Mission

Censorship — or something else?

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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8

Project Censored highlight stories that didn’t make the national mainstream news media. And in this issue, we’ve got a story that shows something about how news judgments are made in two of San Francisco’s largest newsrooms.

Journalist Peter Byrne (who once worked at SF Weekly and wrote some critical stories about us) shares the tale of what happened to a story that the San Francisco Chronicle assigned him — but never published. The people at the Chron and the Bay Citizen (a nonprofit whose work runs in the New York Times) have different perspectives on what happened in this case — and whether powerful people like Richard Blum influence whether critical stories end up in print. Readers can decide for themselves how to see this situation.

But what was striking to us at the Guardian — and why we chose to print both Byrne’s account and the final story that the Chronicle chose not to print below — was that the suppressed story was actually quite tame and well-balanced after Chronicle writers, editors, and lawyers spent months working on it (Bay Citizen also invested weeks of work and never published anything relating to the story).

It simply raised the issue of whether the University of California should be doing private equity investment deals that are overseen by wealthy, politically connected people like Blum, whose own funds were also involved. It ultimately wasn’t a screaming indictment or accusation of illegal activity, but just a modest peek behind the curtain of an important institution whose focus has strayed from its core mission of serving college students.

We reviewed email exchanges that confirm the basic outline of Byrne’s story, conducted some interviews that guided our editing of this story, and included responses from the Chronicle and Bay Citizen at the end of the story. Ultimately, whether this is a case of censorship or something else, we thought it deserved to find its way into print. (Steven T. Jones)

 

BlumGate

Why two Bay Area newsrooms dismissed my story about conflicts of interest in UC investment deals

 

By Peter Byrne

news@sfbg.com

In September 2010, the journalism website Spot.us published my investigative series, “The Investors Club: How University of California Regents Spin Public Money into Private Profit.” It detailed how members of the UC Board of Regent’s investment committee oversaw the investment of nearly $1.5 billion of UC’s money into business deals in which they themselves held significant stakes.

One of the conflicted regents was Richard Blum, the financier husband of U.S. Sen., Dianne Feinstein (D-CA); another was Paul Wachter, a business partner of then-Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger (who is also a regent).

The story caused a stir, particularly at a time when student groups were protesting draconian cuts and tuition hikes. Several newsweeklies published the series. The Los Angeles Times ran a story about my findings. And the investigation was honored with journalism awards by several local, state, and national organizations. So I was not surprised when Nanette Asimov, the higher education beat reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle, called me last October.

“I know it’s a Herculean task, but is it possible to charbroil your opus down to 800 words?” she asked. The paper offered to pay me $350 for the story.

Intrigued, I squeezed the investigation that Spot.us had paid $7,000 to produce into a few paragraphs. Little did I know that Asimov and I would be expanding and cutting and tweaking this story for the next eight months, as publication was delayed again and again by foot-dragging editors.

But I was patient. Even after Metro Editor Audrey Cooper told me that Blum had “threatened” Chronicle editors if they ran the tale, I waited several more months before going public. It is my belief that journalists must as accountable for what we do not print as for what we do print.

When Elizabeth Lesly Stevens, a staff writer at the Bay Citizen, inquired about the delay in publishing the story, I told her what I knew and gave her dozens of emails between myself and Chronicle staff. Ironically, the Bay Citizen never ran the story about the story.

 

THE GORY DETAILS

It quickly became obvious that the complex financial story would not easily squeeze into a few paragraphs. But since the Hearst Corporation had cut the Chronicle’s reportorial throat several years ago by laying off its investigative enterprise staff, there appeared to be no one left capable of editing it. Asimov had to constantly badger editors to work on the story.

Shortly before Thanksgiving 2010, Chronicle business reporter Tom Abate got involved. He sent me an outline indicating places where I should insert a “FIRE BREATHING QUOTE” and then a “QUOTE OF OUTRAGE.” The idea of daily news writing, he told me, was “make the readers spit up their coffee.” Okay! I dreamed that the streets of San Francisco would soon flow with rivers of regurgitated java.

By early January 2011, Asimov and I had worked up a coherent version, focusing on Blum and Wachter’s conflicts of interest. On January 31, Assistant City Editor Terry Robertson emailed, “I’m aiming to get it in the paper by the end of the week.” A few days later, he backtracked, “Well, I just found out that the story needs to be lawyered. That throws a bit of a wrench into the works. Sorry.”

By mid-February, Robertson had evidently lost interest. Determined to see it in print, Asimov recruited a veteran Chronicle reporter, John Wildermuth, to edit it. He whipped it into shape at 1,600 words. Now it was time for Asimov to call Blum for comment, since he refuses to talk to me.

According to Asimov, Blum was “spitting nails.” He called the allegations of conflicts of interest made by an array of ethics experts “obscene.” He said, “Nobody has ever told me that we had to ask UC for an OK before we invested in something. I wouldn’t be on the Board of Regents if I have to ask for permission to go to the bathroom.” And I was told he threatened the Chronicle with legal action if the story was published.

In late March, the copy was again sent to Cooper. On April 11, she decided it needed yet more attention from the lawyers.

 

COOPER GETS MAD

On April 14, the Daily Nexus, which is the student newspaper at UC Santa Barbara, reported on a group of students who had gathered hundreds of signatures on a petition to the state Attorney General asking for an investigation based upon the conflicts of interest identified in the Spot.us investigation. In the article, UC scholar Gray Brechin opined that the Chronicle was failing to print my story due “to the political influence of Blum and Feinstein.”

Shortly after the story was posted online, Cooper called Daily Nexus Editor Elliot Rosenfeld. She complained that Brechin’s comment about the Chronicle was “libelous.” The student editor removed the quote from the newspaper’s website.

When I asked Cooper about this, she emailed, “As for the Nexus, I think it’s a learning experience for them. As I told the paper’s editor and Dr. Brechin, I have never been intimidated into publishing anything—nor to refrain from publishing an article. And it won’t happen in the future, regardless of whether the pressure comes from a scientist, another journalist, or a senator.”

Then Cooper stopped responding to my emails.

 

THE PLOT THICKENS

On May 6, I received an email from the Bay Citizen’s Stevens. She had been at a dinner party with Brechin. She asked me why the Chronicle story was languishing. She said the Bay Citizen might publish it. I told her I was not ready to go public.

On May 18, I emailed Asimov about the status of the story. She said the lawyer had it.

I called Cooper. She told me, “I would like to get [the story] in for Memorial Day because we need the copy. … I am not responding to emails because I don’t want any of this shit in print. … Dick Blum can go fuck himself! Excuse my language. I don’t know the guy. I am not afraid of him. If he is doing something shady I want to publish that … [but] I am not going to be bullied into not printing it by Dick Blum and I’m not going to be bullied into printing it. … The fact that he’s called the editor and has an attorney in waiting makes us want to do it more. … I absolutely want to run it. I would like to run it next weekend.”

I asked if Blum was threatening the newspaper.

Cooper replied, “Yeah. The only people who know that are me and the executive editor and the managing editor. I don’t think Nanette knows that. So you are now like the fourth person that knows that besides Dick Blum. … People threaten to sue us all the time. But if we are going to mess with, you know, a billionaire, we are going to be a little cautious.”

A few weeks later, on June 2, I asked Asimov if she knew about Blum’s threat. She replied, “Of course, I knew. Heck, Blum told me as well. The presence of Blum’s lawyers won’t influence whether we run the piece, however. But this is getting increasingly ridiculous, and I’ve asked someone to find out the status for us.”

On June 27, Asimov told me that the “final version” of the story would “run over the weekend” and that it had been cut to 1,200 words. It did not run.

On July 6, I asked Asimov what was going on. She replied, “What happened is that the lawyer looked at it, and made some tweaks. Most were minor, but a small number of them struck me as simply wrong—like he didn’t understand the point. So I told Audrey, and its been the big chill ever since. So I don’t currently know what’s happening.”

That same day, July 6, the Chronicle ran a profile of Feinstein praising her as “the most effective politician in California.” Her well-documented conflicts of interest with her husband’s various businesses were not mentioned.

A week later, July 12, the Chronicle printed an op-ed by Blum in which he said online education is the future. He did not mention that Blum Capital has a multi-billion-dollar stake in two of the nation’s largest for-profit education corporations, each with a growing online component. Nor did the oped note that UC had invested $53 million in these companies after Blum joined the investment committee in 2004.

On July 19, Asimov told me, “The story was re-sent to the attorneys last night with the latest edits.” She said that nothing was likely to happened for at least two weeks since people were going on vacation. She said she would “leave [Cooper] a note saying that if the lawyer approves it, you must approve the final version.” And that was the last time I heard from anyone at the Hearst Corporation.

A few days later, Stevens contacted me again. She wanted to write about my story for the Bay Citizen’s section in The Sunday New York Times. Not being gifted with second sight, I did not know if the Chronicle would ever run the story, but they damn sure had let it get rigor mortis. So, I gave Stevens the email trail. I warned her that she might run into a similar problem at the Bay Citizen, which was founded by Wall Street financier Warren Hellman. It turns out that Hellman sits on the Board of Directors of the Berkeley Endowment Management Company, which controls half a billion dollars in UC Berkeley Foundation investments. Public records show that Hellman’s investment bank is partnered with the same two private equity funds that count both UC and Blum Capital as limited partners. And one of the Founding Patrons of Bay Citizen is the Blum Family Foundation. And one of the board members of the nonprofit Bay Citizen is Jeffery Ubben, a former managing partner of Blum Capital. But I digress.

[Editor’s Note: The Bay Citizen’s newsroom is run independently of its board members, and journalists there say none of the funders have influenced the selection or editing of news stories.]

A week later, Stevens informed me that the story was being pushed to the following week. And then she went on a month-long vacation and the story died. Go figure.

But Stevens did alert the Chronicle staff to my complaints, and the fact that I had provided her with emails and documentation to back up my claim that the Chronicle had bowed to Blum’s threat.

On August 8, Asimov emailed a UC instructor, Kathryn Klar, who had inquired about the status of my story. Asimov recounted, “I worked for nearly a year to get Peter Byrne’s—frankly awful—story in good enough shape to run in the Chronicle. It was poorly written and confusing. He will tell you how hard I worked to get that thing ready for publication. … By the end of July, the story was in great shape and the lawyers were taking a final look.

“And then Peter did the unthinkable. He forwarded a year’s worth of my private correspondence to another journalistic organization—not a newspaper—who then contacted me and others at the paper threatening to write a story about how the Chronicle had suppressed Peter’s story. … They behaved like blackmailers. Of course they had no story to write, and they didn’t. Needless to say, Peter’s story will not run in the Chronicle now. But it was his actions, not ours, that led to its death. We, my editors included, liked the story and were pleased that it was finally in great shape. Even the lawyers agreed.

“Its such a shame.”

Editors note: We asked Chronicle Managing Editor Steve Proctor for his response. He told us:

“The decision not to publish the story was made by the paper’s two top editors, me and Ward Bushee. After reviewing Mr. Byrne’s previously published articles and his interactions with the Chronicle, we decided that we were not comfortable publishing his work.

“The story was brought to the Chronicle after having been previously published on a journalism web site. The editors here who worked with Mr. Byrne decided that his reporting would need to be double-checked if the piece were to appear in some form in the Chronicle. This was done intermittently, over a period of time, as there was no urgency to publish given that a version of the story had already appeared.

“We want to be clear on one point. The Chronicle is never intimidated by threats made prior to the publication of a newspaper story — and they are hardly infrequent. We make all of our decisions about publishing stories based on the high standards for journalism that we seek to uphold in the newspaper every day.” Bay Citizen reporter Elizabeth Lesly Stevens told us: “After much reporting we ultimately decided that Peter’s story was a lot less interesting than he thought it was, and wouldn’t make for a very worthwhile column in the NY Times.”

Editors note: This is the final version of the story that was supposed to run in the Chron:

By Peter Byrne

news@sfbg.com

The University of California has invested hundreds of millions of dollars in business deals in which two regents who have helped oversee UC’s investment portfolio also had financial interests, records show.

Since 2003, UC has invested in five private equity deals in which Regent Richard Blum also had investment interests, according to federal, state and university documents. Regent Paul Wachter had a substantial financial interest in one of those deals.

In such cases, Blum and Wachter were in a position to benefit — or lose — from university investments they oversaw. Blum served on the investment committee from 2004 to February 2010. Wachter joined in 2004 and is its current chairman.

Both regents deny any wrongdoing. The university’s chief attorney has examined the investment overlap and concluded they were likely coincidental.

Yet some ethics experts say the overlapping investments create an appearance of conflicted interests. Critics say the deals may violate state and UC ethics guidelines.

Blum, an investment banker and financier who was appointed to the regents in 2002 by then-Gov. Gray Davis, is the husband of Sen. Dianne Feinstein. Wachter is CEO of Main Street Advisors,?a financial management company. He was named to the board by Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger in 2004.

The regents’ 10-member investment committee sets policy for and oversees the management of UC’s $70.8 billion as of March 2011 portfolio of investments, which includes the retirement, endowment and campus foundation funds. UC’s chief investment officer, Marie Berggren, regularly reports to the committee, explaining where the money is being invested and how well the investments are doing.

The investment committee’s conflict-of-interest policy prohibits committee members from telling the investment officer what specific funds to invest in. But they can, and do, direct her to invest greater or lesser amounts in certain categories of funds.

Committee members must also adhere to conflict-of-interest guidelines established by the state and UC, both of which prohibit officials from influencing or voting on matters in which there is even an appearance of a personal conflict of interest. In particular, UC’s policy says a conflict exists “if it is reasonably foreseeable that the decision will have a material financial effect on one or more of your economic interests.” A material interest is defined as being worth more than $2,000.

DEALS EXAMINED

Blum had investments of more than $1 million in a number of the business partnerships that UC put money into, while Wachter had up to $1 million invested in one of the deals.

UC’s general counsel, Charles Robinson, examined these investments in 2010. Robinson concluded that the investment overlap was probably coincidental, and that neither Blum nor Wachter improperly steered public funds.

“Any overlap is substantially more likely to be the result of independent decisions by like-minded investors than the result of coordination,” Robinson reported.

Blum called the idea that he would coordinate investments and profit from UC’s financial dealings “ridiculous” and even “obscene.”

“Nobody has ever told me that we had to ask the UC for an OK before we invested in something,” Blum told The Chronicle. “I wouldn’t be on the Board of Regents if I have to ask for permission to go to the bathroom.”

Wachter also dismissed the idea that the overlapping investments represent a conflict. “It just doesn’t make sense at all,” Wachter said, adding that he’s surprised that he and Blum had so few overlapping investments over the years, given the extent of their holdings. “The key thing is that you’re not telling each other what to do.”

But ethics experts say conflict of interest laws and regulations do not allow for such overlaps. “The regents’ overlapping investments pose clear conflicts of interest,” said Kirk Hanson, executive director of the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics at Santa Clara University. “It is really striking that members of the investment committee stood to gain so significantly from co-investing with UC.”

Robert Weissman, president of the government watchdog group Public Citizen, was more direct: “A third-grader can see that what the regents on the investment committee were doing is unethical.”

FINANCIAL DETAILS

Minutes from committee meetings show Blum and Wachter consistently voted to instruct the investment officer to increase the amount of money invested in private equity funds, a sector in which the two regents have substantial financial interests.

More importantly, some of those investments were tied to private equity deals in which Blum and Wachter held financial stakes.

In one example, Blum, Wachter, and UC all invested in private equity funds that partnered to buy the Las Vegas casino corporation Harrah’s Entertainment in 2008.

It worked this way: The regents’ investment committee oversaw an investment of $199 million in four private equity funds that helped finance the $30 billion Harrah’s deal, according to documents filed with the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission and UC financial records.

Blum held “more than $1 million” in one these funds, called TPG Capital V, according to Feinstein’s economic disclosure statement. Wachter owned “up to $1 million” in two of the funds that financed the Harrah’s buyout, according to his financial disclosure statements.

Blum denied any conflict. He said the money resulted from a 2006 merger between Blum’s Newbridge Capital and TPG Capital. Newbridge became TPG Asia, with Blum as its co-chairman.

As a result of the merger, “I wound up having some extremely minor — less than 1 percent — interest in some of (TPG Capital’s) funds,” Blum said, referring to his $1 million-plus asset.

Blum said he did not engineer the arrangement, and is never consulted on matters concerning TPG Capital, which did the deal with Harrah’s.

“You couldn’t pay me to invest in a casino,” he said. Wachter agreed that the Harrah’s case presents no conflict. “With investors, there will always be overlap. The point is, if one of the regents told the UC to invest in a particular fund, manager or company, that would be a different conversation. But that’s what our policy prohibits.”

OTHER DEALS

During his six years on the investment committee, Blum had a financial interest in four other deals in which UC was involved, according to SEC filings and UC records.

They involved Univision and Freescale Semiconductor in 2007, Sungard Data Systems in 2005, and Kinetic Concepts in 2004.

Blum said he had no control over any of the deals involving TPG Capital, but said his firm, Blum Capital Investments, was very involved with Kinetic Concepts.

He scoffed at the idea that he engineered any UC investment to enrich himself. “This is how ridiculous it is,” Blum said. “So someone’s going to whine because of $1 million? And somehow I’m taking advantage of the UC? I probably give away a bigger percentage of my net worth” than many people.

Private equity, in any case, has not been a cash cow for the university. In February, investment officer Berggren reported that the 10-year rate of return on the private equity portion of the UC retirement fund was averaging less than 1 percent annually, far less than the 6.5 percent return of UC’s fixed-income portfolio during the same period. Nanette Asimov contributed to this report.

The Quezada memorial

Zelda Bronstein
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The Quezada memorial

It was standing room only, and not even much of that left, when I arrived at the memorial for community organizer and Mission District icon Eric Quezada Sept 25. “It is,” my friend Chri Cook noted, “as if the entire San Francisco left is here.”

Well, maybe not quite — but close. The auditorium at Horace Mann Middle School couldn’t hold the huge, diverse crowd that packed the downstairs and the balcony and flowed out the doors and into the halls. The speakers talked of Eric’s life — as an activist, a soccer player and a father  — but also, in a dramatic way, about the part of the Mission, the part that doesn’t live off tapas and $12 martinis on Valencia Street, a community that fought displacement in the dot-com era, that fights evictions and condo conversions and high-end housing developments every day, that supports artists and musicians and immigrants and working-class people … Eric Quezada’s Mission. Long may it live.

The family needs help with medical expenses — and also to help with the education of Eric’s daughter, Ixchel. Contributions can be made to the Ixchel Quezada education fund or mailed to 470 Columbus Ave., Suite 211, San Francisco, 94133. Checks should be made payable to Eric Quezada Memorial Fund. A fundraiser is being held at Jane Morrison’s home at 44 Woodland Ave. on Oct. 16 between 3 and 5 p.m.

The Performant: The mundane sublime

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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1

Park(ing) and Fold {Live} were far from humdrum

It’s the little things. The things we do over and over again—the automatic, the routine, the de rigueur, the rote—that we need to find ways to celebrate above all, because every moment past could be a moment wasted, or a moment redeemed. But as with conceptual artist Kate Pocrass’ long-running Mundane Journeys project, sometimes the moment needs to be curated in order to be illuminated. That principle got some play over the past weekend with Park(ing) Day and Surabhi Suraf’s “Fold {Live}” installation, two very different projects which nonetheless served to turn the most banal of routines into conscious acts.

On Friday, the mundane act of feeding the meter was celebrated with the now-worldwide annual tradition of Park(ing) Day. Though it was occasionally difficult to tell Parks from Parklets, the Valencia corridor was a hopping Park(ing) Day hotspot, with hay bales and a live sheep parked out front Ritual Coffee, a proto-type vertical garden in front of Range, and a green-roofed doghouse in front of Thrifttown. My favorite concept was a little more scaled back yet more performative: a fundraiser for the Prison Yoga Project spearheaded by Mariah Rooney, whose streetside yoga lessons provided both visual and physical stimulation for passerby. Thank goodness for yoga mats, because there wasn’t much else protecting participants from the asphalt jungle, but there was no sign of discomfort marring the serene faces of the stretchers. Down wiggle way, aka Fell Street, the Wigg Party had set out cushions and camp chairs, and were plying people with tea and books of esoterica from founder Morgan Fitzgibbons’ collection. There was still plenty of traffic, and one bargain hunter who wanted to browse the selection of cushions, but the Wigg party’s little oasis of tranquility held strong though the day, despite the wind and uncomprehending cars rushing past.

Sunday at four p.m., a small group gathered expectantly in front of the Federal Building on the corner of Seventh and Mission to bear witness to the second of four “Fold {Live}” performances, conceptualized and choreographed by recent transplant Surabhi Saraf. Based on her 2010 video project Fold, “Fold {Live}” took the familiar act of folding the laundry and turned it into a group meditation. In silence, nine participants entered the staging ground, collapsible laundry totes in hand, and sat streetside on the round cement “stumps” built as if with this very performance in mind. Carefully, fluidly, each took from their tote a black shirt and began to fold them, in unison, with methodical care. A pair of inside-out jeans followed, which each performer first pulled rightside-out with slow, steady motions, and then gently folded them into little squares. Gradually, particularly in the case of colorful, billowing scarves which made a couple of appearances, the work took on an aesthetic cast which solitary laundry-folding rarely seems to embody, but essentially could.

Like any mundane moment, there is always the potential to turn it into something more meaningful. The hows and whys are up to us.

Hot sexy events: September 21-27

Andrew Lam
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Pretty much, today’s whole paper is a hog-tied, historical, self-confessional smutfest of San Franciscan proportions. It only makes sense, because I dare say this week of sex events will reach levels of debauchery that even the City by the Bay can be happily ashamed of. 

Yep, it’s the Folsom Street Fair sex events column! Including things that aren’t Folsom Street Fair also, like Mission Control’s genderqueer play party, a Good Vibes film fest, and an art exhibition that’ll leave you panting.

Indie Erotic Film Fest short film competition and party

The culmination of a week of alternative porno presentations, tonight’s docket includes short blue films from around the world – something for everyone in this wild and wooly world of voyeurs. But cum early – the pre-screening party in the top floor of the Castro is gonna be balls, or at least mustaches. There’s a mustachio-ed photobooth and even more titillating, burlesque dancing courtesy of Twilight Vixen Review. 

Thu/22 party 7 p.m., screenings 8 p.m., $10 each

Castro Theatre

429 Castro, SF

(415) 621-6120

www.gv-ixff.org

 

Steam does Folsom

Get squeaky-durty at this installment of Steam, the SoMa bathouse resurrection party. So many ways to play: enter into the wet towel contest ($100 prize for the best terrycloth tease), massages for $1 per minute, cheap drinks, cheaper go-gos, and hard crusing into the kinkiest weekend in the Bay. Tunes by Honey Soundsystem’s DJ Peeplay help you get some. 

Fri/23 9 p.m.-2 a.m., $8 cover to benefit the SF Bay Area Leukemia and Lymphoma Society

Powerhouse 

1347 Folsom, SF

Facebook: Steam Does Folsom

 

San Francisco erotic art exhibition

From the candy-coated gazes of Yancy Mendoza’s models to the unique sextaur sculpture stylings of Peter Keresztury, there will be enough images of penetration, playtime, and penis at this group art exhibition to merit a stopover in your weekend of hedonism rendered art. 

Fri/23, 4-9 p.m.; Sat/24, 1-9 p.m.; Sun/25, noon-5 p.m., free 

The Artists Alley

863 Mission, SF

www.eroticartevents.com


Velvet

Play in the SF girls of Leather “fungeon,” and have a genderqueer good time overall at Mission Control’s queer-trans-boi-butch-femme puppy pile. Scenes from the Crash Pad Series will be playing all night to ensure that you’ve got inspiration for all the naughty things you’re about to do to your alt sex cupcake. 

Fri/23 8 p.m.-2 a.m., $20 Mission Control members only

Mission Control

www.missioncontrolsf.org


Show Me Where it Hurts

Sardine-pack into a crowd of the hottest, kinkiest dykes on the scene at this free party at the Lex. But dress to impress: Elizabeth and Buck Wilder are performing, DJs Jenna Riot and Durt are spinning… you’ll wanna look whip-smart at the night’s fetish-uniform costume contest. 

Sat/24 9 p.m., free

Lexington Club

3464 19th St., SF

www.lexingtonclub.com


Folsom Street Fair

400,000 fetish fans packed into 13 sunny city blocks – the mother of all fetish fairs takes over SF this weekend. Check for hard-bodied, sweaty-fisted action all over the place, but also the annual erotic artist’s corner and two stages of live music all day. Oh and hey, for a rad look at women’s role at the fair over the years, check out Amber Schadewald’s cover story on the SF girls of Leather from early this summer. 

Sun/25 11 a.m.-6 p.m., $10 suggested donation

Folsom between Seventh and 12th sts., SF

www.folsomstreetfair.org


Deviants: Official Folsom Street Fair after-party

There’s gonna be so much bump and grind at this union of Honey Sound System, Some Thing, and Hard French DJ crews that your harness will go bald. It’s only right – a minutes-long stumble from the main event in SoMa today gets you to the Erie Street cul-de-sac that Public Works looms over. Today, it’ll be blocked off for a outdoors-indoors party that have you screaming for more. The party features the hostessing powers of Sex Issue star Princess Donna http://bit.ly/oQu9mn and a photo confession booth staffed by queer porn maven Courtney Trouble. 

Sun/25 3 p.m.-4 a.m., $20-30

Public Works 

161 Erie, SF

www.publicsf.com

 

 

San Francisco Smut Map

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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San Francisco Smut Map

culture@sfbg.com

SEX ISSUE 2011 In 1969, San Francisco became the first city in the country to permit the exhibition and sale of hardcore pornography. Although “permit” isn’t exactly right. The city’s vice squad (with the help of Supervisor Dianne Feinstein) fought it every step of the way. But by the time a rag-tag band of hippies with cameras began harnessing the Free Speech movement to challenge obscenity laws, San Francisco had already become, in the words of the New York Times, “a sort of Smut Capital of the United States.”

Earlier this year, director Ben Leon and I produced Smut Capital of America, a documentary short about San Francisco’s flesh-filled reign as the center of U.S. hardcore. (The skin flick industry didn’t move down to San Fernando Valley until the 1980s, when VHS took over and Los Angeles stopped arresting filmmakers.) The film industry itself may have been shaved and plucked, but San Francisco never lost its filthy patina, thank god.

Here are a few of the filthy great places, classic and new, that any self-respecting San Francisco pervert and/or fan might want to map.

1. The Condor Club

560 Broadway

The first topless dance took place in 1964 at the Condor when Carol Doda took to the stage in designer Rudi Gernreich’s revolutionary “monokini.” The bathing suit never really caught on, but topless dancing became an export that would become synonymous with San Francisco.

2. The Mitchell Brothers O’Farrell Theatre

895 O’Farrell

The good ol’ boys from Antioch made a fortune with movies like Behind the Green Door, but when obscenity busts began taking their toll, they moved to live shows. The place still give a great lap dance, but the days when you could eat a girl out for a dollar are long gone.

3. The Strand

1127 Market

I once heard it referred to as a stop on the underground gay railroad — and for good reason. While this theater showed big Hollywood movies and noir retrospectives, the balcony was the cruisiest, bleachiest-smelling place in town.

4. The Magazine

920 Larkin

This still-operational vintage magazine shop has never shied away from porn. And since few museums find it palatable to save smut, it’s a living archive of the sexual revolution, balls, and all.

5. The Screening Room

220 Jones

In 1970, the Screening Room became the first theater in America to show hardcore pornography, with a law-skirting documentary about the free-loving Danes called Pornography in Denmark. Director Alex deRenzy set off a cinematic revolution, and earned a profile in Time magazine. Perhaps fittingly, it’s now the Power Exchange sex club.

6. The Roxie and the New Follies

3117 16th Street and 2961 16th Street

Long before it was an indie movie rep house, the Roxie showed soft-and hardcore 16mm loops shot by the Mitchell Brothers, then just out of college. The New Follies, just down the street on then smut-filled 16th Street (it’s now the Victoria), pioneered bottomless dancing, and later, live sex shows.

7. The Sutter Theatre

369 Sutter

Arlene Elster and Lowell Pickett plotted the International Erotic Film Festival at their theater off Union Square in 1970, when the area was still known as the downtown Tenderloin. The films themselves screened at the prestigious Presidio Theater in the Marina with a red carpet covered by KPIX. Even smut-opponent Dianne Feinstin showed up to rant against the duo’s “very depraved wares.”

8. Le Salon

1118 Polk Street.

“There out to be a plaque on the building,” says Bay Area Reporter porn critic John Karr, who went to this bookstore to cruise and flip through dirty magazines. Store owner Roland Boudreaux eventually opened a non-smut operation next door with a connecting doorway so that customers could leave and enter without attracting stares from high-society queens.

9. The Lusty Lady

1033 Kearny

The original Lusty Lady showed 16mm films, but by the early ’80s this North Beach smut center had live dancers as well. In 1997, the dancers organized an Exotic Dancers Union to make it the first unionized sex club business in the United States. In 2003, they bought the business, making it a worker-owned cooperative.

10. The Gordon Getty Mansion

2050 Jackson

During the ’80s and ’90s, this Pacific Heights mansion was the home of smut merchant and Falcon Studios honcho Chuck Holmes, whose name now graces the LGBT community center on Market Street. In the afternoons, he shot gay porn in the basement. In the evenings, he hosted spectacular galas to raise money for visiting politicians.

11. The Armory

1800 Mission Street

Does anyone not realize that this former munitions warehouse now houses an arsenal of dildo-equipped robots and that the National Guard training hall is used to film “Wired Pussy” episodes? Thanks, Kink.com for making sure San Francisco is still known as the Smut Capital of America.

On Guard!

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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1
On Guard!

news@sfbg.com

 

CENTRAL SUBTERFUGE

While supporters of the controversial Central Subway project — from Mayor Ed Lee and his allies in Chinatown to almost the entire Board of Supervisors — dismiss the growing chorus of critics as everything from ill-informed to racist, they refuse to address the biggest concerns about the project.

In a nutshell, the main concerns center on serious design flaws (such as the lack of direct connections to either Muni or BART), the city’s responsibility for any cost overruns on this complex $1.6 billion project, its estimated $15.2 million increase to Muni’s already strained annual operating budget (a figure used by the Federal Transportation Administration, well over the local estimate of $1.7 million), and the city’s unwillingness to implement its own plans for improving north-south transit service on congested Stockton Street rather than relying solely on such an expensive option for serving Chinatown that doesn’t start until 2019.

Judge Quentin Kopp, a longtime former legislator, called this summer’s grand jury report, “Central Subway: Too Much Money for Too Little Benefit,” the best he’s ever read and one that should be heeded. He recently wrote a letter to top state officials urging them to reconsider the $488 million in state funding pledged to the project. As we reported last week, mayoral candidate Dennis Herrera is also challenging a project that he supported before its most recent cost overruns and design changes.

But supporters of the project pushed back hard on Sept. 14, using taunts and emotional rhetoric that avoided addressing the core criticisms. “Beneath the unfounded criticism about costs is actually a disagreement over values. The grand jury report relied upon by critics makes a only brief and superficial criticism about costs,” Norman Fong and Mike Casey wrote in an op-ed in last week’s Guardian.

Actually, the 56-page grand jury report goes into great detail about why it believes cost overruns are likely, citing the myriad risks from tunneling and SFMTA’s administrative shortcomings and history of mismanagement, including on this project’s less-complicated first phase, the T-Third line, which was 22 percent over budget and a year and half late in completion. Even with the contingencies built into the Central Subway budget, the report notes that a similar overrun would increase the local share of this project from $124 million to more than $150 million.

Mayor Lee purportedly addressed criticism of the project during the Question Time session in the Sept. 14 Board of Supervisors meeting, prompted by a loaded question from Sup. Sean Elsbernd offering Lee the “opportunity to move beyond the clichés and one-liners of political campaigns.”

But Lee’s answer was classically political, touting the estimated 30,000 jobs it would create, praising those who have pushed this project since the 1980s, offering optimistic ridership estimates (that exceed current FTA figures by about 9,000 daily riders), and ignoring concerns about whether the city can cover the ever-increasing capital and operating costs.

“Now is the time to support the Central Subway,” Lee said, flashing his trademark mustachioed grin.

We called the normally responsive Elsbernd, who prides himself on his fiscal responsibility, twice, to ask about financial concerns surrounding the project and he didn’t call back. During their mayoral endorsement interviews with the Guardian last week, we also asked Sups. John Avalos and David Chiu to address how they think the city will be able to afford this project, and neither had good answers about the most substantive issues (listen for yourself to the audio recordings on our Politics blog).

Once Congress gives final approval to $966 million in federal funding for this project sometime in the next couple months, the city will be formally committed to the Central Subway and all its costs. It’s too bad that, even during election season, all its supporters have to offer to address valid concerns are “clichés and one-liners.”(Steven T. Jones)

 

BLACK AGENDA

Mayoral candidates faced tougher questions than usual at a Sept. 15 forum hosted by the Harvey Matthews Bayview Hunters Point Democratic Club. Whereas debates hosted in the Castro and Mission Bay, for instance, featured questions on how candidates planned to clean up city streets, what they thought about AT&T’s plan to place utility boxes on city sidewalks, or how they’d promote a more business-friendly environment, residents brought a thornier set of concerns to the Bayview Opera House.

One question pointed to an alarming statistic based on U.S. Census data and cited by racial justice advocates, showing that residents of the predominantly African American Bayview Hunters Point have a life expectancy that’s 14 years lower, on average, than that of residents of the more well-to-do Russian Hill.

Someone else asked about improving mental health services for lower-income community members struggling with post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD). High unemployment figured in as a key concern. And one member of the audience wanted to know how candidates planned to “improve the behavior of the police,” alluding to the mid-July officer-involved shooting that left 19-year-old Seattle resident Kenneth Harding dead, triggering community outrage.

Mayor Ed Lee attended the beginning of the forum but left early to attend an anniversary celebration for the Bayview Hunters Point Foundation; other participants included Terry Joan Baum, Jeff Adachi, Bevan Dufty, Dennis Herrera, David Chiu, Michela Alioto-Pier, and Joanna Rees.

Answers to Bayview residents’ sweeping concerns varied, yet many acknowledged that the southeastern neighborhood had been neglected and ill-served by city government for years.

“There is no economic justice here in Bayview Hunters Point,” Adachi said. “There never has been. That’s the reality.” He pointed to his record in the Pubic Defender’s Office on aggressively targeting police misconduct, and played up his pension reform measure, Prop. D, as a vehicle for freeing up public resources for critical services.

Dufty, who has repeatedly challenged mayoral contenders to incorporate a “black agenda” into their platforms, spoke of his vision for a mayor’s office with greater African American representation, and emphasized his commitment to improving contracting opportunities for minority-owned businesses.

Herrera, meanwhile, was singled out and asked to explain his support for gang injunctions, an issue that has drawn the ire of civil liberties groups. “I only support gang injunctions as a last resort,” he responded. “We shouldn’t have to use them. But … people should be able to walk around without being caught in a web of gang violence. I put additional restrictions on myself to go above and beyond what the law requires, to make sure that I am balancing safe streets with protecting civil liberties.”

Herrera asserted that gang violence had been reduced by 60 percent in areas where he’d imposed the controversial bans on contact between targeted individuals, and noted that the majority of those he’d sought injunctions against in Oakdale weren’t San Francisco residents.

Baum brought questions about a lack of services back to the overarching issue of the widening income and wealth gaps. “Right now, the money is being sucked upward as we speak,” she said. “We have to bring that money back down.”

She closed with her signature phrase: “Tax the rich. Duuuuh.” (Rebecca Bowe)

 

DUFTY REMEMBERS

The selection of Ed Lee as interim (or not-so-interim) mayor of San Francisco was one of those moments that left just about everyone dazed — how did a guy who wasn’t even in town, who had shown no interest in the job, who had never held elective office, suddenly wind up in Room 200?

Well, former Sup. Bevan Dufty, who was going to nominate Sheriff Mike Hennessey and switched to providing the crucial sixth vote for Lee at the last minute, told us the story during his mayoral endorsement interview last week.

Remember: Lee, as recently as a few days earlier, had told people he didn’t want to be mayor. “An hour before the meeting, Gavin (Newsom) called Michela (Alioto-Pier) and me into his office and said Ed Lee had changed his mind,” Dufty told us. He walked out of the Mayor’s Office uncommitted, he said, and even Newsom wasn’t sure where Dufty would go.

After two rounds of voting, with Dufty abstaining, there were five votes for Lee. So Dufty asked for a recess and went back to talk to Newsom — where he was told that the mayor thought the reason the progressives were supporting Hennessey was that the sheriff had agreed to get rid of about 20 mayoral staffers — including Chief of Staff Steve Kawa, “who had engineered Ed Lee running.”

So Kawa, with Newsom’s help, preserved his job and power base. “It’s all turnabout,” Dufty said. “I figure Mike Hennessey’s had a couple of beers and a couple of good times thinking about my vote. But that’s politics.” (Tim Redmond)

 

ALMOST FREE?

Friends and supporters of Shane Bauer and Josh Fattal were kept in a state of agonizing suspense over whether the two men, both 29, would be released from the Iranian prison where they’ve been held for more than two years following an ill-fated hiking trip in Iraqi Kurdistan.

On Sept. 13, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad stated publicly that Bauer and Fattal could be freed “in a couple of days.” The announcement brought hope for family and friends who, just weeks earlier, had absorbed the news that the men were sentenced to eight years in prison after an Iranian court found them guilty of committing espionage, a charge that the hikers, the United States government, religious leaders, and human rights advocates have characterized as completely baseless.

Reports followed that the Iranian judiciary would commute the hikers’ sentences and release them in exchange for bail payments totaling $1 million. But by Sept. 16, when supporters gathered in San Francisco in hopes that of an imminent announcement, they were instead greeted with new delays.

The constantly shifting accounts hinted at internal strife within the Iranian government, and contributed to the sense that Bauer and Fattal were trapped as pawns in a power struggle. By Sept. 19, their Iranian lawyer remained in limbo, awaiting the signature of a judge who was scheduled to return from vacation Sept. 20.

“Shane and Josh’s freedom means more to us than anything and it’s a huge relief to read that they are going to be released,” the hikers’ families said in a statement Sept. 13. “We’re grateful to everyone who has supported us and looking forward to our reunion with Shane and Josh. We hope to say more when they are finally back in our arms.” (Rebecca Bowe)

Coyote moon

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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0

CHEAP EATS Ten minutes, she said. I promise you, the line does not take long. She was like a greeter, which seemed unusual for a grocery store, but I am willing to believe almost anything at this point.

It’s strange: to pride oneself on one’s gullibility. Nevertheless, I grabbed the bread that I wanted, and walked whistling with it to the back of the store, through the storage area past the back of the store, beyond the bathrooms, back outside into the loading zone on the opposite side of the building from the parking lot, through some bushes, under an overpass, entirely outside of the city and into the desert, where I took my spot at the end of the line and said to the person in front of me, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he said. It was a cold crisp night with stars and moons all over the place. And behind me the line kept getting longer, all the while time passing.

The line did not move at all. Apparently, people were buying houses and cars. They had to talk to their lawyers and spouses, and wait for bank loans to be approved. Inspections.

Before long I had finished all the bread and was standing in line with an empty paper bag. The city was nowhere in sight, not to mention the cashiers. Nor could I tell if the line of people who had lined up behind me stretched longer than the line still in front of me. I was, as usual, in the middle.

It’s my nature to use my time wisely, even when it’s only 10 minutes. (She’d promised.) I tried to talk to the man in line ahead of me. First I made eye contact, then I asked questions. I wanted to familiarize myself with concepts like escrow and closing, in case someone else in the line should prove worth flirting with.

Because you never know. Many of my girlfriends met their future husbands while waiting in lines. It’s true that for the most part their future husbands didn’t notice them; they just went about their business, as it is in man’s nature to do. But there are exceptions to every rule, I’m told, so who’s to say I wasn’t going to be one of them?

Instead of educating me, the man in front of me in line flirted with me. I never did learn about escrow; I learned about him. He was married but separated from his wife but still in love with her but she didn’t love him and was living with her tennis teacher.

“The man is a tennis teacher?” I said. I don’t know why I wanted to be perfectly clear about the person his wife was living with, and what he did for a living. In retrospect it seems far from the point.

Still, I said what I said and the man said, “Yes. Do you play?”

“No,” I said. This was a lie.

“Well,” he said, then, “what is your story?”

And just like that I had him where I wanted. A captive audience, middle of nowhere, on a night much like this, waiting, waiting, and already mystified by my mystique. Which is, I’m told, considerable.

“Once upon a time,” I said.

“Don’t give me that shit,” said my future husband.

“Once upon a time,” I said again, because that’s the kind of storyteller I am, and, as if on cue, the rest of the line of people dissolved into the night, and all around us coyotes yipped and yapped.

“The corn on the cob was not fresh. Or it was overcooked,” I said, poking our little campfire with a stick, and my guest nodded, understanding me perfectly. “The brisket and the ribs were just fine, but, you know, it’s nice to have barbecue across the street from where you drink.”

“Where?” he said.

“Anywhere. Your neighborhood dive,” I said. “El Rio, in my case. One meets the love of one’s life in such a place, and the love of my life,” I said, “is barbecue.”

“But the corn …”

“It had dimples in it, yes,” I said. “It stuck to your teeth. Like something you feed to animals.”

He shook his head, in the smoke, in the night. And I shook mine.

We were supposed to have been so much more.

BABY BLUES BBQ

Sun.-Thu.: 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat.: 11:30 a.m.-11 p.m.

3149 Mission St., S.F.

(415) 796-2837

Beer & wine

AE/MC/V

Because Princess says so

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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3
Because Princess says so

caitlin@sfbg.com

SEX ISSUE 2011 I saw Donna Dolore for the first time at a Hard French queer soul dance party at El Rio. I remember because she took my drink so authoritatively that I had no choice but to be okay with it. She sipped it, handed it back, and strode away. Can I get a thank you? Throughout the whole, sloppy afternoon, I noticed it was kind of her theme.

But no one seemed to care. Part of it was obvious: Dolore is a Sophia Loren with wider eyes, maybe a little taller, with the same generous tendencies towards sharing glimpses of the bust line. Only — I reflected, shortly before falling back into cheap-beer-and-go-go-dancer melee — that attitude. Who the hell is this woman?

Weeks later, I’m telling her the story in person in the cavernous break room at Kink.com’s headquarters in the San Francisco Armory (everything at the Armory is cavernous). It turns out that Dolore is in fact, a pretty big deal. Just ask her legions of heavy-breathing fans who know her as Princess Donna, the Kink.com director and star queer dominatrix.

“Oh my gosh, I did that?” At the office from where she plans shoots for the three Kink websites she heads, Dolore is a less formidable figure. She’s not wearing any makeup. Her black outfit makes her look like she’s about to take off for a light jog around the Mission.

But she might just be being coy. After all, I’d stalked her up good before our appointment and had come across this gem in a video interview she did a few years back: “I’m pretty true to form — Princess Donna acts a lot like I do.”

Dolore double majored at New York University, perfectly enough, in gender and sexuality studies and photography. She became a stripper while at school, and then on a tip from a coworker, got into professional BDSM shoots. Although she had been to some BDSM play parties, the work was the first time she’d ever been tied up.

“I was immediately into the challenge of being in a really stressful position — being flogged or caned, total sensory overload,” she remembers. “I would leave a shoot feeling really invigorated, a stronger person. It made me want to see what my body was capable of.”

Nowadays, Princess Donna sits — utterly sexily, usually in a short skirt and fuck-me heels — atop the Internet BDSM porn puppy pile.

At Kink she is the mind behind no less than three sites. For “Public Disgrace,” Dolore makes trips around the world to supervise the stripping-down, feeling-up, and penetration of beautiful women in town squares and busy bars. On “Wired Pussy,” she plays with electrical equipment, inducing screaming orgasms in her female partners.

In her latest endeavor, “Bound Gang Bang,” Dolore supervises teams of horny men and one or two women in fantasy-type shoots: high school nerds get their revenge on the bitchy mean girls, a prison warden drops her key and winds up giving head to inmates through a chain link fence. She has guest-starred in many of Kink’s different sites, usually as a top, sometimes as a bottom.

“I get stressed out because we have so much content to produce,” says Dolore, who works on one or two shoots a week. “But it’s a challenge that I enjoy.” One gets the sense that at Kink, Dolore has found a place that can nurture her talent for perversion.

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

Like most of Kink’s offerings, Dolore’s sites are unapologetically brutal. Women are dominated, wind up covered in ejaculate and with bound breasts that are agonizing to look at (well, at least for the BDSM newbie).

This is exactly the kind of stuff that sends shivers — the bad kind — up the spines of anti-porn feminists. But Dolore is a feminist too. As articulate as she is and as prominent she is and as wild as her porns are, she’s often called on to defend BDSM’s treatment and portrayal of women.

“I think the exact opposite of the people that think that BDSM would promote violence against women,” she says. That tired question — “is porn degrading to women?” — is something that Dolore finds degrading. Why, she asks, don’t the anti-porn musketeers ask the same of men in the industry?

“What is going on in our society that we continue to see sex as something that is put on women that they don’t desire? Why can’t we fathom it being a dream job for a woman?”

Kink is doing its part to raise awareness about the sexual pleasure that can be experienced by submissive actors. Before and after each shoot, the man or woman who you’ve watched screaming, a cattle prod or vibrator pressed against their genitals, is interviewed. That familiar dazed after-sex look is all over their faces, and their endorphin-heavy perk is really all you need to know what Dolore says is true: the models at Kink really, really love their job.

Delore contests the notion that only people who have been sexual abused take pleasure in pain, although she says you’ll find abuse victims in porn studios, just like any other workplace.

“Unfortunately, you could look to any profession and say a lot of them were abused as kids. You could look at secretaries and say that. Personally, I wasn’t sexually abused.” She smiles. “I’m just a natural pervert.”

Delore’s a regular on the queer party circuit — this week, you can catch her stealing drinks at Sunday’s “Deviants” Folsom Street Fair closing party. Her exuberance in exploring the outer realms of sexuality haven’t gone unnoticed in the San Francisco sex community. Kelly Lovemonster, editor of the queer quarterly sexuality zine [SSEX BBOX] is a close friend of Dolore, and calls her a “super heroine.”

“Even when she is portraying a submissive bottom, being cattle prodded, nipples clamped down and attached to electric cords, you can tell she is absolutely in control,” says Lovemonster. “She shows us that our dirtiest, scariest, and wildest sexual fantasies can come true through healthy communication and BDSM play. She rescues us all from a world where sexuality is suppressed and made shameful.”

This, according to Dolore, is a big part of why what Kink produces is important. The website puts BDSM urges out there, lets people that get turned on by being slapped across the face know that they’re not the only ones.

For the dis-empowered and isolated BDSM fan, that can be heady stuff. “You can explore your rape fantasy in a way that the woman is in control of what’s happening to their body — it’s a way to relive a situation where you had no control and relive it in a way in which you do have control,” says Dolore.

In a direct repudiation of the claims that abuse victims fall into BDSM for unsavory reasons. Dolore says she’s seen rough sex and power play rehabilitate partners whose sexuality seems terminally fucked. “I’m not a therapist but I feel like I am sometimes.”

But when I ask her if she considers herself an activist, she says no.

“When I think of the word activist, I think of people who are more outspoken than I am. I do my thing on my website, and people can come watch it if they want to.”

Which is not to say that the forward girl at Hard French doesn’t think she’s affecting change. Says the princess: “I’m just happy that I can help people be honest about what they want in bed.” 

DEVIANTS: OFFICIAL FOLSOM STREET FAIR CLOSING PARTY

Sun/25 4 p.m.-3 a.m., $20-30

Public Works

161 Erie, SF

www.publicsf.com

 

Rep Clock

Andrew Lam
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0

Schedules are for Wed/21-Tues/27 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double features are marked with a •. All times p.m. unless otherwise specified.

ARTISTS’ TELEVISION ACCESS 992 Valencia, SF; www.atasite.org. $6. “Periwinkle Queen Cinema Series,” short films, Wed, 8. “Films from Four Mountain Ranges by Marcy Saude,” Fri, 8.

BALBOA 3620 Balboa, SF; www.balboamovies.com. $20. “Opera and Ballet at the Balboa:” La Traviata, performed at the Royal Opera House, Wed, 7:30. •Class Concert and Giselle, performed by the Bolshoi Ballet, Sat-Sun, 10am.

BERKELEY FELLOWSHIP OF UNITARIAN UNIVERSALISTS 1924 Cedar, Berk; (510) 841-4824, www.bfuu.org. $5-10. The Battle of Chernobyl (Johnson, 2006), Fri, 7.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $7.50-15. Mary Lou (Fox, 2010), Wed, 2, 5:15, 8:15. “Good Vibrations Indie Erotic Film Festival,” party and short-film competition (more info at www.gv-ixff.org), Thurs, 7. The Little Mermaid (Clements and Musker, 1989), presented sing-a-long style, Fri-Sun, 7pm (also Sat-Sun, 2:30).

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $5.50-10.25. The Hedgehog (Achache, 2010), call for dates and times. Love Crime (Corneau, 2010), call for dates and times. Mozart’s Sister (Féret, 2010), call for dates and times. Senna (Kapadia, 2011), call for dates and times. A Fall From Freedom (Minasian, 2011), Sun, 7. Farmageddon (Canty, 2011), Sun, 4:15.

“FILM NIGHT IN THE PARK” This week: Dolores Park, 19th St at Dolores, SF; (415) 272-2756, www.filmnight.org. Donations accepted. Top Gun (Scott, 1986), Sat, 8.

JACK LONDON SQUARE 66 Franklin, Oakl; www.jacklondonsquare.com. Free. “Waterfront Flicks:” Chocolat (Hallström, 2000), Thurs, sunset.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; (415) 393-0100, rsvp@milibrary.org. $10 (reservations required as seating is limited). “CinemaLit Film Series: Euro Passages:” Since Otar Left (Bertuccelli, 2003), Fri, 6.

“OAKLAND INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL” Grand Lake, 3200 Grand, Oakl; www.oakuff.org. $10. Yelling to the Sky (Mahoney), Thurs, 8. Also Fri, 7:30 and Sat, 5:15 at NIMBY, 8410 Amelia, Oakl. Films, music, and food trucks.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “Kino-Eye: The Revolutionary Cinema of Dziga Vertov:” A Sixth Part of the World (Vertov, 1926), Wed, 7:30; Enthusiasm: Symphony of the Donbass (Vertov, 1930), Fri, 7; Kino-Pravda, Nos. 1-8 (Vertov, 1922), Sun, 2; Kino-Week Nos. 1, 3, 4, 5, 21–25 (1981), Tues, 7. “UCLA Festival of Preservation:” “On the Vitaphone: 1928-1930,” Thurs, 7. “A Theater Near You:” Diary of a Country Priest (Bresson, 1950), Fri, 8:30 and Sun, 4:15. “Anatolian Outlaw: Yilmaz Güney:” Yol (Güney and Gören, 1982), Sat, 6:30; The Friend (Güney, 1974), Sat, 8:40.

LA PEÑA CULTURAL CENTER 3105 Shattuck, Berk; www.lapena.org. $5. “FistUp Hip-Hop Film Festival:” Black August (2010), Thurs, 7:30.

PRESIDIO 2340 Chestnut, SF; sfslunchline.eventbrite.com. $5. “Slow Food on Film presents:” Lunch Line (Park and Graziano, 2009), Thurs, 6.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $5-9.75. Cold Fish (Sono, 2011), Wed, 6:50, 9:35 and Thurs, 9. The Future (July, 2011), Wed-Thurs, 7 (also Wed, 9). “San Francisco Irish Film Festival:” The Runaway (Power, 2010), Thurs, 8; festival continues Wed-Sun. Visit www.sfirishfilm.com for schedule.

SAN FRANCISCO PUBLIC LIBRARY 100 Larkin, SF; www.communitycinema.org. Free. “Bay Area Community Cinema:” Women, War, and Peace (Disney, Hogan, and Reticker), Tues, 5:45.

SFFS NEW PEOPLE CINEMA 1746 Post, SF; www.sffs.org. $13-15. “Hong Kong Cinema,” recent films from Hong Kong directors Benny Chan, Ann Hui, Johnnie To, and more, Fri-Sun.

YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS 701 Mission, SF; (415) 978-2787, www.ybca.org. $6-8. “Greetings on Behalf of the People of Our Planet!,” short “live documentaries” by Dave Cerf and Sam Green, Thurs and Sat, 7:30.

Our Weekly Picks: September 21-27

Andrew Lam
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0

WEDNESDAY 21

Veronica Falls CANCELLED

Apparently, this UK indie rock band found its relaxed retro pop sound right from the get-go. Singles “Found Love in a Graveyard” and “Beachy Head” combined jangly, propulsive rhythms with light, morbid lyrics for a result that could easily find an anachronistic home in the recent remake of Brighton Rock (and not just because every video for the band looks like it was ran through a Hipstamatic app.) Now with a self-titled debut album on Slumberland Records, Veronica Falls is scheduled to tour in support of the Drums and Dum Dum Girls next month. This will be their West Coast record release show. (Ryan Prendiville)

With The Mantles, Brilliant Colors

9 p.m., $13

Brick and Mortar Music Hall

1710 Mission, SF

(415) 800-8782

www.brickandmortarmusic.com

 

THURSDAY 22

Teengirl Fantasy at Icee Hot

They put something in the water over at Oberlin. Beach House, Blondes, Teengirl Fantasy. Now at work in the real world, which includes opening for Crystal Castles, Teengirl Fantasy has found a style that’s just as likely to draw from the pop charts as it is from their academic pedigree. A little Lil Jon on one track, a little Raymond Scott on the next. With cooled, slo-mo beats and hyped up MCs turned down, the result is an aural muscle relaxant, allowing you to focus on making bedroom eyes across the dance floor. Teengirl Fantasy comes our way to play monthly party Icee Hot. (Prendiville)

With Total Freedom, Magic Touch (Damon Palermo), Shawn Reynaldo, and Rollie Fingers

10 p.m., $5-10

Public Works

161 Erie, SF

(415) 932-0955

www.publicsf.com

 

FRIDAY 23

Smuin Ballet

The late Michael Smuin was not one of my favorite choreographers. But he left behind a substantial inheritance that had gained him respectable audiences. Smuin choreographed one his most serious pieces, “Stabat Mater” — Dvorak’s response to the death of his infant daughter — in the aftermath of 9/11. He also loved to play with pop eroticism; “The Eternal Idol” — you can see its inspiration at the Legion of Honor — and “Tango Palace” showcase that propensity. Amy Seiwert premieres what she calls her “most “Smuinesque” piece yet — to Patsy Cline. Not the least of the company’s attractions these days is the quality of its dancers. Parking around the Palace — because of the Doyle Drive reconstruction — is somewhat restricted, so plan for extra time. Muni 43 goes there as well. (Rita Felciano)

9/23-Oct.1

$25-62

Palace of Fine Arts, San Francisco

(415) 556-5000

www.smuinballet.org

 

FRIDAY 23

“Hong Kong Cinema”

Though this is the San Francisco Film Society’s first-ever Hong Kong Cinema mini-fest, there’s no shortage of HK film fanatics in this town, what with the SF International Asian American Film Festival, the programming at Frank Lee’s Four Star Theatre, and even the occasional HK flick that arrives via Hollywood. If you dug Benny Chan’s now-at-the-Four-Star Shaolin, you won’t want to miss his City Under Siege, about bank-robbing, superpowered circus performers. Also on tap: another superhero action comedy, Vincent Kok’s (Pixar-inspired?) Mr. and Mrs. Incredible; Clement Chan and Yan Yan Mak’s multigenerational drama Merry-Go-Round; All About Love, from Ann Hui (her latest, A Simple Life, has been tearing up the international fest circuit); Law Wing-cheong’s kidnap thriller Punished (starring Anthony Wong, always full of win); Alex Law’s coming-of-age drama Echoes of the Rainbow; and rom-com Don’t Go Breaking My Heart, a genre departure for action man Johnnie To. (Cheryl Eddy)

Through Sun/25, $13–$20

San Francisco Film Society New People Cinema

1746 Post, SF

www.sffs.org


FRIDAY 23

SF Cocktail Week: Barbary Coast Bazaar

San Franciscans have long enjoyed a romance with alcohol — from the debauchery of the Barbary Coast era, to the modern renaissance of the artisan cocktail, the city knows how to knock ’em back. Celebrate this high-proof history with SF Cocktail Week, which features a variety of tastings, dinners, seminars, and parties, including “Barbary Coast Bazaar,” a huge fete inside the Old Mint. Expect a roaring 1920s themed party, with vintage circus acts such as stilt walkers, jugglers, contortionists, magicians, and carnival games, along with food, and of course, a wide variety of tasty cocktails. (Sean McCourt)

SF Cocktail Week events run through 9/25, pricing varies

Barbary Coast Bazaar, 9/23

8-11 p.m., $85–$95

The Old Mint

88 5th St., SF

www.sfcocktailweek.com


SATURDAY 24

Moving Planet Worldwide Rally Day

You can make yourself sick thinking about it: what are you going to tell your kids (or — hey sexy single! — the neighbor’s kids) when they ask you what you did to stop climate change back when we still had a chance and the Bayview-Sunset commute didn’t call for a rowboat? Are we creeping you out? Then let us recommend Moving Planet Day. A worldwide rally for sustainability, it’s sponsored by 350.org and will include Sept. 24 actions from Buenos Aires to Nairobi. In SF, a march of self-propelled peoples on foot, bike, and skate will trek from Justin Herman Plaza to the Civic Center, where an afternoon of speakers, music, and other events awaits. (Caitlin Donohue)

10-a.m.-6 p.m., free

March starts at Justin Herman Plaza, SF

Afternoon activities at Civic Center Plaza, SF

www.moving-planet.org


Hank 3

The grandson of country music royalty, Hank Williams III, or as he’s now known, Hank 3, continues to hone his own brand of diverse music, releasing not one, but four brand new albums this month: Ghost to a Ghost/Guttertown, a double record in a country vein, Attention Deficient Domination, with more of a “hellbilly” feeling, and Cattle Callin, which is more on the metal side of things. The modern torch bearer of outlaw country is promising that this tour will touch on all of them, which he released through his own label, Hank 3 Records, and that fans can expect a two-and-a-half to thee-hour set at each barn burning show. (McCourt)

8:30 p.m., $26

The Regency Ballroom

1290 Sutter, SF

www.theregencyballroom.com


SATURDAY 24

Celsius 7

The superchill but often splendidly goofy Bay rapper, a former member of the Psychokinetics crew, hails from one of the golden ages of local hip-hop — that late ’90s-early ’00s period when earnest showmanship and a healthy dose of good humor trumped aggro attention-seeking, niche genre overload, and crass product placement. Cel’s kept himself busy through Bay rap’s recent twists and turns, though, traveling the world and dropping some ace tracks, all the while staying true to his roots. This release party for his poppin’ second solo album, Life Well Spent (which features a nice roster of collaborators including Dirt Nasty, iLL MEDiA, and Baby Jaymes) will showcase his grin-inducing verbal dexterity, be loaded with special guest appearances, and serve as a convention of true school heads. (Marke B.)

9 p.m., $10 (includes copy of album)

Shattuck Downlow

2284 Shattuck, Berk.

(415) 455-4735

www.shattuckdownlow.com


SUNDAY 25

Chinatown Music Festival

The Yerba Buena Center for the Arts has an exhibit going on called “Daily Lives,” a group showing by local Asian American artists that takes prosaic trinkets and uses them to express the psychic winds that ruffle our insides. This weekend, “Daily Lives” is taking this exploration of the private, public. Put on your dark glasses and check out the sidewalk art exhibit in Chinatown — where your ambling will be soundtracked by a day of rad live music; traditional tunes from the SF Guzheng Society and pianist Jon Jang (who will be sharing his recently-penned homage to the Xinhai Revolution of 1911), plus more modern grooves by the grown-up local kids in Jest Jammin’ and the SF Latin Jazz Youth Ensemble. (Donohue)

1-7 p.m., free

Portsmouth Square Kearny between Clay and Washington, SF

www.apiculturalcenter.org


SUNDAY 25

Ladytron

Given the harder direction that Ladytron has gone in over the last few albums — even touring with Nine Inch Nails — I was not expecting what I heard on Gravity the Seducer: ABBA. Whether or not they were invoking the Swedish gods of pop on purpose, the opener “White Elephant” sets a tone for a lighter album. Not simply a step backwards to the sounds of Ladytron’s early albums, it’s its most synthetically dreamy, spaced out record yet. Of course, harder and softer are relative terms with the band, which has generally stuck to a distinctive sound, becoming electronic pop mainstays and developing a cult following in the process. (Prendiville)

With SONOIO, Polaris at Noon, and DJ Omar

8 p.m., $25

The Regency Ballroom

1300 Van Ness, SF

(800) 745-3000

www.theregencyballroom.com

 

MONDAY 26

Dr Ruth

We all fondly recall Dr. Ruth Westheimer as the funny, entertaining, and educational “sexpert” that hit the mainstream media in the 1980s and 90s, but did you know her amazing background before she was a household name? Born in 1928 in Germany, she lost her parents in the Holocaust, and actually fought (and was wounded) as a sniper during Israel’s war of independence. The icon will be touching on all these subjects, along with her new book, Heavenly Sex: Sexuality in the Jewish Tradition, at tonight’s special event. (McCourt)

7 p.m., $20–$35

Jewish Community Center of San Francisco

3200 California St., SF

(415) 292-1200

www.jccsf.org


TUESDAY 27

Tony Bennett Night

As San Francisco Giants fans know, whenever the team wins a game here at home, the crowd exits the ballpark to the sounds of the legendary crooner Tony Bennett’s signature song “I Left My Heart In San Francisco.” The 85-year-old icon performed the song live at last year’s World Series, and the team is honoring him with this special event where he will be celebrated in a pre-game ceremony. He also will perform a short set, and fans will receive a “Tony Bennett” bobblehead that has a sound chip that plays his beloved ode to our city by the bay. (McCourt)

Game starts at 7:15 p.m.; arrive early for pre-game events. Pricing varies; see website for current availability.

AT&T Park

24 Willie Mays Plaza, SF

(415) 972-2000

www.sfgiants.com/specialevents


TUESDAY 27

Nurses

If you listened to Nurses’ earliest album, you might not recognize the groovy melodic rock trio that stands before you today, presenting 2011’s Dracula (Dead Oceans). In the past five years, the harmonic freak-folk band — with a penchant for toy instruments and pianos — has gone through lineup changes, sound modifications, and location shifts. The two Nurses mainstays, singer-guitarist Aaron Chapman and singer-keyboardist John Bowers, have lived in the sweet sunshine of San Diego, close quarters during cold winters — the tour van in Chicago — and finally, settled in the dewy DIY spirit of Portland, Oreg., where they gained drummer James Mitchell, and further developed their technique. But that’s the test of a true musician, isn’t it? The ability to roll with the punches, to grow, to evolve. (Emily Savage)

With Dominant Legs

9 p.m., $12

Cafe Du Nord

2170 Market, SF

(415) 861-5016

www.cafedunord.com

 

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Film Listings

Andrew Lam
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0

OPENING

Abduction A teenager (Taylor Lautner) sets out to find his true identity (duh, dude, everyone knows you’re a werewolf) in John Singleton’s action thriller. (1:46)

*The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 Cinematic crate-diggers have plenty to celebrate, checking the results of The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975. Swedish documentarian Göran Hugo Olsson had heard whispers for years that Swedish television archives possessed more archival footage of the Black Panthers than anyone in the states — while poring through film for a doc on Philly soul, he discovered the rumors were dead-on. With this lyrical film, coproduced by the Bay Area’s Danny Glover, Olsson has assembled an elegant snapshot of black activists and urban life in America, relying on the vivid, startlingly crisp images of figures such as Stokely Carmichael and Huey P. Newton at their peak, while staying true to the wide-open, refreshingly nonjudgmental lens of the Swedish camera crews. Questlove of the Roots and Om’Mas Keith provide the haunting score for the film, beautifully historicized with shots of Oakland in the 1960s and Harlem in the ’70s. It’s made indelible thanks to footage of proto-Panther school kids singing songs about grabbing their guns, and an unforgettable interview with a fiery Angela Davis talking about the uses of violence, from behind bars and from the place of personally knowing the girls who died in the infamous Birmingham, Ala., church bombing of 1963. (1:36) Embarcadero, Piedmont, Shattuck. (Chun)

City of Life and Death There have been a number of recent works about the “rape of Nanking,” but perhaps none tackles the brutal nature of Nanjing’s fall with as much beauty as City of Life and Death. Shot in striking black and white, the film depicts the invasion of China’s capital by Japanese forces from a number of points of view, including that of a Japanese soldier. It can be difficult at times to become emotionally attached to characters within such a restless narrative, but the structure goes a long way toward keeping the proceedings balanced. The stunningly elaborate sets and cinematography alone are worth the price of admission, and it’s amazing that such detail was achieved with a budge of less than $12 million. But it is the unflinching catalog of the some 300,000 murders and rapes that took place between 1937 and 1938 in Nanjing that will remain with you long after watching. (2:13) Opera Plaza. (Peter Galvin)

Dolphin Tale A wayward dolphin with an injured tail is rescued by marine biologists, befriends a little boy and his single mother (Ashley Judd), and somehow Kris Kristofferson and Morgan Freeman are involved. Admit it, you’re weeping already. (1:53) Presidio.

Farmageddon First-time director Kristin Canty embarked on this documentary after discovering the healing power of raw milk in helping her child’s allergies. And it shows. Farmaggedon really should have been titled A Raw Deal for Raw Milk, considering its primary focus on several small family-operated dairies and the souring treatment they have received from government bureaucrats, spurring Canty’s activist act of making this movie. Larry and Linda Failace of Three Shephard’s Cheese in Vermont (the latter wrote her own book, 2007’s Mad Sheep: The True Story Behind the USDA’s War on a Family Farm) seem to have suffered the most, driven out of business when the sheep they brought over legally, with all the required quarantines, were seized and destroyed by the government agents on the pretext that the animals might spread “mad cow” disease. The sight of Linda Failace breaking into tears reading her daughter’s words about how the sheep were like her brothers and sisters is heart-breaking. Undermining such powerful, outrageous material are Canty’s textbook missteps: the director has major problems organizing her seemingly scattershot, lopsided material into a coherent and, er, organic whole, and lets her many sources drone on without a strong narrative through-line. All of this makes Farmaggedon a bit of a struggle to watch, although the dirt Canty digs up is likely to justifiably raise the hackles of progressive foodies. (1:30) Roxie, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

*Killer Elite Jason Statham has a lot going on, in addition to devastatingly attractive male-pattern balding: along with fellow Brit Daniel Craig, he’s one of the most believable action heroes in the cineplex today. This continent-hopping, Bourne-ish exercise, kitted out with piercingly loud sound design, comes chock-full of promise in the form of Statham, Robert De Niro, and Clive Owen, wielding endless firearms and finding new deadly uses for bathroom tile — you don’t want to be caught solo in anger management class with these specialists in cinematic rageaholism. Mercenary assassin Danny (Statham) wants out of the game after a traumatic killing involving way too much eye contact with a small child. Killer coworker Hunter (De Niro) pulled him out of that tight spot, so when the aging gunman is held hostage, Danny must emerge from hiding in rural Australia and take on a seemingly impossible case: avenge the deaths of a dying sheik’s sons, who were gunned down by assorted highly trained British military hotshots, get them to confess, and make it all look like an accident. Oh, yes, and try to make sure his own loved ones aren’t killed in the process. Dancing backwards as fast as he can is those retired Brits’ guardian angel-of-sorts, Spike (Owen), another intense, dangerous fellow with too much time on his hands. Throw in my favorite Oz evil-doer Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje as Danny and Hunter’s boss, some welcome been-there twinkle from De Niro, as well as a host of riveting fight scenes (and that ’00s cliché: sudden death by bus/truck/semi), and you have diverting popcorn killer. (1:40) Presidio. (Chun)

Moneyball As fun as it is to watch Brad Pitt listen to the radio, work out, hang out with his cute kid, and drive down I-80 over and over again, it doesn’t quite translate into compelling cinema for the casual baseball fan. A wholesale buy-in to the cult of personality — be it A’s manager Billy Beane or the actor who plays him — is at the center of Moneyball‘s issues. Beane (Pitt) is facing the sad, inevitable fate of having to replace his star players, Jason Giambi and Johnny Damon, once they command the cash from the more-moneyed teams. He’s gotta think outside of the corporate box, and he finds a few key answers in Peter Brand (a.k.a. Paul DePodesta, played by Jonah Hill), who’s working with the sabermetric ideas of Bill James: scout the undervalued players that get on base to work against better-funded big-hitters. Similarly, against popular thought, Moneyball works best when director Bennett Miller (2005’s Capote) strays from the slightly flattening sunniness of its lead actor and plunges into the number crunching — attempting to visualize the abstract and tapping into the David Fincher network, as it were (in a related note, Aaron Sorkin co-wrote Moneyball‘s screenplay) — though the funny anti-chemistry between Pitt and Hill is at times capable of pulling Moneyball out of its slump. (2:13) Marina. (Chun)

*My Afternoons with Margueritte There’s just one moment in this tender French dramedy that touches on star Gerard Depardieu’s real life: his quasi-literate salt-of-the-earth character, Germain, rushes to save his depressed friend from possible suicide only to have his pretentious pal pee on the ground in front of him. Perhaps Depardieu’s recent urinary run-in, on the floor of an airline cabin, was an inspired reference to this moment. In any case, My Afternoons With Margueritte offers a hope of the most humanist sort, for all those bumblers and sad cases that are usually shuttled to the side in the desperate ’00s, as Depardieu demonstrates that he’s fully capable of carrying a film with sheer life force, rotund gut and straw-mop ‘do and all. In fact he’s almost daring you to hate on his aging, bumptious current incarnation: Germain is the 50-something who never quite grew up or left home. The vegetable farmer is treated poorly by his doddering tramp of a mother and is widely considered the village idiot, the butt of all the jokes down at the cafe, though contrary to most assumptions, he manages to score a beautiful, bus-driving girlfriend (Sophie Guillemin). However the true love of his life might be the empathetic, intelligent older woman, Margueritte (Gisele Casadesus), that he meets in the park while counting pigeons. There’s a wee bit of Maude to Germain’s Harold, though Jean Becker’s chaste love story is content to remain within the wholesome confines of small-town life — not a bad thing when it comes to looking for grace in a rough world. (1:22) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Chun)

Restless See “Twee of Life.” (1:35) Lumiere, Shattuck.

*3 The press literature for 3, Tom Tykwer’s latest, throws around references to classic Hollywood screwball comedies, but this romantic drama is far too self-conscious, serious, and almost pretentious to ever completely ape the mercury lightness of that genre. Apart from one slightly jarring fantasy sequence or two, this polyamorous love story is all about contemporary Berlin bohemia, from hero Hanna’s (Sophie Rois) immersion in the worlds of science and art, to her increasingly plastic relationship with partner Simon (Sebastian Schipper). On the edge of their 20th anniversary, the smart, stylish 40-ish bohos are still in love, though a younger, perpetually amused-looking doctor Adam (Devid Striesow) threatens to turn their two-decade itch into something much more involved. Tykwer kicks off his high-minded romp with a pas de trois, sprinkling split-screen interludes into the program as he goes, but such devices fall away — sucking the viewer into its heady, seductive undertow — beneath the sheer eroticism of these sexual empiricists’ couplings, particularly in the humid, Cat People-like scenes set in a Badeschiff pool, which comes to resemble a carnally charged hothouse as envisioned by Olafur Eliasson. (1:59) Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

ONGOING

Bucky Larson: Born to Be a Star (1:36) 1000 Van Ness.

Circumstance Thirteen (2003) goes to Tehran? The world of sex, drugs, and underground nightclubs in Iran provides the backdrop for writer-director Maryam Keshavarz’s lusty, dreamy take on the passionate teenagers behind the hijabs. Risking jail and worse are the sassy, privileged Atafeh (Nikohl Boosheri) and the beautiful, orphaned Shireen (Sarah Kazemy), who, much like young women anywhere, just want to be free — to swim, sing, dance, test boundaries, lose, and then find themselves. The difference here is that they’re under constant, unnerving surveillance, in a country where more than 70 percent of the population is less than 30 years old. Nevertheless, within their mansion walls and without, beneath graffitied walls and undulating at intoxicating house parties, the two girls begin to fall in love with each other, as Atafeh’s handsome, albeit creepy older brother Mehran (Palo Alto-bred Reza Sixo Safai) gazes on. The onetime musical talent’s back from rehab, has returned to the mosque with all the zeal of the prodigal, and has hooked up with the Morality Police that enforces the nation’s cultural laws. Filmed underground in Beirut, with layers that permit both pleasure and protest (wait for the hilarious moment when 2008’s Milk is dubbed in Farsi), Circumstance viscerally transmits the realities and fantasies of Iranian young women on the verge. (1:45) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Chun)

*Cold Fish Did you love (or find yourself baffled by) Sion Sono’s Love Exposure during its Roxie run? Sono’s Cold Fish is similarly occupied with indoctrination, masochism, and extreme behavior. However, it’s also somewhat better able to sustain a tone of hysteria escalating toward dementia. An unhappy family (father Mitsuru Fukikoshi, daughter Hikari Kajiwara, stepmother Megumi Kagurazaka) is yanked into the orbit of a tropical-fish tycoon (Denden) who at first seems a boisterous benefactor providing shock therapy to their depressed lives out of simple altruism. But he and his bombshell wife (Asuka Kurosawa) soon reveal sides not just sinister but psychopathic, ensnaring all three in diabolical doings that encompass murder, rape, grisly corpse disposals, and more. Structured like Love Exposure as one long countdown to a transformative moment, Cold Fish pushes black comedy way beyond the bounds of taste with an oddly neutralizing good cheer. It’s a manic Grand Guignol set to the soothing kitsch strains of retro Hawaiian-flavored lounge music. (2:24) Roxie. (Harvey)

Colombiana (1:47) 1000 Van Ness.

*Connected: An Autoblogography About Love, Death, and Technology Local filmmaker Tiffany Shlain (founder of the Webby Awards) takes a look at 21st century connections, both technological and personal, in this documentary. And the film gets very personal at times; constructed mostly as a video collage (using animation, stock footage, etc.), its few original clips come from Shlain family movies, which become more poignant when it’s revealed that the filmmaker’s beloved father, an author and brain surgeon, is dying of brain cancer. Shlain’s film draws some of its themes from her father’s 1999 book The Alphabet Versus the Goddess, a study of literacy’s effect on male-female dynamics over history, and the film is dedicated to him. But though the Shlain family’s struggles with loss and life (the filmmaker was pregnant when her father died) form Connected‘s thru line, the film’s probing, lively exploration of links (on- and offline) is universally relatable, and ultimately quite thought-provoking. (1:20) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Eddy)

*Contagion Tasked with such panic-inducing material, one has to appreciate director Steven Soderbergh’s cool head and hand with Contagion. Some might even dub this epic thriller (of sorts) cold, clinical, and completely lacking in bedside manner. Still, for those who’d rather be in the hands of a doctor who refuses to talk down to the patient, Contagion comes on like a refreshingly smart, somewhat melodrama-free clean room, a clear-eyed response to a messy, terrifying subject. A deadly virus is spreading swiftly — sans cure, vaccine, or sense — starting with a few unlikely suspects: globe-trotting corporate exec Beth (Gwyneth Paltrow), a waiter, a European tourist, and a Japanese businessman. The chase is on to track the disease’s genesis and find a way to combat it, from the halls of the San Francisco Chronicle and blog posts of citizen activist-journalist Alan (Jude Law), to the emergency hospital in the Midwest set up by intrepid Dr. Mears (Kate Winslet), to a tiny village in China with a World Health investigator (Marion Cotillard). Soderbergh’s brisk, businesslike storytelling approach nicely counterpoints the hysteria going off on the ground, as looting and anarchy breaks out around Beth’s immune widower Mitch (Matt Damon), and draws you in — though the tact of making this disease’s Typhoid Mary a sexually profligate woman is unsettling and borderline offensive, as is the predictable blame-it-on-the-Chinese origin coda. (1:42) California, Empire, Marina, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

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 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) SF Center, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

The Debt On paper, The Debt has a lot going for it: captivating history-based plot, “it” actor Jessica Chastain, Helen Mirren vs. Nazis. And while the latest from John Madden (1998’s Shakespeare in Love) is fairly entertaining, the film is ultimately forgettable. Chastain plays Rachel, a member of an Israeli team tasked with capturing a Nazi war criminal and bringing him to justice. Mirren is the older Rachel, who is haunted by the long-withheld true story of the mission. Although The Debt traffics in spy secrets, it’s actually rather predictable: the big reveal is shrug-worthy, and the shocking conclusion is expected. So while the entire cast — which also includes Tom Wilkinson, Sam Worthington, and Ciaran Hinds — turn in admirable performances, the script is lacking what it needs to make The Debt an effective drama or thriller. Like 2008’s overrated The Reader, the film tries to hide its inadequacies under heavy themes and the dread with which we remember the Holocaust. (1:54) Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame (2:02) Embarcadero, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki.

*Drive Such a lovely way to Drive, drunk on the sensual depths of a lush, saturated jewel tone palette and a dreamlike, almost luxurious pacing that gives off the steamy hothouse pop romanticism of ’80s-era Michael Mann and David Lynch — with the bracing, impactful flecks of threat and ultraviolence that might accompany a car chase, a moody noir, or both, as filtered through a first-wave music video. Drive comes dressed in the klassic komforts — from the Steve McQueen-esque stances and perfectly cut jackets of Ryan Gosling as the Driver Who Shall Remain Nameless to the foreboding lingering in the shadows and the wittily static, statuesque strippers that decorate the background. Gosling’s Driver is in line with Mann’s other upstanding working men who hew to an old-school moral code and are excellent at what they do, regardless of what side of the law they’re working: he likes to keep it clear and simple — his services as a wheelman boil down to five minutes, in and out — but matters get messy when he falls for sweet-faced neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan), who lives down the hall with her small son, and her ex-con husband (Oscar Isaac) is dragged back into the game. Populated by pungent side players like Albert Brooks, Bryan Cranston, Ron Perlman, and Christina Hendricks, and scattered with readily embeddable moments like a life-changing elevator kiss that goes bloodily wrong-right, Drive turns into a real coming-out affair for both Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn (2008’s Bronson), who rises above any crisis of influence or confluence of genre to pick up the po-mo baton that Lynch left behind, and 2011’s MVP Ryan Gosling, who gets to flex his leading-man muscles in a truly cinematic role, an anti-hero and under-the-hood psychopath looking for the real hero within. (1:40) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

*The Future Dreams and drawings, cats and fantasies, ambition and aimlessness, and the mild-mannered yet mortifying games people play, all wind their way into Miranda July’s The Future. The future’s a scary place, as many of us fully realize, even if you hide from it well into your 30s, losing yourself in the everyday. But you can’t duck July’s collection of moments, objects, and small gestures transformed into something strangely slanted and enchanted, both weird and terrifying, when viewed through July’s looking glass. Care and commitment — to oneself and others — are two vivid threads running through The Future. Cute couple Sophie (July) and Jason (Hamish Linklater) — unsettling look-alikes with their curly crops — appear at first to be sailing contently, aimlessly toward an undemanding unknown: Jason works from home as a customer-service operator, and Sophie attempts to herd kiddies as a children’s dance instructor. But enormous, frightening demands beckon — namely the oncoming adoption of a special-needs feline named Paw-Paw (voiced by July as if it’s a traumatized, innocent child). Lickety-splitsville, they must be all they can be before Paw-Paw’s arrival. The weirdness of the familiar, and the kindness of strangers, become ways into fantasy and escape when the couple bumps up against the limits of their imagination. This ultra-low-key horror movie of the banal is obviously remote territory for July (2005’s Me and You and Everyone We Know). The Future is her best film to date and finds her tumbling into a kind of magical realism or plastic fantastic, embodied by a talking cat that becomes the conscience of the movie. (1:31) Roxie. (Chun)

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) Lumiere, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

*The Hedgehog You needn’t possess the rough, everyday refinement of the characters of The Hedgehog to appreciate this debut feature by director-screenwriter Mona Achache — just an appreciation for a delicate touch and a tender heart. Eleven-year-old Paloma (the wonderful Garance Le Guillermic) is too smart for her own good, bored, neglected by her parents, and left to fend for herself with only her considerable imagination and a camcorder. She drifts around her fishbowl of privilege, a deluxe art nouveau-style apartment building in Paris, leveling her all-too-wise gaze on its denizens and plotting certain suicide on her 12th birthday — that is until a new resident appears in her viewfinder: a kindly Japanese gentleman Kakuro Ozu (Togo Igawa). He has as much of a connoisseur’s eye as Paloma — the proof is in his unlikely focus of attention, the building’s concierge Renée Michel (Josiane Balasko, resembling a burly Gertrude Stein), who hides her cultured and bookish inclinations behind a gruff, drab exterior. They recognize in each other a reverence for an almost monkish life of the mind, the austere elegance of wabi-sabi, and the transient beauty of rough-hewn imperfection, even in the sleek, well-heeled heart of the City of Light. To the credit of Achache, working with Muriel Barbery’s novel, these unlikely fragile friendships between outsiders take hold in a way that sidesteps preciousness and stays with you long after its pages have turned. (1:40) Smith Rafael. (Chun)

The Help It’s tough to stitch ‘n’ bitch ‘n’ moan in the face of such heart-felt female bonding, even after you brush away the tears away and wonder why the so-called help’s stories needed to be cobbled with those of the creamy-skinned daughters of privilege that employed them. The Help purports to be the tale of the 1960s African American maids hired by a bourgie segment of Southern womanhood — resourceful hard-workers like Aibileen (Viola Davis) and Minny (Octavia Spencer) raise their employers’ daughters, filling them with pride and strength if they do their job well, while missing out on their own kids’ childhood. Then those daughters turn around and hurt their caretakers, often treating them little better than the slaves their families once owned. Hinging on a self-hatred that devalues the nurturing, housekeeping skills that were considered women’s birthright, this unending ugly, heartbreaking story of the everyday injustices spells separate-and-unequal bathrooms for the family and their help when it comes to certain sniping queen bees like Hilly (Bryce Dallas Howard). But the times they are a-changing, and the help get an assist from ugly duckling of a writer Skeeter (Emma Stone, playing against type, sort of, with fizzy hair), who risks social ostracism to get the housekeepers’ experiences down on paper, amid the Junior League gossip girls and the seismic shifts coming in the civil rights-era South. Based on the best-seller by Kathryn Stockett, The Help hitches the fortunes of two forces together — the African American women who are trying to survive and find respect, and the white women who have to define themselves as more than dependent breeders — under the banner of a feel-good weepie, though not without its guilty shadings, from the way the pale-faced ladies already have a jump, in so many ways, on their African American sisters to the Keane-eyed meekness of Davis’ Aibileen to The Help‘s most memorable performances, which are also tellingly throwback (Howard’s stinging hornet of a Southern belle and Jessica Chastain’s white-trash bimbo-with-a-heart-of-gold). (2:17) California, Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

I Don’t Know How She Does It I don’t know how a likable comedian like Sarah Jessica Parker does it — meaning, such mediocre material as this mom-com. Parker may have parlayed her Sex and the City fame into a fashion, fragrance, and spin-off franchises, but she still hasn’t quite found her stride away from Carrie Bradshaw, though her Lucille Ball-esque physical comedy here — pulling down her skirt in mid-mommy-frazzle in front of her high-powered client — can be cute. Kate (Parker) just might be the busiest mom in the world: she’s juggling two kids, a hubby whose own career is on the rise (Greg Kinnear), and a major fund idea, which she has to sell to an attractive banking bigwig (Pierce Brosnan). Poor, poor privileged mom — in the trenches of the still-unadorable field of banking, with her obviously sizable salary, enviable Boston duplex, flaky-nice nanny, and bubbly single-mom friend (Christina Hendricks)! The biggest assist comes from her careerist aide, played by Olivia Munn, who grabs the biggest laughs with her deadpan delivery. (1:35) 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

The Lion King 3D (1:29) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki.

*Love Crime Early this year came the announcement that Brian De Palma was hot to do an English remake of Alain Corneau’s Love Crime. The results, should they come to fruition, may well prove a landmark in the annals of lurid guilty-pleasure trash. But with the original Love Crime finally making it to local theaters, it’s an opportune moment to be appalled in advance about what sleazy things could potentially be done to this neat, dry, fully clothed model of a modern Hitchcockian thriller. No doubt in France Love Crime looks pretty mainstream. But here its soon-to be-despoiled virtues of narrative intricacy and restraint are upscale pleasures. Ludivine Sagnier plays assistant to high-powered corporate executive Christine (Kristin Scott Thomas). The boss enjoys molding protégée Isabelle to her own image, making them a double team of carefully planned guile unafraid to use sex appeal as a business strategy. But Isabelle is expected to know her place — even when that place robs her of credit for her own ideas — and when she stages a small rebellion, Christine’s revenge is cruelly out of scale, a high-heeled boot brought down to squash an ant. Halfway through an act of vengeance occurs that is shocking and satisfying, even if it leaves the remainder of Corneau and Nathalie Carter’s clever screenplay deprived of the very thing that had made it such a sardonic delight so far. Though it’s no masterpiece, Love Crime closes the book on his Corneau’s career Corneau (he died at age 67 last August) not with a bang but with a crisp, satisfying snap. (1:46) Albany, Clay, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Mary Lou A musical fable for fans of Glee, Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001), The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994), and Bollywood, the latest from Eytan Fox (2002’s Yossi and Jagger) is a drag-flavored dramedy (Israel’s first?) Originally a hit miniseries in its home country, Mary Lou screens at the Castro in one big chunk jammed with singing, dancing, and a dreamy cast. Pouty Ido Rosenberg stars as Meir, a gay boy obsessed with finding the mother who left him when he was 10. After a disastrous graduation party, Meir flees his homophobic high school for the worldly environs of Tel Aviv, where he soon becomes a drag star named Mary Lou, after his mother’s favorite song. Love, loss, friendship, tragedy, joy, coming-of-age, and quite a few elaborate musical numbers soon transpire — the plot is not without clichés, to be sure, but it’s hard to hate on anything possessed of such sparkly energy. Not familiar with Svika Pick, the Israeli legend whose music provides much of the soundtrack? It matters not, especially if you’re a fan of deliriously corny pop tunes. (2:30) Castro. (Eddy)

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) Albany, Embarcadero, Piedmont. (Harvey)

Mozart’s Sister Pity the talented sister of a world-shaking prodigy. Maria Anna “Nannerl” Mozart, who may have had just as much promise as a composer as her younger brother, according to Rene Féret’s Mozart’s Sister. A scant five years older, enlisted in the traveling family band led by father-teacher Leopold (Marc Barbe), yet forced to hide her music, being female and forbidden to play violin and compose, Nannerl (Marie Féret, the filmmaker’s daughter) tours the courts of Europe and is acclaimed as a keyboardist and vocalist but is expected to share little of her brother’s brilliant future. Following a chance carriage breakdown near a French monastery, Nannerl befriends one of its precious inhabitants, a daughter of Louis XV (Lisa Féret, another offspring), which leads her to Versailles, into a cross-dressing guise of a boy, and puts her into the sights of the Dauphin (Clovis Fouin, who could easily find a spot in the Cullen vampire clan). He’s seduced by her music and likewise charms Nannerl with his power and feline good looks — what’s a humble court minstrel to do? The conceit of casting one’s daughters in a narrative hinging on unjustly neglected female progeny — shades of Sofia Coppola in The Godfather: Part III (1990)! — almost capsizes this otherwise thoughtful re-imagination of Maria Anna’s thwarted life; despite the fact Féret has inserted his children in his films in the past, both girls offer little emotional depth to their roles. Nevertheless, as a feminist rediscovery pic akin to Camille Claudel (1988), Mozart’s Sister instructs on yet another tragically quashed woman artist and might inspire some righteous indignation. (2:00) Bridge, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

*One Day Why do romantic comedies get such a bad rap? Blame it on the lame set-up, the contrived hurdles artificially buttressed by the obligatory chorus of BFFs, the superficial something-for-every-demographic-with-ADD multinarrative, and the implausible resolutions topped by something as simple as a kiss or as conventional as marriage, but often no deeper, more crafted, or heartfelt than an application of lip gloss. Yet the lite-as-froyo pleasures of the genre don’t daunt Danish director Lone Scherfig, best known for her deft touch with a woman’s story that cuts closer to the bone, with 2009’s An Education. Her new film, One Day, based on the best-selling novel by David Nicholls, flirts with the rom-com form — from the kitsch associations with Same Time, Next Year (1978) to the trailer that hangs its love story on a crush — but musters emotional heft through its accumulation of period details, a latticework of flashbacks, and collection of encounters between its charming protagonists: upper-crusty TV presenter Dexter (Jim Sturgess) and working-class aspiring writer Emma (Anne Hathaway). Their quickie university friendship slowly unfolds, as they meet every St. Swithin’s Day, July 15, over a span of years, into the most important relationship of their lives. Despite the blue-collar female lead and UK backdrop that it shares with An Education, One Day feels like a departure for Scherfig, who first found international attention for her award-winning Dogme 95-affiliated Italian for Beginners (2000). (1:48) 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont. (Chun)

*Our Idiot Brother If you thought 1998’s The Big Lebowski had eked all the humor that it could from the Dude, well, screenwriter (and Vanity Fair contributor) Evgenia Peretz, her not-so-idiotic brother (director Jesse Peretz), and star Paul Rudd would differ. They correctly guessed that there are still laughs to be wrung from a shaggy stoner in floral jams, only this time with less fuuuck-s and more benevolent, idiot-savant good vibrations. Dazed and confused broheim 2.0 (Rudd) is glimpsed through the jaded, harried prism of his three dysfunctional, supposedly normal sisters: frumpadelic mom Liz (Emily Mortimer), queen-bitch Vanity Fair writer Miranda (Elizabeth Banks), and slatternly would-be comedian Natalie (Zooey Deschanel). A good-hearted naïf who’s easily entrapped by a uniformed police officer claiming to need some pity doobage, Ned has just emerged from the joint and is now couch-surfing among his sibs, exposing the hypocrisies of bourgie-hipster Brooklyn, as well as the infidelities and vanities of family, friends, and partners (Steve Coogan, Rashida Jones, Adam Scott, and Hugh Dancy) as he goes, in his own good-natured, aw-shucks way. As innocuous (and desexualized) as Andy Griffith beneath the hippie trappings, this dude-with-a-little-d knows where his real family is — with his dog, Willie Nelson, who loves him just as unconditionally. Beastie besties have never seemed so innocent as they are in this proudly feel-good comedy, and despite a cringe-y, saccharine soundtrack and lackadaisical pacing, Rudd’s charismatic sunny slacker and some pointed jabs at the follies of the cooler-than-thou save this indie-that-could. (1:36) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

*Point Blank Not for nothing did Hollywood remake French filmmaker Fred Cavaye’s last film, Anything for Her (2008) as The Next Three Days (2010) — Cavaye’s latest, tauter-than-taut thriller almost screams out for a similar rework, with its Bourne-like handheld camera work, high-impact immediacy, and noirish narrative economy. Point Blank — not to be confused with the 1967 Lee Marvin vehicle —kicks off with a literal slam: a mystery man (Roschdy Zem) crashing into a metal barrier, on the run from two menacing figures until he is cornered and then taken out of the action by fate. His mind mainly on the welfare of his very pregnant wife Nadia (Elena Anaya), nursing assistant Samuel (Gilles Lellouche) has the bad luck to stumble on a faux doctor attempting to make sure that the injured man never rises from his hospital bed. As police wrangle over whose case this exactly is — the murder of an industrialist seems to have expanded the powers of the stony-faced, monolithic Commandant Werner (Gerard Lanvin) — Samuel gets sucked into the mystery man’s lot, a conspiracy that allows them to trust no one, and seemingly impossibly odds against getting out of the mess alive. Cavaye never quite stops applying the pressure in this clever, unrelenting cat-and-mouse and mouse-and-his-spouse game, topping it with a nerve-jangling search through a messily chaotic police station. (1:24) Opera Plaza. (Chun)

*Rise of the Planet of the Apes “You gotta love a movie where the animals beat up on the humans,” declared my Rise of the Planet of the Apes companion. Indeed, ape must not kill ape, and this Planet of the Apes prequel-cum-remake of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972) takes the long view, back to the days when ape-human relations were still high-minded enough to forbid smart apes from killing those well-armed, not-so-bright humanoids. I was a fan of the original series, but honestly, I approached Rise with trepidation: I dreaded the inevitable scenes of human cruelty meted out to exploited primates — the current wave of chimp-driven films seems focused on holding a scary, shaming mirror up to the two-legged mammalian violence toward their closest living genetic relatives. It’s a contrast to the original series, which provided prisms with which to peer at race relations and generational conflict. But I needn’t have feared this PG-13 “reboot.” There’s little CGI-driven gore, apart from the visceral opening and the showdown, though the heartbreak remains. Scientist Will (James Franco, brow perpetually furrowed with worry) is working to find a medicine designed to supercharge the brain in the wake of Alzheimer’s — a disease that has struck down his father (John Lithgow). When the experimental chimp that responds to his serum becomes violently aggressive, the project is shut down, although the primate leaves behind a surprise: a baby chimp that Will and his father name Caesar and raise like a beloved child in their idyllic Bay Area Victorian. Growing in intelligence as he matures, Caesar finds himself torn by an existential dilemma: is he a pet or a mammal with rights that must be respected? Rise becomes Caesar’s story, rendered in heart-wrenching, exhilarating ways — to director Rupert Wyatt and his team’s credit you don’t miss the performance finesse of Roddy McDowell and Kim Hunter in groundbreaking prosthetic ape face in the original movies — while resolving at least one question about why humans gave up the globe to the primates. One can only imagine the next edition will take care of the lingering question about how even the cleverest of apes will feed themselves in Muir Woods. (1:50) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Chun)

Sarah’s Key (1:42) Four Star, Opera Plaza.

*Senna When Ayrton Senna died in 1994 at the age of 34, he had already secured his legacy as one of the greatest and most beloved Formula One racers of all time. The three-time world champion was a hero in his native Brazil and a respected and feared opponent on the track. This eponymous documentary by director Asif Kapadia is nearly as dynamic as the man himself, with more than enough revving engines and last minute passes to satisfy your lust for speed and a decent helping Ayrton’s famous personality as well. Senna was a champion, driven to win even as the sometimes-backhanded politics of the racing world stood in his way. A tragic figure, maybe, but a legend nonetheless. You don’t have to be an F1 fan to appreciate this film, but you may wind up one by the time the credits roll. (1:44) Opera Plaza, Smith Rafael. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

Straw Dogs Never could I have predicted there would be a day when the violent finale of Straw Dogs would be met with raucous cheers. The original 1971 film was produced within a morally ambiguous social climate and remains one of director Sam Peckinpah’s most controversial efforts; contemporary audiences trained to applaud a payoff of blood and gore are likely in the wrong headspace for a film like this. The remake, which sends a good-natured screenwriter (James Marsden) on a retreat in his wife’s (Kate Bosworth) sweaty Southern hometown where they find themselves at odds with a group of good ol’ boys, remains powerful and just as uncomfortable and mean as Peckinpah’s version, but it’s in service of a moral outcome that’s more in line with its commercial placement: ultimately it takes the road of “man becomes protector” over “man becomes monster.” If you have no interest in the original, you will find a fair bit of talent in this remake, but without the cynical attitude it can be hard to separate Straw Dogs from any other horror-movie-of-the-week. (1:50) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck. (Galvin)

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) California, Lumiere. (Harvey)

*Warrior Those wondering why the mixed martial arts scene has captured the imagination of so many can finally understand what the fuss is all about, now that it comes filtered through a melodramatic narrative akin to The Fighter (2010). Warrior‘s mis-en-scene is immediately recognizable: a prodigal returns, in the form of Tom Conlon (Tom Hardy). Once a talented teenage wrestler, the now-battered man is the damaged youngest son of alcoholic ex-boxer Paddy Conlon (Nick Nolte). Tom wants his father to train him for a major mixed martial arts tournament with a multimillion-dollar purse, though the two obviously still have a deadly hold on each other — the repentant Paddy is on the wagon and the emotionally bruised Tom harbors secrets he won’t reveal — and battle with cutting comments rather than fists. Tom isn’t the only prodigal in the house: Paddy has lost the trust of Tom’s bro, Brendan (Joel Edgerton), a former fighter and present-day physics high school teacher who’s struggling to make ends meet with an underwater mortgage. Though Warrior is no Raging Bull (1980), it almost outdukes The Fighter in terms of its brutal bouts, conveying the swift, no-holds-barred action of MMA in the ring, while giving actors plenty of drama to wrap their jowls ’round — particularly in Nolte’s case. His tore-up turn as an all-excuses patriarch is as heartbreaking as a solid kick to the jaw. (2:19) California, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Chun)

 

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.

Free Farm Stand faces an uncertain fall harvest after call from Rec and Parks Department

Andrew Lam
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Every Sunday at the Parque Niños Unidos in the Mission, an eager group of people gather to receive free, organic food from the Free Farm Stand. The incredible project has been going on since since 2008 and has to date given out almost 17,000 pounds of fresh produce.

This is the brainchild of Tree Rub, a volunteer who started the project “to create a network of neighbors and local farmers who grow fruit, vegetables, and flowers and share their surplus with the community and especially with those in need.” But last Sunday Tree announced that the SF Recreation and Parks Department had received two complaints that the Free Farm Stand is “having a negative impact on the park.”

He was also informed that the group would need a permit for its tent, which it set up to protect to food and volunteers from the sun. Tree says he applied for a permit in 2008 but “never heard back” from authorities.

Sometime the produce that’s given out is extremely ripe and almost past it’s peak, but the savvy San Franciscans who receive the Free Farm Stand’s food (the bounty can include heirloom tomatoes and sun-kissed white peaches) are happy to take the time to can and preserve them. The stand not only creates access to extremely nutritious foods, it saves them from getting composted. Tree also distributes organic seedlings so that people can grow their own veggies and then share any surplus they might have with the community — a feedback loop of neighbors nourishing each other.

I contacted the permits office at SF Rec and Park to ask about the future of the Free Farm Stand and got a message back from Dana Ketcham, the permits and reservations manager.

According to Ketcham, her office doesn’t want to shut down the Free Farm Stand, but employees there “have received complaints that families feel overwhelmed by the crowds as they use this park with their children.”

As of two weeks ago, people waited in line outside of the park, and were only actually in the park when receiving produce. Since the lines have gotten long, last Sunday a new system had been implemented in which numbers are handed out so that people can relax in the grass until it their turn to get food.

Ketcham said that parks are “not authorized places for distribution of food” and “that we needed to give the organizer time to find a new location.” The Free Farm Stand has until October 15th to find an alternative location.

As a long time patron of the Free Farm Stand, this came as very sad news. Tree has created an amazing community that feels like a gigantic potluck. You can meet up with friends and enjoy the sunshine there, in addition to getting fresh food for dinner.

Ketcham suggested the Free Farm Stand re-locate to an “empty parking lot” in her email to me. That plan would mar the beauty of having the stand alongside a community garden where people sometimes wander while they wait and are able to relax in the shade of a tree.

I made of a video of the Free Farm Stand right when it opened, back when it was still a pretty small operation. Tree was handing out jars of honey from his personal bee hives and sprouts. Now, there’s the Free Farm and more than 200 people receiving food each week. It would be a horrible loss to San Francisco if Free Farm Stand disappears.

If you know of any locations where the Free Farm Stand might be able to re-locate, please contact Tree at: iamtree99@gmail.com.

 

Localized Appreesh: The 21st Century

Tony Robles
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Localized Appreesh is our weekly thank-you column to the musicians that make the Bay. Each week a band/music-maker with a show, album release, or general good news during those seven days is highlighted and spotlit. To be considered, contact emilysavage@sfbg.com.

Last fall, eclectic new folk act the 21st Century was given the opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to record with legendary producer Stephen Short  (the former owner of Trident Studios who has worked with David Bowie, the Clash, Paul McCartney, Queen, Echo and the Bunnymen et. al.). The Bay Area eight-to-nine piece was thrilled but too broke to cover all the costs of making the album, plus, there were travel commitments (Short is based in Texas).

The forward-thinking futurists harnessed modern technology: they set up a Kickstarter page. With the $10,000+ funding in place (thanks to 187 backers), the band recorded late last  year, and the album will be released in November. Before that release, however, the 21st Century will play a show as part of the ongoing Mission Creek Music and Art Festival.

Year and location of origin: 2010, SAN FRANCISCO/OAKLAND/BERKELEY
Band name origin: The name originates from a few different places. One is ambition. We’re an eight (and occasionally a nine) piece with orchestrated horns and four part harmonies and a couple of kitchen sinks so we wanted to name ourselves in a way that reflected that bold and without limits musical attitude. We also felt that we’d spent much of our lives hearing our times and our generation defined for us in ways that we didn’t relate to so we thought why don’t we take a stab at it and have a say in the matter. Hence THE 21ST CENTURY. Oh and I also remember hearing Elvis Costello saying that he named himself after the two largest acts he could think of — a pretty gutsy move. I thought — now that’s a good idea, but let’s raise him one.
Band motto: Unofficially, it’s probably ‘What would Bruce Springsteen Do?”
Description of sound in 10 words or less: Intricate arrangements, colorful harmonies, brass, lyrical surrealism and off-beat pop sensibility.
Instrumentation: Electric, Acoustic and bass guitars, drums, keys, horns, lots of percussion and lots of singing.
Most recent release: THE CITY, Coming Soon…November 2011.
Best part about life as a Bay Area band: People want to be friends.
Worst part about life as a Bay Area band: The bars and clubs close too early. 2 a.m.? Come on.
First record/cassette tape/or CD ever purchased: The single of “Under Pressure” by David Bowie and Freddy Mercury. I thought I was getting Vanilla Ice.
Most recent record/cassette tape/CD/or Mp3 purchased/borrowed from the Web: Wilco’s The Whole Love & Girls Father, Son, Holy Ghost.
Favorite local eatery and dish: Al Pastor at El Metate–dynamite.And the Cold House Noodles at Yamo.

Mission Creek Music and Art Festival
Ongoing through Sept. 30
Multiple venues through San Francisco and Oakland
www.mcmf.org

The 21st Century
Sept. 28, 9 p.m. $8
The New Parish
579 18th St., Oakl.
Event info

Live at the Starry Plough:

SF’s sluttiest blogger brings the sexy circus to town

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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SF’s sluttiest blogger brings the sexy circus to town

Forget clowns, acrobats, and bedazzled animals and step right up to a stage full of erotic stimulation, play, and perversion at Fleur De Lis SF’s Very Sexy Circus. The sex-positive blogger is throwing the big-top themed bash as a finale to the year she spent documenting her exploration of sex in this city, with the evening’s entertainment made up of the crazy pervs she met along the way. From BDSM eye-candy to bawdy comedy and hands-on educational demos, this show ain’t no tight-rope and monkey act. 

When the seventh of August rolled around last month, Fleur De Lis SF, a.k.a. Vanessa, said she was nearly in tears. It was the end of an era, a wild year of kissing (and/or sucking, fucking, teasing, experimenting, spanking, coming) and telling. She tried animal play, cracked the whip, attended super-secret parties, got dirty, played hard and worked hard, all for the sake of the blog… and personal exploration, of course. 

“The blog was a nice excuse to try things, but this year really helped me discover what I like and what I don’t,” says Vanessa while sipping coffee on a Friday morning. “For example, now I know that I really enjoy group sex and orgies. It takes a particular person to get into it and turns out, I’m one of them.” Putting insecurities, inhibitions, and hesitations aside, Vanessa says the year made her a stronger, more confident, sexually satisfied being. Pretty sure sex sabbaticals should be mandatory for everyone. 

circus1

The local sex celebs turned Circus performers 

“I’ve always been sexual and I’ve always liked to tell my stories privately,” she says, recounting the numerous times her friends would beg for the juicy details over dinner.

Before, spilling these randy tales outside of that trust circle never seemed like a good idea for fear of stigmatization. Even in 2011, most female-identified persons who openly talk about their sexual explorations aren’t given high-fives and kudos. Vanessa wants this double standard to change, which is why she started blogging and getting extra honest about her endeavors; initially under the pen name Fleur De Lis, then with her first name. When she happily accepted the title of the Guardian’s “Sluttiest Blogger of the Year”, her boss found out and fired her. 

“I’m a certified paralegal. I’m an educated woman. I’m not stupid. Yet because I’m a woman, I’m put into that category– I’m ‘that type of girl’ who supports ‘that kind of lifestyle’,” she says with a frustrated sigh, questioning and challenging what those types of labels even mean. “If I was a dude, my boss probably would have thought my blog was great and would have wanted to talk more about it.”

circus2

Performer Monika and the “slutty” blogger showing off some lovely assets

She continued to write and eventually landed some legal work with a group of people who are okay with the concept of a personal life. Now she hopes her willingness to being open and honest about kinky-ness will help pave a trail for other women struggling to overcome cultural bias. The best part about being Vanessa again? She can do whatever the hell she wants. 

“My life belongs to me again. Fucking in a fishbowl has been difficult — everyone knowing everything, but people need to be reminded that sometimes sex isn’t personal. Sometimes its a great stress reliever. Or it’s just fun to try interesting things. It’s my life and I’m free to make these choices.”

Vanessa wanted to put on The Sexy Circus to share these valuable life lessons and she really hopes people who may be interested in being more experimental and want to begin exploring their curiosities can view this celebration as a jumping off point. From suspension to burlesque, The Circus will give the audience a big, fat taste of the SF sex community and send everyone home craving more of their favorite flavors. 

circus3

Performer Reid Mihalko needs a good taming

“Hope to see you all under my big top,” says Vanessa on the flier for the event, which is also “make-out friendly”, meaning while this bundle of performances won’t equate to a full-on sex party, the vibe will definitely be flirty. Vanessa is all about encouraging play and where better than the circus. 

 

Under Fleur De Lis SF’s Big Top: A Very Sexy Circus

Sat/17, 8 p.m., $20

Center for Sex and Culture

1349 Mission, SF

www.sexandculture.org

 

Appetite: What not to miss during SF Cocktail Week 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Appetite: What not to miss during SF Cocktail Week 2011

For those of you who attended last year’s San Francisco Cocktail Week, you know it was jam-packed with some downright magical events, celebrating our city’s rich cocktail heritage, bar talent and innovation. Monday begins the fifth annual Cocktail Week, bigger than ever, with numerous national and local brands represented, an extensive schedule of seminars, parties, events, and the first ever Legends Awards honoring key contributors in the field.

I’d recommend Cocktail Week certainly for aficionados (cocktail/spirits geeks), but equally for the curious or those who just plain love classy, transporting events.

To name a few, the enchanting Cocktail Carnival Gala and St. George’s Cocktail Cookout last year were unforgettable for all of us lucky enough to attend. We basked in the glow of camaraderie and unparalleled settings like the historic Old Mint (where this year’s Barbary Coast Bazaar will be held) or along the Bay in Alameda. I’m anticipating more memorable events this year.

MAIN EVENTS  include the first ever Legends Awards Gala, showcasing some of our best talent in a multi-course dinner from chef Jen Biesty (of Top Chef fame), cocktails prepared by some of our best bartenders at stations throughout the room, awards announced, with live music and performance interspersed. The list of 5 award winners (including Lifetime Achievement and Renegade awards), along with the all-star bartender line-up, is here.

This is also the first year for an event like Best of the West, where top talent from cities of the West (LA, Victoria, San Diego, Portland, Seattle, Sacramento, Las Vegas) compete with local bartenders, showing off drink style in each of their cities.

SEMINARS are a new addition this year. The line-up is rich with around 15 seminars. Learn how to stock your own home bar, about the science of taste, or the history of cocktails in San Francisco. Seminars are all held at the Boothby Center for the Beverage Arts (1161 Mission St., Suite 120, San Francisco), the non-profit behind Cocktail Week.

DINING EVENTS are being thrown all week by restaurants and bars, with special cocktail guests and multi-course menus, at bar-star restaurants like Bar Agricole, Heaven’s Dog, and Jasper’s Corner Tap.

AFTERPARTIES include the big shindig at the newly revamped Starlight Room atop the Sir Francis Drake hotel following the Legends Awards Gala (afterparty included in Legends Award ticket price).

Tickets and schedule here www.sfcocktailweek.com. See you there!

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

Hot sexy events: September 14-20

Andrew Lam
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There are times to rejoice that we live in a city as alt-hot as we do, and this is one of them. Around the country, pornography theater might call up images of lonely men in trenchcoats – but in SF, it can mean a community celebration of sex positivity – and yeah, it’s going to be hot. 

The Indie Erotic Film Festival starts this weekend and continues to the middle of next week (Sat/17-Thu/22). The sweaty-palmed nights will include screenings of films, from Naked Sword to the works of Shine Louis Houston and the ever-fabulous short film competition, for which festival sponsor Good Vibrations has solicited snippets from around the world (New Zealand makes porn? Hooray!).

New to skin flicking? Worry not because opening night of IXFF doubles as its own 101 course. Susie Bright, sex activist is putting her erotic film criticism to work for a showing of her American porn retrospective. She’ll be speaking about the revolutionaries of pornography – maybe at the end of the festival you’ll have learned other names she can add to her list.  


Bawdy Storytelling: Candy From Strangers

The City Clinic triage survey includes a question that goes roughly like this: have you ever had sex with someone you weren’t able to contact the next day? That’s stranger danger, boys and girls – lust that has to be congratulated for its sheer simplicity. This month’s Bawdy features live stories told by local luminaries about anonymous encounters. Hey, maybe you’ll meet someone in the crowd… 

Wed/14 8 p.m., $10

The Blue Macaw

2565 Mission, SF

www.bawdystorytelling.com


Kinky Salon’s Pussyfest

Faster pussycat, faster – if you’re down to strap-on a tail and purr suggestively you’re gonna love this edition of the swinger’s party. It’s all cat costumes this time around – grab a partner and bring your catnip. 

Sat/17 10 p.m., $25-30 members only

Mission Control 

www.missioncontrolsf.org


Indie Erotic Film Festival

Gay, queer, straight as an arrow – you’re going to find something on screen you can scream to. Presentations of the films of Spain’s Erika Lust, Pink and White Production’s feminist queer porn producer Shine Louis Houston, even a night of shorts from around the world (this on Thu/22 at the Castro, preceded by a festival closing party with a mustache photo booth and burlesque prancers). 

Sat/17-Thu/22

Various times, prices, locations

www.gv-ixff.org


“Alchemy: Partner Tantra Yoga”

The town’s tantric center Dakini Temple is sending out its director out into the world to share its teachings. Bast is this emissary, and she’ll be teaching partners the basic of yogic sexuality. Male ejaculation control will be explored, as well as multi-orgasmic states and amrita – the female orgasmic ejaculation.

Tues/20 6:30-8:30 p.m., $45-50

Good Vibrations

1620 Polk, SF

(415) 345-0500

www.goodvibes.com 

 

Cover in pinot: Behind the scenes at the Beer and Wine photoshoot

Andrew Lam
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I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so covered in wine so early in the morning. Clearly, neither had cover model Diego’s three-year old daughter, who I was hanging with during our photoshoot at Matthew Reamer’s studio in the Mission for this week’s Beer and Wine special issue. 

“Daddy!” She had a good point — he was standing barefoot in a puddle of wine. Ever the conscientious dad: “Don’t worry sweetie, it’s grape juice!”

And so on. Diego — who you can catch spinning reggae, hip-hop, and world around town as DJ Mr. Lucky — actress Carolyn, and creative-of-all-trades Bayview native Tossie got a chance to experiment with the trajectory of wine last week at our 10 a.m. cover shoot call. That’s real morning to be messing around with flying booze, but they’d pro’d out. Even our art director Mirissa got involved, high-kicking and air-punching Diego into the appropriate defensive posture. 

Bay artists look down — on history!

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Bay artists look down — on history!

Your kicky little shoes walk (or perhaps prance) over it every day. No, not fossilized dog poop — but myriad and fascinating street-level relics of San Francisco history. A huge amount of our provenance can be gleaned by a closer look at manhole covers, pavement stamps, and other utility markings of ages past and current. It’s actually pretty dang cool what’s down there.

Designer Christopher Reynolds of Reynolds-Sebastiani Design put together a kick-ass photo feature for us earlier this year of some of those markers. Now he’ll be leading a virtual tour tonight, Wed/14, of the city’s past as part of walk SF’s “Underfoot: Bay Area Artists Look Down,” an awesome-looking minifestival of street history for buffs and casual glancers alike. Did someone say “sewer ride”? Oh yes, someone did! Full schedule after the jump.

“Underfoot: Bay Area Artists Look Down”

Wednesday Sept 14 – Saturday Sept 17
Workspace Gallery, 2150 Folsom
Free; donations benefit Walk SF

Wednesday Sept 14: Opening night
Drinks, popcorn, and aesthetic appreciation of a whole new realm:

7:00 pm – Art Opening: Workspace Gallery presents 14 Bay Area artists responding to the land below our feet. What do we see and feel about this ground we walk over, tunnel under, drink and eat from, dig up, and bury our dead in?

8:00 pm – “Exploring the Lost Marks of San Francisco’s Unseen Tradesmen,” by Christopher Reynolds of Reynolds-Sebastiani Design. Enjoy a virtual photographic tour of street utility covers and what they reveal about San Francisco history.

Saturday Sept 17: Bike tour and art party
Follow the unseen waterways of the city, then celebrate:

3:00 pm – The Sewer Ride: Join us for an aboveground bike tour of San Francisco’s sewer-stormwater system, with a focus on the Mission District and Mission Creek. The tour will be approximately three hours with stops; it starts and ends at Workspace.

7:00 pm – Gallery Party! Come together on the show’s final night to raise a glass to artists, streets, and waterways as we close out this marvelous show. Special bonus: Live music from delightful Blues/Americana musician Deborah Crooks.

Bring your friends and support local art and advocacy! All events are free. Donations requested to support Walk San Francisco’s work to make city streets better for you and your feet.

Green dreams

Andrew Lam
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Green dreams

arts@sfbg.com

FILM Has the landfill, junkyard, and lowly dumpster supplanted the factory as a site of documentary interest and even inspiration? Yerba Buena Center for the Arts features two 2010 docs this week to add to the growing list of recent films centering on scavenging, gleaning, dumpster diving, trash humping, and scrapping — activities illustrating resourcefulness in the shadow of colossal waste.

Scrappers zeroes in on the workaday routines and liabilities facing two laboring subjects, Oscar and Otis, good men who cruise Chicago’s South Side for scrap metal. The film’s three directors spent a couple of years in the passenger seat, long enough for their verité portrait of the scrappers’ lives at work to be anchored in extenuating circumstances: a deportation scare for Oscar, a hospital stay for Otis, and most significantly the collapse of scrap prices as a result of dwindling home construction (the same ton of metal that sold for $200–<\d>$300 in 2007 only brought in 20 bucks in 2008).

Without recourse to a voice-over, Scrappers details economic unrest as well as the complex race and class hierarchies of Chicago’s scrap scene. This is all secondary, however, to the film’s enduring interest in learning how Oscar and Otis actually go about their work — noteworthy in a documentary field crowded with predigested arguments. The filmmakers take liberties in editing together the scrappers’ talk into poetic monologues, but it’s a small price for granting them autonomy in defining not only the necessities but also the dispensations of their work.

While Scrappers works to convey layers of ongoing experience, the Oscar-nominated Waste Land is witness to an exceptional intervention. The film follows Vik Muniz, a successful Brooklyn-based artist originally from São Paolo, as he spearheads a collaborative art project in Jardim Gramacho, a gigantic landfill outside Rio de Janeiro. Muniz first contemplates the site from his Brooklyn studio using land art’s modern surveying tools, Google Earth and YouTube. Once on the ground, his initial disbelief at the scale of the landfill gives way to the more modest realization that many of the pickers working there don’t view themselves as the wretched of the earth.

Waste Land director Lucy Walker omits Muniz’s selection of a handful of the pickers as collaborators and subjects — a thorny process, one imagines — instead fleshing out the backstories of the (admittedly remarkable) chosen ones. They gather material from the dump to help Muniz fashion their iconic portraits back in the studio, with the proceeds of the finished work benefiting the pickers’ labor association.

Muniz’s giving act is more personal and sustained than a benefit concert, but the difference is one of quality not kind. He repeatedly stresses the project as a joint effort in making art of garbage, but the real magic consists of turning garbage into something priced as art, a conversion which undoubtedly helps the pickers but also solidifies Muniz’s privileged position in the world marketplace. In view of this, it’s worth pointing out that many other artists have adapted scavenger aesthetics as a means of dissenting from patronage systems (art or otherwise). In 1965, for instance, Brazilian director Glauber Rocha issued his “Aesthetic of Hunger” manifesto to define Third Cinema’s difference. Some years later filmmakers associated with the Tropicália movement went a step further and called for an “Aesthetics of Garbage.” Needless to say, they envisioned something different than Waste Land‘s sympathetic detachment. It’s not a fair comparison perhaps, but days after seeing the film I’m still bothered by the way it maintains a wry distance from Muniz’s earnest struggle for moral clarity while itself indulging in artsy portraiture of the pickers at work (scored to death by Moby). In any case, magnificent unsigned art grows out of landfill closer to home at the Albany Bulb. There’s a documentary about that too — Bum’s Paradise (2003).

TRASHED: TWO FILMS ABOUT GARBAGE

Scrappers, Thurs/15, 7:30 p.m.; Waste Land, Sun/18, 2 p.m., $8

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, S.F.

(415) 978-2787

www.ybca.org

 

Radish

Andrew Lam
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0
Radish

paulr@sfbg.com

DINE On a recent midsummer’s eve, I found myself gazing down the Valencia Street corridor and (with a slight squint of the eye) though: this is just like the Strip! This is like Vegas for hipst — but no. No more H-bombs from me. The question does remain, however, whether a neighborhood can be as utterly transformed as this part of the Mission has been and still remain a neighborhood. One sunny bit of proof that the answer might be yes is the recent opening of Radish, one of those small, slightly-off-the-beaten path, homemade-with-style places that have long made this city such an appealing place to eat.

Just as some of the better restaurants in Las Vegas are off the Strip, so Radish is a few but important steps off the parade route. It occupies a classic corner spot, an L of windows (including transom windows that have been carefully cleaned — not something you see every day), at 19th Street and Lexington. It feels rather far from the madding crowd — Lexington is a lovely, leafy lane — but it is central. There are some impressive oil paintings on the walls, something else you don’t see every day.

The radish as a foodstuff has won mixed reviews down the ages. It is a crucifer and is therefore believed by some to have anti-cancer properties. But Pliny the Elder (the Roman writer and admiral who perished at Pompeii 1932 years ago last month) found the little root to be “vulgar” and a cause of “flatulence and eructation.” Oh dear. Luckily, the menu at Radish doesn’t emphasize radishes. In fact I spotted just one, a lone coin lurking in a side salad amid a swarm of halved pear tomatoes. Maybe it was a stray. Otherwise, the food is a cheerful mélange that moves winningly between all-American and new American — new-all American, if one is permitted to put it that way, with a slight Southern twist — n’all? — since the chef, Adam Hornbeck, grew up in Tennesee.

But someone in the kitchen has been to the north, all the way to Canada, judging by the poutine ($8) we found chalked onto the specials board one evening. Poutine is the dubious but wildly exciting friend your mother always wanted you to stay away from. Radish’s version was a huge plate of French fries doused with gravy (almost a béchamel sauce, it seemed to me) and topped with shreds of crisp bacon and plenty of ripe avocado slices.

“There are 10,000 calories on this plate,” came the complaint from across the table. Yes. And that was not too high a price to pay. If I were a budget-cutter, I might have dealt away the avocado, which brought some pretty color but otherwise was too subtle for such a muscle-y mess of a dish.

Mac ‘n’ cheese ($4.50) seemed to be nearly as calorie-dense as the poutine, but because it was served in a much more modest portion, in a small crock, it didn’t send the needle on our calorimeter spinning. A nice alternate home for the poutine’s avocado slices, incidentally, would have been the boldly tangy old world salad ($9), a neatly arranged English garden of sliced heirloom and cherry tomatoes, rounds of summer squash, smears of goat cheese, arugula leaves, and a full-throated balsamic vinaigrette that, like a compelling speaker, brought the constituents together and held them rapt.

Hornbeck’s baby back ribs ($14) are really first in show. We found them to be spicy, smoky, and — most important — juicy. It was as if the meat were oozing liquid smoke. It doesn’t matter how tasty your sauce or marinade is if you dry the ribs out when roasting them, and it is awfully easy to dry them out. To find them beautifully cooked and smartly seasoned, as here, was a real treat. The accompanying potato salad was, like its partner (a lone cob of grilled corn), very much a sidekick, but it had been carefully made with big, irregular chunks of new potato and plenty of paprika for color and kick.

A steak sandwich ($13) was served on focaccia, and the flaps of meat were tucked in with strips of orange bell pepper and melted cheddar cheese. The side salad of arugula and spinach turned out to be the home of the fugitive radish coin; finding it was like the culmination of an Easter egg hunt.

One of the desserts deserves a special mention, the shortbread ($6), festooned with strawberry meringue and whipped cream. The shortbread had some of the sublime crispy-spongy quality of a cinnamon bun, and I wondered if it might be some version of brioche. No, we were told, it was a biscuit, the same kind the kitchen uses for its breakfast dishes. This is frugal and prudent — also brilliant, or, as the h-folk sometimes put it, rad. 

RADISH

Dinner: Tues.-Thurs., 5-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 5-11 p.m.; Sun., 5-9 p.m.

Breakfast: Tues.-Fri., 10 a.m.-2 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 9 a.m.-2 p.m.

Lunch: Tues.-Sun., 11 a.m.-5 p.m.

3465 19th St., SF

(415) 834-5441

www.radishsf.com

Beer and wine

MC/V

Noisy

Wheelchair accessible

Rep Clock

Andrew Lam
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Schedules are for Wed/14-Tues/20 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double features are marked with a •. All times p.m. unless otherwise specified.

ARTISTS’ TELEVISION ACCESS 992 Valencia, SF; www.atasite.org. $8-10. “Mission Eye and Ear: A Live Cinema Series,” featuring new film and video and music collaborations by Cory Wright and Bill Basquin, Graham Connah and Kathleen Quillian, and more, Fri, 8.

BALBOA 3620 Balboa, SF; www.balboamovies.com. $20. “Opera and Ballet at the Balboa:” The Flames of Paris, performed by the Bolshoi Ballet, Wed, 7:30; La Traviata, performed at the Royal Opera House, Sat-Sun, 10am.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $7.50-10. The Strange History of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell (Bailey and Barbato, 2011), Wed, 7. Reservations required; call (415) 765-7793. •Taxi Driver (Scorsese, 1976), Thurs, 3:30, 7:15, and Blast of Silence (Baron, 1961), Thurs, 5:35, 9:20. “Midnites for Maniacs: Colonizing ‘R’ Us Triple Bill:” •Aliens (Cameron, 1986), Fri, 7; Starship Troopers (Verhoeven, 1997), Fri, 9:30; and Dark Star (Carpenter, 1974), Fri, 11:59. Triple feature, $12. Mary Lou (Fox, 2010), Sept 17-21, 5:15, 8:15 (also Sat/17-Sun/18 and Sept 21, 2).

CHRISTOPHER B. SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $5.50-10.25. The Hedgehog (Achache, 2010), call for dates and times. Love Crime (Corneau, 2010), call for dates and times. Senna (Kapadia, 2011), call for dates and times. The Whistleblower (Kondracki, 2010), call for dates and times. A Boy Called Dad (Percival, 2010), Thurs and Sun, 7. Mozart’s Sister (Féret, 2010), Sept 16-22, call for times. “Donizetti’s Elixir of Love for Families — The Movie,” presented by San Francisco Opera Education and CFI Education, Sat, 11am. Free event. Miss Representation (Siebel Newsom, 2011), Tues, 7. Tickets, $15; proceeds benefit Huckleberry Youth Programs.

“GOOD VIBRATIONS INDEPENDENT EROTIC FILM FEST” Various venues, SF; www.gv-ixff.org. This year’s fest kicks off with Susie Bright’s clip show and presentation, “How to Read a Dirty Movie,” and includes erotic shorts, a porn panel, the ever-popular short film competition, and more, Sept 17-22.

JACK LONDON SQUARE 66 Franklin, Oakl; www.jacklondonsquare.com. Free. “Waterfront Flicks:” No Reservations (Hicks, 2007), Thurs, sunset.

LOOKOUT BAR 3600 16th St, SF; www.skinnyfatmovie.com. Free. Skinnyfat (Bydalek), Tues, 8. Official DVD release party with screenings, giveaways, drag entertainment, and more.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; (415) 393-0100, rsvp@milibrary.org. $10 (reservations required as seating is limited). “CinemaLit Film Series: Euro Passages:” Congorama (Falardeau, 2006), Fri, 6.

OPERA PLAZA 601 Van Ness, SF; www.mayaindieseries.com. “Maya Indie Film Series,” festival of seven Latino-themed films, Sept 16-23.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “The Outsiders: New Hollywood Cinema in the 70s:” Ice (Kramer, 1970), Wed, 7:30; Dusty and Sweets McGee (Mutrux, 1971), Thurs, 7; Mikey and Nicky (May, 1976), Fri, 8:45. “Sounding Off: Portraits of Unusual Music:” We Don’t Care About Music Anyway (Dupire and Kuentz, 2009), Fri, 7; Intangible Asset Number 82 (Franz, 2009), Sun, 6:30. “Anatolian Outlaw: Yilmaz Güney:” Hope (1975), Sat, 6:30; Bride of the Earth (1968), Sat, 8:45. “UCLA Festival of Preservation:” This is Your Life: Holocaust Survivors (Gruenberg and Gottlieb, 1953, 1955, 1961), Sun, 4.

LA PEÑA CULTURAL CENTER 3105 Shattuck, Berk; www.lapena.org. $5. “FistUp Hip-Hop Film Festival:” Furious Force of Rhymes (Litle), Thurs, 7:30.

PIEDMONT 4186 Piedmont, Oakl; (510) 464-5980, www.landmarktheatres.com. $8. The Room (Wiseau, 2003), Sat, midnight.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $5-9.75. Bellflower (Glodell, 2011), Wed-Thurs, 7. Little Rock (Ott, 2010), Wed-Thurs, 7, 8:45. Shut Up Little Man! An Audio Misadventure (Bate, 2011), Wed-Thurs, 9. “Good Vibrations Indie Erotic Film Festival:” “Sexy Euro Cinema!”, short films, Sun, 7:30. This event, $10; www.gv-ixff.org for more info. “First Annual City College Festival of the Moving Image,” Mon-Tues, 7:30. Cold Fish (Sono, 2011), Sept 16-22, call for times.

“SAN FRANCISCO LATINO FILM FESTIVAL” Various venues in SF, Marin, San Jose, and Berk; (415) 826-7057, www.sflatinofilmfestival.org. Most events $10-12. Documentary and narrative films from Mexico, Guatemala, Chile, Brzil, Cuba, Panama, Chile, Argentina, Venezuela, and the US, Sept 16-25.

YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS 701 Mission, SF; (415) 978-2787, www.ybca.org. $6-8. Scrappers (Ashby, Kolak, and Prokopas, 2010), Thurs, 7:30. Waste Land (Walker, 2010), Sun, 2.

Our Weekly Picks: September 14-20

Andrew Lam
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0

WEDNESDAY 14

MUSIC

Fake Your Own Death

A few years back, local indie rockers Elephone received an infusion of new life via a teenage singer. Unfortunately, the procedure didn’t stick and the band met its demise. But if someone has to die, let it be the group. At least then the members can go on to new lives like the Downer Party and Kill Moi. Elephone guitarist Terry Ashkinos has found a survivor’s group in Fake Your Own Death. “Open my mouth to speak, but it’s old technology. Fake your own death, watch it on TV,” the band sings on one listless, sonorous track recalling the National. Dying is easy, what comes after is harder. (Ryan Prendiville)

With Bruises, Excuses for Skipping, DJ Neil Martinson (SMiLE!)

9:30 p.m., $10

Cafe Du Nord

2170 Market, SF

(415) 861-5016

www.cafedunord.com


MUSIC

Kylesa

Set your head to banging as Kylesa returns to San Francisco. The Savannah, Ga. double-drummed metal titans have taken music to its heaviest extremes, defying genre boundaries in favor of sheer crushing aggression. Formed by members of 90s sludge innovators Damad, Kylesa obliterates the boundaries between punk and metal, drawing fans of loud and heavy from all over the spectrum — its Pushead-designed logo is practically required adornment on black denim vests worn by crusties and longhairs alike. Last year’s Spiral Shadow, the band’s fifth full length album, proves that Kylesa shows no sign of mellowing out, even as they explore new horizons and incorporate increasingly psychedelic twists to their booming Southern sound. (Cooper Berkmoyer)

With Deafheaven and Castle

8 p.m., $15

859 O’Farrel, SF

(415) 885-0750

www.gamh.com


THURSDAY 15

DANCE

“Extinction Burst: a dance of lost movement”

How refreshing! For once we don’t have to feel guilty about contributing to the extinction of so many threatened species. Think those bottom-of-the-ocean crawlers who will be gone before we have even discovered them. Thank you, Chris Black. Her latest five-person dance installation, “Extinction Burst: a dance of lost movement” brings back to life — sort of — animals who are gone. She is a smart, experienced choreographer who can peek below of just about anything and twist her findings into dance theater that smiles as it informs. (Rita Felciano)

7:30 p.m., $10–$12

California Academy of Sciences

55 Music Concourse, Golden Gate Park, SF

(415) 379-8000

www.calacademy.org


EVENT

Bonny Doon Press Club

Attention local oenophiles! As part of Press Club’s Visiting Vintner Series, Randall Grahm, the founder of Bonny Doon Vineyards (located just to our south in Santa Cruz County) will be on hand tonight for a meet and greet — and to lead tastings of his outstanding wines. The independent owner and author of Been Doon So Long (University of California Press, 2009) has gained a well-earned reputation for innovative ideas in several areas of his business, including the introduction of screw cap bottles and unique labels. His delicious wines, however, remain the real reason for his success, and he’ll be bringing along several limited production varieties for aficionados to enjoy. (Sean McCourt)

6-9 p.m, free admission, tasting flight $21

Press Club

20 Yerba Buena Lane, SF

(415) 744-5000

www.pressclubsf.com


MUSIC

Part Time

Part Time, San Francisco’s lo-fi darling of the moment, is a visitor from another time, a dimension in which the early 80s never soured and the party lived on forever. The debut album What Would You Say?, released by Mexican Summer earlier this year, plays like some fabled bedroom pop gem, thought lost for decades until rediscovered one sunny day at a flea market, wedged between a Barbra Streisand Christmas album and The Return of Bruno. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s just a novelty band, though. The vintage aesthetic belies Part Time’s innovation on a retro template and the captivating pop goodness it crafts — danceable tunes that sound like home recorded Prince demos with a teenage goth edge. (Berkmoyer)

With Pamela, Surf Club, and Permanent Collection

9 p.m., $5

Thee Parkside

1600 17th St., SF

(415) 252-1330

www.theeparkside.com


DANCE

Project Bandaloop A vertical dance floor ain’t no thing for Project Bandaloop. They’ve been soaring across mountains, skyscrapers, and other breathtaking sites for two decades with work inspired by the possibilities of climbing and rappelling. For the group’s 20th anniversary season, it will take on the Great Wall of Oakland in Bound(less), a multimedia event, synthesizing years of creativity under the direction of Amelia Rudolph. The free performance features a live band in addition to fearless physicality and grace. After years of interacting with environments and audiences around the world, Project Bandaloop’s aerial dance brings a daring artistic edge to the notion of climbing as the vertical ballet. (Julie Potter)

Thurs/15-Sat/17, 8:30 p.m., free

The Great Wall

West Grand Ave. at Broadway, Oakl.

(415) 421-5667

www.projectbandaloop.com


FRIDAY 16

MUSIC

 

Bayonics

On a cold San Francisco summer night in a Bayview recording studio, Bayonics were talking about when they knew they’d made it big. It happened on Craigslist actually. Members of the Latin-hip-hop-soul-funk-reggae-country (yeah, it goes there) big band spotted an ad from an SF high school bandleader that was looking for new musicians “with a Bayonics-style sound.” Such a tale could only come from a crew with a strong sense of place — and the group (which shares tonight’s bill with Samoa-via-Compton island reggae smoothie J. Boog) sure enough struts its Bay cred during its live shows. Guaranteed to be an ass-shaker, the long-awaited release party for the new album Mission Statement celebrates urban SF sound. (Caitlin Donohue)

With J. Boog 9 p.m., $25

Mezzanine

444 Jessie, SF

www.mezzaninesf.com


SATURDAY 17

EVENT

Rock Make Street Festival

There are so few things in this life that are truly good and free without some sort of hitch. The Rock Make Street Festival — now in its fourth year — is a genuinely fun (and free) outdoor party in the Mission, presented by the Bay Bridged blog, the band Tartufi, and accessory makers Cookie and the Dude. Live bands this year include mainstay Tartufi, along with Birds & Batteries, Bare Wires, Battlehooch, Cannons & Clouds, and more ampersand-less acts. There also will be not-free food truck eats and crafts made by local merchants. True story: I bought my brother a heather gray shirt with a huge California screen-print at the first Rock Make Street Festival and he’s worn that thing into the ground — it’s nearly threadbare. (Emily Savage)

Noon-7 p.m., free

Treat at 18th St., SF

www.rockmake.com


MUSIC

Bring Your Own Queer

You can either load your favorite rainbow-flavored, gender-hopping, sexually transgressive buddy into your bright red Radio Flyer wagon and haul zhim down to this wild free daytime outdoor dance party and arts festival at the Golden Gate Park bandshell — or you can just polish the unicorn horn on your own inner Q until it becomes a blinding beacon and go mingle with a planetload of other fabulosities. (Say, is “Planet Unicorn” retro yet?) In any case: come here, be queer, get shoes for it. DJs Juanita More, the Honey Soundsystem queens, and very special person DJ Bus Station John will provide diverse sounds. Appearances by Adonisaurus, Chica Boom, Philip Huang, the Vagine Regime from Bay Area Derby Girls, and Titland will surely tickle. There will be a fashion forest OMG hi. (Marke B.)

Noon-6 p.m., free

Golden Gate Park Music Concourse

50 Hagiwara Tea Garden Dr., SF

www.byoq.org


MUSIC

Peter Hook and the Light performing Closer

The odd thing about New Order’s disintegration in 2007, with Peter Hook leaving seemingly for good, is that he would tour on Joy Division material. Perhaps it’s simply a commentary on the state of affairs: Hook has attributed illegal downloading to shrinking royalties and live performance are the way to work the back catalog. In any case, his band will perform Joy Division’s final album Closer, a highly acclaimed, darker work that appears on t-shirts less often than Unknown Pleasures, which he played to a packed crowd last year. Obviously, it’s no more Joy Division than upcoming New Order dates without Hook will be New Order, but it will be a showcase for the man’s influential bass style. (Prendiville)

With Oona, DJ Tomas Diablo (Strangelove) 9 p.m., $22

Mezzanine

444 Jessie, SF

(415) 625-8880

www.mezzaninesf.com


MUSIC

Basscenter III

Tempo-mashing electronic artist Bassnectar returns to the Bay Area for the first time since last year’s sold out show at the Fox Theater. This time, however, he’s bringing his Basscenter event started in 2010, previously held in Broomfield, Colo. and Asheville, NC. Bass-ically it’s a three ring circus (no really — the Vau de Vire Society will be performing) with an eclectic lineup of support. With a more straightforward electro sound, it should be interesting to hear how Wolfgang Gartner works the crowd. And while I don’t generally think of wobbly bass when I think of Dan Deacon, his Tim and Eric musical aesthetic brings a certain ADHD liveliness that only the headliner can match. (Prendiville)

With Bassnectar, Big Gigantic, Wolfgang Gartner, Dan Deacon 7 p.m., $40

Bill Graham Civic Auditorium

99 Grove, SF

www.apeconcerts.com


SUNDAY 18

MUSIC

Rorschach

Listening to Rorschach is like being held down and methodically punched in the face. The powerviolence progenitor from New Jersey paved the way for the last two decades of hardcore, alternating between breakneck blast-beat assaults and almost unbearably heavy breakdowns. The 1991 Rorschach/Neanderthal split is a classic of the genre: four songs in under five minutes that helped launch the race to make the meanest music in the world. Although Rorschach called it quits in 1993 after only four years, the band’s varied catalogue has remained an important influence in both the punk and metal scenes; after jumpstarting 90s hardcore, Rorschach went on to lay the foundations of metalcore. Reformed in 2009 for a short East Coast tour, Rorschach is making its way to the bay for what’s sure to be a memorable, if brutal, night. (Berkmoyer)

With Early Graves, Kowloon Walled City, and Kicker

9 p.m., $10

Thee Parkside

1600 17th St., SF

(415) 252-1330

www.theeparkside.com


TUESDAY 20

MUSIC

Laudanum

Laudanum is the East Bay king of doom and gloom, a four piece of the most crushing proportions that features members of Asunder, the other heaviest band in the bay, as well as the now defunct Graves at Sea. If a regent of hell ever enslaved the earth, or a zombie monarch rose to reclaim its throne, it would make sense for Laudanum to compose the coronation march. The slow atmospheric drone is notably more sinister sounding that most contemporaries, drawing black metal influences into the rigor of stoner metal with tortured vocals and dissonant progressions. It’s what an evil bearded wizard riding on the shoulders of a club wielding giant puts on his iPod to jam out to as he lays waste to his enemies and slaughters the innocent. Or, ya’ know, it could be a Zune: evil wizards don’t have brand loyalty. (Berkmoyer)

With the Body and Braveyoung

9 p.m., $7

Hemlock Tavern

1131 Polk, SF

(415) 923-0923

www.hemlocktavern.com

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