Local

Step up and save CCA

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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EDITORIAL Two things became abundantly clear at the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission meeting July 26th: The Community Choice Aggregation program is off track — and General Manager Ed Harrington has no interest in making it work. The supervisors need to move aggressively to save CCA.

Since 2007, when a draft implementation plan was released, the goals of the program — which is supposed to offer a cleaner alternative to Pacific Gas & Electric Co. — have shifted fairly dramatically. No longer does the plan seek to meet PG&E’s rates. It won’t be aimed at the entire city to start. And the PUC is putting most of its effort into a short-term contract to buy green power from Shell Energy North America — and all-but ignoring the more important moves to build a publicly owned energy-generation infrastructure.

CCA, which allows cities to buy power in bulk and resell it to customers, is a step in the right direction. The program now before the PUC would put San Francisco in the public power business — to a degree. But as the financial projections for the program demonstrate, the real savings and the real revenue won’t come until San Francisco replaces PG&E as the owner and operator of the local grid. A full-scale public power system would allow the city to both increase renewable power and cut rates — and would bring hundreds of millions into the treasury in the process (see “Mud Money,” 6/26/08).

Still, CCA offers many benefits — including the chance for the city to build local renewable energy facilities. And that’s where the PUC’s efforts ought to be focused.

During discussion of the proposed contract July 26th, Harrington was largely negative and talked repeatedly as if he didn’t think the original program could work. He kept saying that renewable power was more costly (true, today — but not after the city starts building its own facilities). He said that the goals the “advocates” (who include a majority of the Board of Supervisors) have demanded were unrealistic. And most of the commissioners seemed clueless.

That’s a terrible way to launch one of the most important environmental and financial initiatives in modern San Francisco history. Marin County is already well on the way to creating a working CCA system. Other counties are moving forward. And San Francisco, the only city in the nation with a federal mandate for public power, can’t get its civic act together.

The supervisors need to get involved, quickly. The Local Agency Formation Commission, which is overseeing this project, should haul Harrington in for a hearing as soon as possible. Among other things, the LAFCO members should ask why Harrington is so determined that the project won’t work; why his proposal is geared to a small number of residents and businesses who would face higher rates for power; and what his plans are to create a local energy generation infrastructure that over the long run would be dramatically cheaper and greener than anything PG&E (which has been in the background here trying to undermine CCA) will be able to offer.

The problems with CCA reflect the immense challenges of putting this program in the hands of a commission a majority of whose members were appointed by a mayor who opposed public power, managed by someone who has never supported municipalization efforts. Harrington and the SFPUC appear to be setting CCA up to fail. The supervisors need to step in before that happens — and every candidate for mayor needs to be pushed to publicly support CCA and make this an important campaign issue. And they need to promise that they’ll appoint people with real public power credentials who will replace Harrington and shake up the next PUC.

Whose voice?

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Whose voice?

arts@sfbg.com

FILM In 1981 Deborah Kaufman founded the nation’s first Jewish Film Festival in San Francisco. Thirteen years later, with similar festivals burgeoning in the wake of SFJFF’s success — there are now over a hundred around the globe — she left the festival to make documentaries of her own with life partner and veteran local TV producer Alan Snitow.

Their latest, Between Two Worlds, which opens at the Roxie this Friday while playing festival dates, could hardly be a more personal project for the duo. Both longtime activists in various Jewish, political, and media spheres, Snitow and Kaufman were struck — as were plenty of others — by the rancor that erupted over the SFJFF’s 2009 screening of Simone Bitton’s Rachel. That doc was about Rachel Corrie, a young American International Solidarity Movement member killed in 2003 by an Israeli Defense Forces bulldozer while standing between it and a Palestinian home on the Gaza Strip.

As different sides argued whether Corrie’s death was accidental or deliberate, she became a lightning rod for ever-escalating tensions between positions within and without the U.S. Jewish populace on Israeli policy, settlements, Palestinian rights, and more — with not a few commentators amplifying the conservative notion that any criticism of Israel is anti-Semitic, even (or especially) when it comes from Jews themselves.

People who hadn’t seen (and boasted they wouldn’t see) the strenuously even-handed Rachel called the documentary an “anti-Israeli hate fest” akin to “Holocaust denial,” its SFJFF inclusion “symptomatic of a demonic strategy” by “anti-Semites on the left.”

Stunned SFJFF executive director Peter Stein (who’s leaving the festival after its current edition) decried Jewish community “thought police” who pressured the institution and those connected to it with defunding and boycotting threats. The festival attempted damage control by inviting a public foe of the screening (Dr. Michael Harris of StandWithUs/Voice for Israel) to speak before it, which only amplified the hostile rhetoric.

Seeing the festival being used by extremists on both sides became a natural starting point for Between Two Worlds, which takes a many-sided, questioning, sometimes humorous look at culture wars in today’s American Jewish population. It touches on everything from divestment debates at UC Berkeley to the disputed site of a Museum of Tolerance in Jerusalem (atop a 600-year-old Muslim cemetery), from the tradition of progressive liberalism among U.S. Jews to rising ethnic-identity worries spawned by intermarriage and declining birth rates.

The fundamental question here, as Kaufman puts it, is “Who is entitled to speak for the tribe?” For the first time, the filmmakers have made themselves part of the subject matter, exploring their own very different personal and familial experiences to illustrate the diversity of the U.S. Jewish experience. Snitow’s mother had to hide her prior Communist Party membership to remain active in social-justice movements after the 1940s, while Kaufman’s father was a devoted Zionist from his Viennese childhood who had to adjust to offspring like “Tevye’s daughters gone wild,” including one who converted to Islam.

They’re clearly in sympathy with other documentary interviewees insisting that one core of Jewish identity has been, and should remain, a stance against absolutism and injustice towards any peoples. Between their SFJFF screenings the filmmakers chatted with the Guardian.

 

SFBG Is the Bay Area still a bastion of Jewish liberalism, relatively speaking?

Deborah Kaufman What we saw at the festival during the Rachel uproar was a collapse of the center. It was really a moment when the extremes were at battle and the center simply disappeared. That’s what was and is so disturbing. A kind of apathy where the moderates just throw up their hands and walk away from what’s become a very toxic debate.

Alan Snitow It’s not that the Bay Area is unique to boo a so-called “pro-Israel” speaker [like Harris]. It’s that the Bay Area has maintained an open debate about Israeli policies when other Jewish communities never countenanced such debate from the get-go. Rachel was not shown in other Jewish film festivals around the country because they are already creatures of conservative donors. The aim in this power grab by the right in San Francisco was and is to silence people and institutions like the festival that oppose a McCarthyite crackdown in a remaining bastion of free speech. And this is being mirrored in Israel itself where the Knesset recently passed a law punishing anyone who publicly supports the idea of a boycott of the West Bank settlements.

I think we also have to question this claim of “pro-Israel.” All criticism of Israel’s occupation is now being branded as “anti-Israel.” “Pro-Israel” has come to mean pro the policies of the current, most right-wing government in Israeli history — a government that is now advocating the truly Orwellian position that there is no occupation at all! That’s not what pro-Israel or Zionist ever meant except to some ideologues on the far right.

 

SFBG Had you already been thinking about somehow addressing political rifts in the Jewish community before the SFJFF fracas?  

DK We began the film over a year before the SFJFF fracas. We were focusing more on Jewish identity than politics — looking at intermarriage, hybrid identities, a new generation of American Jews — we wanted to re-tell the Biblical story of Ruth, and we were following a fantastic feminist-queer internet discussion called “Rabbis: Out Of My Uterus!” that we thought would be fun to film. But we kept getting swept into the Israel vortex and realized we had to address the question of dissent and who speaks for the Jewish community at this historical moment for the film to be relevant.

Between Two Worlds opens Fri/5 at the Roxie.

Time served

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Time served

arts@sfbg.com

FILM In 1983, Deborah Peagler was sentenced to 25 years to life for first-degree murder in the death of her former boyfriend Oliver Wilson, whom two local L.A. gang members had strangled — supposedly at her behest, to access Wilson’s life insurance money.

Encouraged to plead guilty to avoid the death penalty, Peagler had a juryless trial and was quickly shunted off to prison. There she was repeatedly turned down for parole despite spending the years of her incarceration as a church leader, mentor, and tutor to other inmates; a highly skilled electronics-assembly supervisor; earning two degrees; and sustaining good long-distance relationships with her two daughters. Even most of the victim’s surviving relatives had come to believe she should have been released years earlier. For her part, Peagler always claimed she intended Wilson to be beaten, but had not asked for or condoned his murder.

What was missing (or suppressed) from the original trial were the myriad reasons she’d wanted to frighten him away from herself and her family. She was a pregnant 15-year-old high schooler when she first met Wilson, a charismatic sometimes model who charmed her by taking a fatherly interest in her firstborn. But when money got tight, he abruptly insisted she turn tricks. Initial refusal brought beatings that only increased over time despite her reluctant subsequent acquiescence, stopping just briefly when she bore his own child.

Soon Wilson was dealing drugs, then taking drugs; he kept Peagler a virtual prisoner, refusing to let her speak to friends or relatives. When an eviction forced their temporary separation, he stormed into her family’s home with two armed men, threatening to kill them all. For this he was jailed exactly one night, making new death threats in retaliation for the police being called at all. At this point in 1982 she contacted the Crips members (who viewed that home invasion by an outsider in their territory as a serious offense) to frighten Wilson away before he actually killed anyone.

At the time of her trial, testimony on “battering and its effects” were not allowed as circumstantial evidence in California courts, despite — as we now know — the overwhelming majority of U.S. women being victims of domestic violence, rape, or other abuses. (In 1979 President Carter gave a huge boost to the nascent overall cause by establishing the Federal Office of Domestic Violence. Two years later, Reagan shuttered it.) In 1992 that changed, allowing new cases to benefit — although cases already tried could not be re-opened with evidence previously excluded.

A decade later that, too, changed. Walnut Creek attorneys Nadia Costa and Joshua Safran agreed to take on Peagler’s case pro bono, stepping well outside their usual land-use litigation. They launched what turned into years of effort during which her cause becomes a public cause célèbre, and indications emerge of some very ugly misconduct by the District Attorney’s office.

This battle — all the above is just a starting point — is chronicled in Bay Area filmmaker Yoav Potash’s documentary Crime After Crime. It’s a story with plenty of lurid and tragic revelations, ranging from child sexual abuse to terminal illness to hidden evidence of perjury. After a certain point it becomes clear the D.A.’s office isn’t opposing Peagler’s release because she’s guilty as charged (though nearly everyone by then agrees she should have been tried for manslaughter with a maximum sentence of six years), but because it has dirty secrets of its own to protect and deny.

Crime After Crime won’t exactly stoke your faith in the justice system. But this thoroughly engrossing document does affirm that there is hope good people can and will fight the system — even if, alas, it sometimes takes nearly three to score one bittersweet win.

Crime After Crime opens Fri/5 in Bay Area theaters.

Film Listings

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

SAN FRANCISCO JEWISH FILM FESTIVAL

The 31st San Francisco Jewish Film Festival runs through August 8 at the Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center, 1119 Fourth St., San Rafael; Oshman Jewish Community Center, 3921 Fabian Way, Palo Alto; and Roda Theatre at Berkeley Rep, 2025 Addison, Berk. For tickets (most shows $12) and a full schedule, visit www.sfjff.org.

OPENING

*Between Two Worlds See “Whose Voice?” (1:10) Roxie.

The Change-Up This brom-com just might go down as the one where Ryan Reynolds proves his acting chops by playing a creepy Peter Pan and an upstanding family man with Jason Bateman’s physical tics. And it’s almost good enough to wipe out those terrible memories of Reynolds’ dances with CGI in Green Lantern. Yet 2011 summer movies’ MVP Bateman still manages to steal all the best scenes as both the straight man and the kidult-in-a-grown-up’s-body: namely those R-pushing moments he’s changing diapers and taking a face full of baby poo, coming on like a pink-Polo’d jackass at a big-money meeting, and watching the woman of his dreams saunter into the can to cope with backfiring Thai grub. It’s the stuff of fantasy — as well as some clever writing and considerable buddy-buddy chemistry — when career-climbing, do-right lawyer Dave (Bateman) and perpetual playa Mitch (Reynolds) voice envy for each other’s lives while pissing into a magical fountain. The old switcheroo inexplicably occurs the next morning when each chum find himself in the other’s body. Fortunately the Freaky Friday (1976) kookiness that ensues rises a bit above the safe norm by plunging headlong into all the cringey discomfort that comes with watching babies toy with cleavers and electrical outlets. The Change-Up is completely ludicrous, fo’ sho’, and never really strays from the reassuring confines of its story arc, but the laughs accompanying its morning-afters will satisfy more than any new Hangover. (1:52) (Chun)

*Crime After Crime See “Time Served.” (1:33) Elmwood, Roxie, Smith Rafael.

The Devil’s Double Lee Tamahori directs Dominic Cooper in this 80s-set drama about Saddam Hussein’s sinister son Uday and his reluctant body double. (1:48)

The Guard Irish police sergeant Gerry Boyle (Brendan Gleeson) is used to running his small town on his own terms — not in a completely Bad Lieutenant (1992) kind of way, though he’s not afraid to sample drugs and hang with hookers. More like, he’s been running the show for years, and would prefer that big-city cops stay the hell out of his village. Alas, a gang of drug smugglers is doing business in the area, so an officious group of investigators from Dublin (horrors!) and America (in the form of an FBI agent played by Don Cheadle) soon descend. His mother’s dying, his brand-new partner’s missing, and between all the interlopers on both sides of the law, Boyle’s having a hard time having a pint in peace. Good thing he’s not as simple-minded as all who surround him think he is. Writer-director John Michael McDonagh (brother of playwright Martin, who directed 2008’s In Bruges — also starring Gleeson) puts an affable Irish spin on what’s essentially a pretty typical indie comedy, with some pretty typical crime-drama elements layered atop. Boyle’s character is memorably clever, but the film that contains him never quite elevates to his level. (1:36) Embarcadero. (Eddy)

*Magic Trip How to bottle the lysergic thrills and chills of a monumental road trip that marked the close of the Beat Generation era and the dawn of the hippie years? Remarkably, Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters did just that — and with the help of directors-writers Alison Ellwood and Alex Gibney, their efforts have been retrieved from the swamps of yesterday. You don’t have to be a Summer of Love easy rider, Kesey reader, Deadhead, or acid gobbler to appreciate the freewheeling energy and epoch-making antics of Magic Trip, which arrives well-outfitted in much invaluable, real-deal-y footage and audio of Kesey, driver Neal Cassady, and the proto-Merry Pranksters, shot during their 1964 trip from La Honda to the World’s Fair in NYC, off, on, and hovering 10 miles above the paint-strewn school bus named Further. Already viewed through the lens of Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, the trip unfolds in all its truly weird, silly, LSD-laden, improvised, awkward, flailing, freeing glory, as the filmmakers gracefully sidestep the audio sync problems that drove Kesey to give up on assembling the film himself. Instead Ellwood and Gibney contextualize the hijinks with voice-over interviews from Pranksters prepped to look back on the journey’s consciousness-expanding trips, both good and bad, and imaginatively animate memorable asides, including a tape recording of Kesey’s first LSD experiments as a Stanford student. “What long, strange trip,” indeed — and this affectionate document viscerally, wonderfully conveys why it changed lives as well. (1:47) Embarcadero. (Chun)

*Pianomania You think your job is detail-oriented, your bosses fussy? Walk a mile in the shoes of Stefan Knupfer, a Steinway technician — i.e. “piano tuner” — who must attend every minute aspect of each instrument’s inner workings, surrounding physical spaces, and their temperature fluctuations, idiosyncratically demanding players, etc. when preparing for either a live performance or studio session. “When I see the kind of life pianists have, I am very happy I can get off the stage when the public comes,” Knupfer explains. Nonetheless, he’s so dedicated to his job he has regular nightmares about strings breaking. His good-humored expertise and ingenuity make for engaging company on a multi-city itinerary, during which we meet a roll call of world-class virtuosi. Following this affable, unflappable protagonist over a year’s course, with an important Bach recording project at its end, this beautifully assembled documentary (a rare one these days shot on 35mm) by Lilian Franck and Robert Cibis should fascinate even those not especially attuned to classical music. (1:33) Opera Plaza. (Harvey)

Rise of the Planet of the Apes Fun fact: according to this origin story starring James Franco, the first supersmart apes were bred right here in San Francisco. (1:50)

Sarah’s Key Kristen Scott Thomas stars as a journalist in France who becomes deeply involved in a story she’s researching about the Jewish family forced by Nazis to vacate the home she now lives in. (1:42) Embarcadero.

ONGOING

Another Earth After serving a prison sentence for a youthful drunk-driving incident that killed two passengers in another car, Rhoda (Brit Marling) emerges no longer a blithe party girl but a haunted loner who prefers working as a high school janitor. Obsessed by her crime, she starts spying on the man it had left widowed and childless, a onetime composer (William Mapother) who like her has retreated into a solitary shell of depression. She finds a way to integrate herself (without revealing her identity) into his threadbare current existence, the two of them bonding over fascination with a newly discovered planet that appears the exact duplicate of Earth — complete with the possibility of our doubles living a parallel existence there. You can take Mike Cahill’s modestly scaled U.S. indie feature (cowritten with actor Marling) as a familiar drama about grief and repentance with a novel gloss of sci-fi, or as a sci-fi story with unusual attention to character emotions and almost no need of fantasy FX. Either way, it’s earnest, well-acted and interesting if not quite memorable; as has been noted elsewhere, the material could have fit just as effectively into a half-hour Twilight Zone episode. (1:32) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

*Attack the Block The Goonies go to a South London projects, with more gore, guts, and gumption? With good reason, writer, director, and Edgar Wright/Simon Pegg cohort Joe Cornish’s own project, Attack the Block, has been getting raves at fests for its effortless, energetic originality, discernible through its thick, glottal stop-chomping, Jafaican-draped local brogue. The question posed, ever so entertainingly: what happens when you pit the toughest kids on the block against a ferocious pack of outer-space critters — not quite out to serve man but rather sever him limb from limb? We start out seeing this gang of at-risk, risk-taking youth through the peepers of a vulnerable female mugging victim and neighbor, Sam (Jodie Whittaker)—they seem as scary as any alien invader and she wants to bring down the full force of the law on them. But the pack, led by Moses (John Boyega, who charismatically scowls like a young 50 Cent), has more pressing matters at hand: a mysterious creature has come crashing down from out of the sky, and naturally, being nasty terrors, they kill it, bringing down a intergalactic shit storm of trouble. Their favorite refuge: the top-floor weed room overseen by Ron (Pegg sidekick Nick Frost), where they attempt to suss out why they’ve become the prime prey for wolfish aliens out for blood. Throw in chills, bike chases, a resourceful use of elevators and dumpsters, and an epic, eerie dubstep theme by Basement Jaxx, and you have a very fun horror-thriller that declines to preach but manages to bring home a message reminiscent of Night of the Living Dead (1968). Consider this a whole-hearted, double-fisted antidote to the fearful vigilantism of films like 2009’s Harry Brown. (1:28) Metreon. (Chun)

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

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

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

*Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff is to a large extent exactly what is sounds like: a well-made documentary on one of cinema’s most prolific and well-regarded cinematographers. Featuring interviews with the elderly Cardiff himself as well as with Martin Scorsese, Kirk Douglas, Lauren Bacall, and others, Cameraman examines Cardiff’s career, from his beginnings in 1918 as a child actor through his early innovations with color film, his mastery of lighting, and his brief transition into directing. As much as this is a film about Cardiff, though, it’s also about the collaborative process of filmmaking and the artistry of cinematography. With big-name directors and actors soaking up the headlines, it’s easy to forget the talent behind the camerawork. Cardiff, who passed away in 2009 at the age of 94, was a true artist, as at ease with a lens as with a paintbrush. (1:30) Balboa, Smith Rafael. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

Captain America: The First Avenger OK, Marvel. I could get behind 2008’s Iron Man (last year’s Iron Man 2, not so much), but after Thor and now Captain America, I’m starting to get cynical about this multi-year build-up to the full-on Avengers movie, due in May 2012. Can even a superhero-stuffed movie directed by Joss Whedon live up to all this hype? There’s plenty of time to ponder, and maybe worry a little, with Captain America’s backstory-explaining picture now in theaters. Chris Evans stars as the 90-pound weakling who morphs into a supersoldier, thanks to the World War II-era tinkerings of a scientist (Stanley Tucci) and an inventor (Dominic Cooper as Howard Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man’s dad). The original plan for the musclebound shield-bearer (fighting Nazis, natch) gets waylaid a bit when the newly famous Captain America becomes a PR prop for the U.S. government; it’s abandoned entirely when a worse-than-Hitler foe, in the guise of power-obsessed Red Skull (Hugo Weaving), threatens the world. Directed by Spielberg cohort Joe Johnston, Captain America is gee-whiz enjoyable enough, but it’s very nearly the same movie as Thor, which no amount of Tommy Lee Jones (as a sarcastic army colonel) wisecracks can conceal. And here’s an anti-spoiler: there’s no post-credits surprise in this one, so you can bolt as soon as they start to roll. (2:09) Cerrito, Empire, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

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

Cowboys and Aliens Here ’tis in a nutshell: the movie’s called Cowboys and Aliens — and that’s exactly, entirely what you’ll get. Director Jon Favreau may never best 2008’s Iron Man (actor Jon Favreau will prob never top 1996’s Swingers, but that’s a debate for another time), but that doesn’t mean he won’t have a good time trying. Cowboys is a genre mash-up in the most literal sense; as the title suggests, it pits Wild West gunslingers (Harrison Ford as a crabby cattleman, Daniel Craig as an amnesiac outlaw) against gold-seeking space invaders who also delight in kidnapping and torturing humans. As stupidly entertaining as it is, this is a textbook example of a pretty OK movie that could have been so much better … if only. If only the alien characters had a little bit more District 9-style personality. If only the story had a shred of suspense — look ye not here for “spooky” and “mysterious;” this shit is 100 percent full-on explosions. If only Craig’s comically fine-tooled physique didn’t outshine his wooden acting. And so forth. (1:58) Balboa, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Eddy)

Crazy, Stupid, Love Keep the poster’s allusion to 1967’s The Graduate to one side: there aren’t many revelations about midlife crises in this cleverly penned yet strangely flat ensemble rom-com, awkwardly pitched at almost every demographic at the cineplex. There’s the middle-aged romance that’s withered at the vine: nice but boring family man Cal (Steve Carell) finds himself at a hopeless loss when wife and onetime teenage sweetheart Emily (Julianne Moore) tells him she wants a divorce and she’s slept with a coworker (Kevin Bacon). He ends up waxing pathetic at a slick nightclub where he catches the eye of the well-dressed, spray-tanned smoothie Jacob (Ryan Gosling), who appears to have taken his ladies man stance from the Clooney playbook. It’s manly makeover time: GQ meets Pretty Woman (1990)! Cut to Cal and Emily’s babysitter Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who is crushing out on Cal, while the separated couple’s tween Robbie (Jonah Bobo) hankers for Jessica. Somehow Josh Groban worms his way into the mix as the dullard suitor of Hannah (Emma Stone) in a hanging chad of a storyline that must somehow be resolved in this mad, mad, mad, mad — actually, the problem with Crazy, Stupid, Love is that it isn’t really that mad or crazy. It tries far too hard to please everybody in the theater to its detriment, reminding the viewer of a tidy, episodic TV series (albeit a quality effort) like Modern Family more than an actual film. Likewise I yearned for a way to fast-forward through the too-cute Jessica-Robbie scenes in order to get back to the sleazy-smart, punchy complexity of Gosling, playing adeptly off both Carrell and Stone. (1:58) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

*Friends With Benefits If you see only one romantic comedy this summer about a sex-sans-pair-bonding pact between a girl and a guy saddled with intimacy issues — well, chances are, if you tend to see movies with premises like this, you probably already saw No Strings Attached. In which case, poor unlucky Friends with Benefits may be filed away in your brain as that other movie about fuckbuddies, the one in which Ashton Kutcher is played by Justin Timberlake and Natalie Portman (in a slightly eerie cosmic echo of last year’s Black Swan) is played by Mila Kunis. But if you see two such movies this summer, and admit it, you probably might, you’ll likely agree that FWB kicks NSA‘s booty call, particularly in the areas of scriptwriting ingenuity, pacing, and the casting subcategory of basic chemistry between romantic leads, with points possibly taken off for shark-jumping use of flash mobs and the fact that the maddeningly sticky song “Closing Time” will now be with you from closing credits ’til doomsday. This is not a searing, psychologically nuanced portrayal of two young people’s struggles to grapple with modern-day sexual mores and their own crippling pathologies — rather, the pair’s emotional baggage mostly seems to be stuffed with packing peanuts, and scenes in which they catalog their sexual proclivities in a humorously businesslike, gently raunchy fashion reveal them to be hearteningly adept at the art of communication. But such moments keep us entertained as the film, salted with light jabs at the genre’s worn-down touchstones yet utterly complicit, depicts the inevitable stages of a non-relationship relationship. (1:44) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Rapoport)

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Chances are you aren’t going to jump into the Harry Potter series with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. So while the movie is probably the best Harry Potter film yet, it’s more a fitting conclusion than a standalone film. For fans of the books, there are no real surprises — this is a close adaptation. And for those Harry Potter movie fans who haven’t read the books, shame on you, and kudos if you managed to not get spoiled. It’s hard for me to offer a serious critical analysis of Part 2, because it represents the end of a long and very emotional journey. (Everyone in that audience was crying. Everyone.) I will say that, as was the case in the book, there are a few overdone, schmaltzy moments that aren’t really necessary. But in the context of the series, they’re forgivable — this may not be the great cinematic event of our generation, but Harry Potter as a whole is sure to be one of our most enduring cultural icons. (2:10) Cerrito, Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

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

Life, Above All It’s tough enough to simply grow up, let alone care for a parent with AIDS and deal with the suspicions and fears of the no-nothing adults all around you. Rising above easy preaching and hand-wringing didacticism, Life, Above All takes as its blueprint the 2004 best-seller by Allan Stratton, Chandra’s Secrets, and makes compelling work of the story of 12-year-old Chandra (Khomotso Manyaka) and her unfortunate family, unable to get effective help amid the thicket of ignorance regarding AIDS in Africa. After her newborn sister dies, Chandra finds her loyalty torn between her bright-eyed best friend Esther (Keaobaka Makanyane), who’s rumored to hooking among the truck drivers in their dusty, sun-scorched rural South African hometown, and her mother (Lerato Mvelase), who listens far too closely to her bourgie friend Mrs. Tafa (an OTT Harriet Manamela), for her own good. Cape Town native director Oliver Schmitz sticks close to the action playing across his actors’ faces, and he’s rewarded, particularly by the graceful Manyaka, in this life-affirmer about little girls forced to shoulder heart-breaking responsibility far too soon. (1:46) Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Life in a Day (1:30) Balboa.

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

*The Names of Love Arthur (Jacques Gamblin) is a 40-ish scientist being interviewed about the threat of a bird flu epidemic when his radio broadcast is interrupted by 20-something Baya (Sara Forestier), who denounces him on-air as a “fascist” for frightening the public. But then, Baya tends to use that label rather indiscriminately, applying it to anyone who might conceivably have views to the right of the dial — and Arthur is in fact a solid liberal, which means she can bed him for love. As opposed to the many, many other men she beds as a self-described “political whore,” seeking out conservative types in order to seduce them and hopefully induce an idealogical shift by whispering sweet nothings (“Not all Arabs are thieves,” etc.) as they orgasm. Raised by parents whose emotions are so tightly wound his mother won’t acknowledge her parents were Jews killed at Auschwitz, Arthur has a hard time adjusting to a relationship with a lover who is faithful emotionally but sees promiscuity as her propagandic gift to the world. Meanwhile Baya’s largely Algerian family treats garrulous political argument as the very air they breathe. This odd-couple story written by Baya Kasmi and director Michel Leclerc deals with serious issues in both humorous and respectful fashion, making for one of the more novel, delightful and depthed French romantic comedies in a long time. Added plus: lots of antic gratuitous nudity. (1:42) Clay, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

*NEDs There is bleak, and there is Scottish bleak. Weighed down by class and roundly ignored by apathetic institutions, the non-educated delinquent is the star of writer-director Peter Mullan’s wrenching but delightful NEDS (2010), a dark and curiously fanciful tale of youth in the housing estates of 1970s Glasgow. John McGill (Conor McCarron) is a bright and talented student with high hopes for a future at university until abuse by peers and teachers alike leads him down the well worn path of drinking, fighting, and gang life with the Young Car-Ds, his older brother Benny’s (Joe Szula) crew. The quiet John can’t escape the tide of history that society has set him upon and soon he’s joined the fray, abandoning his academic promise for a life of Doc Martens and concealed blades. As J. McGill so eloquently explains: “Youse want a NED? I’ll gie youse a fucking NED!” (2:03) Balboa. (Berkmoyer)

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

The Smurfs in 3D (1:43) 1000 Van Ness.

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

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

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

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

Winnie the Pooh (1:09) Elmwood, 1000 Van Ness.

*World on a Wire The words “Rainer Werner Fasbinder” and “science fiction film” are enough to get certain film buffs salivating, but the Euro-trashy interior décor is almost reason enough to see this restored print of the New German Cinema master’s cyber thriller. Originally a two-part TV miniseries, World on a Wire is set in an alternate present (then 1973) in which everything seems to be made of concrete, mirror, Lucite, or orange plastic. When the inventor of a supercomputer responsible for generating an artificial world mysteriously disappears, his handsome predecessor must fight against his corporate bosses to find out what really happened, and in the process, stumbles upon a far more shattering secret about the nature of reality itself. Riffing off the understated cool of Godard’s Alphaville (1965) while beating 1999’s The Matrix to the punch by some 25 years, World on a Wire is a stylistically singular entry in Fassbinder’s prolific filmography. (3:32) Roxie. (Sussman)

 

Our weekly picks: Aug. 3-11, 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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WEDNESDAY 3

FILM

“John Musker on the Art of Animation”

For the latest in its “Behind the Scenes: The Art and Craft of Cinema” series, the Pacific Film Archive turns to Disney animator John Musker, part of the writing-directing team for several of the studio’s new-revival hits, including 1989’s The Little Mermaid, 1992’s Aladdin, and 2009’s The Princess and the Frog. Musker’s three-day event kicks off with a clip show and discussion, sure to be jam-packed with insidery info (like, how much was Robin Williams’ Aladdin genie scripted, anyway? And how do animators deal with actors who like to improvise?). Next, he’ll introduce the most recent entry into Disney’s fairy tale arsenal, The Princess and the Frog, and Sunday brings a screening of 1940 classic Pinocchio — still magical, even without the benefit of newfangled 3D or CGI. (Cheryl Eddy)

Wed/3-Thurs/4, 6:30 p.m.; Sun/7, 3 p.m., $5.50–$9.50 Pacific Film Archive, 757 Bancroft, Berk. www.bampfa.berkeley.edu

 

THURSDAY 4

MUSIC

Exhumed

Exhumed could most assuredly provide the soundtrack if we were ever faced with a zombie apocalypse. As the still living population struggled in vain to escape dismemberment and ran screaming through the blood-soaked streets, blast beats and frenzied shredding would seal their doom. The goregrind pioneer from San Jose, Calif. has more than enough lyrical content to describe the ensuing mayhem and its ferocious riffs speak volumes on their own. Long dormant, Exhumed has returned with a new album and new line-up but retained its dependable brutality. Supporting Exhumed is the equally dependable Cephalic Carnage to unleash a further grind beat-down and aurally describe a world in which intestines pave the roads. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

With Macabre, Cephalic Carnage, and Withered

8 p.m., $16 Slim’s 333 11th St., SF. www.slims-sf.com

 

MUSIC

Shit Robot

When I last saw Shit Robot, the DJ was in a tin foil rocket ship in the 200s section of Madison Square Garden, performing during LCD Soundsystem’s “final” show. While thousands of people can say they were there for the end, Shit Robot a.k.a. Irish musician Marcus Lambkin is one of two who were there at the beginning, having reportedly swapped records with and introduced James Murphy to good dance music. Murphy would later return the favor, lending production and vocals to Shit Robot’s 2010 LP From the Cradle to the Rave. Featuring vocals from LCD’s Nancy Whang and Hot Chip’s Alexis Taylor, it was a long-awaited debut and distillation of electro, house, and (another result of that trade) rock. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Hands, and Popscene DJs 9 p.m., $10–$13 Rickshaw Stop 155 Fell, SF. www.rickshawstop.com

 

FRIDAY 5

MUSIC

Bastard Noise

Earlier this summer in East LA, Bastard Noise celebrated the 84th birthday of Grandpa, a longtime presence in the punk underground. Now they’re helping Amy Lawless, a DJ at Radio Valencia and ceaseless DIY supporter of local hardcore and metal, pummel into her 45th (her thrash heavy band, Voetsek, is playing too). Twenty years ago, Bastard Noise spawned from the legendary Man is the Bastard, which pioneered the aesthetics of powerviolence: fast, political, hectically tempo changing, dual basses yet no guitar, custom-crafted electronics. Perhaps their newest vocalist, Aimee Artz, and Landmine Marathon’s Grace Perry will team up for a growling version of “Happy Birthday.” “And many [deep breath]: Mmmooooorrrrre!” (Kat Renz)

With Landmine Marathon, Voetsek, Hosebeast 8 p.m., $10 Sub/Mission 2183 Mission, SF.  www.sf-submission.com

 

MUSIC

KMFDM

If ever there were a band synonymous with industrial music, KMFDM would be it. Buzzing guitars and a mechanical assault of synthesizers and drum machines have for over 20 years laid the groundwork for KMFDM’s unique sound. Add to that political overtones, German accents, and the ever-evolving vision of Sascha Konietzko, KMFMD’s founding member and front man, and you’d be hard pressed to find better music to lace up combat boots to. The live show is part Head Bangers Ball and part rave: a confluence of industrial beats, driving riffs, and performance art; the latter of which has diminished in recent years but continues to influence KMFDM’s endlessly mimicked aesthetic. (Berkmoyer)

With Army of the Universe, 16volt, and Human Factors Lab. 9 p.m., $14 Regency Ballroom 1300 Van Ness, SF (415) 673-5716 www.theregencyballroom.com

 

MUSIC

Low End Theory

Top billing for this stellar monthly has gone to Syd, one of OFWGKTA’s ancillary producers and (apparently) only female member. While that acronym brings out a contingent of hyped up little bros shouting “Swag!” until raw, tha Kyd has shown potential for a less posturing, honestly sexy sound on solo tracks. Next on this stacked deck are locals Secret Sidewalk, crafting beats live in a way reminiscent of the Glitch Mob. Also, Virtual Boy should be making a triumphant return (having killed at Public Works in the fall) and if you haven’t caught a set by regular the Gaslamp Killer (who DJs like a psychedelic Muppet come alive) you really should. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Mux Mool, Daddy Kev, DJ Nobody, D-Styles, and MC Nocando 10 p.m., $15 103 Harriet St., SF. www.1015.com

 

MUSIC

Think and Die Thinking Festival

Is San Jose finally . . . cool? The Bay Area’s largest city is held by many to also be its most boring: a suburban sprawl without the thriving radical-youth culture of it’s metropolitan neighbors. A close-knit community of D.I.Y. enthusiasts, however, is waging a battle to save their city’s soul and the Think and Die Thinking festival is as promising an opening sortie as any. The three-day festival will feature Grass Widow, Broken Water, Sourpatch, Brilliant Colors, and more as well as local arts, crafts, literature, and resources like the Billy DeFrank Center (which will receive some of the proceeds from the festival). Maybe one day soon, you’ll even want to live in San Jose. With an average daily temperature of 73 degrees and festivals like this one, who wouldn’t? (Berkmoyer)

With Grass Widow, Broken Water, Brilliant Colors, Sourpatch, and more Fri/5 — Sun/7, $7 — $10 Various locations, San Jose thinkanddiethinking.tumblr.com

 

SATURDAY 6

MUSIC

San Frandelic Summer Fest

Whatever you may find lacking in San Francisco, garage rock definitely isn’t going to be on that list. It makes sense that the city that gave the world the Mummies would be responsible for more lo-fi stripped down rocking than almost any other, although Oakland is fast overtaking SF in terms of the sheer volume of leather jackets and frayed jeans. San Frandelic Summer Fest is an opportunity for long hairs from both sides of the bay to join forces in bestowing fuzz, with acts such as Bare Wires and Nectarine Pie representing the East Bay, and Poor Sons and Outlaw, the west. The Groggs are coming all the way from Santa Cruz, and over ten bands is total will take part in the all day event. (Berkmoyer)

With Bare Wires, the Groggs, Nectarine Pie, Poor Sons, and more. 8 p.m., $10 Thee Parkside 1600 17th St., SF. www.theparkside.com

 

MUSIC

Kill Moi

San Francisco’s Kill Moi sets itself apart from other indie rock bands in the local and national scene with a mature mix of beautiful melodies, hypnotic rhythms, and a healthy sprinkling of trombone and trumpet accents. Led by Ryan Lambert, whose long musical journey not only includes a stint with local favorites Elephone, but reaches back all the way to his childhood, when he was a cast member on the ’80s TV show Kids Incorporated, Kill Moi celebrates the release of its brand new, debut full length album Hold Me, Motherfucker at tonight’s show. (Sean McCourt)

With Sioux City Kid and Tiny Television 10 p.m., $10 Bottom of the Hill 1833 17th St., SF. www.bottomofthehill.com

 

MUSIC

Big Business

There’s no mistaking the distinctive tones of Big Business. Drummer Coady Willis’ kit sounds like a shopping cart full of kitchenware careening down a stairwell. Singer-bassist Jared Warren sports an outraged yowl, like an otherwise mild-mannered man getting a mustard stain on his favorite t-shirt. Though Big Business added a guitarist, Toshi Kasai, in 2008, and then another, Scott Martin, in 2010, the six-string effect on the band is minimal. New EP Quadruple Single is still powered by bass, drums and vocals, although it may well be named in honor of the band’s new four-person line-up, which is referred to, hilariously, as a “power quartet.” No quibbling there — this band is powerful. (Ben Richardson)

With Torche, Thrones 9 p.m., $15 Slim’s 333 11th St., SF. www.slims-sf.com

 

MONDAY 8

COMEDY

“Comedy Returns to El Rio!”

You can’t beat a night out at El Rio: cheap drinks, a huge patio, douchebag-free crowds, and a huge range of affordable entertainment, from metal bands to queer DJ nights to burlesque performers. Tonight, hit up the Mission District venue for five comedians, including local favorites Joe Klocek, Nick Leonard, and host Lisa “Kung Pao Kosher” Geduldig, a prolific event producer who got her start telling jokes on El Rio’s stage over 20 years ago. Also in the mix are SF native Carla Clayy and new local Karinda Dobbins, whose bio explains she’s “fluent in three languages: English, Lesbian Lingo, and Corporate-Speak.” (Eddy)

8 p.m., $7–$20 El Rio 3158 Mission, SF. www.koshercomedy.com

 

TUESDAY 9

MUSIC

Imelda May

Although many of her American fans may have gotten their first live stateside glimpse at Irish chanteuse Imelda May on The Tonight Show last month, the dervish from Dublin has been rocking stages for well over a decade in the UK. Taking the sounds of traditional rockabilly and giving them an injection of her own infectious energy and style, May’s sultry and sumptuous voice can make listeners swoon at a ballad or jump to attention on the searing rockers that pepper her set. May comes to the city tonight in support of her latest album Mayhem — catch the rising star in an intimate setting while you still can. (McCourt)

With Dustin Chance and the Allnighters 8 p.m., $10 Independent 628 Divisadero, SF. www.independentsf.com

 

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A song and dance at City Hall

Sasha Cuttler And Mary Magee
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It was a lively scene on the steps of City Hall Aug. 2, as back-to-back press events featured live performances, lots of cheering, and support for new legislation that supporters hope will benefit low-wage workers, small businesses, and musicians.

Spirits were high at the Progressive Workers’ Alliance (PWA) rally, as organizers anticipated strong support for an ordinance they helped craft which aims to prevent wage theft by strengthening the powers of the city’s Office of Labor Standards & Enforcement (OLSE).

The Wage Theft Prevention Ordinance would double fees for employers who retaliate against employees seeking to have labor laws enforced, impose a timeline in which employee complaints must be addressed, and create new penalties for employers who fail to adhere to local labor standards. During the rally, workers speaking in various languages described their experiences of working long hours without receiving minimum wage or overtime pay.

Organized under PWA as part of a number of organizations including the Chinese Progressive Association, Young Workers United, the Filipino Community Center, the San Francisco Day Laborer’s Program, and others, the crowd of PWA members crammed into the Board Chambers and exploded into applause when the board voted unanimously to pass the ordinance on first reading.

Following a noon rally, youth with the Chinese Progressive Association’s high school program treated supporters and members of the press to a dance performance.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7CVb4K3tcw

Directly afterward, District 5 Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi appeared at the podium to drum up support for legislation he’d proposed to create a more affordable permit for cafes and restaurants wishing to host live performances in their establishments. He described it as a business-friendly idea that could “put musicians to work,” adding that more music in smaller venues could help dispel the notion that San Francsico isn’t as supportive of the arts as Chicago, Boston, New York, or even Paris. A preliminary survey found that some 700 restaurants could benefit from having access to less expensive live performance permits, he said.

Supervisors showed unanimous support for Mirkarimi’s idea, but Sups. David Chiu and Mark Farrell each added amendments to ensure that live performances couldn’t go past 10 p.m. in certain neighborhoods in their districts.

Mirkarimi invited Jazz Mafia to play a tune before the board meeting started. Here’s what they sounded like.

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

Videos by Rebecca Bowe

Mayor’s race a tight pack, but Gascón lags in DA’s contest

Sasha Cuttler
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Mayor’s race a tight pack, but Gascón lags in DA’s contest

Despite the hype and spin from various mayoral campaigns and newspapers, the big story in yesterday’s release of semi-annual campaign finance reports is that there isn’t much of a story: It’s pretty much what everyone has been expecting, a tight field of qualified mayoral candidates with comparable financial resources.

It was also no surprise that Progress for All, the deceptive committee behind the effort to draft Mayor Ed Lee into breaking his word and running to keep his job, was funded mostly by a narrow group of business interests connected to longtime power brokers Rose Pak and Willie Brown, mostly with $5,000 contributions, or 10 times the contribution limit for legitimate mayoral campaigns.

The real story in yesterday’s numbers was in the district attorney’s race where the conventional wisdom that incumbent George Gascón is the clear frontrunner (“wisdom” that we’ve always questioned given his lack of local roots) was cast into doubt by his lackluster fundraising, big spending for small results, and the fact that each of his two major challengers have twice as much money in the bank.

Alameda County prosecutor Sharmin Bock led the fundraising race this year with $240,337, about $6,000 more than Gascón. And after spending $156,916 in just six months, Gascón has just $77,570 in the bank. David Onek, who has been getting progressive support and retail campaigning up a storm, raised $126,386 this year, but his early start and frugal spending leaves him with $153,474 in the bank.

In the mayor’s race, while both the Chronicle and Examiner led with David Chiu’s impressive fundraising this year, leading the pack with almost $400,000, all that really did was put him into financial contention with the top-tier candidates who have been raising money since last year: Leland Yee, Dennis Herrera, Bevan Dufty, Joanna Rees, and Michela Alioto-Pier.

As of last month, their campaigns’ cash-on-hand was Herrera at $586,294, Dufty at $493,372, Yee at $444,820, Ress at $441,168, Alioto-Pier at $406,574, and Chiu at $396,754. On the next tier down, Phil Ting appears dead in the water, raising just $67,526 and having more debt than money in the bank, although his campaign consultant Eric Jaye said public funds are just starting to come in and the campaign is on track to meet its $300,000 fundraising goal.

Two other major candidates were also well behind the pack, but both are running with an outsiders’ appeal that should keep them in the running throughout the race. Tony Hall, a conservative with a strong independent appeal, raised $102,612, has $173,368, and will likely continue nipping at the heels of the mainstream pack.

And then there’s progressive favorite John Avalos, who has been running a visible, enthusiastic campaign with lots of volunteer support, although he raised just $86,882 this period and has about $100,000 in the bank (contrary the erroneous report in today’s Chronicle that he only had $500, apparently because the reporter looked at his supervisorial campaign report instead of his mayoral – whoops).

But Avalos supporter Chris Daly said the campaign has recently raised another $32,000 and is due to soon receive about $120,000 in matching funds, bringing them up to around $250,000. “That’s what [then-mayoral candidate Tom] Ammiano had in his entirety in ’99,” Daly said, noting that progressive mayoral favorites always get outspent and usually by margins greater than what Avalos now faces. “Our people don’t have as much money or city contracts.”

By contrast, Chiu has been raking in the dough this year, with lots of $500 contributions mostly from lawyers, bankers, developers, people with Chinese surnames, and employees of Google and other tech firms, with almost half of the contributions from out of town.

“We raised almost a hundred grand more than the closest competitor,” said Chiu campaign manager Nicole Derse. “We’re in a super strong position.”

In addition to the big money sources that usually gravitate to strong moderate candidates, Chiu also had some notable financial support from some progressive constituencies, including bicyclist activists (such as Gary Fisher, Dan Nguyen-Tan, Jason Henderson, architect David Baker, and MTA member Cheryl Brinkman), progressive activists Susan King and Amy Laitenen (Matt Gonzalez’s former board aide), and medical marijuana advocate Kevin Reed from Green Cross.

Jim Stearns, who is running the Yee and Bock campaigns, said the funding picture is about what he and others predicted would be the case given public financing (and its $1.475 million spending cap) and the large field of qualified candidates. “That’s the interesting thing about this race, it’s like the World Series of Poker with everyone getting the same stake,” he said. “This is unlike every other mayor’s race where there have been huge disparities in funding.”

Many political analysts privately fear that this dynamic, with nobody really pulling away from the pack of candidates, could encourage Lee to get into the race. But Stearns notes that Lee, despite the power of incumbency, will have a hard time catching up in fundraising and a huge target on his back because of breaking his word, the sleazy “Run Ed Run” campaign tactics, and just the fact that he would become the instant frontrunner.

“In the ranked choice voting scenario, if there’s someone who looks like he’s going to come in first, you don’t lose anything by attacking him because his second place votes aren’t going anywhere,” said Stearns, who said the current mayor’s race appears to be a game of inches. “It’s an infantry game rather than an air game, where the gains are slow and people are proceeding carefully.”

 

 

Moonhearts beam a hazy summer light on Total Trash Fest 3

Sue Vaughan
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Moonhearts beam a hazy summer light on Total Trash Fest 3

In the Wed/3 Guardian you can read the tale of Total Trash Fest 3, and what exactly it takes to be a trash band. Here I present another example of the Total Trash type: Moonhearts.

The band includes vocalist-bassist Mikal Cronin, who also has a solo album out — he’ll play two Trash Fest sets Sunday, August 28 (one with Moonhearts in the afternoon, and later that night by himself). On top of that, he occasionally tours with his friend, local garage rock wizard Ty Segall, who is in Traditional Fools, also set to play Total Trash. It’s a freaky web those trash types weave.

“We’ve played with a lot of those bands [in the fest] before,” Cronin says, adding with a laugh, “I guess we’re pretty trashy, but we try to keep it under control.”

But Moonhearts represents a newer side of trash, veering slightly away from the punk and more toward a dreamy California surf sound. (Don’t worry, the band definitely keeps up the noisy garage ethos of the genre.) It’s a modern, more distorted version of those psychedelic Nuggets box sets, which introduced a generation (whether it admits it or not) to bands like the Seeds and Strawberry Alarm Clock.

Some Moonhearts tracks, such as “I Said” off its eponymous 2010 album on Tic Tac Totally, evoke those bands more directly, while other songs veer toward a more straightforward Dick Dale and the Del-Tones style with the classic, wave-like reverb.

The trio grew up in Laguna Beach, Calif., discovering surfing first, and rock ‘n’ roll second. All three attended Laguna Beach High School and it was there that Cronin first met Segall. The pair started a band, a first for them both, which Cronin describes as a “Laguna Beach party band.”

After high school Cronin went away to college in Portland, Ore., but returned to the coastal Orange Country town in 2006 and started up Moonhearts. “Growing up, we were all obsessed with surf records, so [our music] seemed appropriate. We’ve never talked directly about it, but it seems to permeate everything we do.”

The band was originally called Charlie and the Moonhearts, after drummer Charlie Mootheart, the youngest member of the group, but it has since dropped the “Charlie.” In name only, though — Mootheart, who now lives in San Francisco, continues to play with Cronin and Moonhearts guitarist Roland Cosio, though they both live in Southern California. That’s about to change: Cronin and Cosio are planning to move to the Bay Area as soon as possible.

Moonhearts
With Pangea, King Lollipop, and Si Si Si
Aug. 28, 2 p.m., $7
Hemlock Tavern
1131 Polk, S.F.

Mikal Cronin
With Mouthbreathers, Cosmonauts
Aug. 28, 9 p.m., $7
Hemlock Tavern
1131 Polk, S.F.
www.hemlocktavern.com
Facebook: Total Trash Fest 3

Editorial: Step up to save CCA and take on PG&E

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Two things became abundantly clear at the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission meeting July 26th: The Community Choice Aggregation program is off track — and General Manager Ed Harrington has no interest in making in work. The supervisors need to move aggressively to save CCA.

Since 2007, when a draft implementation plan was released, the goals of the program — which is supposed to offer a cleaner alternative to Pacific Gas and Electric Co. — have shifted fairly dramatically. No longer does the plan seek to meet PG&E’s rates. No longer is it aimed at the entire city. And the PUC is putting most of its effort into a short-term contract to buy green power from Shell Energy North America — and all-but ignoring the more important moves to build a publicly owned energy-generation infrastructure.

CCA, which allows cities to buy power in bulk and resell it (along existing private utility lines) to customers, is a step in the right direction. The program now before the PUC would put San Francisco in the public power business — to a degree. But as the financial projections for the program demonstrate, the real savings and the real revenue won’t come until San Francisco replaces PG&E as the owner and operator of the local grid. A full-scale public power system would allow the city to both increase renewable power and cut rates — and would bring hundreds of millions into the treasury in the process (see “Mud Money,” 6/26/08).

Still, CCA offers many benefits — including the chance for the city to build local renewable energy facilities. And that’s where the PUC’s efforts ought to be focused.

During discussion of the proposed contract July 26th, Harrington was largely negative and talked repeatedly as if he didn’t think the original program could work. He kept saying that renewable power was more costly (true, today — but not after the city starts building its own facilities). He said that the goals the “advocates” (who include a majority of the Board of Supervisors) have demanded were unrealistic. And most of the commissioners seemed clueless.

That’s a terrible way to launch one of the most important environmental and financial initiatives in modern San Francisco history. Marin County is already well on the way to creating a working CCA system. Other counties are moving forward. And San Francisco, the only city in the nation with a federal mandate for public power, can’t get its civic act together.

The supervisors need to get involved, quickly. The Local Agency Formation Commission, which is overseeing this project, should haul Harrington in for a hearing as soon as possible. Among other things, the LAFCO members should ask why Harrington is so determined that the project won’t work; why his proposal is geared to a small number of residents and businesses who would face higher rates for power; and what his plans are to create a local energy generation infrastructure that over the long run would be dramatically cheaper and greener than anything PG&E will be able to offer.

The problems with CCA reflect the immense challenges of putting this program in the hands of a commission a majority of whose members were appointed by a mayor who opposed public power, managed by someone who has never supported municipalization efforts. Harrington and the SFPUC appear to be setting CCA up to fail. The supervisors need to step in before that happens.

 

Ethics Commission to discuss Progress for All

Sasha Cuttler And Mary Magee
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Ethics Commission to discuss Progress for All

San Francisco Chronicle reporter John Cote’s scoop highlighting how Recology executives were working behind the scenes under pressure from Chinatown power broker Rose Pak to encourage Mayor Ed Lee to seek a full term is just the latest development for a committee that’s raised eyebrows already, and it may be just the beginning.

Five mayoral candidates — board President David Chiu, City Attorney Dennis Herrera, state Sen. Leland Yee, former Supervisor Michela Alioto-Pier, and businesswoman Joanna Rees — have teamed up to encourage the San Francisco Ethics Commission to investigate whether Progress for All has run afoul of local election laws, rallying behind an effort spearheaded by Democratic County Central Committee Chair Aaron Peskin in a July 28 letter to commissioners.

At the heart of the issue is whether Lee or any of his representatives have been coordinating with agents of Progress for All. If they are, Progress for All would have to be considered Lee’s own, candidate-controlled committee, Peskin asserts in the letter.

“Given the close relationship between Ms. Pak, the Mayor, and Progress for All, it is very possible that the committee has ‘consulted’ or ‘coordinated’ with the Mayor, and therefore its expenditures should be deemed to be made ‘at his behest,'” Peskin’s letter to the Ethics Commission argues. A City Hall insider told the Guardian that Pak — a primary driver behind the Run, Ed, Run campaign — is regularly observed going to and from the mayor’s office.

“If Progress for All or any of these other committees has been acting on Mayor Lee’s behalf, those committees may have violated the $500 contribution limit and prohibitions against accepting corporate, union or city contractor money, restrictions that apply to all candidate committees,” the letter states.

Financial disclosure filings for committees fundraising for the Nov. 8 election are due Monday.

Aside from the question of whether there is coordination between Lee, who has not yet announced that he will run for mayor, and Progress for All, concerns have been raised about city contractors aiding in the efforts of the campaign. Under the city’s Campaign Finance Reform Ordinance, contractors doing business with the city are not allowed to make political contributions.

(Given the revelations that Recology executives’ signature gathering efforts were done in violation of company policy, it’s no wonder Recology executives become bashful when approached by reporters who ask tough questions.)

Meanwhile, Recology might not be the only city contractor that Pak has encouraged to support Run, Ed, Run. A column that former Mayor Willie Brown published recently in the San Francisco Chronicle suggests that this isn’t the first conversation of this kind.

“One thing you can say about Chinatown powerhouse Rose Pak, she is not shy,” Brown’s column begins. “Holding court at the party for the opening of the new airport terminal, Rose was seated at the table with interim Mayor Ed Lee and his wife, Anita, and a host of other local officials. ‘I want every one of you to call his office and tell him he should run for mayor,’ Rose told the table. ‘And do it right away so that there’s no misunderstanding.’ Then she turned to the architect David Gensler. ‘Didn’t you do this terminal?’ she asked. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you remodel this terminal before?’ ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Then your firm should raise a million dollars for his election campaign.'”

While Brown may not be a visible player in the Run, Ed, Run campaign, he’s certainly been at the table with a key driver behind it and Lee himself — and he’s using his platform in the Chronicle to get the word out about Lee’s potential mayoral campaign.

“The specific revelations of unethical and possibly illegal activity are very troubling and need to be fully investigated by the Ethics Commission as soon as possible,” Chiu told the Guardian.

Political consultant Jim Stearns, whose firm is managing Sen. Yee’s mayoral campaign, joined the chorus in calling for an investigation. “If you think about the fact that these guys still, according to press reports, are eating together once a week, and there’s not supposed to be any coordination … You have this committee that is essentially operating in complete disregard of the campaign law,” he said. “It’s sort of like there’s a crime being committed, and where’s the police?”

The San Francisco Ethics Commission will hold a policy discussion about how to treat Progress for All at its Aug. 8 meeting, Ethics director John St. Croix told the Guardian.

“We’ve told the committee that we believe they’re a primarily form committee, which is an independent expenditure committee on behalf of a candidate for office or a ballot measure,” St. Croix explained. “They’re claiming that there’s no candidate, so they can’t be that committee, even though they’re acting pretty much exactly like one would.”

As things stand, Progress for All has filed as a general purpose committee, he added. “A general purpose committee is what you would think of as a [political action committee]. They usually represent an organization or elected group of individuals, they tend to exist for a long period of time, and they contribute to multiple campaigns, whereas a primarily formed committee is created to support or oppose a single candidate or a single ballot measure in a single election,” he explained. Another key distinction: “Independent expenditure committees don’t have contribution limits the way that candidate committees do. Candidate committees have a $500-per-contributor contribution limit.”

Peskin, meanwhile, hinted that there may be more to come. “There’s a lot of it,” he said, “and I think there are many people who have stories to tell.”

Appetite: Plans of attack for SF Chefs

Andrew Lam
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SF Chefs year three starts this Monday, an event that has become San Francisco’s biggest food and drink showcase – our “food and wine classic”, if you will — utilizing much of the Bay Area’s best talent. (You can check out my coverage of the event from last year here).  

The event takes over Union Square for a week with events, classes, grand tastings, and nightly parties. There’s something magical about a tented Union Square, especially with the cable cars gliding by and tourists casually wondering what kind of fun is going on. After hours of tastings and music, one can walk to afterparties atop the Westin or other nearby locales, taking in the city lights until the wee hours with dancing and yes, more impeccable food and drink.

But with a week full of events, how does one begin to choose what to attend? I have covered a lot of ground every year I’ve attended and have some specific advice on what to make sure you don’t miss, depending on your preferences. Oh, and don’t forget to allow your stomach some recovery time.

If you’re a cocktail hound or celebrity chef follower

Don’t miss Friday night’s opening celebration and grand tasting (6:30-10 p.m.). Sure, the chef line-up is impressive. Everyone from Michael Mina to Tyler Florence will be there serving creative tastes of their food. There will be more food than you’ll ever be able to fit in one stomach, especially if you attempt to sample from the over 35 chefs who’ll be there.

On the cocktail front, you’ll work double-time to keep up with the amazing bartenders and bars represented as they shake up special event cocktails. There’s fine bartenders at many SF Chefs events, but Friday night particularly showcases a larger number of our city’s best bars in one place.

There’s also plenty of wine, beer, and spirits. You won’t suffer from choices. Chef Joey Altman and the Soul Peppers provide the live blues backdrop. Oh, did I mention that all tastes are unlimited with price of admission? That way you can keep going back for your favorites, if you do happen to pack stomach No. 2. 


If you want all this — and dancing too

Saturday night is another big shindig in “Union Square: Decadence After Dark” (7-10:30pm), again with over 35 chefs plus spirits, wine, beer, cocktails. Again, all unlimited. There will be dancing (if you’re still mobile) along with eats from chefs like David Bazirgan of Fifth Floor and Thomas McNaughton of flour + water.

Save room for the after parties. Friday night’s mayhem happens 10 p.m.-1 a.m. in private rooms at the City Club. With sponsors like Cigar Aficionado and Wente Vineyards, there’s cigars given out and Wente wines flowing along with cocktails, beer, chocolates, coffee, caviar, oysters, and desserts from Pastry Chef Leena Hung (The Restaurant at Wente Vineyards). Best of all, Hubert Keller will be stationed at the turntable. That man does everything.  

Saturday night offers a second afterparty option, this one hosted by Top Chef All-Stars winner Richard Blais and SF-based Skyy Spirits, the latter of whose portfolio includes beloved classics Campari and Wild Turkey, as well as the delightful Espolon Tequila. Chef Blais heads up a team of former Top Chef contestants (Fabio Viviani, Jen Biesty, Marisa Churchill, Mattin Noblia, Ryan Scott) for bites to go with cocktail creations by the Bon Vivants. There’s even more food from Dennis Lee (Namu) and Ryan Farr (4505 Meats) and music from Hot Pocket – a quintet comprised of members of the Best of the Bay winning group Bayonics – and DJ Dojah so you can dance it all off.

 

If you want demos, classes, and unlimited tastings 

There’s individual classes during the week, but for a full feast included, hit up the grand tasting tent all afternoon Saturday or Sunday. Both days feature food from over 30 big-name chefs like Hubert Keller and Elizabeth Faulkner. But there’s also ongoing demos from chefs like Martin Yan, NY’s Cesare Casella, Fabio Viviani, and Gary Danko, while cocktail experts such as H. Joseph Ehrmann and Charlotte Voisey school you on spirits and cocktails. Watch for a Negroni cart where top bartenders will mix you a classic negroni, a sbagliato (basically a sparkling negroni… with prosecco), or a negroni variation of your choice (even better, Campari is donating $200 per hour the cart is in operation to support USBG’s Bartenders Relief Fund).

 

If you want to get up close and personal

Choose from an array of classes, demos and meals taking place in the Westin for a more intimate focus than you’ll get in bustling Union Square during the Grand Tasting Tent and evening parties. You could watch Chris Cosentino (Incanto) and Elizabeth Falkner (Citizen Cake & Orson) take on Dominique Crenn (Atelier Crenn) and Russell Jackson (Lafitte) in a chef’s challenge. Maybe you want to attend a demo with Tyler Florence, a bartender’s cocktail breakfast, a Wine Spectator pinot noir panel, “Secrets of the Sommeliers” with Rajat Parr and Jordan Mackay, or a family cooking demo led by chefs Michael Mina, Craig Stoll (Delfina), Gerald Hirigoyen (Piperade), and their kids.

Another winning night last year was Thursday’s ‘Sugar and Spice” party. Smaller than Union Square events, tastes cover palate extremes, while cocktails from key bartenders and local wineries are featured. The line-up is strong (including Hoss Zaré of Zaré at Flytrap and Mourad Lahlou of Aziza), but it’s manageable and memorable in the stunning mezzanine ballroom of the Westin.

 

SF Chefs

Mon/1-Sun/7, $25-150

Various SF venues

www.sfchefs2011.com

 

— Subscribe to Virgina’s twice monthly newsletter, The Perfect Spot

 

Enviro justice groups spar with SFPUC on power program

Sasha Cuttler And Mary Magee
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A Pew Research Center analysis based on the latest U.S. Census data has found that Latino and African American households weathered deeper blows in the economic recession, driving the wealth gap between whites and minorities to an historic high. As things stand under current economic conditions, the Washington Post reports, the median net worth of a white family is now 20 times that of a black family, and 18 times that of a Latino family — roughly twice the gap that existed before the recession, and the biggest gap ever since 1984.

Meanwhile, a report issued yesterday by the Natural Resources Defense Council hit on another alarming trend, outlining the water-related challenges coastal cities will face as climate change takes its toll. The report highlights sea level rise, land erosion, saltwater intrusion, flooding, impacts to fisheries, and more frequent and intense storm events. (That’s to say nothing of wildfires.)

In San Francisco, a small group of environmental justice advocates has been working for the better part of a decade to help craft a municipal energy program with the aim of turning the tide, at least on a small local scale, to promote greater economic equality and fend off the worst impacts of climate change. Advocates from groups such as Global Exchange, the Local Clean Energy Alliance, the Sierra Club, the Brightline Defense Project, the San Francisco Green Party, and others have long envisioned CleanPower SF as a way to bolster local job creation, particularly for people who reside in the city’s low-income neighborhoods. The twin goal of CleanPower SF, also known as community choice aggregation (CCA), is to launch a local response to climate change by offering San Franciscans the option of purchasing clean electricity generated from local, renewable energy sources such as wind and solar.

At a July 26 meeting of the San Francisco Public Utilities Commission (SFPUC) in City Hall, however, it became clear that this overarching vision for the program wasn’t gaining traction with the agency that is tasked with implementing it. As the program inches closer to a review by the Board of Supervisors, advocates have reached an impasse with SFPUC staff as to how the whole endeavor should proceed.

Grassroots advocates raised concerns that the latest proposal for CleanPower SF amounted to a setup for failure, unless there was a concerted effort to plan for robust development of local green-energy sources. While SFPUC staff indicated that the current proposal would result in new jobs at call centers, advocates said more needed to be done to plan for installing local energy-generating sources which could truly bolster local job creation.

Yet SFPUC General Manager Ed Harrington said that what the advocates were asking for wasn’t realistic. He dismissed the original vision for CCA, articulated in a 2007 board-approved ordinance, as “not a realistic goal.” And he spoke in a condescending tone about the grassroots stakeholders, saying, “People saw that they would like green power to be cheaper, and therefore they believed that it was.”

Under the proposal that the SFPUC described to commissioners July 26, monthly electricity rates under CleanPower SF would be at least $7 more than estimated PG&E rates. That’s a key difference from the original draft implementation plan, hammered out in 2007, to “meet or beat” rates offered by the investor-owned utility.

The new proposal has also been scaled down considerably since 2007. As planned, CleanPower SF would contract with Shell Energy North America to begin offering 30 megawatts of 100 percent green power to just 75,000 municipal customers by the spring of 2012. That’s assuming most of the 229,000 residential account holders who will initially be enrolled will opt out; and SFPUC media relations representative Charles Sheehan noted that the full customer base would eventually roll up to the original goal of 340,000 customers. Still, the target at the outset represents just a fraction of the 360 megawatts of power for 340,000 customers originally called for, with a 51 percent renewable energy mix. Under this new scheme, electricity would be purchased through Shell on the open market, with long-term plans to develop local sources but no solid short-term goals for achieving that end.

SFPUC Commissoner Francesca Vietor asserted that SFPUC staff should continue working closely with the grassroots stakeholders and find a way to seriously plan for building local renewable sources, which could ultimately serve to drive municipal rates down and make the program more viable and competitive. “I think local build-out is a really exciting and important opportunity, and a critical piece of the CCA program,” she said.

Commissioners continued the decision on whether to approve parameters for a term sheet and submit it to the full board, pushing the discussion back until September unless a special meeting is called. Several commissioners raised concerns about the financial risk to the city, since the program would have higher rates than PG&E and is designed in such a way that a bulk of power would have to be purchased up front before the agency can determine how many customers will opt out.

“I was actually glad to hear a lot of commissioners raise a lot of concerns, especially about the financials,” Eric Brooks, a long-time CCA advocate speaking on behalf of the Green Party and an organization called Our City, told commissioners. “The more of a local build-out … the lower your price, and the lower you can get in terms of the risks.”

June Brashares, green energy director at Global Exchange, echoed Brooks’ comments in a telephone interview with the Guardian. “The proposal they’re doing now is really vulnerable,” because the higher rates will make the alternative power program less competitive, she said. “The whole reason for CCA — yes, we want cleaner energy — but the real key is the building of local energy sources to create an economic boost, and local green careers. And that’s not at the core of what the SFPUC is doing.”

This article has been corrected from an earlier version.

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST LIQUOR LOWDOWN

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Why is it that we like to read about food and drink so much on the Web? In no other Internet area, except maybe porn, is the meeting of the weightlessly virtual and the essentially physical so addictively fruitful. And while crackerjack local liquor expert Camper English’s Alcademics site doesn’t tear off your panties with glossy cocktail shots, his entertainingly detailed descriptions of the latest drool-worthy liquors will have you practically licking your screen. Over the past four years — besides visiting more than 70 distilleries, blending houses, and bodegas in 14 countries — Alcademics has helped refine the Bay Area’s cocktail-blogging niche with some much-needed worldliness and a willingness to look deeper at what’s in our highball. (English’s degree in physics helps here.) We’ve said it before: you really can drink to feel smarter!

www.alcademics.com

BEST OF THE BAY 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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BEST OF THE BAY 2011

Welcome to the Guardian’s Best of the Bay 2011! This is our 37th annual celebration of the people, places, and things that make living here such a great experience — from Best Burrito and Best Local Band to Best Strip Club, Best Shoe Store, Best Drag Queen, and beyond.

More than 15,000 of our readers voted in our 2011 Best of the Bay Readers Poll for their favorites in more than 200 categories. You’ll find the results inside — as well as 150 Editors Picks that highlight some Guardian favorites, old and new, that we think deserve special recognition for lighting up our lives this year. 

Our theme for 2011 is “Beautiful Rebels” — and inside this year’s Best of the Bay, we’ve highlighted eight of our favorite “beautiful rebels” who we think are helping change the Bay Area for the better.  Throughout its history, the Bay Area has attracted wave upon wave of people looking to create something unique. From Barbary Coast explorers to Belle Epoque, Jazz Age, and Beatnik free spirits, from hippies and queer and civil rights pioneers to tattooed 1990s swing kids and Burning Man visionaries, to today’s global tech innovators and their DIY, local, organic, small-batch counterparts. 

We seem to be living in a time when a certain conservatism and conformity reigns, when speaking out gets you pilloried in the comments section and big-box consumerism squeezes out charming idiosyncrasies. That’s why we wanted to take this Best of the Bay opportunity to celebrate the Bay Area’s proud perseverance in remaining the weirdest, oddest, most interesting and rewarding place in the world, somewhere where “freak” is a compliment and “out there” equals “gorgeous.”

In 1974, Esquire magazine asked us for ideas for its Best of the USA issue, which led to us publish the original Best of the Bay. Made by the people of the Bay Area for the people of the Bay Area, it’s our annual opportunity to celebrate the people and places that make this city great. We were the first weekly paper to publish a regular “best of” issue. Thirty-seven years on — and 45 years after we opened our doors — we’re still going strong.

Editing this year’s installment was a hoot. I shower grateful smooches on all my collaborators, especially my right-hand amiga Caitlin Donohue, creative wiz Mirissa Neff, amazing illustrator Renee Castro, photographer Ben Hopfer, the Guardian staff, and the ever-supportive Hunky Beau, my own personal Best of the Bay.

But most of all I thank you, dear reader, for your generous participation, for making the Bay Area such an astounding place to live, and for turning us on to some great new things this year.

Marke B.,

Best of the Bay 2011 co-editor

 

ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

Like the Guardian, Renee “Lady Reni” Castro is native to the Bay Area — really. Born in Oakland, Castro’s heritage stems from the Ohlone Native American tribe. (You can’t get more local than that.) Her background serves as inspiration for much of her art, especially her subjects’ clothing and their deeply-rooted connections to the natural world. Her other influences for her illustrations in this year’s “Beautiful Rebels”-themed Best of the Bay include Mexican and Spanish folklore, broken-hearted femmes fatales, disheveled muses, and erotic heroines. Castro’s current projects include commissions for SF companies the Loin and Peasants and Travelers, shows in local galleries, plus an apprenticeship at Amor Eterno Tattoo in Oakland, where you’re welcome to drop by and see her.

 

 

 

BEST OF THE BAY STAFF

BEST OF THE BAY EDITORS

Marke B., Caitlin Donohue

CREATIVE DIRECTOR

Mirissa Neff

ASSISTANT ART DIRECTOR

Ben Hopfer

ILLUSTRATOR

Renee Castro

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

Jackie Andrews, Emily Appelbaum, Rebecca Bowe, Richard Boyce, Kimberly Chun, Angelina Cravich Cheryl Eddy, Nicole Gluckstern, Sean Hurd, Steven T. Jones, Heather Mack, Virginia Miller, Carly Nairn, Sarah Phelan, Julie Potter, Tim Redmond, Paul Reidinger, Kat Renz, Charles Russo, Amber Schadewald, Ariel Soto-Suver, Diane Sussman, Hannah Tepper, Christopher Trenchard

BEST OF THE BAY PHOTOGRAPHY

Francesca Balaguer, Stephen Heraldo, Ben Hopfer, Eric Lynch, Virginia Miller, Ariel Soto-Suver

COPY EDITORS

Emily Appelbaum, Diane Sussman

Film Listings

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Peter Galvin, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock. Due to early Best of the Bay issue deadlines, theater information was incomplete at presstime.

SAN FRANCISCO JEWISH FILM FESTIVAL

The 31st San Francisco Jewish Film Festival runs through August 8 at the Castro, 429 Castro, SF; Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center, 1119 Fourth St., San Rafael; Jewish Community Center of San Francisco, 3200 California, SF; Oshman Jewish Community Center, 3921 Fabian Way, Palo Alto; and Roda Theatre at Berkeley Rep, 2025 Addison, Berk. For tickets (most shows $12) and a full schedule, visit www.sfjff.org.

OPENING

Another Earth After serving a prison sentence for a youthful drunk-driving incident that killed two passengers in another car, Rhoda (Brit Marling) emerges no longer a blithe party girl but a haunted loner who prefers working as a high school janitor. Obsessed by her crime, she starts spying on the man it had left widowed and childless, a onetime composer (William Mapother) who like her has retreated into a solitary shell of depression. She finds a way to integrate herself (without revealing her identity) into his threadbare current existence, the two of them bonding over fascination with a newly discovered planet that appears the exact duplicate of Earth — complete with the possibility of our doubles living a parallel existence there. You can take Mike Cahill’s modestly scaled U.S. indie feature (cowritten with actor Marling) as a familiar drama about grief and repentance with a novel gloss of sci-fi, or as a sci-fi story with unusual attention to character emotions and almost no need of fantasy FX. Either way, it’s earnest, well-acted and interesting if not quite memorable; as has been noted elsewhere, the material could have fit just as effectively into a half-hour Twilight Zone episode. (1:32) (Harvey)

*Attack the Block The Goonies go to a South London projects, with more gore, guts, and gumption? With good reason, writer, director, and Edgar Wright/Simon Pegg cohort Joe Cornish’s own project, Attack the Block, has been getting raves at fests for its effortless, energetic originality, discernible through its thick, glottal stop-chomping, Jafaican-draped local brogue. The question posed, ever so entertainingly: what happens when you pit the toughest kids on the block against a ferocious pack of outer-space critters — not quite out to serve man but rather sever him limb from limb? We start out seeing this gang of at-risk, risk-taking youth through the peepers of a vulnerable female mugging victim and neighbor, Sam (Jodie Whittaker)—they seem as scary as any alien invader and she wants to bring down the full force of the law on them. But the pack, led by Moses (John Boyega, who charismatically scowls like a young 50 Cent), has more pressing matters at hand: a mysterious creature has come crashing down from out of the sky, and naturally, being nasty terrors, they kill it, bringing down a intergalactic shit storm of trouble. Their favorite refuge: the top-floor weed room overseen by Ron (Pegg sidekick Nick Frost), where they attempt to suss out why they’ve become the prime prey for wolfish aliens out for blood. Throw in chills, bike chases, a resourceful use of elevators and dumpsters, and an epic, eerie dubstep theme by Basement Jaxx, and you have a very fun horror-thriller that declines to preach but manages to bring home a message reminiscent of Night of the Living Dead (1968). Consider this a whole-hearted, double-fisted antidote to the fearful vigilantism of films like 2009’s Harry Brown. (1:28) (Chun)

Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff See review at www.sfbg.com. (1:30) Balboa.

Cowboys and Aliens Daniel Craig and Harrison Ford star in Jon Favreau’s sci-fi Western. (runtime not available)

Crazy, Stupid, Love Keep the poster’s allusion to 1967’s The Graduate to one side: there aren’t many revelations about midlife crises in this cleverly penned yet strangely flat ensemble rom-com, awkwardly pitched at almost every demographic at the cineplex. There’s the middle-aged romance that’s withered at the vine: nice but boring family man Cal (Steve Carell) finds himself at a hopeless loss when wife and onetime teenage sweetheart Emily (Julianne Moore) tells him she wants a divorce and she’s slept with a coworker (Kevin Bacon). He ends up waxing pathetic at a slick nightclub where he catches the eye of the well-dressed, spray-tanned smoothie Jacob (Ryan Gosling), who appears to have taken his ladies man stance from the Clooney playbook. It’s manly makeover time: GQ meets Pretty Woman (1990)! Cut to Cal and Emily’s babysitter Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who is crushing out on Cal, while the separated couple’s tween Robbie (Jonah Bobo) hankers for Jessica. Somehow Josh Groban worms his way into the mix as the dullard suitor of Hannah (Emma Stone) in a hanging chad of a storyline that must somehow be resolved in this mad, mad, mad, mad — actually, the problem with Crazy Stupid Love is that it isn’t really that mad or crazy. It tries far too hard to please everybody in the theater to its detriment, reminding the viewer of a tidy, episodic TV series (albeit a quality effort) like Modern Family more than an actual film. Likewise I yearned for a way to fast-forward through the too-cute Jessica-Robbie scenes in order to get back to the sleazy-smart, punchy complexity of Gosling, playing adeptly off both Carrell and Stone. (1:58) (Chun)

Gunless Action comedy about an American cowboy flummoxed by the ways of the Canadian frontier. (1:29)

A Little Help Jenna Fischer stars as a frazzled single mom in this indie comedy. (1:48)

*The Names of Love Arthur (Jacques Gamblin) is a 40-ish scientist being interviewed about the threat of a bird flu epidemic when his radio broadcast is interrupted by 20-something Baya (Sara Forestier), who denounces him on-air as a “fascist” for frightening the public. But then, Baya tends to use that label rather indiscriminately, applying it to anyone who might conceivably have views to the right of the dial — and Arthur is in fact a solid liberal, which means she can bed him for love. As opposed to the many, many other men she beds as a self-described “political whore,” seeking out conservative types in order to seduce them and hopefully induce an idealogical shift by whispering sweet nothings (“Not all Arabs are thieves,” etc.) as they orgasm. Raised by parents whose emotions are so tightly wound his mother won’t acknowledge her parents were Jews killed at Auschwitz, Arthur has a hard time adjusting to a relationship with a lover who is faithful emotionally but sees promiscuity as her propagandic gift to the world. Meanwhile Baya’s largely Algerian family treats garrulous political argument as the very air they breathe. This odd-couple story written by Baya Kasmi and director Michel Leclerc deals with serious issues in both humorous and respectful fashion, making for one of the more novel, delightful and depthed French romantic comedies in a long time. Added plus: lots of antic gratuitous nudity. (1:42) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

*NEDs There is bleak, and there is Scottish bleak. Weighed down by class and roundly ignored by apathetic institutions, the non-educated delinquent is the star of writer-director Peter Mullan’s wrenching but delightful NEDS (2010), a dark and curiously fanciful tale of youth in the housing estates of 1970s Glasgow. John McGill (Conor McCarron) is a bright and talented student with high hopes for a future at university until abuse by peers and teachers alike leads him down the well worn path of drinking, fighting, and gang life with the Young Car-Ds, his older brother Benny’s (Joe Szula) crew. The quiet John can’t escape the tide of history that society has set him upon and soon he’s joined the fray, abandoning his academic promise for a life of Doc Martens and concealed blades. As J. McGill so eloquently explains: “Youse want a NED? I’ll gie youse a fucking NED!” (2:03) Balboa. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

The Smurfs in 3D You’re welcome, world! Love, America. (1:43)

The Tree A dead man talks to his bereaved family through a fig tree in French director Julie Bertuccelli’s The Tree. In spite of this heavy-handed premise, the film never does what you expect it to. Amid the stark, savage countryside of Australia, Dawn (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and her four kids try to live life without their husband and father. But this proves an especially thorny endeavor since the tree in question seems to be a stubborn, invasive version of him. As in Lars von Trier’s Antichrist (2009), Gainsbourg embodies the role of grieving woman in another overflowingly open performance. Thankfully for us, this time she stays away from the scissors. The sweeping cinematography by Nigel Bluck is lovely to look at, and the young Morgana Davies is inspiring as Dawn’s 8-year-old daughter, Simone. Unlike that other magical realist Tree movie this summer, Bertuccelli’s film can at least be credited for being entirely unpretentious and kind of sweet. (1:40) (Ryan Lattanzio)

*World on a Wire The words “Rainer Werner Fasbinder” and “science fiction film” are enough to get certain film buffs salivating, but the Euro-trashy interior décor is almost reason enough to see this restored print of the New German Cinema master’s cyber thriller. Originally a two-part TV miniseries, World on a Wire is set in an alternate present (then 1973) in which everything seems to be made of concrete, mirror, Lucite, or orange plastic. When the inventor of a supercomputer responsible for generating an artificial world mysteriously disappears, his handsome predecessor must fight against his corporate bosses to find out what really happened, and in the process, stumbles upon a far more shattering secret about the nature of reality itself. Riffing off the understated cool of Godard’s Alphaville (1965) while beating 1999’s The Matrix to the punch by some 25 years, World on a Wire is a stylistically singular entry in Fassbinder’s prolific filmography. (3:32) Roxie. (Sussman)

ONGOING

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

Beats, Rhymes & Life Actor Michael Rapaport probably didn’t set out to make a hip-hop Metallica: Some Kind of Monster (2004), but that’s pretty much where his portrait of A Tribe Called Quest ends up. The first half of Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest is predictably worshipful, slathering on low angles and slow motion to cover mediocre live shows. More effectively, Rapaport traces the Queens group’s brief incubation period and subsequent breakthroughs in what would later be called alternative or, more obnoxiously, conscious hip-hop. A slew of notable followers and contemporaries toast Tribe’s first three albums, but by the time Rapaport catches up to the group’s 2008 reunion even their longtime friends De La Soul are wishing they’d call the whole thing off. The documentary slides into the Monster zone of hurt feelings and passive aggressive behavior in accounting for the group’s split after their inappropriately named 1998 album, The Love Movement. Phife Dawg and Q-Tip are the warring egos, though perennially slighted Phife is really no match for the imperially cool Tip. DJ Ali Shaheed Muhammad is the Kirk Hammett of the outfit, looking on helplessly as the two bigger personalities make a mess of things. There’s still novelty in a story about aging in hip-hop, but Rapaport’s portrait is utterly conventional. He also doesn’t pursue more interesting questions of race and politics that naturally follow the band’s crossover appeal. (1:38) (Goldberg)

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

A Better Life (1:38)

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

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

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

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

Captain America: The First Avenger OK, Marvel. I could get behind 2008’s Iron Man (last year’s Iron Man 2, not so much), but after Thor and now Captain America, I’m starting to get cynical about this multi-year build-up to the full-on Avengers movie, due in May 2012. Can even a superhero-stuffed movie directed by Joss Whedon live up to all this hype? There’s plenty of time to ponder, and maybe worry a little, with Captain America’s backstory-explaining picture now in theaters. Chris Evans stars as the 90-pound weakling who morphs into a supersoldier, thanks to the World War II-era tinkerings of a scientist (Stanley Tucci) and an inventor (Dominic Cooper as Howard Stark, a.k.a. Iron Man’s dad). The original plan for the musclebound shield-bearer (fighting Nazis, natch) gets waylaid a bit when the newly famous Captain America becomes a PR prop for the U.S. government; it’s abandoned entirely when a worse-than-Hitler foe, in the guise of power-obsessed Red Skull (Hugo Weaving), threatens the world. Directed by Spielberg cohort Joe Johnston, Captain America is gee-whiz enjoyable enough, but it’s very nearly the same movie as Thor, which no amount of Tommy Lee Jones (as a sarcastic army colonel) wisecracks can conceal. And here’s an anti-spoiler: there’s no post-credits surprise in this one, so you can bolt as soon as they start to roll. (2:09) (Eddy)

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

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

Empire of Silver Love, not money, is at the core of Empire of Silver — that’s the M.O. of a Shanxi banking family’s libertine third son, or “Third Master” (Aaron Kwok) in this epic tug-of-war between Confucian duty and free will. The Third Master pines for his true love, his stepmother (Hao Lei), yet change is going off all around the star-crossed couple in China at the end of the 19th century and the start of the 20th, and the youthful scion ends up pouring his passion into the family business, attempting to tread his own path, apart from his Machiavellian father (Tielin Zhang). Much like her protagonist, however, director (and Stanford alum) Christina Yao seems more besotted with romance than finance, bathing those scenes with the love light and sensual hues reminiscent of Zhang Yimou’s early movies. Though Yao handles the widescreen crowd scenes with aplomb, her chosen focus on money, rather than honey, leaches the action of its emotional charge. It doesn’t help that, on the heels of the Great Recession, it’s unlikely that anyone buys the idea of a financial industry with ironclad integrity — or gives a flying yuan about the lives of bankers. (1:52) (Chun)

*Friends With Benefits If you see only one romantic comedy this summer about a sex-sans-pair-bonding pact between a girl and a guy saddled with intimacy issues — well, chances are, if you tend to see movies with premises like this, you probably already saw No Strings Attached. In which case, poor unlucky Friends with Benefits may be filed away in your brain as that other movie about fuckbuddies, the one in which Ashton Kutcher is played by Justin Timberlake and Natalie Portman (in a slightly eerie cosmic echo of last year’s Black Swan) is played by Mila Kunis. But if you see two such movies this summer, and admit it, you probably might, you’ll likely agree that FWB kicks NSA‘s booty call, particularly in the areas of scriptwriting ingenuity, pacing, and the casting subcategory of basic chemistry between romantic leads, with points possibly taken off for shark-jumping use of flash mobs and the fact that the maddeningly sticky song “Closing Time” will now be with you from closing credits ’til doomsday. This is not a searing, psychologically nuanced portrayal of two young people’s struggles to grapple with modern-day sexual mores and their own crippling pathologies — rather, the pair’s emotional baggage mostly seems to be stuffed with packing peanuts, and scenes in which they catalog their sexual proclivities in a humorously businesslike, gently raunchy fashion reveal them to be hearteningly adept at the art of communication. But such moments keep us entertained as the film, salted with light jabs at the genre’s worn-down touchstones yet utterly complicit, depicts the inevitable stages of a non-relationship relationship. (1:44) (Rapoport)

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

*Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 Chances are you aren’t going to jump into the Harry Potter series with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. So while the movie is probably the best Harry Potter film yet, it’s more a fitting conclusion than a standalone film. For fans of the books, there are no real surprises — this is a close adaptation. And for those Harry Potter movie fans who haven’t read the books, shame on you, and kudos if you managed to not get spoiled. It’s hard for me to offer a serious critical analysis of Part 2, because it represents the end of a long and very emotional journey. (Everyone in that audience was crying. Everyone.) I will say that, as was the case in the book, there are a few overdone, schmaltzy moments that aren’t really necessary. But in the context of the series, they’re forgivable — this may not be the great cinematic event of our generation, but Harry Potter as a whole is sure to be one of our most enduring cultural icons. (2:10) (Peitzman)

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

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

Life, Above All It’s tough enough to simply grow up, let alone care for a parent with AIDS and deal with the suspicions and fears of the no-nothing adults all around you. Rising above easy preaching and hand-wringing didacticism, Life, Above All takes as its blueprint the 2004 best-seller by Allan Stratton, Chandra’s Secrets, and makes compelling work of the story of 12-year-old Chandra (Khomotso Manyaka) and her unfortunate family, unable to get effective help amid the thicket of ignorance regarding AIDS in Africa. After her newborn sister dies, Chandra finds her loyalty torn between her bright-eyed best friend Esther (Keaobaka Makanyane), who’s rumored to hooking among the truck drivers in their dusty, sun-scorched rural South African hometown, and her mother (Lerato Mvelase), who listens far too closely to her bourgie friend Mrs. Tafa (an OTT Harriet Manamela), for her own good. Cape Town native director Oliver Schmitz sticks close to the action playing across his actors’ faces, and he’s rewarded, particularly by the graceful Manyaka, in this life-affirmer about little girls forced to shoulder heart-breaking responsibility far too soon. (1:46) (Chun)

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

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

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

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

*Rapt Colder than cool — and pokerfaced in its perusal of all the angles — this hostage thriller takes as its starting point the real-life 1978 kidnapping of Belgian aristo Baron Edouard-Jean Empain. Slick industrialist Stanislas Graff (Yvan Attal) is smoothly going through the motions of life — preparing for a sojourn to China alongside heads of state, swinging through his gambling den, indulging in an afternoon tryst with a mistress, then heading home to make fatherly noises for the family. Graff’s seamless, impressively precise kidnapping effectively cock-blocks the routine. Fifty million euros is the ransom, and the kidnappers quickly, brutally demonstrate that they mean bidness. Filmmaker Lucas Belvaux tests the tension at home, in the boardroom, among law enforcement, while the ugly details of Graff’s day-to-day life are laid bare by the French tabloids, much like dismembered body parts — and giving off a whiff of the hypocrisies surrounding ex-IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn. More often behind the camera than before it, Attal offers what might be his best performance as the entitled scion reduced to a cowering bag of bones and scar tissue. He’s well-matched by Anne Consigny as his shell-shocked spouse and Alex Descas as his lawyer, as Belvaux efficiently delivers his core query with almost zero melodrama: who’s the more brutal player in this high-stakes game — the so-called terrorists or the cutthroat captains of industry? (2:05) (Chun)

*Road to Nowhere “Legendary” is a term often applied to artists distinguished by either ubiquity or scarcity. Monte Hellman (1971’s Two-Lane Blacktop) definitely falls in the second camp — nearly 80, he’s just made his first feature in 22 years, causing a flurry of interest in the sparse 10 he made during the prior three decades he was, relatively speaking, active — movies hardly anyone saw when they came out since none were more than a blip on the commercial radar. Hellman’s career has largely been off the map — as a director and editor for hire, often fixing problems (like directors who die mid-production) without screen credit. Whether Road to Nowhere qualifies as summary statement or aberration has already divided viewers since its Venice premiere last fall. It’s a hall of mirrors in which a hotshot filmmaker (Tygh Runyan) making a movie about a woman’s apparent real-life murder casts an alluring non-actress (Shannyn Sossamon) whom an insurance investigator (Waylon Payne) and reporter (Dominique Swain) come to suspect might be playing herself — having faked her own death and adopted a new identity. The mix of noir, reality-illusion puzzle, industry in-jokes, film history name-dropping (as well as archival clips), uneven performances, sometimes stilted dialogue, brief startling violence, and handsome compositions (shot without permits on a hand-held digital camera) can be taken as two hours of delicious gamesmanship or exasperating self-indulgence. But no one can argue that by now Hellman hasn’t earned his right to be difficult. (2:02) Roxie, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Winnie the Pooh (1:09)<\!s>2

 

Our Weekly Picks: July 27-August 2, 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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THURSDAY 28

FILM

“Marker XC: Three Times Thirty”

Chris Marker is a little older than his nouvelle vague contemporaries, though you wouldn’t know it from his fugitive art. His work is not a career but a universe, one that continues to expand like our own cosmos; at 90, the cat is still grinning. A few minutes of homework on the Internet turns up some of his latest illuminations, but this special birthday tribute focuses on three short films made in years sandwiching 1968, a revolutionary epoch Marker has spent a lifetime observing in quicksilver pasts and futures. Following Marker’s lead, the screening is free. (Max Goldberg)

7:30 p.m., free

McBean Theatre

Exploratorium

3601 Lyon, SF

415-561-0360

www.exploratorium.edu

 

MUSIC

Fresh Greens

They don’t play Equipto and Mike Marshall’s new booze banger “I Drink Fernet” in SF bars enough. C’mon city — the hook’s stuck in our gray matter all day and when we’re ready to order a beer and a shot of the herbal stuff, we wanna hear our jam. This is not going to be a problem at this week’s installation of Fresh Greens, Showdown’s hip-hop and bass night with DJs Mr. Lucky and Doc Fu. The duo has invited DJ Pause, progenitor of said Fernet anthem, to spin that night — and they’ve coordinated with Fernet Branca to the end that there will be drink giveaways galore. (Caitlin Donohue)

10 p.m.–2 a.m., free

Showdown

10 Sixth St., SF

(415) 503-0684

www.showdownsf.com

 

FRIDAY 29

MUSIC

Steve Arrington

In one of those head-scratching retro confluences that have been popping up on dance floors lately, two quite different soul-stomping records featuring Steve Arrington — his Wonder-full 1985 “Dancing in the Key of Life” solo release and the 1979 “Just a Touch of Love,” recorded with his classic disco-funk outfit Slave — have become local club hits again. Arrington’s in the air: the smooth-voiced Ohioan is working on a new album with steamy L.A. squelch-funk revivalist Dâm-Funk. And now here he comes live, helping to celebrate the third anniversary of retro-fun and “contemporary boogie” party Sweaterfunk. Sweat or funk? You’ll do both. (Marke B.)

9 p.m.–3 a.m., $15

Som.

2925 16th St., SF

www.stevearringtonsf.eventbrite.com

 

MUSIC

“Playback: AudioBus”

Every few years, the Soundwave festival inundates the Bay Area with adventurous sonic experiences, like watching tiny solar-powered speakers bloom like flowers on Civic Center trees, or hearing a concrete bunker in Marin reverberate with waves of bass. Missed last year’s Soundwave? The Playback series is giving your experiment-hungry ears another chance. This week, hop aboard the double-decker AudioBus (equipped with state-of-the-art Sennheiser headphones) and explore live music scores “routed to the scenery around you.” Music plus motion equals magic. Bay Area scratch guitarist the Genie guides you audibly through the Mission on Friday; Christopher Willets, who creates “patterns of vibrations with sound and light” takes over Saturday with a trip through Golden Gate Park. (Marke B.)

Fri/29–Sat/30, 7 p.m., $20–$200

Various locations, SF

www.me-di-ate.net

 

MUSIC

Mean Jeans

“This song is about the economy. It’s called: what the fuck is a 401(k)?!?!” The members of Mean Jeans wax philosophical about lots of things, but mostly they stick to partying and its many and varied intricacies. If you think punk has gotten too cerebral over the years and/or are able to argue with authority and aplomb the ups and downs of the different beers you can buy with pocket change, then Mean Jeans is the band for you. They’re the Ramones on speed, a raging house party manifest as a three piece from Portland, Ore. Pogo to your hearts content, just don’t tell them or the crowd to chill out and take it easy. It’s a punk show, you wimp — have some fun. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

With Black Jaspers, Guantanamo Baywatch, and Teutonics

9 p.m., $10

Thee Parkside

1600 17th St., SF

(415) 252-1330

www.theeparkside.com

 

PERFORMANCE

“Work MORE!”

Eleven drag queens, 165 costume changes, 60 minutes: put it all together and what do you get? One hell of a rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Kidding! (Kinda.) You get one of the most ambitious hours of deconstructed gender illusionism you’re likely to see in a while. “Work MORE!,” the brainchild of local firebrand VivvyAnne ForeverMORE!, has been a thrilling series of performances that dramatizes the art of drag by blending performance, storytelling, set design, music, and various challenges reminiscent of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Drag World. This installment, running for two nights, calls on 11 performers to direct each other in interchangeable performance numbers — a kaleidoscope of queens engendering an evening-long mosaic of mimicry. And it might go on tour! (Marke B.)

Fri/29–Sat/30, 8 p.m., $20

CounterPULSE

1319 Mission, SF

(415) 626-2060

www.counterpulse.org

 

SATURDAY 30

MUSIC

MK at Icee Hot

One of the most astonishing production runs in dance music — or any music, really — occurred when young Detroit producer Marc Kinchen discovered he had a flair for combining cyber-melancholic Detroit techno beats with a soulful New York City garage house vibe. On the strength of his early, driving records, MK soon became one of techno’s first big-time remixers: his genius for chopping up a song’s vocals into completely different, in most cases more appealing, melodies filled floors from 1991-95. Since then, he’s moved on to producing Pitbull and Willow Smith, but he’s back to reap underground propers in the retro-1990’s house craze, DJing with equally famous brother Scott and fellow virtuoso vocal-hacker Todd Edwards at the monthly Icee Hot party. (Marke B.)

With Scottie Deep and Todd Edwards

10 p.m., $10

Public Works

161 Erie, SF

www.publicsf.com

 

EVENT

“Livin’ La Vida Lambada”

When I first started writing about Burning Man for the Guardian in 2004 — a process that this year culminated in the release of my book The Tribes of Burning Man — the two crews that I most deeply embedded myself with were Opulent Temple and the Flaming Lotus Girls. They each work out of the Box Shop on Hunters Point and were just beginning their meteoric rises to become the event’s premier fire arts collective (FLG) and more enduring large sound camp (OT). Now, as the FLGs work toward completion of its latest ridiculously ambitious project — Tympani Lambada, a representation of the inner ear translated into a massive sculpture of sound, fire, and light — the OT DJs, the burner artists of NIMBY, and others are pitching in to help their hermanas del fuego reach their goal. So come shake your asses and help bring an amazing artwork to life on the playa next month. (Steven T. Jones)

8 p.m.–2 a.m., $20

NIMBY Warehouse

8410 Amelia, Oakl.

www.flaminglotus.com/brownpapertickets

 

EVENT

Treasure Island Flea Market

Hey, you in the horn-rimmed glasses. You can’t really consider yourself a Bay Area vintage freak without making pilgrimages to all the area’s flea markets — Candlestick, Alameda, Alemany all rev up our barter skills — and as of Memorial Day this year there’s a new kid on the clothing rack-covered asphalt block: the Treasure Island Flea Market, where somewhere among the grassy aisle and hundreds of vendor booths, you are virtually assured of finding something with history and pizzazz. Gadabout spectator shoes, barely-used vintage road bicycles, rusty old bird cages for making garden lanterns — just make sure you can schlep it on the 108 Treasure Island Muni going home. (Donohue)

Through Sun/31

9 a.m.–4 p.m., free

(415) 898-0245

www.treasureislandflea.com

 

SUNDAY 30

MUSIC

Mattachine Dance Party

Around 2004, when celebrating gay history became all the rage in dance clubs, DJs naturally turned to previously buried disco sounds to accompany the onrush of post-AIDS-era curiosity. But of course gays existed before the 1970s — as recently discovered fossilized size-14 stripper heels and catty hieroglyphics about Top Chef judge selection have proved. Young, queer parties have noticed: our own Hard French reaches back to the 1950s for soul inspiration, while New York City’s Mattachine Dance Party adds 1960s rock and other queer-eared genres to the mix. Now filmmaker and sexual provocateur John Cameron Mitchell is bringing his buoyant Mattachine affair, named for the U.S.’s first gay rights organization, to El Rio for a special daytime installment that will resurrect the hot-pink spirits of yesteryear. (Marke B.)

3–8 p.m., $5

El Rio

3158 Mission, SF

(415) 282-3325

www.elriosf.com

 

MONDAY 1

COMEDY

Maria Bamford

One-quarter of the dream team Comedians of Comedy tour in 2004 (alongside Patton Oswalt, Zach Galifianakis, and Brian Posehn), Maria Bamford is about as unique a comedic personality as they come. She subscribes to the darker, more surrealist side of stand-up, forgoing traditional punch lines to put all her anxieties and neuroses on full-display through self-deprecation, twisted inner monologues, and a ton of barbed vocal impressions that send up her Minnesota-based family and friends. Yet for all her eccentricities, Bamford never delves into novelty or shtick. Her material is always smart, perfectly nuanced, and balanced with enough of her natural Midwest charm to make even the strangest moments relatable. (Landon Moblad)

With Robert Mac and Nato Green

Through Aug. 3

8 p.m., $22.50

Punch Line Comedy Club

444 Battery, SF

(415) 397-7573

www.punchlinecomedyclub.com

 

TUESDAY 2

MUSIC

Real Estate

The un-Google-able band name. Is it creative combativeness or audacity in the face of technology’s encroaching hand that led four like-minded musicians from New Jersey to name themselves Real Estate? Search engines aside, Real Estate isn’t an easy band to pin down. Reverb-heavy surf guitar with some folk mixed in begin to paint the picture, but it isn’t simply the sum of its parts. It sounds the way a drive to the beach looks: the stucco strip malls race past in a beige blur and soon recede as the scenery grows increasingly lush. Everyone else in the car is talking, but you’re too busy staring out the open window to notice. Real Estate is surf rock for city folks. (Berkmoyer)

With Dominant Legs and Melted Toys

8 p.m., $15

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF (415) 771-1421 www.theindependentsf.com 

 

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

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST SIXTH STREET SENSE

Andrew Lam
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Does growing up in San Francisco make you an insider in its art scene? Definitely not — but it can be fertile ground for creating a scene of one’s own. Sixth Street resident and Filipino immigrant Reynaldo Cayetano Jr.’s passion for film photography led him to convene Inks of Truth, an art collective of young City College students and SF natives. The group has thrown packed multimedia art openings with live local hip-hop soundtracks all along Sixth Street — Rancho Parnassus, the House Kombucha factory, and Bayanihan Community Center. This year, group members got the keys to DA Arts, the one-time SF district attorney’s office, whose walls they have lined with stunning black and white photography of life on Sixth Street.

DA Arts, 135 Sixth St., SF. www.wix.com/purposebeyondreach/inksoftruth

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST LORD OF METAL

Andrew Lam
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You can’t put Slough Feg’s Mike Scalzi in a tidy box. As front man of the cult local metal band — its most recent album, 2010’s The Animal Spirits, earned critical raves — he prowls the stage with a vaudevillian flair while performing blistering, melodious tunes (sample titles: “Trick the Vicar,” “Ask the Casket”. Plus: he’s a sci-fi fan; he teaches philosophy at Diablo Valley College; and he occasionally pens highly articulate, commenter-rattling columns for respected metal blog Invisible Oranges. Slough Feg will play a rare show Aug. 17 at the Elbo Room, opening for New Wave of British heavy metal legends Diamond Head. Voices will soar; faces will melt.

www.sloughfeg.com

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST PROGRESSIVE CLUBHOUSE

Andrew Lam
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Since early January, when Chris Daly stepped down from the Board of Supervisors and took ownership of the Buck Tavern, a political realignment has made City Hall a far less welcoming place for progressives. So they’ve followed Daly over to his new digs (nicknamed Daly’s Dive) instantly transforming the Mid-Market bar into the seat of power for the progressive local government-in-exile: a place where revolutions are plotted and frustrations are soothed with strong drinks and juicy burgers. With SFGTV on the tube, Daly slinging classic cocktails and brewskis, and malcontents lining the bar, the Buck has become a refuge for leftist political junkies. And for those looking for shockingly clean bar bathrooms.

1655 Market, SF.(415) 874-9183

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST WAY TO SIGN UP

Andrew Lam
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Beautify the street and bolster your curb appeal in classic style with some legit hand-lettering from New Bohemia Signs. Using traditional enamels and gold leaf, New Bohemia practices its old-school art with pride — snazzing up placards with over-the-top fonts, providing elegant window signage for boutiques and restaurants, crafting appetizing menu boards, even revamping your Victorian with a gilded transom. Founder Damon Styer and crew have also branched out into the gallery scene: a recent art show at Guerrero Gallery featured work by present and past New Bohemia staff. The vintage feel, handmade aesthetic, and design-addict cache — New Bohemia’s products have even been salivated over in The New York Times — seem a perfect sign of our local, small-batch, skill-appreciative times.

281 Ninth St., SF. (415) 864-7057, www.newbohemiasigns.com

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST SHOP FOR THE SOCIALLY CONSCIOUS STITCH

Andrew Lam
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A sobering fact: your clothes were probably made in a sweatshop (sorry). Most of our industrially produced togs — you are probably aware — are made by people making far from decent wages, working with toxic, health-shattering dyes. Small wonder then that local fiber movements are beginning to stitch. Visit Oakland yarn shop A Verb For Keeping Warm to be indoctrinated. Owner Kristine Vejar sells an in-house line of local fibers and natural dyes, and stocks other brands as well. Plus she gives classes on the skills you need to clothe yourself sustainably and hosts free sewing nights to develop community among people who purl — responsibly.

6328 San Pablo, Oakl. (510) 595-8372, www.averbforkeepingwarm.com

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