation. Smoothly paced and astutely crafted, Working for the Mouse will either shatter your blissful ignorance or confirm your worst suspicions about the corporate Disney machine, but either way, it will probably make you treat any “Casual Seasonal Pageant Helpers” you see running around in their sweaty character suits with a whole lot more empathy. (Gluckstern)

PERFORMANCE/DANCE

Front Line Theatre CounterPULSE, 1310 Mission, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Fri/8-Sun/10, 8pm. Also July 21-23, 8pm, Garage, 975 Howard, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Both venues, $20. The company presents the world premiere of Rare Earth, a verse-and-movement comedy about waste and the past.

Miguel Gutierrez Garage, 975 Howard, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Fri-Sun, 8pm. $15. The choreographer performs his 2010 work Heavens What Have I Done as part of Verge, the Garage’s workshop series.

LINES Ballet Summer Program Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center, Marina at Laguna, SF; www.linesballet.org. Tues/12, 7:30pm. $15. The LINES Ballet Summer Program celebrates its 10th anniversary with the first of two student showcases.

“OMFG! The Internet Dating Musical” ODC Theater, 3153 17th St, SF; www.odctheater.org. Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through July 17. $15-18. ODC Theater Resident Artist Chris Winslow presents his new comedy about a couple who both fear they can’t live up to reality after meeting online.

“Project Bust” Z Space, 450 Florida, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Wed/6 and Aug 3, 8pm. $15. Malinda LaVelle presents her evening-length dance-theater piece.

“Sympathetic: An Aerial Dance Performance Honoring Labor” Rincon Annex Post Office, 121 Spear, SF; (415) 564-4010. Sat, 1 and 3pm. Free. The Labor Archives and Research Center, San Francisco State University, and Flyaway Productions present this work honoring the 1934 San Francisco General Strike by choreographer Jo Kreiter and musician Pamela Z.

“The Tinker Show” Stage Werx, 533 Sutter, SF; www.thetinkershow.com. Thurs-Fri, 8pm. $18-20. “Old school immaturity” via live sketch comedy and improv, plus original short films.

Yubiwa Hotel Performing Arts Company NOHspace, 2640 Mariposa, SF; www.sfiaf.org. Fri, 8pm; Sun, 3pm. $12. The company performs the play Mesujika Doe, a Japanese-American collaboration from Shirotama Hitsujiya and Trista Baldwin.

(Summer!) Trash Lit: The Profession

Zelda Bronstein
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(Summer!) Trash Lit: The Profession

By Steven Pressfield. Crown, 320 pages, $25


Wow, they still drink Rolling Rock in 2032. And they still use military laptops and handhelds and complain about bad TV reception. The web doesn’t seem to have advanced much, and people still rely on the Al Jazeera video feed to see what’s going on in the Middle East.


There’s a lot that’s jarring in The Profession, a military thriller set in the Middle East 20 years in the future. For one thing, the future looks a lot like today, except that there’s been a dirty bomb attack on Long Beach and the Chinese are starting to cash in their U.S. debt, putting the world economy into turmoil. (It takes China 20 years to figure that out? Damn.)
So it’s pretty bad sci-fi. But it’s not a bad adaptation of the Heart of Darkness/Apaocalypse Now myth of the powerful general who goes rogue with his loyal troops and tries to take over part of the world.


In this case, it’s the Middle East, where (again, bad sci-fi) they’ve just found some more really rich oil fields. And much of the military work of the major nations is done by mercenaries.


One of them is General James Salter, who got cashiered out of the Marine Corps for defying the president’s orders, but who has a MacArthur-like following in both the military and the civilian worlds. He’s a private soldier now, and he’s got this plan to take control of much of the world’s oil, and then return in triumph to Washington, where he can become president (oh, and marry the widow of the prez who cashiered him, who is also involved in this plot.


Our hero, Gilbert Gentilhomme (and what kind of name is that for an action hero?) is one of Salter’s best friends and loyalists, one of the few who can get close to the great man. And he knows he can’t let the general get away with his plan.


Lots of desert battles. Random brutality. International intrigue, of sorts. A bleak and dusty vision of the future — but one where there’s no climate change or peak oil. No sex (and how come none of this summer’s thrillers have any sex?). But not bad for a quick beach read.
 

The Fourth of July in Rock Rapids, Iowa, 1940-53

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(Note: In July of l972, when the Guardian was short a Fourth of July story, I sat down and cranked out this one for the front page on my trusty Royal Typewriter. I now reprint it each year on the Bruce blog (by popular demand, of course), with some San Francisco updates and postscripts. My update for  this year’s Fourth  is the story on  today’s Chronicle front page that reports sadly, “Leaner budgets douse fireworks shows.” But, if you read to the end of this piece, I will point you to a little known spot in town where the amateurs and semi-pros  and parents with children will go to fire off their cherry bombs and Roman candles.

Back where I come from, a small town beneath a tall standpipe in northwestern Iowa, the Fourth of July was the best day of a long, hot summer.

The Fourth came after YMCA camp and Scout camp and church camp, but before the older boys had to worry about getting into shape for football. It was welcome relief from the scalding, 100-degree heat in a town without a swimming pool and whose swimming holes at Scout Island were usually dried up by early July. But best of all, it had the kind of excitement that began building weeks in advance.
The calm of the summer dawn and the cooing of the mourning doves on the telephone wires would be broken early on July Fourth: The Creglow boys would be up by 7 a.m. and out on the lawn shooting off their arsenal of firecrackers. They were older and had somehow sent their agents by car across the state line and into South Dakota where, not far above the highway curves of Larchwood, you could legally buy fireworks at roadside stands.

Ted Fisch, Jim Ramsey, Wiener Winters, the Cook boys, Hermie Casjens, Jerry Prahl, and the rest of the neighborhood would race out of their houses to catch the action. Some of them had cajoled firecrackers from their parents or bartered from the older boys in the neighborhood: some torpedoes (the kind you smashed against the sidewalk); lots of 2 and 3-inchers, occasionally the granddaddy of them all, the cherry bomb (the really explosive firecracker, stubby, cherry red, with a wick sticking up menacingly from its middle; the kind of firecracker you’d gladly trade away your best set of Submariner comics for).

Ah, the cherry bomb. It was a microcosm of excitement and mischief and good fun. Bob Creglow, the most resourceful of the Creglow boys who lived next door,  would take a cherry bomb, set it beneath a tin can on a porch, light the fuse, then head for the lilac bushes behind the barn.

“The trick,” he would say, imparting wisdom of the highest order, “is to place the can on a wood porch with a wood roof. Then it will hit the top of the porch, bang, then the bottom of the porch, bang. That’s how you get the biggest clatter.”

So I trudged off to the Linkenheil house, the nearest front porch suitable for cherry bombing, to try my hand at small-town demolition. Bang went the firecracker. Bang went the can on the roof. Bang went the can on the floor. Bang went the screen door as Karl Linkenheil roared out in a sweat, and I lit out for the lilacs behind the barn with my dog, Oscar.

It was glorious stuff – not to be outdone for years, I found out later, until the Halloween eve in high school when Dave Dietz, Ted Fisch, Ken Roach, Bob Babl, and rest of the Hermie Casjens gang and I made the big time and twice pushed a boxcar loaded with lumber across Main Street and blocked it for hours. But that’s another story in my annual  Halloween blog.

Shooting off fireworks was, of course, illegal in Rock Rapids, but Chief of Police Del Woodburn and later Elmer “Shinny” Sheneberger used to lay low on the Fourth. I don’t recall ever seeing them about in our neighborhood and I don’t think they ever arrested anybody, although each year the Rock Rapids Reporter would carry vague warnings about everybody cooperating to have “a safe and sane Fourth of July.” My father, a bit of a law and order sort, would take Jimmy DeYoung and me  five miles north of town and across the state line to Minnesota where it was legal to shoot off fireworks. 

Perhaps it was just too dangerous for them to start making firecracker arrests on the Fourth – on the same principle, I guess, that it was dangerous to do too much about the swashbuckling on Halloween or start running down dogs without leashes (Mayor Earl Fisher used to run on the platform that, as long as he was in office, no dog in town would have to be leashed. The neighborhood consensus was that Fisher’s dog, a big, boisterous boxer, was one of the few that ought to be leashed).

We handled the cherry bombs and other fireworks in our possession with extreme care and cultivation; I can’t remember a single mishap. Yet, even then, the handwriting was on the wall. There was talk of cutting off the fireworks supply in South Dakota because it was dangerous for young boys. Pretty soon, they did cut off the cherry bomb traffic and about all that was left, when I came back from college and the Roger boys had replaced the Creglow boys next door, was little stuff appropriately called ladyfingers.

Fireworks are dangerous, our parents would say, and each year they would dust off the old chestnut about the drugstore in Spencer that had a big stock of fireworks and they caught fire one night and much of the downtown went up in a spectacular shower of roman candles and sparkling fountains.

The story was hard to pin down, and seemed to get more gruesome every year – but, we were told, this was why Iowa banned fireworks years before, why they were so dangerous and why little boys shouldn’t be setting them off. The story, of course, never made quite the intended impression; we just wished we’d been on the scene.
My grandfather was the town druggist (Brugmann’s Drugstore, “where drugs and gold are fairly sold,” since 1902) and he said he knew the Spencer druggist personally. Fireworks put him out of business and into the poorhouse, he’d say, and walk away shaking his head.

In any event, firecrackers weren’t much of an issue past noon – the Fourth celebration at the fairgrounds was getting underway and there was too much else to do. Appropriately, the celebration was sponsored by the Rex Strait post of the American Legion (Strait, so the story went, was the first boy from Rock Rapids to die on foreign soil during World War I); the legionnaires were a bunch of good guys from the cleaners and the feed store and the bank who sponsored the American Legion baseball team each summer.

There was always a big carnival, with a ferris wheel somewhere in the center for the kids, a bingo stand for the elders, a booth where the ladies from the Methodist Church sold homemade baked goods, sometimes a hootchy dancer or two, and a couple of dank watering holes beneath the grandstand where the VFW and the Legion sold Grainbelt and Hamms beer  at 30¢ a bottle to anybody who looked of age.

Later on, when the farmboys came in from George and Alvord, there was lots of pushing and shoving, and a fist fight or two.

In front of the grandstand, out in the dust and the sun, would come a succession of shows that made the summer rounds of the little towns. One year it would be Joey Chitwood and his daredevil drivers. (The announcer always fascinated me: “Here he comes, folks, rounding the far turn…he is doing a great job out there tonight…let’s give him a big, big hand as he pulls up in front on the grandstand…”)

Another year it would be harness racing and Mr. Hardy, our local horse trainer from nearby  Doon, would be in his moment of glory. Another year it was tag team wrestling and a couple of barrel-chested goons from Omaha, playing the mean heavies and rabbit-punching their opponents from the back, would provoke roars of disgust from the grandstand. ( The biggest barrel-chest would lean back on the ropes, looking menacingly at the crowd and yell, “ Aw, you dumb farmers. What the hell do you know anyway?” And the grandstand would roar back in glee.)

One year, Cedric Adams, the Herb Caen of Minneapolis and the Star-Tribune, would tour the provinces as the emcee of a variety show. “It’s great to be in Rock Rapids,” he would say expansively, “because it’s always been known as the ‘Gateway to Magnolia.” (Magnolia, he didn’t need to say, was a little town just over the state line in Minnesota which was known throughout the territory for its liquor-by-the-drink roadhouses. It was also Cedric Adams’ hometown: his “Sackamenna.”) Adams kissed each girl (soundly) who came on the platform to perform and, at the end, hushed the crowd for his radio broadcast to the big city “direct from the stage of the Lyon County Fairgrounds in Rock Rapids, Iowa.”

For a couple of years, when Rock Rapids had a “town team,” and a couple of imported left-handed pitchers named Peewee Wenger and Karl Kletschke, we would have some rousing baseball games with the best semi-pro team around, Larchwood and its gang of Snyder brothers: Barney the eldest at shortstop, Jimmy the youngest at third base, John in center field, Paul in left field, another Snyder behind the plate and a couple on the bench. They were as tough as they came in Iowa baseball.

I can remember it as if it were yesterday at Candlestick, the 1948 game with the Snyders of Larchwood. Peewee Wenger, a gawky, 17-year-old kid right off a high school team, was pitching for Rock Rapids and holding down the Snyder artillery in splendid fashion. Inning after inning he went on, nursing a small lead, mastering one tough Larchwood batter after another, with a blistering fastball and a curve that sliced wickedly into the bat handles of the right-handed Larchwood line-up.

Then the cagey Barney Snyder laid a slow bunt down the third base line. Wenger stumbled, lurched, almost fell getting to the ball, then toppled off balance again, stood helplessly holding the ball. He couldn’t make the throw to first. Barney was safe, cocky and firing insults like machine gun bullets at Peewee from first base.

Peewee, visibly shaken, went back to the mound. He pitched, the next Larchwood batter bunted, this time down the first base line. Peewee lurched for the ball, but couldn’t come up with it. A couple more bunts, a shot through the pitcher’s mound, more bunts and Peewee was out. He could pitch, but, alas, he was too clumsy to field. In came Bill Jammer, now in his late 30’s, but in his day the man who beat the University of Iowa while pitching at a small college called Simpson.

Now he was pitching on guts and beer, a combination good enough for many teams and on good days even to take on the Snyders. Jammer did well for a couple of innings, then he let two men on base, then came a close call at the plate. Jammer got mad. Both teams were off the bench and onto the field and, as Fred Roach wrote in the Rock Rapids Reporter, “fisticuffs erupted at home plate.” When the dust cleared, Jammer has a broken jaw, and for the next two weeks had to drink his soup through a straw at the Joy Lunch. John Snyder, it was said later, came all the way in from center field to throw the punch, but nobody knew for sure and he stayed in the game. I can’t remember the score or who won the game, but I remember it as the best Fourth ever.

At dusk, the people moved out on their porches or put up folding chairs on the lawn. Those who didn’t have a good view drove out to the New Addition or parked out near Mark Curtis’ place or along the river roads that snaked out to the five-mile bridge and Virgil Hasche’s place.

A hush came over the town. Fireflies started flickering in the river bottom and, along about 8:30, the first puff of smoke rose above the fairgrounds and an aerial bomb whistled into the heavens. BOOM! And the town shook as if hit by a clap of thunder.

Then the three-tiered sky bombs – pink, yellow, white, puff, puff, puff. The Niagara Falls and a gush of white sparks.

Then, in sudden fury, a dazzling display of sizzling comets and aerial bombs and star clusters that arched high, hung for a full breath and descended in a cascade of sparks that floated harmlessly over the meadows and cornfields. At the end, the flag – red, white and blue – would burst forth on the ground as the All-American finale in the darkest of the dark summer nights. On cue, the cheers rolled out from the grandstand and the cars honked from the high ground and the people trundled up their lawn chairs and everybody headed for home.

Well, I live in San Francisco now, and I drive to Daly City with my son, Danny, to buy some anemic stuff in gaudy yellow and blue wrapping and I try unsuccessfully each year to get through the fog or the traffic to see the fireworks at Candlestick. But I feel better knowing that, back where I come from, everybody in town will be on their porches and on the backroads on the evening of the Fourth to watch the fireworks and that, somewhere in town, a little boy will put a big firecracker under a tin can on a wood porch, then light out for the lilacs behind the barn.

P.S. Our family moved in l965 from Daly City to a house in the West Portal area of San Francisco. There are, I assure you, few visible fireworks in that neighborhood. However, down where we work at the Guardian building at the bottom of Potrero Hill, the professional and amateur action is spectacular.

From the roof of the Guardian building at 135 Mississippi, and from any Potrero Hill height, you can see the fireworks in several directions: the waterfront fireworks in the city, fireworks on the Marin side of the Golden Gate bridge, fireworks at several points in the East Bay, fireworks along the Peninsula coast line.

And for the amateur action, parents with kids, kids of all ages, spectators in cars and on foot, congregate after dusk along Terry Francois Boulevard in San Francisco along the shoreline between the Giants ballpark and Kellys Mission Rock restaurant.

The action is informal but fiery and furious: cherry bombs, clusters, spinning wheels, high flying arcs, whizzers of all shapes and sizes. The cops are quite civilized and patrol the perimeter but don’t bother anybody. I go every year. I think it’s the best show in town. B3.

Stage Listings

Maria Poblet
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Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com. For further information on how to submit items for the listings, see Picks. 

THEATER

OPENING

2012: The Musical! Dolores Park, 19th St at Dolores, SF; www.sfmt.org. Free. Sat/2-Mon/4, 2pm. Continues through Sept. 25 at various Bay Area venues. San Francisco Mime Troupe mounts their annual summer musical; this year’s show is about a political theater company torn between selling out and staying true to its anti-corporate roots.

BAY AREA

All My Children Cabaret at Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Previews Fri/1, 8pm. Opens Sat/2, 8:30pm. Runs Fri, 8pm; Sat, 8:30pm. Through July 23. Not the soap opera — it’s Seattle Improv co-founder Matt Smith in his comedy about a middle-aged man with boundary issues.

ONGOING

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

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

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

*Fighting Mac! Thick House Theatre, 1695 18th St, SF; 1-800-838-3006, www.therhino.org. $15-30. Wed/29-Sat/2, 8pm; Sun/3, 3pm. Theatre Rhinoceros artistic director John Fisher’s new play is (characteristically for the author of Combat! and Special Forces, among others) too subtly intelligent and far-reaching to fit comfortably under the didactic subject heading “gays in the military.” Nevertheless, that is the terrain it scouts, with neat skill and satisfyingly messy results. It’s the story of a young West Point–bound gay Berkeley student (an able, likeable Joshua Lomeli) with a fixation on the historical figure of Hector “Fighting Mac” Macdonald (a strong William J. Brown III), a self-made Victorian-era British Major-General who committed suicide after being accused of homosexuality. Mac shares the stage as alter-ego or mentor to the young man, counseling him to let go of his faith in feelings for a hard-headed calculation of advantage in a world where both love and war are often no more than means to social ends. In the paralleling of stories Fisher draws out with humor, knowing winks, and an underlying emotional unease the implications of certain colonized key words, like loyalty, honor, and love — and finds them too often a long way from home. Not for the first time, director Fisher also gets fine, open, and shrewd performances from a cast that includes several Berkeley students. (Avila)

“Fury Factory 2011” Various venues and prices; www.brownpapertickets.com. Through July 12. Over 30 Bay Area and national companies participate in this bi-annual theater festival.

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

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

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

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

BAY AREA

Down a Little Dirt Road Berkeley City Club, 2315 Durant, Berk; www.justtheater.org. $15-30. Thurs/30-Sat/2, 8pm; Sun/3, 5pm. A naturalistic family portrait twists itself into a supernatural love knot in Erin Marie Bregman’s first full-length play Down a Little Dirt Road, directed by Molly Aaronson-Gelb. Dad (Anthony Nemirovsky), an earthquake researcher, has moved his family to Parkfield, Calif. for work, but Mom (Lisa Morse) is not with them. Did she die in a plane crash on September 11? Did she vanish into another dimension? Daughter Alice (Alona Bach) has plenty of theories to share, each more earnestly improbable than the last. She is also plagued with recurring nightmares, an unsettling trait she shares with her father. Together they dream of wandering, lost, in a shadow realm, gradually revealed to hold the shade of the missing mother, trying desperately to get back to her daughter while a menacing authority figure (Ryan Tasker) tries to literally pry her memories away. Alona Bach delivers a guileless, pitch-perfect performance as Alice, and her relationship with her stage parents is comfortable and genuine. Berman is clearly playing with the convention of the family-oriented horror story, much like the referenced Roald Dahl classic The Witches, but the ghostly elements prove somewhat problematic in terms of staging and clarity, and while there are a few moments with some serious spine-tingling potential, the overall effect is somewhat flat. (Gluckstern)

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

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

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

*Working for the Mouse La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; www.impacttheatre.com. $10-20. Thurs-Sun, 8pm. Through July 8. It might not come as a surprise to hear that even “the happiest place on earth” has a dark side, but hearing Trevor Allen describe it during this long overdue reprise of 2002’s Working for the Mouse, will put a smile on your face as big as Mickey’s. With a burst of youthful energy, Allen bounds onto the tiny stage of Impact Theatre to confess his one-time aspiration to never grow up — a desire which made auditioning for the role of Peter Pan at Disneyland a sensible career move. But in order to break into the big time of “charactering,” one must pay some heavy, plush-covered dues. As Allen creeps up the costumed hierarchy one iconic cartoon figure at a time, he finds himself unwittingly enmeshed in a world full of backroom politics, union-busting, drug addled surfer dudes with peaches-and-cream complexions, sexual tension, showboating, job suspension, Make-A-Wish Foundation heartbreak, hash brownies, rabbit vomit, and accidental decapitation. Smoothly paced and astutely crafted, Working for the Mouse will either shatter your blissful ignorance or confirm your worst suspicions about the corporate Disney machine, but either way, it will probably make you treat any “Casual Seasonal Pageant Helpers” you see running around in their sweaty character suits with a whole lot more empathy. (Gluckstern)

PERFORMANCE/DANCE

“The Betrothed” Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center, Marina at Laguna, SF; (415) 788-7142, ext. 18. Thurs, 7pm. Free (RSVP required due to limited space). The Italian Cultural Institute and the Museo Italo Americano present this theatrical performance based on Alessandro Manzoni’s novel of the same name.

“The Book” SOMArts Cultural Center, 934 Brannan, SF; www.somarts.org. Fri/1 and July 29, 6pm. Free. Also July 7, 14, and 21, 8pm. $12. In conjunction with a new dance-based exhibition by Avy K Productions, SOMArts presents a series of new work featuring Bay Area artists Carol Swann, Ken Ueno, Matt Ingalls, Jesse Hewit, and more.

“Queer Rebels of the Harlem Renaissance” African American Art and Culture Complex, 762 Fulton, SF; www.queerrebels.com. Fri-Sat, 7:30pm. $15-25. The National Queer Arts Festival presents this show of new work by 16 LGBT African American artists.

“The Romane Event Comedy Show” Make-Out Room, 3225 22nd St, SF; www.pacoromane.com. Wed, 7:30pm. $7. Comedian Paco Romane hosts this showcase of up-and-coming stand-up talent.

San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, Novellus Theater, 700 Howard, SF; www.sfethnicdancefestival.org. Fri-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 3pm); Sun, 3pm. $18-58. The annual festival wraps up in a final weekend of dance from Haiti, Spain, China, Hawaii, and global points beyond.

“This Twisted Tale” Dance Mission Theater, 3316 24th St, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Fri-Sat, 8pm. $20. Paper Doll Militia performs their latest aerial theater production.

“Will Franken’s Beautiful Birthday Bash: .38 Special” Purple Onion, 140 Columbus, SF; (415) 956-1653. 8pm, $20. Comedian Will Franken performs a new show of vignettes in honor of his 38th birthday. 

 

Hot sexy events: June 22-28

Andrew Lam
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Hot sexy events: June 22-28

Apparently we got everyone a little too hot and bothered with our bike messenger sex post a few weeks back — the bicycle coitus backlash has already begun!

This news from LA, where the super fly Midnight Ridazz ride ran into some complications in the form of a drunk, cell phone-using driver smashing into a group stopped on the side of a road, injuring 11 cyclists. The police were quick to point fingers — at the cyclists. After all, “alcohol, condoms, and marijuana” were found near the scene of the crime, as ABC Channel 7 reported. Clearly, the Ridazz were gearing up (ha!) for a late night bike orgy. You know how that saddle friction gets everyone all randy.

LAPD did offer this PSA-type release, which I suppose is intended to act as a mea culpa for being all sassy about adult beverages, smoking weed, and safe sex? At any rate, “bike orgy” should surely be the SF Bike Party’s next theme ride. And now onto sex events for Pride Week! 

 

Oh!

Dirty young gentlemen, be aware: you’re not to miss this grimy-beated, well-meated party time at SF’s cruisey queer watering hole. Details? Write the story yourself — all we can tell you is that DJs Taco Tuesday and Guy Ruben will be getting the soundtrack hot like a skin flick. 

Wed/22 10 p.m.-2 a.m., $5

Powerhouse

1347 Folsom, SF

www.powerhouse-sf.com

 

“Heart/Hand/Art: Erotic Moments from San Francisco’s Lesbian Underground”

In a recent SF Station interview, Phyllis Christopher insists she “never, never wanted to shock people. I was having these amazing experiences and I wanted to talk about it.” Surely shocking is not the right word for Christopher’s florid shots of women in the throes of passion — titty grabbing, peeking out between fishnetted leg passion — we only flash on “sexy.” But Christopher’s intent was to document the lives of San Francisco lesbians. The erotica she captured is gorgeous — a flattering portrayal of women loving women in the City by the Bay. 

Thurs/23 6-8 p.m., free

Good Vibrations

1620 Polk, SF

(415) 345-0500

www.goodvibes.com

 

Lexington Club Pride weekend

Let’s be honest, it’s a rat race trying to name your Pride parties with the sluttiest monikers in the city — there’s just too much competition out there. But the Lex surely has a leg way up, if there is such a contest. Honestly, it wins based on sheer quantity: Thursday dances out with “DTF,” Friday flirts hard with “No Strings Attached,” on Saturday you can “Tap That,” and Sunday’s climax (after a super-slutty brunch party — oh, and the official Pride blowout, of course) is “Hit It and Quit It.” Straddle you a lady lez and get down — just don’t spill that Pabst on her cut-offs unless you’re trying to lick it off. 

Thurs/23-Sun/26, free

Lexington Club

3464 19th St., SF

(415) 863-2052

www.lexingtonclub.com

 

Mr. Kok Kontest

Kok Bar’s keeping it hard and slutty for you all weekend, but the new kid on the Folsom block has some extra special for you planned for Saturday night: a contest to see who has the biggest dick — though wait, isn’t that the point of Pride Week itself? Anyways, it’s been formalized here, so pack your binoculars, not much else, and head down.

Sat/25, free before 10 p.m., $4 afterwards

Kok Bar

1225 Folsom, SF

www.kokbarsf.com

 

Pansexual Pride Party

Cap off your Pride celebrations (or gear up for Sunday night) at the Citadel’s all-inclusive dungeon play party. Featured will be a demonstration by Mr. SF Citadel 2011 on how to successfully dominate a bottom twice your size. The website promises that it will produce experiences akin to “a chihuahua picking on a rottweiler.” 

Sun/26 5-8 p.m., $10 

SF Citadel 

1277 Mission, SF

www.sfcitadel.org

 

“Sex, Death, Laughter, and Disease: Writing and the Body”

Empower your body (and your prose) with this course, which will teach the skill of writing the corporeal form as protagonist. Sound a little English Lit-y for you? Instructor Lorelei Lee is an NYU creative writing professor, but check her clips before you dismiss this event from this column: lady’s been featured in $pread Magazine, the anthologies Hos, Hookers, Call Girls and Rent Boys: Professionals Writing on Life and Love and Off the Set: Porn Stars and Their Partners — plus, she’s currently penning a script with Stephen Elliott. 

Tues/28 (through Aug. 2) 7:30-9 p.m., $325

Center for Sex and Culture

1349 Mission, SF

(415) 902-2071

www.sexandculture.org

 

Busted!

Andrew Lam
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Busted!

le.chicken.farmer@gmail.com

CHEAP EATS I have already written a restaurant review, a poem, and a cheerful pop song about my anal abscess. I don’t know how else to celebrate the cursed motherfucker. I could curse … But I guess I’ve done that too.

I’ve already had it lanced twice. Those were the good times. Except that on the first occasion I missed a day of work, and on the second I missed a baby shower. I felt so badfully about the missed baby shower that I invited the moms-to-be, Pod and the Attack, to breakfast the following Saturday. Technically I guess maybe I invited myself to breakfast. At their house.

Bless them, they made my favorite: waffles! With fresh strawberries! They made bacon! They made eggs! They made roasted tomatoes! It was the perfect meal! It was a masterpiece! It was culinary genius! It was the time of our lives!

Problem: I forgot to go. I don’t know, I was looking forward to it all week and then I woke up on Saturday morning, went, “Dum-de-doe,” and decided — oh, I don’t know — maybe do a little recording, or something.

I record in my kitchen because it’s the quietest room in my apartment, if I turn off the refrigerator. My cell phone was in the closet. At the designated hour, Pod went to West Oakland BART and waited for me.

When she called to say what-the-where-the-fuck-are-you? I was in the kitchen. I had my headphones on, refrigerator off, and was laying some blistering electric ukulele tracks onto Garage Band, singing: “It’s a new day/ It’s a driving rain/ I’m gonna have anal surgery/ It’s gonna be OK/ Gonna feel no pain / Or if I do it will be good for me.” La la la la la la.

And so forth.

Then.

I saw my cell phone while I was getting ready for work. It was lit up like a Christmas tree: texts, voicemails, e-mails. What-the-where-the-fuck-was-I? Oh my sweet baby Jesus, you can imagine my horror, and self-hatred — nay, loathing — as it all sunk in. How did I do that? How could I? Was my head so far up my ass that … ?

Well, technically it was, damn me. Clobber me in the kidneys with a golf club. I felt as low as a horse’s hoof cheese. And that was before the Attack sent me a picture of their spread, Pod in all her pregnancy sitting down to eat those wonderful things I said, plus cantaloupe.

Minus me.

I’ve done some dumb-ass things in my day, but don’t know if I’ve ever hated myself more. I couldn’t imagine how I was ever going to forgive myself. I still kinda can’t. I mean, the bacon alone looked so good in that picture.

They were of course very gracious and forgiving, and I was of course determined to make it up somehow. I invited them over to Berkeley that evening for some of the chicken pot pie that me and the kids were making. They declined.

I invited them to breakfast the following morning. Out somewhere, on me, and they accepted. We went to the Sunny Side Café in Albany, which was alleged to be kind of fancy-pants, and great.

Never in my life, before this, have I wanted a meal to cost more than it did. But, alas, it didn’t. It was like normal weekend brunch prices, roughly $10 apiece. Less tragically, but more to the point, I didn’t think the food was that good. Let alone great. I may have malordered. Maybe I was still traumatized by my brain fart from the morning before, but my spinach-and-sausage scramble was bland city, even with salt-pepper-Tapatío. The roasted tomatoes … meh.

Pod’s pigs in blankets … that was better. And the Attack, she got it right. She hit the jackpot with the Alameda, a stack-up of good stuff — ham, cheese, french toast, eggs — and some other things I personally don’t go for, which is to say mushrooms and Hollandaise. Oh, and a balsamic reduction.

It’s her new favorite restaurant.

SUNNY SIDE CAFÉ

Mon.–Fri. 8 a.m.–3 p.m.;

Sat.–Sun. 8:30 a.m.–3 p.m.

1499 Solano, Albany

(510) 527-5383

Full bar

AE/D/MC/V

 

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